The Boy Scouts' Mountain Camp Part 23

It was as Tubby had suspected. The blue and the green canoes lay on the beach, their bows just resting on the sand. The paddles were in them and it was an easy task to embark and capture the red craft. This was made fast to the one Tubby paddled and the boys, congratulating each other warmly, set out for the camp. As they glided along Tubby uplifted his voice.

"R-o-o-w, brothers, row!

The stream runs fast!

The rap--ids are ne-ar And the day--light's past."

"Ro-o-w----"

"But it isn't rowing, it's paddling," objected Merritt.

"Whoever heard of a rhyme to paddling?" demanded Tubby, "you might as well expect one to motor boating," and he resumed his song.

As they drew near to the spot where the camp had been pitched they saw the black figure of Jumbo on the beach. Tubby hailed him in a loud voice.

Instantly the negro looked up, and as his eyes fell on the canoes he tossed the frying pan he was scouring high into the air. It descended on his head again with a resounding whack.

But that African head seemed hardly to feel it. Bounding and snapping his fingers in joy, Jumbo raced up to the camp, electrifying everybody with the glad news that the canoes had been found.

"How on earth did you discover them, boys?" demanded the major, as the prows grated on the beach and a glad rush of excited feet followed.

"Simple," said Tubby, with a grand air and a sweep of his hands, "simple.

They were up in a tree, just as I suspected."

Before long Merritt had to tell the real story. But when they looked about for Tubby to congratulate him that modest youth had slipped away.

He was found later, devouring a raisin pie of Jumbo's baking.

"You deserve pie and anything else you fancy," said the major warmly.

"There's only one thing I'd fancy right now," rejoined Tubby.

"What is that?"

"I'd like to have hold of Freeman Hunt for about ten minutes."

An examination of the canoes showed that, as Tubby had guessed, their mooring ropes had chafed through during the wind storm of the night before. This set them wondering how Hunt and his companions could have escaped from the cove. The next day on resuming their journey they examined the place--the entrance to which was not found without difficulty--but of Hunt and his gang no trace was found but the embers of the camp fire. Rob and Jumbo viewed with interest the rope ladder which lay in a heap at the foot of the cliff, just as it had fallen on the night that they made their escape. Further investigation showed that, by walking along the lake sh.o.r.e, the rascals who had harried the Boy Scouts must have managed to find a place to climb up to the forests above.

"I'm sorry they got away," said Merritt.

"So are we all, I expect," said the professor. "I don't suppose we shall ever see them again now."

"I hardly think so," agreed the major.

"Dere's only one man ah'd lak ter see ag'in," put in Jumbo.

"Who is that?" inquired Rob.

"Dat five hundred dollah baby wid de black whiskers," was the prompt rejoinder; "de nex' time ah gits mah han's on him ah'm gwine ter fin' de bigges' chain ah can, den ah'm gwine ter fasten dat to de bigges' rock ah kin fin' an' den ah's gwine ter k'lect!"

"I hope for your sake and for that of law and order that you succeed,"

said the major, "liquor is vile stuff, anyhow. It's bad enough that it is made legally in this country. It is ten thousand times worse when laws are broken to distil it. I'm afraid, however, that all the rascals have slipped through our fingers. We shall hardly set eyes on them again."

How wrong the major was in this supposition we shall see before long.

Such men as Stonington Hunt and his chosen companions are not so easily thrown off the trail for a rich prize. The thought of the treasure was in Hunt's avaricious mind day and night, and already he was plotting fresh means of wresting the secret from its rightful possessors.

Possibly, if the major had seen an encounter which took place in the woods not so many hours before our party landed in the hidden cove, he might have felt less easy in his mind. Black Bart, in his flight, had encountered Hunt's party. Creeping through the woods he had seen the light of their camp fire. He had approached it cautiously. But as he neared it, keeping in careful concealment, he recognized his erstwhile comrades, Dale and Pete b.u.mpus. Hesitating no longer to declare himself in his half-famished condition, he had come forward and been greeted warmly. What he had to tell of his meeting with Rob and Jumbo, held, as may be imagined, the deepest interest for Hunt and the others. The consultation and plan of campaign that resulted therefrom, were fraught with important results for our party.

What these were we must save for the telling in future chapters. But stirring events were about to overtake the Boy Scouts and their friends.

CHAPTER XXI.

"THE RUBY GLOW."

Camp, that night, was made at the portage of which the major had spoken.

Although strict watch was kept all night nothing unusual occurred. Bright and early the work of the portage was commenced. The Major, Jumbo and Professor Jorum, each burdened themselves with a canoe, which they carried across their shoulders, turned bottom up and resting on a wooden "yoke."

The lads carried the "duffle" and provisions. The portage, connecting the lake they had traversed with the one beyond, was over rough ground. In fact, at one place, they had to clamber up quite a ridge. It was rocky and grown with coa.r.s.e undergrowth interspersed with scanty trees. Further on the trail ran beside quite a deep ravine.

Tubby, with his load of duffle, was slightly in advance of the other lads, and humming a song as he trudged along. With the curiosity natural to the stout youth, he could not refrain from wandering from the path to peer over into the depths of the gulch.

"My goodness!" he exclaimed to himself, as he gazed interestedly, "it would be no joke to fall in there."

As he spoke he drew closer to the edge of the rift and craned his short neck to obtain a still better view of the abyss below him. At this juncture the others, laboring along the trail, caught up with him, and Rob gave the stout Scout a hail.

"Better come away from there, Tubby," he warned, "you know what happened out west, when you went rubbering about the haunted caves."

"It's all right," retorted the fat boy, "it looks nice and cool down in there. I'd like to----"

The rest of his speech was lost in an alarmed exclamation from the onlookers.

As Tubby uttered his confident remark he seemed to vanish suddenly, like an actor in a stage spectacle who has dived through a trap door. Only a cloud of dust and a roar of stones sliding into the ravine told of what had happened to the over-confident youth. Standing too close to the edge he had stepped on an overhanging bit of ground and had been precipitated downward.

"Good gracious!" cried Rob, in real alarm, "he's gone over!"

With a swift fear that Tubby's accident might have resulted fatally, Rob was at the edge of the ravine in two jumps. The rest were not far behind him.

Rob experienced a feeling of intense relief, however, as he gazed into the depths. Some time before, a tree had become dislodged and slid into the rift. It lay upon the bottom of the place. Tubby, luckily for himself, had fallen into its branches and was, except for a few scratches, apparently unhurt.

"Are you injured?" demanded Rob, anxiously, nevertheless. He wanted to hear from Tubby's own lips that he was all right.

"Nothing hurt but my feelings," the stout youth a.s.sured him. "Say, it _is_ cool down here."

"Well, if nothing's hurt but your feelings you're all right," cried Merritt; "you couldn't hurt those with an axe."

"Just you wait till I get out of here," yelled Tubby from his leafy seat.

"Well, how are we going to get you up?" demanded Merritt. "Guess you'll have to stay there till we get a ladder."