The Boy Scouts in the Blue Ridge Part 2

"Sure, if we've got any right to know, read it out, Mr. Scout Master,"

b.u.mpus echoed, in his merry way, his eyes s.h.i.+ning with eagerness.

The scouts cl.u.s.tered around Thad as he once again held the sc.r.a.p of soiled paper up so he could see the comparatively few words scrawled upon it with a pencil, that must have been a mere stub, since it evidently had to be frequently wet in order to make it do duty.

"It's brief, and to the point, I give you my word, boys," he said.

"Here, let me hold it up, and every one of you can push in to read for yourselves. The writer believes in making his words correspond with their sound. With that for a tip you ought to be able to make it out."

And this, then, was what they read, as they bunched together on the mountain road running through the valley of the Smoky Range:

"Beter tak my advis an skip outen this neck ov the woods. The men round heer aint gut no use fo you-uns in thes mountings. That's awl. Savvy?"

There was no signature to the communication.

"Well, that's cool, to say the least," remarked Allan, after he had read the uncouth note that had come down with the rock that fell from above.

"Tells us to turn right around, and go back," declared Giraffe, who was inclined to be peppery, and a bit rash. "Now, I like the nerve of the gent. Just as if we didn't have as much right to wander through these mountains and valleys as the next one."

"We're minding our own business, and I don't see how anybody would want to shoo us away from here," said Smithy, brus.h.i.+ng off some imaginary specks of dust from his neat khaki uniform, always spic and span in comparison with--that of b.u.mpus for example, showing the marks of many a tumble.

Thad was rather puzzled himself. He knew that it would be hardly wise for a parcel of boys to deliberately defy such a notorious character as Old Phin the moons.h.i.+ner, whom the Government had never been able to capture; but then again there was a natural reluctance in his boyish heart to retreat before making some sort of show with regard to carrying out their original design.

Besides, when he happened to glance toward Bob White, and saw how cruelly disappointed the Southern boy looked, Thad immediately changed his mind. Still, he wanted to hear what his comrades thought about it; since they had long gone by the wise principle that majority rules.

"Shall we take this kind advice, and go back, boys?" he asked.

A chorus of eager dissenting voices greeted his words.

"Not for Joseph, not if he knows it!" Giraffe chortled.

"We never turn back, after once we've placed our hand to the plow,"

remarked the pompous Smithy; and his sentiment was cheered to the echo.

"Take a vote on it, Thad," advised the sagacious Allan, knowing that if trouble came along after they had decided to continue the advance, it would be just as well to point to the fact that by an _overwhelming majority_ the patrol had decided upon this rash course.

Every fellow held up his hand when Thad put the question as to whether they should continue the mountain hike. And the sad look vanished from the dark face of Bob White, as dew does before the morning sun.

So the march was immediately resumed, and nothing happened to disturb their peace of mind or body. No more rocks came tumbling down the face of the mountain; and as the afternoon advanced they found themselves getting deeper and deeper into the heart of the uplifts.

"Wow! but this is a lonesome place, all right," remarked Step Hen, looking up at the lofty ridges flanking their course. "I give you my word for it I'd hate to be caught out nights alone in this gay neighborhood. If ever there was a spooky den, this is it, right here.

Glad to have company; such as it is, fellers."

No one took any notice of the pretended slur. The fact was, the scouts no longer straggled along the road as before that incident of the falling rock. They seemed to feel a good deal like Step Hen expressed it, that under the circ.u.mstances it was a good thing to have company. In union there was strength; and eight boys can do a great deal toward buoying up one another's drooping courage.

"And say, looks more like a storm comin' waltzin' along than ever before," b.u.mpus observed, as he nodded his head toward the heavens, which were certainly looking pretty black about that time.

"Thought I heard a grumble, like thunder away off in the distance; might a been that same Old Phin Dady speakin' his mind some more, though,"

remarked Giraffe.

"Only a little further, suh, and we'll come to an old abandoned log cabin, unless my calculations are wrong; which ought to serve us for a shelter to-night," was the cheering news from Bob White, who was supposed to know this country like a book.

"Bully for the log cabin!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed b.u.mpus, who, being heavy in build, could not stand a long hike as well as some other fellows, the tall Giraffe, for instance, whose long legs seemed just made for covering ground rapidly.

Ten minutes later Davy Jones, who had pushed to the van, gave a shout.

"There's your deserted log cabin!" he remarked, pointing. "Am I correct, Bob?"

