Roy Blakeley, Pathfinder

Then Harry told him all about his adventure out on the ocean and how he found the dead man in the boat, and the money.

“Funny thing, too,” he said; “but we were trying to dope out the meaning of that letter, all sitting around the camp-fire. We even thought we could see the old gent. Old veteran, isn’t he? Huh, that’s just what we thought. Blamed funny thing, a camp-fire.”

Jib Jab didn’t say anything, only just looked straight ahead of him. Harry just kept smoking and swinging his legs.

“Guess we hit it about right, hey?” he said.

Jib Jab just kept looking straight ahead of him.

“Pretty near,” he said. He sounded kind of strange. Even still he didn’t put the money in his pocket, or the water-soaked letter either, but they just stayed where Harry threw them, on the bathrobe.

“Pretty tough, being broke,” Harry said.

“Bet the old gent’ll be proud to see you. Under Grant, I suppose?”

“Sherman,” Jib Jab said, very quiet.

Then neither of them spoke for about a couple of minutes, only Harry asked him for a light.

“Ever get mixed up with the boy scouts, Jib?” Harry asked him.

Jib Jab just shook his head.

“Well, listen here,” Harry said; “and here’s the test of whether you’re really human.”

“I guess I’m pretty human,” Jib Jab said, very low.

Then Harry said, “We ran into a party of scouts, Jib, who went up to Elm Center to see if a fellow they saw in a moving picture was you. I guess it was all right. They had an idea of winning that reward; you know about the offer, of course?”

“Yes, I knew,” Jib Jab said.

“How about this old gent you’re named after? Friend of your father’s? I thought as much. Pretty rich, I suppose? Good. Now, Jib, you and I know what it is to go broke. I’ve gone broke forty-eleven times. And we’re both keen for adventure; that’s our trouble, I guess. There’s a fellow over where we’re camping, a young fellow, with a bunch of little tenderfoot scouts. They came up to hunt for you and to get that reward. They’re broke. They need some mazuma to start in with. They need a hundred. Do they get it?”

Jib Jab said, “What do you mean?”

“Well, first you’re willing to go home?”

“Do you have to ask me that?”

“All right then,” Harry said; “here’s the plan of campaign and General Pershing himself couldn’t plan it better. You’re going home, that’s settled. Prodigal son, and all that stuff. But first you’ve got to be discovered. Give us another light, will you? I put it to you from man to man, or from tramp to what-is-it, you can’t go home without being discovered. You’ve got to come over our way and get yourself discovered. These scouts need a shack to meet in and a lot of stuff. They want to give their scoutmaster a welcome home. He was in the scrap same as you and I. It all hangs on that hundred dollars, Jib. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to be the goat. That young fellow Gaylong is a double barrel scout and he’s trying to pull through with that outfit of kids. He wouldn’t take a cent as an ordinary present. I’ve got his number. Of course, if you’ve got the instinct of a baboon that doesn’t mean anything to you. But all over the fences in this happy berg, Costello is wanting to know if you’re human. You can’t show you’re human just by taking off that bear skin and washing your face. I want to know if you’re human or not.”

“Run out and ask Costello for a couple of marvellous, matchless matches, will you, Roy?”

So that’s all I can tell you about their talk, because when I went back Harry was waiting for us near the entrance. All I can tell you is what happened. On the way back through the woods Harry wouldn’t talk at all, only he said that the scouts were a blamed nuisance and he guessed he’d go and work in a circus. Gee whiz, I hope he doesn’t. But, oh boy, he’d make a dandy what-is-it.

When we got to camp there was a peachy big fire and they were all sitting around it. Brent Gaylong was lying on his back, same way as he always did, with his knees up.

“Move up and give us a chance here,” Harry said; “we’re tired.” And he squeezed right in between little Willie Wide-awake and another one of those kids. “Regular sewing circle, huh?” he said. “Well, Bill old top, what did you see in the blaze?”

“He’s been seein’ things,” Brent said, kind of laughing.

“Get out—no,” Harry said.

“I saw a transport,” Willie Wide-awake said; “that long log looked like a transport. Then it crackled and I didn’t see it any more.”

Harry said, “Torpedoed, I guess. Didn’t see anything of that scoutmaster of yours, did you?”

“I looked, but I didn’t see him,” Willie said.

“Down in the cabin eating his dinner, probably,” Harry said. “Chuck on a couple more logs, Westy old boy.”

“He saw a meeting-shack, too,” Gaylong said.

“It was just like real,” the kid piped up.

“That point on the blaze made the roof. You can see things better if you half shut your eyes.”

