The Outdoor Chums In The Forest Part 11

Frank opened his eyes. The sun was actually s.h.i.+ning in through the front of his tent, much to his mortification and surprise.

"That's about the first time I've ever been caught napping," he remarked to Will, who was now ding-donging a big spoon on the bottom of a frying-pan, to indicate that breakfast was ready.

Frank had been up the greater part of the night, on guard. He had a.s.sumed most of the care of the camp himself, only dropping down when the hour was getting on toward dawn.

The others, knowing this, had been careful not to arouse him, but had gone on with the duties of the morning.

"It's good of you, boys, to let me sleep so long. I guess I must have needed it, too. Count me in before you've been at it five minutes," and so saying he slipped through the woods to a little brook near by, where they could hear him splas.h.i.+ng about at a great rate.

When breakfast was done they began to consider what the duties of the day were to be. They had come up here into the mountains not to hunt, for the close season was on all edible game, but to knock around and have a good time generally. Incidentally, of course, they expected to look into that ghost story, and endeavor to learn just how much truth lay back of it.

Already considerable progress had been made, Frank thought.

He had prodded the boys who were in the camp at the time the specter showed up, and upon putting their stories together, came to the conclusion that the ghost must have appeared on the east side of the place.

Hither Frank hied himself immediately after he had finished eating.

Dropping down on his hands and knees, he commenced to examine the ground with all the care of a red trailer of the plains and forest.

"Find anything?" asked Jerry, joining him.

Neither of the other chums would even so much as look. They had had an experience, and were quite content to let it rest at that. The absentees might take it into their heads to continue the treatment, if they wished. Perhaps they might not feel quite so ambitious after one chance to look at that grim white figure.

"Nothing to boast of. You see the ground is rather hard here, and a man might stand all around without making much of an impression. Still, it seems to me as if that might be the imprint of a shoe, and this, too."

He pointed as he spoke, and Jerry bent lower to look.

"I think you're right. Somebody stepped there, that's sure. Whether last night, or a week of Sundays ago, I wouldn't care to say," he admitted.

"Well, you ought to be able to place it better than that, for if you stop to think, you must remember that it rained just three days back."

"Correct! And that would have washed the footprint out completely, eh?

But if we only had a hound here, used to following a human trail, wouldn't it be the easy thing to run down Mr. Ghost?" chuckled Jerry.

"It certainly would; but we happen to have nothing of the kind. I know of a couple of dogs able to do it. Colonel Halpin brought them up from the South. Don't you remember early last spring they were borrowed by the wardens of the penitentiary to track an escaped convict? They got him, too," remarked Frank.

"Yes, one of them; the other got clean away. I heard he walked in water, and in that way broke the trail."

"Well, the fellow who told me said the convict had some red pepper along with him. When he found the dogs were on his track he scattered this around. The poor beasts almost choked to death, and were not fit to scent a thing for days. That was a clever rascal, all right," said Frank.

"I declare I'm almost tempted to say he deserved to get away; but if we can't follow the tracks of Mr. Ghost I suppose we'll have to just wait until he chooses to pay us another visit, eh, Frank?"

"That's the only remedy; and if what I suspect is true, I imagine we'll be apt to see something of him again soon. We're not wanted in this region, and he means to let us know it frequently."

"Do you think it can be a crazy man's freak?" queried Jerry.

"Honestly, I don't. There is a motive back of this thing, but I'll be frank with you, and say that as yet I don't catch it. Perhaps the idea may flash in on me at any time. I have several suspicions, but nothing to prove that they can hold water."

Presently, therefore, the two searchers wandered back to where Will and Bluff sat talking with the fugitive bound boy.

Bluff looked up at them with a grin.

"S'pose you've got it all fixed now, and can tell us the name and antecedents of our ghost? It's mighty kind of you to go to all that trouble," he gurgled.

Neither of the others answered, for, indeed, what could they say?

"If you want to save that bearskin, I'll show you how to take it off, Bluff," remarked Frank later on.

"Well, now, I would, the worst kind. Even if some of the hairs do come out it will make a dandy rug. When you're ready, tell me what to do,"

replied the other.

So they busied themselves in that way. Will was developing his first roll of films in the tank, which could be used as well in daylight as at night, or in a dark-room. Jerry wandered off, with his gun over his arm, not looking for game, but with the intention of protecting himself against any possible danger. As for Jed, filled to repletion, he seemed quite a different boy from the fear-haunted chap of the previous night.

Jerry was a curious boy, always seeking to learn the why and wherefore of everything that happened. He did not believe in the ghost stories, and only wished he could run across something to prove the fact.

It was with this faint hope springing up in his heart that he sauntered out of the camp and into the great forest that stretched far away toward the lake, on the borders of which Centerville and Newtonport lay.

Looking back of him, he could see the Sunset Mountains very near, the sides covered with the same dense forest growth.

"Let's see, what have I got to look out for?" he was saying to himself, as he upraised a finger with each count: "The ghost, for one; those Apaches of Pet Peters, for two; that fine, hearty old gentleman, Farmer Dobson, for three. Well, a fellow would need to have three pairs of eyes to keep watch of all those perils at once. Perhaps there is another bear near by, the mate of the one Frank and Bluff knocked over. Well, I'm willing, if she only shows up."

So he was talking to himself as he wandered on. He did not mean to go very far away from the camp, at the time he started, but somehow it was so easy to just keep walking on. The day was fine, and he felt like taking exercise.

Jerry did not forget to keep his eyes about him all the while. It would not be pleasant to have those hovering plagues, the boys from town, drop down on his head from some tree, and he did not hanker after the experience.

Somehow his thoughts ranged back to Jed. Jerry was very much interested in the fortunes of the little bound boy, and had determined that his father, as well as the lawyer parent of Bluff, should do something to relieve him from his distress.

"I wonder what there is about that little gold locket that makes old Dobson want to get it in his possession so much? It must be proof of something; and surely there must be money in it for the possessor, if one only knew how to go about it. That's what we don't know, and Dobson does. But Frank will think it out. Nothing gets past him for long, now."

Frank was far from guessing the secret, as yet, for just at that very particular minute he sat in camp looking slyly at the very locket Jerry referred to, and trying to figure out how such a thing as Jed's mother's picture could be valuable to her cousin, the old skinflint farmer.

Jerry, having gone as far as he dared, was now beginning to hedge; that is, he had turned to the left, showing that he meant to return to the camp, but by a different route from the one already taken.

Since in another day or so they meant to change their camping-ground, and pa.s.s on to the sh.o.r.es of Surprise Lake, among the mountains, he thought he might as well see as much of this territory as possible.

Although he had taken his gun along, Jerry really did not believe he would see anything of a character to make him glad he had carried it.

Still, if those followers of Pet Peters were hovering around they would fight shy of him on seeing that he carried a weapon.

He changed the tenor of his thoughts to Andy, and began to wonder what it could have been that brought him up into that lonely country, where there were no farms.

He was aroused from his reflections by a sound that startled him. This was undoubtedly the bellow of a bull, if Jerry knew what that was, and he believed he did. Looking up, he saw something that startled him.

Down the "tote" road, which he happened to be following, something was rus.h.i.+ng toward him with lowered head, stopping occasionally to shake his horns and give a renewed bellow as of rage.

What he had heard Farmer Dobson say on the preceding night flashed through his mind, and Jerry knew that he was now looking upon the missing prize bull. He could not remember of having lost any bull himself, but the animal was heading his way, and evidently meant to make his immediate acquaintance.