The Boy Scouts in the Blue Ridge Part 5

Giraffe twisted his head around with the utmost ease; indeed, from the length of his neck it looked as though he might continue the turning movement until he had actually made a complete revolution.

And when Thad caught sight of the grin on his face he felt immediately relieved; for surely Giraffe loving fun as much as he did, would not allow this smirk to decorate his angular countenance unless there seemed little danger.

Another minute, and all of them were ranged there along the edge of the gully, staring down at Davy Jones. It would seem that the other had been agile enough to clutch hold of a small tree that jutted out from the steep slope. He was hanging to it now, and straining the best he knew how to fling his legs upward, so as to relieve the situation, and the terrific pull on his arms.

He looked upward toward the row of faces peeping over the edge above; and there was a humorous grin on his face. He knew what his comrades were doubtless thinking about "the pitcher that went once too often to the well;" and that their natural alarm having pa.s.sed, they would see only the humorous side of the affair.

Again did Davy strain. There was something connected with the way he was hanging there that seemed to prevent him from accomplishing the result he wanted to attain. For the first time they could remember the boys saw that the gymnast and acrobat of the troop had certainly met his match.

Left to himself he would surely have had to invent some other method for drawing himself up on to the slender horizontal trunk of the little tree; or else let go, and drop.

As it was a matter of some twenty feet or so to the bottom of the gully; and the chances were that he might receive any number of bad scratches while making the transit, Davy of course would be averse to trying this plan.

"Guess you'll have to lend me a hand this time, boys," he called out, when once more he failed to make connection between his squirming legs and the body of the tree.

"Who'll go down, and yank him on to that tree?" asked b.u.mpus; knowing full well at the same time that no one could have the nerve to ask a fellow of his heft, when there were so many others better fitted for the task.

"Don't all speak at once!" advised the hanging Davy.

Somehow all eyes were turned toward Giraffe. As the most agile of the lot, he might be expected to volunteer; and yet with not a particle of footing between the top of the bank and that tree, some ten feet down, the job was hardly one that might appeal to any scout, however nimble.

"Oh! you needn't look at me that way," he complained; "because I'm long, and active, you just think I c'n stretch that far; but it's a mistake.

But if somebody _has_ to try and make the riffle, I s'pose it'll be me."

He started to take off his knapsack as he said this, when Thad stopped him.

"Wait, Giraffe," said the patrol leader, quietly; "perhaps, after all, n.o.body has to go down after Davy. You seem to forget, all of you, that we've got a stout rope along with us. What's the need of carrying such a thing, if it can't help us out in a pinch?"

"Bully! Sure we've got a rope, and a dandy one at that!" cried b.u.mpus, growing so excited that he came near falling over the edge, and had to clutch hold of the nearest scout to steady himself.

"If you'd gone that time, b.u.mpus, think what a splash you'd have made down there. Because Davy got hold of a tree don't think you could do the same. It'll have to be a whopping big one that could bear up under _your_ weight, all right," said Step Hen, who chanced to be the one whom the fat boy had caught hold of in his sudden alarm.

It turned out that Bob White was carrying the rope. He had it wound around his body in a way Allan had shown him, so that it did not interfere with his movements, and was not coming loose all the time.

Quickly then was it unwound. In order to hasten this, the boys even began to turn Bob around like a teetotum, until he said he was dizzy.

"Lucky it's got a loop handy at the end," remarked Allan, as he took the rope, and sought a position directly above the hanging scout.

"How is it, Davy?" he asked, while lowering the noose.

"If you mean how much longer I could stand it, I'd say not a big lot,"

replied the one addressed. "You see, the old tree cuts my hands just fierce; and I've been twisting around here so long now that I'm gettin'

tired. How're you goin' to fix it, Allan? Might toss the loop over my head; but I'm afraid my neck wouldn't hold out. If it was Giraffe now--"

"Here, you just let up on Giraffe, and pay attention to what Allan's goin' to tell you; hear?" called out the party mentioned.

"Do you think you could hold on with one arm, and get the other through the loop?" continued the Maine boy. "Of course, if you can't, why, I might swing it around, and you could somehow stick your feet through; when we'd drag the loop up under your arms. How about that, Davy?"

But Davy made a test, and declared that one hand would hold him for a brief time. So, in this way, the rope was finally placed under both arms, and tightened.