“That’s the idea,” Harry said; “you’ve got to get kind of dreamy. You’re getting the hang of it all right. Over in France one night I saw the house I live in at home. There was a new chicken coop. Once I saw Teddy Roosevelt.”

“One good thing,” Brent said in that funny way he had; “the things you see in the fire don’t cost anything.”

Harry said, “Yes, but they’re going up like everything else. They go up in smoke.”

“Like everything else,” Gaylong said.

“There you go,” Harry said; “Hard Luck Gaylong, the boy grouch. How do you know when you may strike luck. Look at Charlie Collins over there on the west front; ran plunk into his own brother while he was on sentry duty; brother said, ‘H’lo Charlie’—just like that. Neither one knew the other was in France. You’ve been looking at maps and things and you believe everything the geography tells you. I’ve been all around this world and you can take it from me, it’s about the size of a cocoanut. Look how Stanley met Livingstone in South Africa. You take a tip from me and keep that newspaper picture.”

Brent said, “I’d paste it in a scrapbook only we haven’t got a scrapbook.”

“We haven’t got any paste either,” Willie shouted.

“Poor, but honest,” Gaylong said.

Then Harry put his arm around little Willie Wide-awake’s shoulder, awful nice and friendly like, and he said, “Don’t you mind him, Bill old boy. Let him grouch. Now let’s you and I see what we can find there.”

Gee, he was awful nice and it made me like him a lot. Because, anyway, it showed that even if he was kind of wild and reckless, he could be nice to a little fellow like that. I wish he’d be a scoutmaster, but I don’t believe he ever will. He’s got too many dates. We all looked into the fire and listened when he began.

He said, “I can see old Grouch Gaylong, there, with a fine scout uniform and one of those big long sticks and about ’steen hundred badges; badges for being sarcastic, badges for lying on his back and sticking his feet up in the air, Calamity Jane badges—all kinds. I can see you head of the Church Mice patrol, only the Church Mice have struck it rich. They won’t speak to the Silver Foxes any more. See that long, thin flame? That’s one of their tails.”

“I can see the American flag,” Willie Wide-awake said.

“Sure, Old Glory;—right underneath it is a little kind of a bungalow all fixed up, and a canoe right near it. See the canoe? And I can see a face—yes sir, I can see a face. Mr. Jennis, is it? See, right through the middle of the flame? That’s Mr. Jennis, all right. And——”

“I can see it!” Willie Wide-awake shouted.

“Sure you can,” Harry said, “plain as day——”

“Look! Look!” the little fellow shouted, and he clutched Harry by the arm, all excited. “I see it! It’s real! Look!”

I was looking, too, and I saw it and then I knew. And I wanted, I just wanted to go over and clutch Harry Donnelle by the arm, just like that kid was doing. I could see Brent Gaylong roll over and look, kind of curious, through the blaze. And all the fellows seemed to start, all except Dorry and I. But I didn’t budge, only sat there watching Brent Gaylong. His face looked kind of strange. Then he stood up. And the other face behind the blaze rose up, too. And Jib Jab was standing there and the fire was shining on his face. And even I could see the twinkle in his eye.

Then I heard Harry Donnelle speak and his voice sounded queer, because it was so still around there. And there wasn’t any sound except the fire crackling.

He said, “Who are you? What do you want here?”

“Just a stranger after food and shelter,” I heard; “I’ve been wandering in the woods. I am a discharged soldier and I’m in hard luck.”

But I didn’t notice him, because I was looking at Brent Gaylong. He was standing up straight and looking steady, right across the fire, into that face. And he didn’t take his eyes off it; just stared.

Oh, it was great to watch Harry—the way he acted. He just said, “A soldier, eh? Sit down, we were just going to have a bite to eat. I was in the big scrap, myself.” That’s what he always called it—the big scrap. He didn’t pay any attention to Brent Gaylong, and Brent just stood there staring.

Pretty soon Brent said, “Your name isn’t Chandler, is it?”

“Maybe, and maybe not,” Jib Jab said. “Who are you?”

He didn’t admit he was Chandler right away and Harry Donnelle said, kind of careless sort of, “If you’re the missing Chandler you might as well so say. We’re all tramps and wanderers here. All broke, too.”

So pretty Soon Jib Jab, is he human? admitted that he was Horace E. Chandler, and Harry Donnelle said it was mighty lucky we had decided to stay over night in that neighborhood. He said he had always thought that the world was about as big as a cocoanut, but now he knew it was the size of a green pea. He said the trouble with it was there wasn’t enough elbow room, and scouts couldn’t get away into the woods and be alone, because on account of the crowds—crowds of missing people. Oh, he was great and, believe me, we liked that fellow.

