The Boy Scouts of Lenox Part 11

"Oh!" said Carl, quickly, "but my mother says he's really a poor man, and hasn't anything. Besides, he's been conducting her little business since father died without charging a cent for his labor, so you see there's no hope of our collecting more than half of the insurance."

"Too bad, and I'm mighty sorry," Tom told him.

"Coming on top of our losing that paper you can imagine how my mother feels," continued the other; "though she tries to be cheerful, and keeps on telling me she knows everything is sure to come out right in the end. Still I can see that while she puts on a brave face it's only to keep me from feeling so blue. When she's all alone I'm sure she cries, for I can see her eyes are red when I happen to come in on her unexpectedly."

"Nothing can be done, I suppose, Carl?"

"Not a thing," the other boy replied. "That is what makes me furious.

If you can only see what's. .h.i.tting you, and strike back, it does a whole lot of good. Unless something crops up to make things look brighter between now and fall there's one thing certain."

"What's that?" asked Tom, though he believed he could give a pretty good guess, knowing the independent spirit of his chum so well.

"I shall have to quit school, and go to work at something or other. My mother will never be able to meet expenses, even in the quiet way we live, now that part of her little income is cut off. A few hundred dollars a year means a lot to us, you see."

"Oh, I hope it won't come to that," said Tom. "A whole lot may happen between now and the beginning of the fall term. For all we know that missing paper may be recovered, which would put your folks on Easy street."

"That's about the last hope, then," admitted Carl. "It's all I'm counting on; and even then the chances seem to be against us."

"But you won't think of backing down about going on this grand hike over Big Bear Mountain, I hope?" remarked the patrol leader.

"I believe I'd lack the heart to do it, Tom, leaving mother feeling so bad; only for one thing."

"Meaning the fact that Dock Phillips is somewhere up there on the mountain; that's what you've got in your mind, isn't it, Carl?"

"Yes, and what you said last night keeps haunting me all the time, Tom.

What if I did run across the chance to make Dock own up, and got him to give me that precious paper? It would make everything look bright again--for with the boom on in the oil region that stock must be worth thousands of dollars to-day, if only we can get hold of the certificate again."

"Well, you're going to; things often work in a queer way, and that's what is happening now. And I feel as sure as anything that Mr.

Culpepper's stinginess in holding out against Dock's demands is going to be his undoing."

Such confident talk as this could not help having its effect on Carl.

He had in fact come over to Tom's house knowing that he was sure to get comfort there.

"You make me feel better already, Tom," he a.s.serted, as he took the hand the other boy thrust over the top of the garden fence; "and I'm going to try and look at it as a true scout should, believing that the sun is still shining back of the clouds."

"I'm about through with my work here in the garden," Tom told him, "so suppose you come around to the gate, or hop over the fence here. We'll go up to my room and take a look over the stuff that I expect to pack out of Lenox Monday A. M. I want to ask your opinion about several things, and was thinking of calling you up on the 'phone when I heard you speak just now."

Of course the main object Tom had in view was not so much getting Carl's opinion as to arouse his interest in the projected trip, so that for the time being he might forget his troubles.

The two boys spent an hour chatting, and consulting a map Tom produced that was supposed to cover most of the Big Bear Mountain territory. It had been made by an old surveyor some years back, simply to amuse himself, and while not quite up to date might be said to be fairly accurate.

Mr. Witherspoon had secured this chart and loaned it to Tom, for there was always a possibility of his receiving a sudden call on business that would take him away from town, when the duty of engineering the trip must fall to the leader of the Black Bear Patrol as the second in command.

That was going to be an unusually long and tedious Sunday for a good many boys in Lenox. Doubtless they would have their thoughts drawn from the sermon, as they sat with their folks in the family pews. And, too, looking out of the window at the waving trees they would probably picture themselves far away on the wooded slope of Big Bear Mountain, perhaps making their first camp, and starting the glorious fire around which, as the night drew on, they would gather to tell stories and sing school songs.

