“I’m as much in the dark as you can be, Ethan,” Phil told him.
“It’s mighty queer, I say; and I’d give something to know what it means,” muttered the other scout, who evidently had more than his allotted share of curiosity.
Phil seemed to be debating as to whether it was enough of their business to pay them for taking any more trouble. The only thing that tempted him in that direction was the chance that some one might have been injured during all that shooting, and he would like to be useful in an emergency. All right-minded people who go into the woods feel that way toward others.
“Well, let’s creep up and interview the cook!” he suggested.
At that Ethan grinned as though greatly pleased.
“Sure thing, Phil!” he whispered.
They immediately started to carry out this plan. Phil kept his gun in evidence, and Ethan followed suit. This was not to be taken so much in the nature of a threat as an inducement to awaken confidence in the terrified chef. If he saw that they were also hunters he might feel disposed to remain where he was, and satisfy their curiosity, at least to a reasonable extent.
After more or less of shifting of their line of advance to meet the various conditions that arose, they found themselves close in upon the bunch of trees. And apparently the man who was hiding must have caught some little sound just then, for on turning his head he saw them.
Phil guessed he must be a little Frenchman even before he heard him give utterance to a single word, just from his appearance, and the tiny black mustache he sported. He was dressed in white, and they might not have noticed him at all because of the snow, only that the trunks of the trees formed a darker background, against which his spotless apparel stood out plainly.
He looked greatly distressed at sight of the two boys. At first they thought he was figuring on running, but somehow the camp did not seem to offer him a safe asylum; and as for the woods he knew next to nothing about such a wilderness, since he had come from a city like New York.
So the chef compromised, as many a sensible man before him has found it profitable to do when confronted with a choice of evils; he elevated both his hands as if to let them know he surrendered unconditionally.
“Come on!” said Phil, on seeing this sign; “we’ll ask him a few questions anyway.”
They quickly joined the man in white. He was surveying the boys with a look of bewilderment on his pallid face.
“You do not look so terrible as heem!” they heard him say, in what might be considered a conciliatory tone.
“Who are you?” asked Phil, getting down to business at once.
“François Lavelle,” came the prompt answer, as the chef drew himself up with a bit of perhaps unconscious pride.
“Are you Mr. Bodman’s cook?” asked Ethan, curiously.
“I am ze French chef,” he was instantly told, as though there might be a vast difference; “I haf serve him for five years; and he would not even come up to zis heathen country unless François he accompany heem to serve ze meals he adores.”
“What has been going on over here? We heard all sorts of noises from our camp, as though there was murder being done; and so we’ve come across country to find out what it meant?”
When Phil said this the chef shivered, and drew up his shoulders in a ridiculous fashion that Ethan afterwards used to recall with shouts of laughter, it seemed so comical.
“If zere haf not been murder done,” he said, solemnly, “it haf been because pouf! I run so fast. Begar! zat devil haf murder in hees eyes.”
“Then the dog did go mad?” burst out Ethan wonderingly.
“Dog—mad?” stammered François, as though puzzled; “I do not understand. Eet is not ze dog zat go mad but zat terrible man who haf come to take my life!”
“Why should any one want to kill you?” asked Ethan; “did you forget to put seasoning in the soup; or was there too much cayenne pepper in the stew?”
“Parbleau! m’sieu, eet was all about ze hot water!”
“Please continue, because you have interested us very much,” urged Phil; “what happened with the scalding water?”
“I threw zat same all over ze strange dog zat come into ze camp. On my honor I hold up zis hand and swear I zink it a savage wolf; so on ze impulse of ze minute pouf! and all over heem it goes!”
“Oh! now we are beginning to see a little light, François; when did this happen?” Phil continued, just as a lawyer cross-questioning a witness gradually succeeds in drawing out the entire story.
“Zis afternoon, m’sieu. Ze guides zey laugh, and say I am one hero; but zey also wink at each uzzer. I suspicion zey know who ze dog belong to, and believe zat I hear again from eet. Sacre! I did!”
“You mean the owner of the scalded dog came to your camp, and demanded satisfaction?” Phil asked.
“Zat ees what happened. He was a terror I am assuring you. My flesh seemed to grow cold like ze ice, when I hear him roar zat he haf come to demand ze satisfaction for ze injury to hees dog.”