None of those Church Mice even knew that Horace E. Chandler was Jib Jab who was in the circus. On the quiet, Jib told us that Mr. Costello didn’t mind his leaving like that, because what-is-its were easy to get, on account of so many of them being out of work—I mean people. But Jib said, Mr. Costello told him he was the best what-is-it he ever had, and he would give him a good recommendation, if he wanted it.

So that’s the end of Jib Jab is he human? And, gee, you’ll have to admit he was human, all right. He said he wouldn’t go home to Greendale unless the Church Mice went with him and stayed for a few days on his father’s farm. Harry Donnelle stood up for him and said that was right. I bet he knew about it all the time. He said that he wouldn’t trust Chandler to go home alone.

“Now you’ve got him, hang onto him,” that’s what he said to Brent. “Safety first, don’t take any chances. Go up there and get your hundred. These discharged soldiers are a bad lot. See what kind of a farm he lives on, and if it’s any good we’ll hike up there next summer and strip the apple trees. Got any good russets up there, Horace?”

So that’s the way they fixed it, and the next morning Horace Chandler and the Church Mice started off on their journey to Greendale. Brent Gaylong said he was going to ’phone home from Kingston, so that their people would know. Anyway, I guess their mothers and fathers wouldn’t worry much, because Brent was the kind of a fellow they could trust, that was one sure thing.

Harry told Horace Chandler to start off with them just as if they were going to hike all the way, and then when they got good and tired, to buy tickets on the railroad. Do you know what I think? I think Harry had some money and that he gave it to Horace so he could do that. That’s what I kind of think. It would be just like him anyway.

One thing, you’re going to meet all those fellows again, but not in this story. Because after a while we went up to that farm in Greendale and camped there, and met old Major Chandler and Mr. Wade and Horace, and had a lot of fun, you can bet. It’s a whole story all by itself. They have dandy russet apples up there, and, oh boy, can’t Horace’s sister Betty make apple dumplings. I ate four one night. Hunt Manners ate six, but anyway he started before I did.

That same day we hiked out through Woodstock. Harry Donnelle said we had to be careful, because the woods were infested with poets and authors and artists, but I should worry, who’s afraid of a poet? We saw a lot of them and they wore funny big neckties and long hair. But anyway, Harry said they were harmless. They live in little shacks.

We went around the Ashokan Reservoir and then along the road down through Atwood and Stone Ridge till we got to the Wallkill River, and that night we camped near New Paltz. There’s a great big abnormal school there, or a normal school, or whatever you call it. I should worry. Anyway, there’s one thing I like about school, and that’s vacation.

The next day we followed the Wallkill River and caught some perch and cooked them for supper, and that night, around the fire, we made Harry tell us how he saved four privates on the West Front. The next morning we started off again and passed a place named Great Bluff. It was a great bluff all right, because it was so small you could send it by Parcels Post.

Pretty soon we came to a place named Tanner’s Crossroads. I couldn’t see anything so cross about them. But anyway Mr. Tanner was cross enough to make up. He wouldn’t let us take a short cut across his land. What cared we?

I don’t know how big the village was, because I didn’t have a ruler with me. I guess somebody must have dropped the village there and never noticed it. That night we slept just inside of a village named Slow. Anyway, that’s what it said on a sign alongside the road. Harry said it meant for autos to go slow. I made flapjacks that night.

In two days we came in sight of the Hudson. I knew it would be there. Oh boy, but we climbed some hills. Pretty soon we could see Haverstraw, but we didn’t go near it. We camped in a dandy place outside the town. And that’s the place where we had our big adventure. Maybe you’ll remember how I said our hike got tied in a knot in one place. Well, that was the place.

So now I’m going to tell you about that adventure. It has girls in it and everything. And it shows you how boy scouts can be heroes. It has two heroines, so maybe if you don’t like one, you’ll like the other. One’s an emergency heroine, that’s what Harry said.

Now maybe if you’ve read all about our adventures up at Temple Camp, you’ll remember that my sister Marjorie was going to have a birthday party. I told Mr. Ellsworth that I would like to go home for that party and go back to Temple Camp the next day. Maybe you will remember about it, on account of my saying that she was going to have cocoanut frosted cake.

Now on that night that we were camping near Haverstraw, I happened to think about it being my sister’s birthday. I just happened to think of it while we were sitting around our camp-fire.

I said, “This is my sister’s birthday and she’s going to have a party and cocoanut frosted cake and things, and I’d like to be there. I wish I had thought about it yesterday—I’d have sent her a postcard.” Because, one thing, I never forgot about my sister’s birthdays.

