The Boy Scouts' Mountain Camp Part 17

"I hope we're keeping on the right track," thought Rob, as it grew increasingly difficult, and finally impossible, to see the north star through the thick ma.s.s of foliage above them.

The boy knew the danger of wandering in circles in the untracked waste of forest unless they kept constantly in one direction. Without the stars to guide him, it grew increasingly difficult to be sure they were doing this.

"Golly! Ah suttinly hopes we gits out of dis foliaginous place befo'

long," breathed Jumbo stentorously, stumbling along behind Rob over the rough and stony ground that composed the floor of the Adirondack forest.

All at once, as Rob strode along, he stopped short. Some peculiar instinct had caused him to halt. Just why he knew not. But he was brought up dead in his tracks.

"Wha's de mattah, Ma.r.s.e Blake?" quavered Jumbo, "yo' all hain't seein'

any hants or conjo's, be yoh?"

Rob replied with another question.

"Got a match, Jumbo?" he asked.

"Yas sah, Ma.r.s.e Blake, I done got plenty ob dem lilly lucilfers."

He dived in his pocket and produced a handful of matches, which he handed to Rob. The boy struck one, and, as the yellow flame glared up, he uttered a little cry and stepped back with a perceptible shrinking movement.

No wonder he did so. At the young Scout's feet the flare of the match had revealed a yawning abyss. One more step and he would have been over it.

Gazing into the ravine he could hear the subdued roar of a stream somewhere far, far below. A cold blast seemed to strike upward against his face.

"Gracious, what a narrow escape!" he exclaimed. Then, stirring a small stone with his foot he dislodged it and sent it bounding over the edge.

b.u.mp! b.u.mp! tinkle! tinkle! plop! plop!--and then--silence.

"Golly, goodness, dat hole mus' be as deep as de bad place itself!"

exclaimed Jumbo, shrinking back in affright, "dat hole mus' go clean frough de middle of de world an' come out de odder side in China."

"It certainly does seem as if it might," agreed Rob; "at any rate, if we'd gone over it we'd have had no time to investigate--ugh!"

Rob gave a shudder he could not subdue as he thought of their narrow escape.

The only thing to be done under the circ.u.mstances, was to turn aside and keep on slowly, awaiting the daylight to see where they were, and the nature of their surroundings. They had progressed in this fashion perhaps half a mile or so, when Jumbo gave a sudden cry:

"Look, Ma.r.s.e Blake! Wha' dat froo de trees dere? Look uncommon lak a light."

"It is a light. Although I don't know what any habitation can be doing in this part of the world," answered Rob.

"Maybe even ef it's only er camp we kin git suffin' ter eat dar,"

suggested Jumbo hopefully, "ah'm jes' nacherally full ob nuttin' but emptiness."

"You'd never make a Scout, Jumbo."

"Don' belibe I wants ter be no Skrout nohow," retorted Jumbo, "dar's too much peregrinaciusness about it ter suit me."

Rob did not reply. But a moment later he cautioned Jumbo to progress as cautiously as possible. The boy could see now that the light proceeded from the open doorway of a hut. Within the rude structure he could make out a masculine figure in rough hunting garb bending over a stove at one end of the primitive place.

All of a sudden Rob's foot encountered something. He tripped and fell, sprawling on his face. At the same instant the sharp report of a gun rang out close at hand.

The wire over which the boy had tripped, and which was stretched across the pathway, had discharged the alarm signal. As the echoes went roaring and flapping through the forest, the man who had been bending over the stove, straightened as if a steel spring had suddenly sprung erect.

He was a small, dwarfish-looking fellow, with a clay-colored skin, beady, black eyes, shifty as a wild beast's. The animal-like impression of his face was heightened by a s.h.a.ggy beard of black that fell in unkempt fashion almost to his waist. He wore blue jean trousers, moccasins and a thick blue flannel shirt.

With a swift, panther-like movement, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a rifle that stood in one corner of the hut. His next move was to extinguish the light with a sharp puff. Then, with every sense wire-strung, he stood listening.

CHAPTER XVI.

INTO THE FIRE!

The moon had just risen. Her light silvered the dark hemlock tops, and, by bad luck, fell in a flood full upon Rob and Jumbo. The man who had sprung into such sudden activity was, on the contrary, completely shrouded in the black shadow of the hut.

Even had they had weapons they would, situated as they were, have been completely in his power. To use a slang term, but one full of expressiveness, he had "the drop" on them.

"Who are you?" rasped out the inmate of the hut in a harsh, startled voice. "Speak quick, for I'm right smart on the trigger."

"We are two wanderers who have lost our way," rejoined Rob, "we have no weapons and have no wish to harm you."

"Come forward a bit while I look you over," said the man, his suspicion mollified a bit by the boyish tone. But the next instant, as his eyes fell on Rob's uniform, he seemed to bristle with suspicion again.

"What's that uniform?" he demanded; "be you some new-fangled revenue?"

"I'm a Boy Scout," rejoined Rob, and then, thinking it best not to relate his whole story at once, he added, "I got lost on a scouting expedition.

Our camp is not far from here on the other side of the lake. All we want is some food, drink and shelter."

"Boy Scout, eh?" said the man, eyeing him curiously, "um, ay, I've read of 'em. To my mind you'd be best at home instead of gallivanting around the country and getting lost. But who's that black fellow?"

"Ah'se a 'spectable colored gen'ulman, suh," began Jumbo indignantly in his usual formula. But the black-bearded man checked him with a gesture.

"You're just a n.i.g.g.e.r, n.i.g.g.e.r, don't forget that. I come from south of the Mason and Dixon line."

"Yas, sah, yas, sah," grinned Jumbo. The big black shivered and showed all the gleaming white of his teeth and eyes in his alarm at the bearded little man's fierce looks and gestures.

"S'pose I feed yer," was the bearded one's next question, "kin you pay?

I'm a poor woodsman and----"

"Oh, we can pay," Rob a.s.sured him. Foolishly he drew out a rather well-filled purse. The next moment he wished he hadn't. For a brief instant the hut-dweller's keen, serpent-like black eyes had kindled with an avaricious flame.

But he cleverly masked whatever emotion it was that had swept over him at sight of the money receptacle.

"Guess that'll be all right," he said, "come on in."

Rather troubled in his mind, but deciding that it was best to accept the situation as it unfolded, Rob followed his conductor into the hut. Jumbo ambled along behind, his black face expanded in a grin of wonderment. The hut, within, proved to be a roughly constructed affair of raw logs. The c.h.i.n.ks were plastered with clay, mixed with gra.s.s to give it consistency.

A few skins hung on the walls and some rough, home-made furniture stood about.

At one end of the place was a huge, open fireplace, with a big hearthstone. It was not used, however, the cookery being done upon the stove, which also provided the heat.