"Now, get hold here, fellows, and give a pull!" said Allan; "hold on, not so rough about it, Giraffe, or you'll rub his face against the rocks and make it worse than if he'd let go, and dropped down. Here he comes, boys!"

"Heave ho!" sang out the scouts, and foot by foot they drew the unlucky acrobat once more to the surface.

"Got off pretty slick that time, eh, Davy?" demanded Step Hen, after the other had been landed, and Bob White was coiling the rope around himself again.

"Never knew me to miss doin' that, did you, Step Hen?" queried the other; and from the flippant tone in which he said this it was plainly evident that the lesson had been lost on him; and that Davy would be doing his customary stunts right along.

The hike was presently resumed, and the little adventure reckoned a thing of the past. Shortly afterwards they came suddenly on a man, with an old vehicle, and a slab-sided horse that looked half starved. The ramshackle wagon bed was covered to about the depth of three feet with poor looking straw, that seemed to have done duty a long time.

As for the man himself, he was a typical mountaineer, thin and scrawny, with a small, weasened face, and keen, snapping eyes. Bob White instantly pulled his hat down over his face as he saw the man.

Thad noticed that the other looked alarmed at sight of these eight khaki-clad boys strung out along the mountain road. Indeed, he had the appearance of a man who would have turned and fled, only that he was afraid to do so after finding himself face to face with what looked like a squad of United States regulars, or at the least, North Carolina militia, on the hike.

He returned the greetings of the boys with sundry nods of his head, and urged his old nag along by several whacks from the hickory rod he held in his hand in lieu of a whip. So ramshackle vehicle and scared driver vanished around the bend which had concealed the scouts from his view until it was too late to run.

"Looked like he'd seen a ghost!" suggested Step Hen, with a chuckle.

"Well, you can't blame him, if he saw _you_ roll your eyes, and make that face of yours look like thirty cents," remarked b.u.mpus, cuttingly.

"He had mountain dew hidden under that straw," remarked Bob White; "I remember the old fellow right well, and I'm glad he was that frightened he didn't think to take at look at me. Nate Busby is his name. He always was connected with Old Phin, and the others who make the moonshine stuff further up in the hills. Right now, you can believe me, suh, he's on his way with that load, to hide it where somebody from town can find it."

"He don't know what to make of us, seems like?" suggested Giraffe.

"That is the truth," added Thad. "I thought his eyes would drop out, he stared so hard. Seemed to me as if he actually expected some of us to surround him, and examine his load. How he did whip that old nag of his.

The beast kicked up his heels, and galloped, perhaps for the first time in years."

All of them laughed as they went on, talking by the way. Boys can discover a ludicrous side to almost anything. Good health, absence of worry, and plenty of food are about all they require; and the world looks its brightest.

Sometimes, when Thad glanced toward the Southern boy, he wondered whether Bob had taken them wholly into his confidence on the last evening when he told them about his life amid the mountains and valleys of the Blue Ridge Range. It struck him that Bob frowned too often to indicate a clear conscience.

"There's something else on his mind, and that's certain," Thad was saying to himself. "He keeps looking in my direction every little while, and I wouldn't be surprised if he came over pretty soon to tell me something he's been keeping back. But it don't matter; we'll stand behind Bob all the time. He's a fine fellow, as true as gold; and one scout should always help another in trouble."

His reflections were interrupted by b.u.mpus, who edged over nearer the patrol leader to impart the information that, happening to look back, he had discovered some one thrusting his head out from behind a rock, as though he might be following in their wake!

CHAPTER VII.

THE MESSAGE OF THE SPLIT STICK.

A TEMPORARY halt had been called, and the scouts were consulting as to what this new development might mean.

"Sure you saw a man, are you, b.u.mpus?" asked Giraffe, as though he had an idea the stout boy might have deceived himself. "Twa'n't a rolling stone, now, I take it? Or it couldn't have been a frisky little 'c.o.o.n'

or 'possum,' I suppose?"

"Well, what d'ye think I've got eyes for, if I don't know a biped when I see one?" retorted b.u.mpus, indignantly. "He was as plain as anything; and makin' from one pile of rocks to another. You go with me back there, and I'll show you, Giraffe. Then you'll believe me when I say a thing."