“Who did he say this to, François?”
“Who but ze master, M. Bodman heemself. Ze first zing I notice was zat both the brave guides zey haf zere hands held up in ze air, as eef to show zat it was none of zere affair.”
“Wise men, François, and it looks as if they knew this visitor. Did you hear his name mentioned?”
“Oui, m’sieu. Eet was when my employer say heem Mr. James Bodman, and zat he is a power un ze world of finance; when zis pig owner of ze dog tell how he ees ze Terrible Badger, and zat he runs zings up here in the woods as he pleases.”
“Then it seems that Mr. Bodman met his match at last. He was pretty hot about the collar, wasn’t he, François; I mean, of course, that he acted furious?” Ethan asked.
“It did not make any deeference to zat Terrible Badger. He see ze dog zat was worth five hundred dollars, and with one shot from hees gun he kills heem.”
“Whew! he must have been wild!” declared Ethan; “but we heard a lot of shooting and shouting, François; did the others of the party dare attack this man of the woods, and was there a regular battle?”
“I do not zink so, m’sieu. I myself am running evaire so fast just zen; but ze last look I take I have seen my employer dancing ze hop-step-and-jump while zat madman shoot close to hees toes.”
Ethan could not keep a broad grin from appearing on his face at that.
“Then it must have been those two who were doing most of the shouting, the dancing man threatening all sorts of things that were to come; and the man with the gun telling him to try another step like the tango. You’d think, even if the guides washed their hands of the whole business, the other sportsmen might have taken a hand in the game, instead merely of looking on.”
“Oh! zey did, I assure you, m’sieu! Zey dance just ze same as ze gentleman. Eet may be zat wild-man he tell zem zey must keep time wif ze music or ze bullets zey might not miss zere ankles.”
“And so you were running off all this time, were you, François?” asked Phil, who no longer had any difficulty in understanding what it meant.
“What would you haf me do, m’sieu?” demanded the chef, indignantly; “I haf von wife and five charming children at home. Who support zem eef I allow myself to be sacrificed to ze passion of zat madman? I am of ze brave family over in France, but I am also not ze fool.”
“And you managed to escape without him discovering you?” continued Phil.
“Aha! I slip in and out of ze trees. Heem so much taken up wif ze dance of ze gentlemen zat he nevaire see poor François. So I reach zis place and sink down to ze ground to recover my breath.”
“But he went away finally, I suppose?” Phil questioned.
“After he haf exhaust ze gentlemen, and haf hees leetle joke.”
“And no one lifted a hand to stay his departure, did they, François?”
“Ze guides would not, because zey haf to live up here in ze woods, and zey dare not make ze enemy of zat Terrible Badger. And ze three gentlemen could not walk over to ze cabin where zere guns were, zey were so exhausted.”
“But that happened all of half an hour ago, didn’t it, François?”
“I am not in ze condition to say, m’sieu. All I know is zat I haf not yet entirely recover from my knees knocking against each other; and as for my heart it keeps on jumping up into ze throat every time I hear a rustle close by. I zink zat man haf come back to get me, ze culprit, who is guilty of throwing ze boiling water on hees hound.”
“But why haven’t you gone back into the camp?” continued Ethan. “Surely it would be safer for you among those who have guns.”
“Ah! m’sieu, it ees easy to talk, but you do not know how terrible zat wild man look. And if ze guides zey will not lift a hand to fight, what chance would poor François haf? I shall remain here in zis beautiful retreat till ze darkness come, and zen go back to make a new bargain with M. Bodman. Eef he promise to protect me I can again cook ze lofely meals; but eef he refuses me zat favor eet means zat François’ skill ees lost. Everyzing I try I should make a failure of. Ze soup eet be spill, ze bread burned, and ze dishes he adores I forget how to make.”
“Oh! the danger is likely all over with, François,” Phil told the poor shivering chef. “This angry owner of the dogs has taken his revenge, and will fight shy of your camp after this. You can go back without running any great risk. But do you think any one was hurt by all that shooting?”
A negative shake of the head answered this question.
“But we only see one of the guides in the camp?” continued Phil.
