Jack Winters' Campmates Part 16

"No use trying to see our trail, is there, Jack?" the other had remarked after they were fairly started on their way.

"Well, it would have to be a pretty deep lot of tracks that would not be washed out in all that downpour of steady rain," Jack advised him. "But then there are scores of other things by means of which we'll be able to know we are going over about the same route as before. For instance, you remember seeing that stone yonder, that seems to be so neatly balanced on another larger one, just as if human hands had placed it there?"

"Why, of course I do, and we even stopped to look at it closer," replied Toby. "I called it Saddle Rock, because the top does resemble a saddle a whole lot. Yes, and I shall be on the lookout for that remarkable looking tree that made us think of a camel's hump, it was so curved. It wasn't a great way beyond these same rocks, if I'm not off my bearings."

"We'll run across it before ten minutes more," commented Jack; and sure enough that was just what they did.

So, thanks to the habit of observing things all the time, they were enabled to follow their former course just as unerringly as though they had been picking up a well-beaten trail.

Of course they talked of many things as they trudged along, for as yet there was no positive reason which made it necessary for them to keep quiet. That would come later on, when they drew nearer the danger zone.

As often happened Toby's thoughts ran back in a groove and centred about the home country. It was only natural that this should be so; for no sooner are boys off on a vacation trip before home, which may have seemed very monotonous before, with its school duties, and the many restrictions on their liberty, begins to a.s.sume a highly magnified place in their concern. As the old saying has it, "you never miss the water till the well runs dry," and boys become so accustomed to accepting the comforts of home that they fail to appreciate them until all of a sudden they find themselves cast upon their own resources, and face to face with responsibilities they may never have dreamed of before.

From time to time the faces of all his Chester comrades had a fashion of rising up before Toby, and he could even imagine himself talking with them, perhaps relating some of the lively happenings of that two weeks in the woods up in the wonderful Pontico Hills country.

"I got to thinking yesterday afternoon, while dozing there in the tent,"

Toby remarked at one time, "and wondering just what sort of an eleven Chester could put in the field this Fall. Some of us have had a little practice at football work, but other promising players would have to begin right at the start, and learn all there is to the game."

"That can be done easily enough," Jack informed him. "Fact is, it's a more simple thing to start right in the beginning, than to have to undo some false notions, for let a fellow once get into a certain habit, and it's hard to break him of it."

"One thing we can count ourselves lucky over, Jack; that's having such a good coach as old Joe Hooker. He used to be a crackerjack football player in his day; and it was a good deal owing to his work with the nine that Chester won through with Harmony in baseball."

"We all give old Joe most of the credit," Jack told him, bluntly; "and he's promised to whip the eleven into a smoothly running team before the season begins. Inside of two months, or soon after school opens again, there'll be pretty lively doings in Chester, with the squad out for drill nearly every afternoon. All of us have got to get as hard as nails, so we can stand every kind of thumping without weakening."

"Have you made out any sort of list so far, Jack, as to who's going to get a chance for the big eleven?"

"I have a list of all available candidates, if that's what you mean, Toby; but no selection can possibly be made until they've all had a chance to show what's in them. Some who don't seem to promise a great deal in the start will surprise everybody before they've been at work a week. On the other hand there will be bitter disappointments in the bunch, and fellows on whom I've depended may fail to come up to the scratch and qualify."

"Well, I certainly hope I'm not one of that lot," said Toby, between his set teeth, since his heart had long been yearning for a chance to shine on the gridiron as a particular star, to hear the roar of plaudits from the vast crowd a.s.sembled, when fortune allowed him to make some sensational play that would advance his side closer to final victory.

"n.o.body can tell until the test comes, what they will be able to do, Toby. For my part I shall be bitterly sorry if both you and Steve do not make the team. And then there's Big Bob Jeffries, who ought to be a magnificent full-back; while long-legged Joel Jackman, and Fred Badger should shine as right and left tackle. Besides, I'd surely love to see Phil Parker, Herbert Jones and Hugh McGuffey pull through, because they're all good fellows, and with the right sort of grit to do well in football."

"I know I'm going to be on needles and pins up to the time the final selection is made," affirmed Toby. "And you'd better believe I want to go in, if at all, on my honest individual merits. No favoritism can ever be tolerated in football, where a single weak link in the chain spells ultimate defeat for the team, no matter how strong the other ten men may be. The opposing players can quickly learn where the soft snap lies, and after that will devote all their efforts to tearing a hole through the ranks just there where the line will give way soonest."

"Game words for you to speak, Toby," commented Jack, full of satisfaction over the thought of having such an honest chum, whose every interest was for the glory of his team, rather than a desire to make an individual reputation, regardless of the general good.

Later on they found themselves at a well-remembered spot. The morning was fairly well advanced by that time. Toby was looking around him eagerly.

"Say, wasn't it right about here we were held up by that onery cat the other afternoon, Jack?" he asked, with a trace of excitement in his voice.

"There's the tree right over in front of us, in which she was located when we first heard her angry snarls and spitting," his companion told him. "But that's no sign at all the beast is anywhere near here now. For all we know she may be ten or a dozen miles away."

"I hope so, anyhow," honest Toby hastily remarked; but he still continued to cast nervous glances to the right and to the left as they pushed slowly forward, keeping to the open line of the little ridge.