Harry said, “Why don’t you call her up?”

“Sure,” Westy said, “they’ll just about be having the eats now.”

I said, “What good will that do me?”

“Anyway, where’s the telephone?” Dorry said.

“I bet there’s a booth over in that little station,” Harry said; “why don’t you go over and see? It would be a big surprise, hey?”

I said, “You bet it would. Come on over and we’ll see if there’s one there, Westy.” The station that Harry spoke about was a little dinky station that we had passed about a half of a mile back. When we passed it, Harry said he guessed maybe it was the West Haverstraw Station. It was all dark even then. But anyway, Westy and I decided we would go back to it and see if it was open and if there was a ’phone booth there.

“Let’s wait till half-past nine before we start,” I said; “and then we’ll call up at exactly ten o’clock, because that’s the time they’ll all be going in for the eats and they’ll be giving the presents then, too. It’ll kind of seem as if I were there just at the right minute.”

So at half-past nine, Westy and I started down the road.

“Give her our best wishes,” Harry called after us.

It was awful dark and we could hardly see our way going along the road. A couple of times I went stumbling into the ditch. But, anyway, all the while I kept thinking about Marjorie and how it would look at home with all those people there and lots of presents and things.

“I’m mighty glad Harry thought about that,” I said.

Westy said, “Jiminies, it will be great. Just when they’re all sitting down around the table, all of a sudden the ’phone will ring——”

“Yop,” I said, “and Marjorie will answer it, because she always answers the ’phone, on account of Charlie Wentworth all the time calling her up. He’s in Philadelphia. That’s what makes the ’phone service so bad, because he keeps all the operators busy. Believe me, they ought to have a private wire. Anyway, that’s what my father says.”

“I bet you won’t be able to get her,” Westy said.

“There you go,” I told him; “Calamity Jane!”

“To call her up, you’ll have to call Central down,” he said.

“I should worry,” I told him.

That station stood all by itself, and it was pitch dark all around. It reminded me of the Grand Central Station, it was so different. First we tried the door and it was locked. Then we tried one of the windows and it opened.

I said, “Do you think it would be all right to climb in?”

“Sure it would,” Westy said; “because the window doesn’t open into the ticket agent’s room, only into the waiting room. Go ahead.”

I didn’t see any harm in climbing in, because the window was part open and there was a sign outside that said “Public Telephone.”

“Anyway,” Westy said; “if anybody should come and find us here, we could say we just wanted to ’phone. And we could prove that’s all we wanted, too, by our really getting the number.”

First I didn’t know what we ought to do, but as long as we didn’t have to break anything open, and as long as all we wanted was to ’phone, I decided it would be all right.

So we climbed in and I saw there was a booth in the corner. I dropped a nickel into the ’phone and held the receiver to my ear and waited and waited and waited and waited. Gee, I waited about as long as three whole chapters would be.

Then I heard a girl’s voice. It said, “Hello, hello.”

I said, “I want three, two, one, Bridgeboro, New Jersey, and please hurry up, because my sister’s having a party.”

I guess the wire was crossed, the girl was awful excited, and every time I said hello, she’d say, “Hello, hello, is this you, father?”

I guess she was so rattled, she didn’t know who she was talking to.

By this time I was getting kind of sore at the operator, because I wanted to get my sister the minute of ten o’clock, and she was sort of spoiling my plan. I had just three more minutes to get her, because Westy lighted a match and looked at his watch. Then I said, “Hello, hello.”

The same voice kept saying, “Hello, hello, is this you, father?”

I said, “No, it isn’t. How long does it take to get the operator in this berg?”

The poor girl was almost crying by now. She said, “I’ve been trying for an age to get my father. Won’t you please let me get him? I want my father! Why don’t they give me my father?”

Gee whiz, you’d think I had her father in my pocket. I said, “I’m trying to get my sister, too. If you happen to see her, tell her, will you?”

She said, “Oh dear; it’s just exasperating. Won’t you please get off the wire. I want Central. Why can’t they help me? We’re in such a dreadful predicament.”

I said, “I guess Central went to the movies or somewhere. I’m a boy scout and I’m in a dark station somewhere or other near Haverstraw——”

“Oh, isn’t that just too provoking!” she said.

I said, “Oh, it isn’t so bad in here, only it’s dark.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she said; “we’re lost on the top of Eagle’s Nest Mountain. Oh, I wonder if you’d be willing to go to Haverstraw and tell my people—Judge Edwards. It’s dreadful! We’ve been here since five o’clock. We haven’t had a thing to eat and we’re nearly perishing. The boys made a mistake about the trail. Oh, it’s terrible! We’re frightened out of our lives. I’ll never, never come up this horrible mountain again!”