“Ze gentlemen zey are in ze cabin resting after zere mad dance. Zey haf to keep eet up till zey nearly ready to drop before he say he haf enough. I am afraid zat M. Bodman he burst a blood vessel, he appear to be so red in hees face. Ze uzzer guide zey haf in zere doing somezings for zem.”
Phil was completely satisfied by now.
“Nothing for us to do over here, it seems, Ethan,” he suggested.
“I reckon not,” replied the other.
“Our intentions were good, but fortunately there is no need of our services, as nobody was injured. So we might as well start back home, Ethan.”
“Better take a picture of François here, with the camp for a background, Phil. Then you’ll have something to show when you tell this story later on. And François wouldn’t object, I should think?”
Phil seemed to think it would not be a bad idea.
“Those five tree trunks will make a good scene in themselves, with the snow, and the camp with its fire and smoke back of them. François, would you mind leaning out, and looking at me for just a few seconds?”
The chef was apparently an obliging sort of fellow; either that or else he had just experienced such a fright that he did not care to antagonize any more of the people he ran across up in this wilderness. He did as Phil requested, and the picture was taken in that fashion.
After that the boys bade him good-by, and turned their backs on the scene of the recent happening. Both of them felt well repaid for their short trip. They had learned what the loud commotion in the rival camp had meant; and were carrying back some mighty interesting news for the others.
Ethan was chuckling all the way.
“I just can’t help but laugh at what that French cook told us,” he remarked, as though he felt it really necessary to explain his actions. “Just imagine your fiery, red-faced, stout millionaire dancing furiously, while the owner of the scalded dog fires an occasional shot, cowboy fashion, close to his toes to make him jig faster. And all the while they are both yelling, the one in crazy delight and the other as mad as they make ’em. Oh! I’ll burst my sides laughing yet.”
“Well, it must have been a comical sight,” admitted Phil, smiling broadly himself, “at least to an outsider, though I suppose those three men think it’s an outrage serious enough to cause war between Uncle Sam and Canada right away after they get back home and report it.”
“If only you had been right where we found the cook, Phil, with your camera, and cracked off a few shots of that dance, they’d be the best ever.”
“Yes, that would have been a fine thing, but of course it couldn’t ever be,” the other continued. “But how about the man who was the cause of all this row; we ought to be able to guess who he was, without much trouble.”
“François said he called himself the Terrible Badger!”
“Allowing for François being badly frightened we can put our interpretation on that,” said Phil. “Instead of Badger say Baylay, and you’ve got it straight.”
“Whew! both that logger and Mr. McNab did say he was an awful case, didn’t they? And seems like all men are alike to him. Little he cares whether it’s an American millionaire railroad wrecker, or just a plain sportsman, Anson Baylay snaps his fingers and tells them to dance, and they do dance.”
“He might choose to treat us the same way, so don’t crow too loud, Ethan,” warned the other.
“What! after we’ve done so much for his kid that has the impediment in his speech? I should think he’d have some kind of gratitude about him. But if this was Baylay somehow he didn’t seem to mention anything about losing a child, that François heard?”
“It may be he hasn’t been home for several days,” explained Phil. “I understand he carried a line of traps somewhere up here; and possibly he is compelled to be away for days at a time. But he must have been on the way home when his dog got that scalding at the hands of the French cook, who thought it was a bold wolf invading the camp.”
“Then if Baylay gets home this afternoon or evening he’s likely to hear about his terrible loss. In that case we may expect to see him within the next twenty-four hours, wouldn’t you think, Phil?”
“If he doesn’t show up by to-morrow morning I plan to start out and try to find his cabin, so we can let them know we have the boy safe and sound. But here we are close on our camp, and everything seems to be serene there.”
When the sound of their snow-shoes crunching over the surface of the drifts came to the ears of Lub, still seated there on the log, he was seen to start, and half raise his gun, while he evidently gave some sort of signal, for X-Ray came rushing out of the shack, also armed.
At discovering that there was no sudden peril both the defenders of the camp laughed at their fears.
“Welcome back, fellows!” sang out Lub; “didn’t expect you so soon, and supper is not even started yet. But after we’ve heard your report we’ll get busy.”
“Did you go all the way over?” asked X-Ray, eagerly.