Several times something gave him a start. Now it was a rabbit that, without warning, leaped from a clump of gra.s.s, and darted away with long bounds. Then a bird flew up from a bush, and the sound of its wings made Toby unconsciously remember the singular spitting noise which the mottled cat with the ears that lay back on her head gave utterance to, as she warned them to advance no further on penalty of being clawed.

But they were not attacked. The neighborhood just then seemed singularly free from malignant four-footed enemies armed with sharp teeth and nails. A dun-colored object just vanishing in a sink some little distance away Toby identified as an extra large fox that had been aroused from his noonday nap by the rustle of footsteps amidst the foliage, or the murmur of their lowered voices. No one made any attempt to interfere with the retreat of Reynard; indeed, they carried no weapon that could have halted his flight, even though inclined that way, which was far from being the case.

Remembering that when stopped on the previous occasion they had had reason to believe they must be within a mile or so of the region from whence those singular blasting noises proceeded, the two scouts from that time on slowed down their pace and maintained a more vigilant watch than ever, particularly keeping an eye ahead for any sign of enemies.

It was Toby, it chanced, who made a discovery.

"Stand still, Jack, and look through this vista ahead of us. Isn't that a man I can see standing there, with a gun in his hand?"

"Just what it is, Toby, and from his actions I'd say he is some sort of sentry or vidette, who is busy watching the open trail we've been following for so long, as it seems to be a sort of woods thoroughfare, possibly running to the bank of the river somewhere."

"That looks suspicious, doesn't it, Jack?"

"It looks as if they're up to some business that they do not want to be discovered at," came the low reply. "I suppose that Mr. Dangerfield, learning of our presence in the woods, and that we're all from Chester, is afraid that we may take a notion to wander over this way; and he has that guard stationed there to warn us back. Perhaps he'd tell some sort of stiff story about Uncle Sam conducting an experimental proving station with aerial torpedoes, or something like that, up here; and that no one is allowed to set a foot on the ground under a severe penalty.

But we'll take care to give that guard a wide berth."

"You must mean we'll navigate around him, make a wide circle, so to speak, eh, Jack?" asked Toby, thrilled with the prospect of soon finding himself within the lines of the enemy.

"Yes, and right here is where we must begin the operation," Jack announced. "We can take his bearings, and cut around on the right, where the cover seems to be exceptionally good and heavy. No hurry about it either, remember, Toby. We must make sure of our ground as we go. Given half an hour, and we ought to have left the vidette handsomely in the lurch."

It was very exciting, so Toby thought. Secretly he deplored the fact that their only gun had to be left in camp with Steve. He would have felt better could he but know they had some means of defense with them.

However, Jack evidently did not intend allowing anything to arise necessitating such action. He expected to be able to carry out his little spying expedition without betraying the fact of their presence to any of the enemy.

Once they had circled around and come upon the open stretch again they kept stealing forward. When once more they heard the deep-toned bark of that dog, Jack stopped in his tracks.

"We must change our course again, Toby," he announced, briefly; "the wind is striking us on the right cheek, when it should be dead ahead; or that beast will soon be getting our scent. So let's strike off here, and make another half circuit; when we can push ahead, and reach our goal unchallenged."

CHAPTER XIX

THE COMING OF THE CRISIS

It was now after three by the sun, Jack judged, after flinging a look up toward the king of day, shining powerfully half-way down the western sky. There would be plenty of time for them to do what spying they wished, and then, seeking some retired spot, pa.s.s the night quietly.

When another day came they could lay their plans accordingly.

They found some little difficulty in making the turn, for in places the undergrowth was so dense as to delay their progress considerably. Jack had taken his measures for the flank movement, and knew just when they had gone far enough. The pa.s.sing air fanning his cheek told him that much. Besides, occasionally they heard some sign from the dog; which Jack judged must be tied up, from the fretful character of his mouthings. There is all the difference in the world between the cheerful bark of a hound free to go and come, and the depressed utterance of one that is fastened to kennel or tree by rope or chain.

Thus another half hour slipped by.

"I hear voices, Jack," whispered the trembling Toby, when they had been creeping forward for some little time after resuming their forward progress.

The other did not reply, only pressed a forefinger upon his lips, and nodded his head in the affirmative. Toby understood from this that communications between them were to be exceedingly limited in scope from that time on; and when necessary, must be made in the most cautious of tones.

Shortly afterwards they had a glimpse of moving objects some little distance beyond. They could easily make them out to be several men, roughly dressed as a rule, and who seemed to be rushing this way and that as though laboring under considerable stress of excitement.

But both boys saw more than that. Reared against the low sky-line was a skeleton framework made of timbers. Jack had never actually seen an oil derrick before in his life, but he knew that this was one. Undoubtedly their guess had been a true one. Maurice Dangerfield, the unscrupulous nephew of Miss Priscilla, was so convinced there was oil to be found on her property that he had entered into an arrangement with some experienced parties accustomed to putting down wells to make an experimental boring, and the skeleton framework had been used in carrying out the said sinking.

"They've gone and done it, as sure as anything, Jack," whispered Toby, feeling that it was still safe to do this, since the men were all at some little distance from them; and moreover seemed completely engrossed with what gripped their attention. "That's an oil derrick and they've sunk a trial well. Isn't it so, Jack?"

"No question about it, Toby. We must move around a dozen feet, so as to find fresh cover; then we'll keep on creeping up. I'd like above everything to get close enough to snap off a picture of that derrick."