I said, “Are the boys scouts?”

She said, “No, they’re regular young men and they’re utterly bewildered!”

I said, “Now I know they’re not scouts. But anyway, you don’t need to worry, because we’ll come up and get you. Trails are our middle names. You should worry about Central. But, one thing, I’d like to know how there happens to be a ’phone up there.”

She said, “Oh, you’re just a dear.” That’s just exactly what she said—honest.

I said, “Mountains aren’t horrible. I’ve met a whole lot of them and they’re all right. Don’t you worry. I was trying to get my sister on the ’phone to tell her Many Happy Wishes, because it’s her birthday, and she’s having a party. She’s just seventeen. We’re on a hike.”

“Oh, I’m just seventeen, too,” she said; “and you’re perfectly wonderful. I know you’ll save us. We’re up here at the fire observation station. If you’ll go to my father and go to the police——”

“We should worry about the police,” I said; “the only trail they can follow is a trail around the block. One of us fellows will go to your father’s house and tell him, and meanwhile, the rest of us will come up there. Anyway, I’d like to see that observation station. So now maybe you’ll calm down and tell me how to find the mountain road.”

“Oh, do you think you can?” she asked.

“Sure, we can,” I told her.

Just then somebody must have pulled her away from the ’phone. Anyway, a fellow’s voice said, “Let me talk to him. What is he? Just a kid?” Then he said, “Will you please run to Haverstraw and notify Judge Edwards, 22 Terrace Street, that his daughter and three friends are on the top of Eagle’s Nest, and to please have the authorities notified and a party formed to come here. I will see that you’re suitably rewarded.”

I said, “I’d be ashamed to have the whole town of Haverstraw coming up after me, and scouts don’t accept rewards. We’ll send to Haverstraw and tell Judge Edwards, and then we’ll come up and get you. All you have to do is to sit there and tell riddles till you see us. Which road do you take for Eagle’s Nest?”

Then he said how we should follow the west road from Haverstraw till we got to a big white house with a windmill in front of it. Pretty soon after we got past that, he said, we’d come to a cow path that led through the fields. He said we should follow that till we got into the woods where we’d see picnic grounds and then we’d find a trail that went up the mountain. He said other trails branched off from it, so we’d have to be careful. He said it didn’t go right to the top, and I suppose that’s why they couldn’t find it coming down.

He said, “Did you ever hit a mountain trail?”

“Hit one?” I said. “We give one a knock-out blow every couple of days. So long, we’ll see you later. Tell that girl not to worry.”

Gee whiz, I forgot all about Marjorie.

As soon as I told Westy about it, he said he’d go into Haverstraw so as to save time, while I went back to camp and got the rest of the fellows. Oh boy, didn’t I hustle. I went running into camp shouting that there were two fellows and two girls on the top of Eagle’s Nest, and that we had to go and rescue them.

“Are they human?” Harry asked in that funny way he had.

“Yes, they’re human,” I said.

“Five toes on their front feet and four on their hind feet?” he asked me. “Had we better take some flypaper?”

“All right, you can laugh,” I said.

He said, “I’ve followed you through many wild adventures, but I never accompanied you in rescuing a maiden in distress.”

“Two maidens,” I said.

“All right,” he laughed; “the more the merrier.”

“And one of those fellows said I was a kid,” I told him. “Anyway, if I took a girl out, I’d know how to bring her back, that’s one thing. Wait till I see that fellow.”

Harry just laughed and said he wouldn’t miss it for anything. So we took two lanterns and started off along the road that ran north, and pretty soon we hit into the main road out of Haverstraw and came to the big white house with the windmill. Pretty soon we hit into the cow path that led up through the woods. It wasn’t just like the fellow said, because it fizzled out in a pasture. Anyway, across the pasture were thicker woods and we picked up the mountain trail there. If he had told us that it started right near a big stone, it would have saved us a lot of hunting around with our lanterns. That’s just the way it is with big fellows; they think they’re so smart that they don’t know anything. Gee whiz, you didn’t need a microscope to see that rock, but he never even mentioned it over the ’phone.

One thing, who ever named that mountain Eagle’s Nest ought to apologize to the first eagle he meets. It would have been a crazy eagle that would build a nest like that. As nearly as I could make out it was a lot of mountains all jumbled into one. Harry said it was a kind of a bouquet of mountains.