“We sure did,” replied Ethan.
“And perhaps now you learned what the row was about?” continued Lub.
“They were having a dance,” said Ethan, with a suggestive grin.
“It must have been because they were half drunk, then,” sneered X-Ray.
“Nope; perfectly sober, so far as we could learn from their chef. You see, Mr. Bodman and his two sportsmen guests were coaxed to dance against their will. Every time a gun went off, and the bullet kicked up the snow and dirt near their feet they had to jump all the harder!”
Of course it was Ethan’s object to arouse the wonder of the other pair, and to judge from the puzzled expression on their faces he had already succeeded in doing so.
“Oh! come on, and tell us all about it,” said Lub.
At that the two returned scouts found places on the log, and started to relate how they had come upon the panic-stricken chef, who by degrees had told the whole remarkable happening, beginning with his mistake in scalding a stray dog under the impression that it was a prowling wolf, down to the minute they came upon him hiding there, and afraid to go back to the camp lest he be confronted with that furious giant of a woodsman, wild to avenge the insult to his four-footed pet.
Never had Lub and X-Ray listened to a more curious and thrilling story. They almost held their very breath as they hung upon every word, with a look of intense interest stamped on their faces.
“Now,” said Phil, when everything they had learned had been told, “what do you two think about it? Was the Terrible Badger the man we’ve been hearing so much about since coming up here—Baylay?”
“Must be that he is,” announced X-Ray, promptly.
“Well, the indications all point that way,” Lub remarked, in his slow fashion, as though he might be still weighing things in his mind. “There are so few persons up around here that it couldn’t well be any one else. So we’ll have to take it for granted the owner of the dog is Baylay.”
“Hurra! since Lub has finally figured it out the rest of us needn’t bother about it any more. Lub has settled the thing beyond all dispute,” laughed Ethan.
“Well, I guess you’ll find that I’m right,” ventured Lub, who often took himself very seriously, and in this way sometimes intensified the joke.
“How about that grub, chef?” asked Ethan; “that little tramp seems to have put an edge on my appetite.”
“Huh! as if it wasn’t always sharp enough,” Lub told him; “but if there’s nothing more to listen to I suppose I might as well get busy. You see, I’ve got a pot of beans cooking there, which has been on more’n two hours, so I should think the things would be fairly done. And along with that we’re going to have some fried ham, with eggs to follow, coffee, cakes, and then crackers and cheese for those who feel that way.”
“Well, if it will hurry things up any I’m ready to pitch in and help you, chef,” Ethan told him.
“Get some more wood, then!” ordered Lub, “and be careful about that bean-pot. I hung it across on that iron rod from two stakes with crotches on top, but it is a little shaky. If you spill the beans your name will be Dennis, I warn you.”
“He’d better cut a hole in the ice and drown himself if he’s that clumsy,” warned X-Ray; “for after smelling those beans cooking all this time it would make me pretty cross if I was cheated out of having three messes for supper.”
Somehow even tender-hearted Lub had not been heard to express anything like sorrow on account of what had happened over at the other camp. In fact all of them seemed to be of the one mind; and to think that it served the bossy millionaire about right to be ordered around a little, and made to dance a hornpipe at the dictation of the terror of the pine woods.
According to their notion it was a dose of his own medicine Mr. James Bodman had been compelled to take. No doubt many a time he had by his brutal methods of frenzied finance compelled others to dance to his fiddling; and now he knew how it felt himself.
Indeed, X-Ray was filled with only one keen regret. He would have given almost anything for the pleasure of being in position to see what the French chef had so aptly described.
“Just to think of that red-faced fat old fellow dancing as the bullets plowed up the snow close to his toes!” he was heard to say; “I can see him jumping up and down like mad, cracking his heels together, puffing like a winded nag, and screaming his threats at the man who was treating him as if he were only a common every-day ten dollar a week clerk, instead of the great American millionaire. Wow! it must have been rich, though!”
They could talk of nothing else all evening. No matter what subject was broached some one was sure to bring it back to the one intensely interesting topic.