"You surely are, suh," replied the Southerner. "And as I fail to see smoke coming from the chimney at the back, it looks to me as though n.o.body had got ahead of us there. If the roof only holds, we can laugh at the rain, believe me."

When the scouts hurried up to the cabin, for there was now no longer any doubt about the storm being close at hand, since lightning flashed and the grumble of thunder had changed into a booming that grew louder with every peal, they found to their great satisfaction that it seemed in a fair state of preservation, despite the fact that it must have been left to the sport of the elements for many a long year.

"Nothing wrong with this, boys," announced the scoutmaster, as they pushed inside the log house, and looked around. "And if we know half as much as we think we do, there'll be a pile of wood lying here before that rain drops down on us. Just remember that we've got a whole night ahead."

"Hurrah! that's the ticket! Get busy everybody. We don't belong to the Beaver Patrol, but we can work just as well as if we did. Whoop her up, fellers!"

b.u.mpus was as good as his words. Dropping his haversack and staff in a corner, he pushed out of the door. Although the evening was being ushered in sooner than might have been expected, owing to the swoop of the storm, there was still plenty of light to see where dry wood was to be picked up for the effort. And immediately every one of the eight scouts was working furiously to bring in a good supply.

No doubt the rattle of the thunder caused the boys to hurry things; for by the time the first drops began to fall they had secured as much as they expected to use. And already there was Giraffe on his knees in front of the big fireplace that lay at the foot of the wide-throated chimney, whittling shavings with which to start a cheery blaze.

This had just started into life when the rattle of a horse's hoofs came to the ears of the boys who had cl.u.s.tered at the door to witness the breaking of the summer storm.

"Hey! looks like another pilgrim overtaken by the gale," said Davy Jones, as a man on horseback came riding furiously along the wretched road, heading straight for the old cabin; as though he knew of its presence, and might indeed have found its shelter acceptable on other occasions.

He was evidently greatly astonished to find the place already occupied by a bevy of boys dressed in khaki uniforms. At first Thad thought he could see an expression akin to fear upon the thin face of the man, who seemed to be something above the average mountaineer; possibly the keeper of a country store among the mountains; or it might be a doctor; a lawyer, or a county surveyor, for he had rather a professional air about him.

Allan had immediately a.s.sured him that they were only seeking temporary shelter in the old cabin, and that he would be quite welcome to share it with them until the storm blew over, or as long as he wished to stay.

As the man, leaving his horse tied outside to take the rain as it came, pushed inside the cabin, Thad saw Bob White suddenly observe him with kindling eyes. Then to his further surprise he noticed that the Southern boy drew the rim of his campaign hat further down over his eyes, as though to keep his face from being recognized by the newcomer.

Another minute, and Bob had drawn the young scoutmaster aside, to whisper in his ear a few words that aroused Thad's curiosity to the utmost.

"That is Reuben Sparks, the guardian of my little cousin Bertha, a cruel man, who hates our whole family. He must not recognize me, or it might spoil one of my main objects in coming down here into the Blue Ridge valleys. Warn the boys when you can, please Thad, not to mention me only as Bob White. Oh! I wonder if this meeting is only an accident; or was guided by the hand of fate?"

CHAPTER IV.

AFTER THE STORM.

THAD remembered that on several other occasions the Southern boy had mentioned the name of his little cousin, and always with a certain tender inflection to the soft voice that stamped him for one who had been born below the Dixie line.

And while Bob White had not seen fit to take his friend into his confidence it had always been plain to Thad that the other must have cherished a deep affection for the said Bertha; perhaps, since he had no sister of his own, she may have been as dear to him as one, in those times when he lived among the Blue Ridge mountains.

Before now Thad had strongly suspected that Bob had some other object in coaxing his comrades to make the pilgrimage to the Land of the Sky, besides the desire to show them its wonders. And now his own words proved it. More than that, it seemed to have some strange connection with this same little cousin, Bertha; and naturally with her legally appointed guardian, Reuben Sparks.

Thad, first of all, managed to pa.s.s the word around in a whisper, just as Bob wished it done. The boys understood that there was a reason back of the request, and expected that their comrade would take them into his confidence later on. Besides, there had really never been the slightest chance that any one of them would breathe that name of Quail in connection with Bob; indeed, most of them would have had to stop and think, if suddenly asked what his real name was, so seldom did they hear it mentioned.

The man on horseback was chatting with Allan and several others. He did not hesitate to ask questions, and was soon put in possession of the fact that they were merely the members of a Boy Scout patrol, making a strenuous hike through the Big Smoky spur of the Blue Ridge.