And it could be set down as certain that few of those who expected to join the adventurous spirits starting forth on the long mountain hike slept very soundly on the last night.

When the hour agreed on, seven o'clock, came around, there was a scene of bustle under the tower of the church, where the scouts had gathered, together with many friends both young and old who meant to give them a noisy send-off on their hike over Big Bear Mountain.

CHAPTER XI

ON THE WAY

Amidst many hearty cheers and the clapping of hands the Boy Scouts started off. Felix Robbins had been elected bugler of the troop, and as there was no regular instrument for him, he had thought to fetch along the fish horn the boys used in playing fox and geese.

This he sounded with considerable vim as the khaki-clad lads marched away, with a flag at their head, the scout master keeping step alongside the column.

Some of the older people had come to see them off. Others hurried to the open doors and windows at the sound of the horn and the cheers, to wave their hands and give encouraging smiles.

It was a proud time for those boys. They stood up as straight as ramrods, and held their heads with the proud consciousness that for the time being they were the center of attraction.

There were ten in all starting forth. More might have gone, only that no scout not wearing the khaki could accompany the expedition; and besides the members of the Black Bear Patrol, Rob Shaefer and Stanley Ackerman were the only two who could boast of a uniform.

A number of boys accompanied them for a mile or so, to give them a good send-off; after which they either returned home or else went over the river fishing.

For the first two miles or so every one seemed to be standing the tramp well. Then as it began to get warmer, and the pack, somehow, seemed to increase in weight, several scouts lagged a little.

Seeing this, and understanding that it is always an unwise thing to push a horse or a human being in the beginning of a long race, Mr.

Witherspoon thought it best to slacken their pace.

They were in no particular hurry to get anywhere; and once heels began to get sore from the rubbing of their shoes, it would not be easy to cure them again. The wise scout master was a believer in the motto that "an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure."

Ahead of them loomed the lofty elevation that possibly from its shape had long been known as Big Bear Mountain. The boys had tried to learn just how it came by that name--and naturally this subject interested them more than ever as they found themselves drawing steadily closer to its foot.

"It doesn't look so _very_ much like a bear to me," George Kingsley remarked, as the discussion waxed warmer. Though for that matter George always did find some reason to object to almost everything.

"I was told by an old settler who ought to know," ventured Tom, "that long ago numerous bears lived in the rocky dens of the mountain, and that's how it came to be called as it is."

"Must have been years and years ago then," said Josh, "because I never remember hearing about a bear being seen hereabouts. I often used to look for bear tracks when I was out hunting, but of course I never found one."

"Wouldn't it be a great thing if we did happen on a real bear while we were out on this hike?" suggested Billy b.u.t.ton, who was rather given to stretches of imagination, and seeing things where they did not exist.

So they beguiled the time away as they tramped along. Gradually they approached the great gloomy looking mountain, and it was seen that by the time they stopped for their noon meal they would probably be at its foot.

Tom and Carl were walking together, for somehow the boys seemed to pair off as a general thing. Carl was looking brighter now, as though in the excitement of the start he might have temporarily forgotten his troubles.

"There don't seem to be so many farms up this way as we thought," Tom observed as they found themselves walking close beside a stretch of woodland, with a gully on the other side of the road.

"That may make it harder for us to get the supplies we'll need, I should think," suggested Carl, who knew the leaders of the expedition had counted on finding hospitable farmers from time to time, from whom they could purchase bread, b.u.t.ter, and perhaps smoked ham or bacon, very little of which had been carried with them--in fact no more than would be required for a few meals.

"Yes," admitted Tom readily enough. "But then it will afford us a chance to show our ability as scouts--and if you look at it the right way that counts for a lot. When everything goes according to the schedule you've arranged there isn't much credit in doing things; but when you're up against it good and hard, and have to shut your teeth and fight, then when you accomplish things you've got a right to feel satisfied."

Carl knew full well there was a hidden significance beneath these words of his chum's--and that Tom was once more trying to buoy up his hopes.