It seemed to be the consensus of opinion among them that Phil was right when he figured that Baylay could not have been home before he visited the other camp. If he had known of his child’s vanishing in the great snow forest he would hardly have bothered himself seeking revenge for the injury to his dog. On the contrary it was more than likely he would have besought the inmates of the camp to come to his assistance in trying to find the child, even though all hope of the little one being still alive must be abandoned.
“I wonder if we will see him here, sooner or later?” Lub ventured to say, and then giving his little charge a benevolent look he continued: “If he could only up and tell us things it’d make it so much easier. Sometimes seems to me the boy knows what I’m saying to him, and tries the best he can to answer, but as yet I haven’t mastered his sign language. Chances are his mammy would know everything he wants to tell.”
“He’s gone to sleep now,” remarked Phil, “after that fine supper he put away. One thing sure, he hasn’t lost his appetite even if he has his folks.”
“Can you blame the little shaver?” said Lub, quickly; “like as not it’s been a long spell since he’s seen such grub as we put before him, and plenty of it at that. Up here the guides are in the habit of taking what they call pot-luck; one day plenty of meat on hand, and another time the pot is pretty nearly empty.”
“X-Ray, don’t you want to come out with me for a short time?” asked Phil as he got on his feet.
“Sure I do,” the other replied, without the slightest hesitation in his manner or speech; “what’s doing now, Phil?”
“Oh! you remember I said I had found several places where certain small fur-bearing animals live. An old trapper would say they ‘use’ the ground where their tracks show. Well, I want to get some flashlight pictures of the same, and it’s to lay my trap that I’m going out now.”
“Glad you don’t think of going alone, Phil,” remarked Lub, seriously.
“Why, do you think I might run up against a wolf pack, and have to climb a tree to save myself from their teeth?” laughed Phil, as he slung the camera over his shoulder, and then picked up his repeating rifle.
“Well, it wasn’t so much that as the chance of your meeting some of the ugly crowd from the other camp that made me say what I did,” Lub continued. “Any lot of people who could get down so low as to try and burn a party of boys out of their shack, just for petty spite, would be capable of doing pretty nearly anything.”
At that both Phil and Ethan laughed loudly.
“Make your mind easy about that millionaire and his party!” exclaimed the latter, “they’ve had enough experience with the Terrible Baylay to do them a life-time. I rather think they’ll be afraid to venture far away from their old camp the rest of the time they’re up here. Fact is, it wouldn’t surprise me a whit if they packed up and vacated inside of twenty-four hours.”
“And you’re saying just what was in my mind, too, Ethan,” Phil added. “Not one of those three wealthy men could be tempted to get away from the fire this night; and I rather think they’ll take a dislike to the whole neighborhood. They haven’t been very lucky since coming here.”
“Not in getting their caribou, anyway,” said X-Ray, uproariously, as he allowed his thoughts to go back to the time when he and Phil offered their leavings to the domineering financier, after he tried to make out he had first claim to the quarry that had been brought down.
As Phil had made all his preparations beforehand they experienced little difficulty in placing the trap. It was so arranged that the mink could not possibly get the attractive bait without setting the flashlight cartridge off; and if everything worked well his picture would be taken as neatly as though the photographer were present in person to superintend things.
“I hope this will be the beginning of a series of successful jobs along this same line,” Phil was saying, as after arranging things to suit his ideas they headed in the direction of camp once more.
“You haven’t given up the idea of visiting that beaver settlement, I hope, Phil?”
“Just as soon as we get the boy off our hands we’ll take it up,” he was told.
“While that is hanging over us I’d rather stay near home; because whether Baylay comes in the dead of night, or by the light of the sun I want to be there to meet him.”
“And the rest of us would rather have it that way, I’m sure,” admitted Ethan, which was enough in itself to show how the balance of the Mountain Boys had come to depend on Phil as their leader. “But if you feel so sure none of that crowd will venture out to-night, is that going to make any change in our regular program of keeping watch, Phil?”
“No, I don’t see why it should,” came the ready response. “It’s a good habit to get into, and the more we practice it the better we can stand our stint without feeling like going to sleep on post.”
“I half expect you’re looking for a visit from Baylay,” ventured Ethan, shrewdly.
“That depends a good deal on whether he knows about our being here,” he was told.
“If he didn’t happen to see our smoke, or run across McNab when the farmer was getting out of the bush, of course he wouldn’t be apt to come this way. In that event the man would spend all his time scouting the snow woods around the place where we picked up the kid.”