The trail led up through a pine forest and first it was easy following it. Then it went down into a hollow and got mixed up with a lot of rocks. I guess that must have been one of the rooms of the eagle’s nest. Anyway, we couldn’t follow it through there so we took a chance and picked it up on the other side.

That’s where the climbing began. Oh boy, that was some tangle—all underbrush and scrub oak. Good night, I don’t know how those girls ever got through there. Pretty soon I stopped and began sniffing.

“Do you know what it reminds me of?” I said. “It reminds me of raking up the leaves at home.”

“It smells like a rake,” Hunt Manners said, just joking.

“No, but I mean burning autumn leaves,” I said; “you know how it smells in Bridgeboro in the autumn. Then you know it’s getting cold and Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming. Anyway, you can laugh, but that smell always reminds me of Thanksgiving.”

Harry just sniffed, but didn’t say anything, and we started up again. There were lots of big hubbles, kind of valleys in the mountain, and most of them were rocky. I guess in the daytime it would be easy enough to keep the trail in those places, but at night, we had some job.

In one of those places we heard a sound as if some one was moving and we all stopped short and looked around. Pretty soon Dorry whispered for me to look, and he pointed to a dark thing kind of sneaking away.

Harry called, “Who’s there?”

There wasn’t any answer and the man, or whatever it was, was gone. It was so dark we couldn’t see which way he had gone.

Harry said, “That’s funny; this is a queer place to meet anybody.”

Will Dawson said, “I guess it was just a tramp.”

“Or a leopard,” Tom Warner said.

“Or maybe a what-is-it,” Charlie Seabury chimed in.

Anyway, we didn’t want to run any risk of losing the trail, so we didn’t bother about him, but kept on up the mountain.

The higher we got, the worse it was. There was what we call mongrel forest, tall trees and thick brush underneath. But it was straight going now, without any up and down places. The trail was easy to follow, only we had to go in single file, the first fellow (that was Harry) keeping it by holding a lantern low.

Pretty soon he stopped and said, “There’s brush burning somewhere around here; I can smell it.”

Ralph Warner said, “Listen.”

We all stood stark still and just as plain as could be, I could hear a crackling sound quite a way off.

“I don’t smell it now,” I said; “I did a little while ago.”

“Wait till the breeze is this way,” Harry said.

And then, in just a minute we got a good whiff of it—strong, just like when I burned the leaves on our lawn at home. Then all of a sudden I couldn’t smell it at all. Dorry tied his scout scarf on a stick and held it up, and when it blew out straight we got a strong whiff, and the crackling was louder. Sometimes it blew around the other way, up the mountain. Sometimes we couldn’t smell anything at all, but mostly we could hear the crackling a little. It was too dark to see any smoke and there wasn’t any blaze. Harry said he guessed it was pretty far away. He said the breeze could carry the smell a long distance.

“It couldn’t carry the sound so far, though,” I said.

“Trouble is, a stiff breeze can carry most anything,” Harry said; “well, let’s move along and rescue the maidens.”

Just then Hunt Manners said, “Listen!”

Far off we could hear the whistle of a locomotive and a kind of rattling, not very clear, but I knew it was the rattling of a train.

“That’s ’way over at the Hudson,” Harry said; “shows you how far sound will carry in the night.”

Just then I looked at Dorry’s scarf that was tied on the stick, and I saw it was blowing the way we were going—up the mountain.

I said, “That’s why we hear the train; the breeze is blowing from the east. But I can’t hear the crackling now.”

“Guess the breeze is blowing that up the mountain, too,” Harry said.

Then we started up the trail again toward the summit.

It was a jungle of underbrush, that’s what Harry said. Pretty soon the trail just fizzled out in the bushes. We poked around with our lanterns and found a spring there. I guess the wood between there and the summit must have been where the party got lost. Sometimes we could hear the crackling and sometimes we couldn’t, but we could smell the burning brush all the time.

“Guess we’re pretty near the summit,” Harry said; “let’s call that we’re coming. The breeze will carry our voices.”

So we all called together, “Hello, we’re coming.”

There wasn’t any answer, but anyway, we couldn’t have heard on account of the breeze blowing up the mountain.

That was the only thing we had to guide us now—the breeze. We kept the scarf in the air and just followed it, pushing through the brush. Sometimes we had to stop and tear away an opening, so as to get through. There must have been an easier way or those girls and fellows would never have managed it, but Harry thought it was better to push right up than to be groping around for a path.

All of a sudden, Ralph Warner said, “Look!”

