The Boy Scouts' Mountain Camp Part 14

"By golly yo' jes bring on de man to do it," exclaimed the negro with great bravado, "ah reckon ah kin tackle him. Ah'm frum Vahgeenyah, ah is, an----"

But Hunt impatiently checked him. He turned to Peter b.u.mpus. "Cook us up a meal," he ordered.

"For them, too?" asked b.u.mpus, jerking his thumb backward at Rob and Jumbo.

"Of course. You may as well get used to it. I expect they'll make quite a long stay with us."

Rob's heart sank. He was a lad who always schooled himself to look on the brightest side of things. But no gleam of hope lightened the gloom of their present situation. Things could not have been much worse, he felt.

CHAPTER XIII.

ROB FINDS A RAY OF HOPE.

The meal, a sort of stew composed apparently of rabbits, partridges and other small game, was despatched and then Rob, who had been released from his bonds while he ate, was tied up once more.

"These fellows don't think much of breaking the game laws," he thought as he ruminated on the contents of the big iron pot from which their noon-day meal had been served. Then came another thought. If they so openly violated the laws, the country was surely a lonely one, and seldom, or never, visited. Indeed, the thick forest of hemlock and other coniferous trees that fringed the cliff summits, would seem to indicate that the spot was well chosen.

Jumbo was not confined. The gang seemed to esteem him as more or less harmless for, although a sharp watch was kept on him, he was not fettered. Once or twice he caught Rob's eye with a knowing look. But he said nothing. One or another of the men kept too close and constant a watch for that. And so the hours wore on. Tied as Rob was, the small black flies and other winged mountain pests made life almost intolerable.

With infinite pains the lad dragged himself to a spot of shade under a stunted alder bush. He lay here with something very like despair clutching coldly at his heart. The canoes had been anch.o.r.ed, with big stones attached to ropes, at some distance out in the little bay. Only one remained on sh.o.r.e, and by that Jim Dale kept an unrelaxing vigil.

Jim and Peter were talking in low voices. Rob overheard enough to know that their talk was of the old lawless days when the moonshine gang made the hidden cove their rendezvous.

"Those were the days," Dale said with a regretful sigh, "money was plenty then. By the way, Pete, did you ever hear what became of Black Bart and the others after the revenues broke us up?"

"No, I never wanted to take a chance of inquiring," rejoined Peter, puffing at a dirty corn cob. "I did hear, though, that they had resumed operations some place around here."

"They did, eh? I suppose they figgered that lightning don't never strike twice in the same place."

"Just the same, they are taking a long chance. With revenues against you it's all one sided--like the handle of a jug."

"That's so. But there's good money in it, and Black Bart would risk a lot for that."

The conversation was carried on in low tones. Rob, intent though he was, could not catch any more of it. But he pondered over what he had heard.

If what Jim Dale and Peter had said was correct, a gang of moonshiners still made the mountains thereabouts their habitat.

"It's a strange situation we've stumbled into," thought the boy.

Then he fell to observing Stonington Hunt and his son, Freeman. The man and the boy were talking earnestly at some distance from Peter and Jim Dale. From their gestures and expressions Rob made out that the conversation was an important one. From the frequent glances which they cast in his direction he also divined that he himself, was, in all probability, the subject of it.

All at once Stonington Hunt arose and came toward him. Freeman followed him. They came straight up to Rob and stood over him.

"Well, Rob Blake," sneered young Hunt, "I guess things are different to what they were the time you drove me out of Hampton and forced my father to profess all sorts of reformation."

"I don't know," rejoined Rob coolly and contemptuously, "you seem to me to be very much the same sort of a chap you were then."

The inference, and Rob's unshaken manner, appeared to infuriate the youth.

"We've got you where we want you now," he snarled, "it would serve you right if I took all the trouble you've caused us out upon your hide. You and that patrol of yours cost us our social position, then that Hopkins kid lost our sloop for us----"

"The sloop in which you meant to decamp with the major's papers," put in Rob in the same calm tones, "don't try to a.s.sume any better position than that of a common thief, Freeman."

With a quick snarl of rage the boy jumped on the helpless and bound boy.

He brought his fist down on Rob's face with all his force. Then he fastened his hands in Rob's hair and tugged with all his might. But suddenly something happened. Something that startled young Hunt considerably.

Rob gave a quick twist and despite his bonds managed to half raise himself. In this position he gave the other lad such a terrific "b.u.t.t"

that Freeman was sent staggering backward, with a white face. Unable to regain his balance he presently fell flat on the sand. He scrambled to his feet and seized a big bit of timber, the limb of a hemlock that lay close at hand. He was advancing, brandishing this with the intention of annihilating Rob when Stonington Hunt, who had hitherto been an impa.s.sive observer, stepped between them.

"Here, here, what's all this?" he snapped angrily. "This isn't a fighting ring. Put down that stick, Freeman, and you, young Blake, listen to me."

"I'm listening," said Rob, in the same cold, impa.s.sive way that had so irritated Freeman.

"You want to regain your freedom and rejoin your friends, don't you?" was the next question.

"If it can be done by honorable means--yes. But I doubt if you can employ such, after what I've seen of you."

"Hard words won't mend matters," rejoined Hunt with a frown, "after all, I've as much right to this hidden treasure as anyone else--if I can get it."

"Yes, if you can get it," replied Rob with meaning emphasis, wondering much what could be coming next.

"Your liberty depends on my getting it," resumed Hunt.

"My liberty?" echoed the boy, "how is that?"

"I want you to write a note to Major Dangerfield. He thinks a good deal of you, doesn't he?"

"I hope so," responded Rob, mightily curious to know what Hunt was driving at.

"He's responsible, too, in a way, for your safety, isn't he? I mean your parents rely on him to bring you back safe and sound?"

"I suppose so. But why don't you come to the point. Tell me what it is you want."

"Just this: You write to the major. I'll see that the note is delivered.

You must tell him to give my messenger the plan and map of the treasure's hiding place. If he does so you will be returned safe and sound. So will the n.i.g.g.e.r and the canoes. We didn't want that n.i.g.g.e.r anyhow. In the darkness we mistook him for the major."

Rob could hardly repress a smile at the idea of the dignified major being confused with the ubiquitous Jumbo.

"Are you willing to write such a letter?"

"You mean am I willing to stake my safety against the major's hopes of recovering his relative's hidden fortune?"

"That's about it--yes."

Rob's mind worked quickly. It might be dangerous to give a direct negative and yet he certainly would have refused to do as the rascal opposite to him suggested.

"I--I--Can you give me time to think it over?" he hesitated, a.s.suming uncertainty in decision.