“He must be a smart tracker, Phil?”
“It stands to reason that he is,” replied the other; “and I can give a good guess why you say that, Ethan. You think he may try to follow the boy from the time he started out, with his little popgun under his arm, just as he had seen his daddy go forth many a time on a hunt for fresh meat.”
“If he did, and the wind hasn’t drifted the dry snow so as to cover the trail all up, why in the course of time he’d reach the spot where we found the kid; and as the trail ended there he might guess somebody had found him, or else the wolves had carried the boy off.”
“That’s true enough, Ethan; but as the wind has been blowing more or less ever since, and the snow is like powder, I’m afraid that trail of the boy has been covered long ago. Even the smartest tracker couldn’t keep it long. But we’ll have to wait and see what turns up.”
They sat there before the fire for a long time. There was so much to talk about that the time passed before they knew it. Lub had some while since managed to get his little charge tucked away under the capacious blanket, and he now declared his intention of joining him.
Phil insisted upon taking the first watch on this particular night, and while the other pair may have had some idea as to what his reason was they did not ask any questions.
“You’ll wake me in good time, remember, Phil,” had been the last words of X-Ray as he smothered a tremendous yawn; and then followed Ethan under his blanket.
Phil sat there watching the fire, which he meant to keep burning cheerfully all through his time on guard. If any one were heading for the camp through the snow woods that welcome pyramid of flame would serve as a guidepost to their steps. And somehow Phil seemed to have the utmost confidence that sooner or later his vigilance would be rewarded.
An hour, two of them almost had passed, and beyond the customary noises of the night nothing had broken upon his hearing. The wind murmured and fretted among the pine-tops; or a limb creaked mournfully as it scraped across another. A snow owl called to its mate in the deeper recesses of the woods; perhaps some daring little creatures came creeping from unknown recesses under various roots, and hunted for crumbs of food near the camp.
Then Phil raised his head to listen. He smiled, and nodded, as though satisfied his long vigil was about to be rewarded.
Yes, plainly now he caught the peculiar crunch of advancing snow-shoes. The sound came from the quarter away from the lake; and it was in that direction they believed the waif’s people had their lonely cabin, deep in the recesses of the bush, so that only with the greatest difficulty could any venturesome game warden ever find the home of the poacher who scorned all their warnings, and defied arrest.
Nearer the sounds came. Whoever it was advancing he was apparently in a desperate hurry; and that seemed to fit in with Phil’s way of figuring. Indeed, with the fate of that little darling of a boy hung up in the balance he could not see how any father who cared at all for his child would linger on the snow-shoe trail.
Phil arose quietly to his feet. The sounds were close at hand as a huge form loomed up in the light of the firelight; and Phil drew a breath of relief as he realized that the crisis had come; for that could be no other than the poacher Baylay, come to ask in his anguish if they had seen the lost boy.
As Phil stood there, he saw the big man who had terrorized the Bodman camp so recently, swiftly advance.
There was no evidence of braggadocio about Baylay now. He had a gun in his hand, but this he held up as though to let those in the camp understand that he came in peace.
Phil wanted the other to show his colors. Great was his amazement when he caught a half-choked appealing emotion in the other’s tones. Evidently all the fight had been suddenly taken from Anson Baylay when he arrived home and learned of his terrible loss.
“I’m acomin’ to ask ye to help me,” he started to say. “I can’t find him in the snow; an’ ma says p’raps somebody might a picked him up. I hopes so, sure, ’cause we sets a store by the kid. Hev ye seen my Kinney?”
“Are you the man they call the Terrible Baylay?” asked Phil.
“Anson Baylay is my name, but I ain’t so terrible; seein’ I feel as weak as a cat, ’cause o’ this thing that’s happened; an’ wi’ ma acryin’ her head off. But ye ain’t tole me yit if ye seen a sign o’ my lettle boy Kinney. Tell me the wost, stranger; I kin stand it; but I sure hate to fetch the news hum to her.”
“Is Kinney a little boy with yellow hair and blue eyes?” asked Phil.
“Yes, yes, that’s him!” gasped the giant, thrusting out a trembling hand and gripping the boy by the arm so that Phil winced.