Good night! A long line of fire was coming up the mountain, maybe a quarter of a mile in back of us. First it seemed like a dotted line, kind of, because there were dark spaces. But even while we looked some of these filled up. The thing it reminded me of most of all was soldiers; it seemed like a line of soldiers, all bright and fiery, charging up the mountain. It was coming fast and I have to admit it scared me. Because even if we could get through the brush fast enough, I saw we couldn’t get out of range of it. Kind of, the thought came to me that it was like soldiers who had just scrambled out of the trenches. That was just how suddenly we saw it. I remember I heard Harry say something about wind and fire being allies, but we didn’t stop to talk, only pushed up through the brush as fast as we could, but all the while it kept gaining on us.

Pretty soon I said, all out of breath, “We can’t keep this up; it’s gaining; I can even feel the heat.”

“We can’t flank it, that’s sure,” Harry said; “hustle for all you’re worth; that’s all I can say.”

Gee, I’ll never forget that night. We just pushed on up through the brush, stumbling and falling and lifting each other and trying to run. Our clothes were all torn and we were panting like a lot of dogs.

“Watch and see that no fellow is left behind,” Harry panted.

Every minute two or three of us were just dragging some fellow up out of the brush. I guess it was a case of more haste, less speed; it’s pretty hard running through brush.

Harry just panted out, “Boys, we’re in a pretty tight place; don’t get rattled. Lift your feet high with each step and follow right in my tracks. If anybody falls, shout!”

I said, “We’re losing all the time; what’s the use?”

“We can keep ahead of it for a couple of hundred yards,” he said; “maybe we’ll strike clear land. Anyway, we can’t do anything else than give it a race.”

By that time we could feel the heat and sometimes sparks blew almost over our heads, but they were out when they reached ground. Harry just kept panting out, “Hustle,” and “Keep your nerve.”

By now the crackling was loud and I could taste smoke. I knew there wasn’t much chance for us, but I didn’t say so. Anywhere a blown fire is bad enough, but uphill it just rushes. It seemed funny that I’d have to die on Marjorie’s birthday, and all of a sudden I thought how I had tried to ’phone her. Gee, she’d never even know that.

“Hustle,” Harry said.

“Do you hear a voice?” Dorry asked; “listen.”

As plain as could be, I heard a girl’s voice, crying. It kind of seemed as if it might be Marjorie crying, because I was dead.

Then I heard Hunt Manners say, “Yes, I hear it.”

Harry just panted out, “Never mind, step high and hustle.”

“Where are you?” Harry shouted; “all call together.”

We could hear several voices answering all together, “Here.”

“Keep shouting,” he called; “we’re coming. Is there any open land up there?”

“No,” a voice said; “hurry!”

We followed the voices and pretty soon came to the observation station. It was just a little shanty with a trestle-work wooden tower close to it.

“Did you get ’phone connection yet?” Harry called as we came up.

“Guess the poles are burned down,” a fellow’s voice answered. “We can’t even get Central. Have you got water?” he fairly wailed. “We’re going to be burned alive! Have you got water?”

Inside were two girls and two young fellows.

One of the girls was wringing her hands and just sobbing, and the other girl was trying to calm her down. She just kept crying, “It’s coming nearer and nearer! What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do?” One of the fellows was all gone to pieces, too, and he just clutched Harry’s arm and said, “Save us; can’t you save us?”

Harry just kind of threw him off. He said, “We’re here to save you if we can, and die with you if we can’t. The first thing is, not to be a coward. Remember, when the Titanic went down, the band was playing. There have been a couple of million people killed in the last two years. Who are you, to be standing here crying like a baby?”

Oh boy, that hit the girl if it didn’t hit the fellow. She just got up and grabbed Harry by the hand and said, “I’m not a coward. I can be brave.”

“All right,” he said; “we’ve got about eight minutes. Sit down and be calm. These boys are scouts. Take a lesson from them.”

Oh, didn’t I admire that fellow! I bet the girl did, too. Gee, you couldn’t blame her.

“There ought to be some axes here,” he said; “hustle and turn things over.”

Oh boy, it didn’t take us long to have that shanty inside out. We found five axes.

“All right,” Harry said; “now we’ve got just one slim chance and it all depends upon how fast we can work. We’ve got to chop down and tear up a line of brush and start a fire back to meet the other one. Everybody get busy-woman’s place is on the fire line; hustle!”

Oh boy, you should have seen that girl who had been crying. She just grabbed an axe and wouldn’t give it up. Now this is the way we did, and all the while that line of fire was coming along, nearer, nearer, nearer. We chopped away the brush so as to make a long clear space about ten or fifteen feet wide. Harry and three of the scouts and one of the girls used the axes; because that girl just wouldn’t hand over the axe and we couldn’t make her. And didn’t she turn out to be a regular Mrs. Daniel Boone!

