The Meadow-Brook Girls in the Hills Part 12

"Tommy, come help us put up the tent," urged Harriet. "Maybe it will fall on your head next. That will make Margery feel well again, won't it, dearie?"

Margery, in a weak voice, agreed that it would. Tommy retorted that she didn't care if it did.

The tent was found to have been quite badly torn. The hoofs of the horses had left great rents in it. After examining the canvas it was decided not to try to repair it that night, but to leave it as it was until morning, when the girls would be better able to see what they were doing.

They had once more raised the tent, having been obliged to cut one new pole, when Jim returned leading the horses. They were very nervous and kept tossing their heads, rearing and plunging at the slightest unusual sound.

"Something wrong with them. I don't know what it is," he said, in answer to the guide's glance of inquiry.

"Lead 'em up here. Well, I swum!"

"Wha--at is it?" demanded Margery, sitting up.

"Look at that, will ye?"

The girls got as close to the animals as was prudent. Ja.n.u.s parted the hair on the hip of one horse and pointed to a small wound. The other horse bore a similar wound.

"Oh, they have hurt themselves. Isn't it too bad?" sympathized Hazel.

"Hurt themselves!" exploded the guide. "Those wounds were made with some sharp instrument, maybe a knife. I don't know. Now, can you blame them for running away and taking the tent down? This business is moving too fast! What are we going to do?"

"You are the guide, sir. You are the responsible head of the party,"

replied Miss Elting.

"I thought I was, too. But, I swum! I don't know which from t'other any more. Jim, what do you think about that?" pointing a finger at the horses and indicating their wounded hips. "Did they get them themselves, or did somebody do it to them? I can't make up my mind."

"Some one did it, Jan. The hosses never did that themselves."

"But how could they?"

"Maybe tied a knife to a long stick. Didn't mean to do any serious work or would have cut deeper. Just went through the skin, that's all, but enough to set the critters crazy. See any one about these parts?"

questioned the driver, turning to the girls.

"No, sir. We were under the tent. We saw nothing," answered Harriet.

"I think it must have been the squealing of the horses that awakened us. The next we knew we were being trampled on and the tent was down about our ears. Have you looked about here carefully, Mr. Grubb?"

"For what?" returned Ja.n.u.s quickly.

"For thpookth," Tommy replied pertly.

"Pshaw!"

"I mean have you looked where the horses were tied," explained Harriet.

"You did examine the halters. You say they were broken, not cut. I think we should look further."

"Yes. I agree with Harriet that we ought to make a careful search of the ground about the camp," said Miss Elting. "We cannot afford to miss opportunities that might solve this mystery. I wish you and the driver would make a start," she urged.

"All right. Where's the lantern?" demanded Ja.n.u.s.

"It went down with the bridge," Harriet informed him. "We have another, a smaller one, but I hardly think it will be of much use for our purpose. I'll tell you what. Why not use some of the dry pitch pine roots that you gathered?" suggested Harriet. "They are ready to burn and will make excellent torches. We have plenty of kindling wood without them."

"An excellent idea," approved the guardian.

Ja.n.u.s glanced at Jim and nodded. "I told you so," chuckled the guide.

"I knew she could suggest something."

Ja.n.u.s gathered up some roots, whittling one end of each stick into a sunflower-like bunch of shavings. These ends he lighted, whereat the torches flared up into flickering, smoking flames. The guide led the way, followed by the entire Meadow-Brook party, Margery Brown having become so interested as to forget her troubles for the moment, though the lump on her head was still large and painful.

Just before reaching the trees where the horses had been tied, Miss Elting suggested that all save the guide and Harriet stop where they were.

"If so many of us go forward we shall not only be likely to miss any clues there are, but perhaps destroy them altogether. I have an idea that we are going to find something that will enlighten us," she added.

"That's good, common sense," agreed the guide, nodding his approval.

"Is there anything you wish us to do, Mr. Grubb?" asked Miss Elting.

"Little Brownie is the pilot," replied Ja.n.u.s jocularly, waving a hand in Harriet Burrell's direction. "Whatever she suggests, we will do.

We can't do any better than to follow her lead."

Harriet's cheeks flushed. She had taken a torch and began slowly to circle the trees to which the horses had been tied upon arriving at the camp site. At first her circle was a wide one, Ja.n.u.s following her example by beginning well out beyond the trees. Harriet's smoking torch was held close to the ground, sweeping from side to side, the torch bearer a.s.suming a crouching position with head well lowered, body bent almost double.

"Look out!" shouted Tommy, as Harriet came abreast of her party.

"Wha--at?" Harriet straightened up sharply. "What is it!"

"You will burn your nothe, if you don't look out."

"Oh, Tommy!" Harriet laughed merrily. "Is that all?"

"I was thinking the same thing," chuckled the guide. "Wish I could bend over like that. But don't bother us, little one. This is our busy night, and right serious business it is, too." The laughter disappeared from his face and Ja.n.u.s bent low to his task.

The others of the party had either seated themselves on the ground or leaned against trees. They chatted while the guide and Harriet Burrell sought for the true trail, but it was not very encouraging work.

The two torches flickered and smoked weirdly, now and then becoming mere glows like distant lamps in a fog, as the bearer slipped behind a tree or was masked by an intervening growth of bushes whose foliage was very thick and dense.

"Oh, Mr. Grubb, who of our party has bra.s.s-headed tacks in his boot heels?" called Harriet.

"I have. Why?"

"I found a heel mark that gave me that impression," answered Harriet laughingly.

"Well, I swum!"

"It was a guess about their being bra.s.s-headed, though," she admitted.

"You would have made a prize sheriff, Little Brownie," declared the guide, gazing at her admiringly. "If I'd had you to nose the trail when I was after Red Tacy and Charlie Valdes it wouldn't have taken me a matter of two months to get them."

"Who are they?"