“Don’t squeeze my arm like that, Baylay,” he said, hastily; “you may not mean to hurt but all the same you do. Tell me, is Kinney tongue-tied, so that he can’t say a word?”
“That’s what he is, mister; but the dearest little cub as ever was born! Does you mean to tell me ye seen him?” cried Baylay.
“Kinney’s safe and sound, Baylay, and I guess that’s the best news you ever had,” Phil hastened to say, for he saw that the man was suffering tortures in his hopes and fears.
With that the giant gave a sigh that must have welled up from his heart. “Is he here with ye, mister?” he managed to ask, tremulously.
“He’s sound asleep in our shack here,” said Phil; “we ran on him in the woods. He had gone out hunting, with his little popgun. When he found himself lost and getting very cold the brave little chap tried the best he knew how to start a fire, but the deep snow kept him from finding the right sort of kindling. He had given up when we ran across him, attracted by his moaning. But we came up just in time.”
“Take me to him, mister, please take me to him. I can’t believe it ’less I see him, and ’less I feel him. I sure thought he was gone away from us forever. And my heart is ahungerin’ for Kinney. We got other kids, but there be only one Kinney!”
Phil could not resist. He knew the big logger would have rushed into the shack anyway, even if he had declined to wake the others up.
“Wait here, and I’ll fetch the boy,” he said.
First he threw on some more wood, so that the fire would start afresh. Then, entering he bent over each of his comrades, saying:
“Wake up, and come out; he’s here!”
As Lub started to crawl from under his blanket Phil reached over and picking up the now wideawake little lad he said close to his ear:
“Daddy’s come for you, Kinney; he’s outside here waiting to hug you!”
They all came tumbling out in a bunch, eager to witness the meeting between their little ward and his terrible father.
When Lub saw the man fiercely hugging the little mite, with the child’s arms pressed around his neck, he stood there staring, and Phil heard him say to himself wonderingly:
“And they call that big-hearted man the Terrible Baylay, do they? Well, I guess after all he’s only a bluff, and just the same as any other fellow. Why, honest to goodness I do believe there are real tears rolling down his cheeks right now.”
But Phil knew it was the power of love making this giant as a child.
“You must stay the rest of the night with us,” he told the giant, “and in the morning some of us will go with you to your cabin. We want to meet the mother of the boy, because we’ve got something to propose that will be a blessing to you and to Kinney.”
At first Baylay wanted to carry the good news to the mother. But Phil told him he must consider the boy.
Then Baylay thought of going alone to take the joyful tidings to the grieving heart in that lonely cabin; but he lacked the nerve to tear himself away from the little chap whose arms were about his big neck and whose kisses were pressing on his bearded cheek.
Consequently he finally agreed to remain, and since sleep would doubtless refuse to come to any of them during the balance of that eventful night they sat there by the fire and talked.
Phil believed he knew of a plan whereby a certain cherished scheme of his own could be put through, with Baylay as the manager of the farm on which Phil meant to try and breed the valuable silver black foxes, with their pelts worth fortunes.
He even mentioned this to the former guide, trapper, and logger, and discovering that Baylay was fully posted as to every detail, Phil made a proposition to him, which was joyfully accepted.
When morning came Lub had plenty of assistance in getting a hurried breakfast, and that finished they prepared to start forth.
However, in due time the whole party managed to reach the isolated cabin where Anson Baylay lived.
When they saw little Kinney safe in the arms of his mother, who was almost wild with joy, it was noticeable how each of the boys found it necessary to turn aside and wink violently as they pretended to be looking at something which had suddenly attracted their attention.
As they sat at the homely table in that cabin and the face of the poacher’s happy wife beamed with smiles, Phil gently took up the other subject.
When those parents learned that there was a strong possibility of an operation giving their afflicted child the blessed power of speech; and that these splendid boys offered to stand all the expense, taking Kinney and his mother with them to Montreal for the occasion, they could not find words to express the deep gratitude that filled their hearts.
So it was settled, and when the time came for the Mountain Boys to depart the Baylay family would go with them to civilization, where Anson could keep in touch with his new employer from time to time. Then the mother and Kinney would accompany Phil and his chums as far as Montreal.