The rest of us threw the brush over toward the fire as fast as we could. Some of the small bushes we just dragged up out of the earth. Some hustling!

The fire was so near us now, that we could feel the heat good and strong and sparks kept falling among us, so we had to keep stamping them out. I don’t know how long it took us, but pretty soon we had a long, narrow space cleared. I know my hands were bleeding. As fast as the brush was chopped away, some of the fellows dragged it over toward where the fire was, as near as they dared. That girl would go almost up to the blaze and push a big clump of brush toward it and then run back. Her dress was all torn, but she didn’t care.

Then we lighted the brush along the edge of the cleared space that was nearest to the fire. If the wind had been blowing that way, the fire would have moved right out to meet the other one. But it had to buck the wind and that was bad. Anyway, the clearing we had made prevented it from coming our way, but the sparks kept blowing across the clearing, and we knew that all we had done was to check the fire long enough to get another good head start away from it.

Believe me, we didn’t wait long.

Harry was panting so hard he could only just talk. “We’ve got to get down the other side of the mountain,” he said, “I figure it’ll be about ten minutes or so before the land this side of the clearing gets started. The sparks’ll start it. The clearing isn’t wide enough and the wind is wrong. Drop everything and follow me—quick.”

Then Will Dawson spoke up. He never talked very much, but he was a good scout just the same. He was breathing so hard he just gulped. “Do either of you girls or fellows know where the man who lived here got his water? There must be water here somewheres or they wouldn’t have built the house here.”

“We can’t stem this advance with spring water,” Harry said; “we’d need a reservoir. Come on!”

“But if we could find the spring,” Will said, “we could follow the trickle and get into a brook lower down. How are we going to find our way down the other side of the mountain? It’s worse than this side. The west side of the mountain is always worse.”

“The fire won’t climb down as fast is it climbs up,” Harry panted; “it doesn’t work that way. The mountain itself acts as a wind shield. We’ve got to get over the top blamed quick. I’ll find a way down. Don’t let’s waste time here!”

Will just said, “The best trail in the world is a brook. It goes the quickest way. If it takes us fifteen minutes to find the spring, even then it’s best. It’s better than getting lost. The brook knows its way and we don’t. Water is a scout.”

“Who says so?” Harry said, kind of impatient.

“Kit Carson said so,” Will said.

“Well, I guess you’re a pretty good scout, too,” Harry said; “hike around, only hustle!”

In about two minutes we found the spring, about a hundred feet from the house.

“Lucky it’s there,” one of those new fellows said.

“It had to be there,” Will answered him; “because people drink water. Where there are people, there is water.”

Gee whiz, I never knew Will Dawson till that night. And I was mighty proud that he was in my patrol, you can bet.

That girl said, “Isn’t he just wonderful?”

I said, “You’re wonderful, too, and I’d like to have you in my patrol.”

But, one thing, there wasn’t any time to talk, because the sparks were blowing across the clearing and dropping all around the house. The fire that we had started back toward the other one had cleared some land between us and the blaze, but not enough.

The water from the spring trickled down over the rocks and we followed it. It went through a kind of cavern on the top of the mountain, and when we got through there, we could see plain enough that we were on the west slope. The mountain wasn’t all down hill right there, but the trickle of water flowed down through hollows and anybody could see now that Will Dawson was right. He was right for three reasons.

First, because as long as we followed the brook there wouldn’t be any going up and down, like there was climbing up the east side of the mountain. Second, because it took us down the quickest way. And third, because we’d always be near water. In some places we had to scramble down steep precipices where the water fell, but we always managed it, and every time we did that, we knew we were saving space.

After we got about half a mile, we could see points of flame up over the top of the mountain and we knew the fire had reached the spot where we had been. Harry said he guessed the shanty was on fire. Maybe it would come down the east side a ways, we didn’t know, but anyway it wouldn’t have such a breeze to drive it, and we were coming into open land, so we should worry.

The west slope of that mountain was easy, once we got down a ways from the top. That’s the way it is with most all the mountains near the Hudson; the steep side faces the river. Pretty soon we were hiking across pastures and then we came to a road. We didn’t bother with the brook after we passed the steep part. I don’t know where it went, but it did us a good turn, that’s one thing. Some fellows like fire better than water, and I’m not saying anything against camp-fires. And I don’t say that water is always a friend, either, because look at floods and things like that. But I like water better.

Only, gee whiz, I don’t like it to rain in vacation.