Phil managed to get his striking picture of a great bull moose; and Ethan on his part shot the monster later on, so that he could have the horns as a trophy of his skill.
They no longer saw Mr. James Bodman and his party, as the Saguenay River country had become too unpleasant for them.
Finally Tammis McNab came with his sledge and ponies. It was crowding matters to take them all, but he landed them safely at the town, where they could be transported to the St. Lawrence.
In due time the boys arrived in Montreal with Mrs. Baylay and Kinney. A famous surgeon told them there would be no difficulty whatever in performing a successful operation; and that inside of a few months no one would ever know the child had had any difficulty in enunciating.
“Well,” said Lub, when with his three chums he made himself comfortable in the Pullman car at the Montreal station, and were about to enter upon the last lap of the homeward journey; “I kind of think this has been the most remarkable of all our trips. And I wonder where the next one will take us.”
“Nobody can say just now,” laughed Phil. “Our vacation is near an end, and we’ll soon be hard at work again; but no matter where the Mountain Boys go they know how to take care of themselves.”
In this happy mood, then, did Phil and his chums go back to their homes in Brewster, satisfied that they had a glorious time during their snow-shoe trip to the wilds of Canada, and not regretting for a single minute they had undertaken the long journey.
It was to be expected that the Mountain Boys would enjoy other outings of a similar character; and the author only hopes it will be his pleasing duty to chronicle their doings for the benefit of the many young friends who have followed their fortunes through the pages of this and the preceding books of the series.
THE END
THE MOUNTAIN BOYS SERIES
1. Phil Bradley’s Mountain Boys
2. Phil Bradley at the Wheel
3. Phil Bradley’s Shooting Box
4. Phil Bradley’s Snow-Shoe Trail
These books describe with interesting detail the experiences of a party of boys among the mountain pines.
They teach the young reader how to protect himself against the elements, what to do and what to avoid, and above all to become self-reliant and manly.
l2mo. Cloth, 40 cents per volume, postpaid
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
201 East 12th Street, New York
THE HICKORY RIDGE BOY SCOUTS
A Series of Books for Boys By Capt. Alan Douglas, Scout-master
The Campfires of the Wolf Patrol
Their first camping experience affords the scouts splendid opportunities to use their recently acquired knowledge in a practical way. Elmer Chenoweth, a lad from the northwest woods, astonishes everyone by his familiarity with camp life. A clean, wholesome story every boy should read.
Woodcraft; or, How a Patrol Leader Made Good
This tale presents many stirring situations in which the boys are called upon to exercise ingenuity and unselfishness. A story filled with healthful excitement.
Pathfinder; or, The Missing Tenderfoot
Some mysteries are cleared up in a most unexpected way, greatly to the credit of our young friends. A variety of incidents follow fast, one after the other.
Fast Nine; or, a Challenge from Fairfield
They show the same team-work here as when in camp. The description of the final game with the team of a rival town, and the outcome thereof, form a stirring narrative. One of the best baseball stories of recent years.
Great Hike; or, The Pride of The Khaki Troop
After weeks of preparation the scouts start out on their greatest undertaking. Their march takes them far from home, and the good-natured rivalry of the different patrols furnishes many interesting and amusing situations.
Endurance Test; or, How Clear Grit Won the Day
Few stories “get” us more than illustrations of pluck in the face of apparent failure. Our heroes show the stuff they are made of and surprise their most ardent admirers. One of the best stories Captain Douglas has written.
Under Canvas; or, The Hunt for the Cartaret Ghost
It was hard to disbelieve the evidence of their eyes but the boys by the exercise of common-sense solved a mystery which had long puzzled older heads.
Storm-bound; or, a Vacation Among the Snow Drifts
The boys start out on the wrong track, but their scout training comes to the rescue and their experience proves beneficial to all concerned.
Boy Scout Nature Lore to be Found in The Hickory Ridge Boy Scout Series, all illustrated:—
Wild Animals of the United States—Tracking—Trees and Wild Flowers of the United States—Reptiles of the United States—Fishes of the United States—Insects of the United States and Birds of the United States.
Cloth Binding, Cover Illustrations in Four Colors, 40c. Per Volume
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
201 East 12th Street, New York