Several times a tree did go down close by, and gave them all a severe shock, such was the terrific crash accompanying its sudden fall. Even Hugh was bound to confess that his heart seemed to stand still when, directly across their very path, one of these lofty pines came whirling down in the grip of the wind, now raging at hurricane force.
All this while it required considerable ability to keep going straight. Hugh did not forget a single word of the scanty directions given by Casey. The night was not absolutely dark, even though heavy clouds obscured the moon, near her fourth quarter, so that they could manage to avoid collisions with such trees as came in their way.
Hugh was following the downward course of the creek, and if at times the nature of the obstacles they met forced them to turn aside, he always took his bearings, and managed to get back again to the little zigzag stream.
A quarter of a mile may not seem much of a jaunt under favorable conditions. To Gus, who was a pretty good stepper, it had indeed many a time looked very small; but as long as the boy lived he would never forget what he experienced on this occasion when pitting his puny strength against the herculean force of a veritable cyclone of wind.
If he had felt any reason to hope that Hugh could hear a word of what he said, Gus, no doubt, on more than one occasion would have endeavored to ask eager questions concerning the possibility of accomplishing the task they had set out to perform.
Still, though he could not get such comforting assurance in words, Gus at least felt that all must surely be well, else Hugh would not be pushing so steadily onward as though he had every confidence in his ability to attain his end.
It might be noticed that the scout master was commencing to be more vigilant than heretofore. When next he stopped it was not to regain his breath in a sheltered spot, as had happened several times before. On the contrary, Gus noticed, though his eyes were dim with tears on account of the sting in the wind, that Hugh was intently examining the ground. Gus could not help but admire Hugh.
When the other arose from his feet he drew first one of his chums toward him and then the other. A temporary lull in the roar about them gave him a chance to shout a few words, though Hugh was chary about wasting his breath, feeling that he needed it all.
“This must be the second bend Casey told us about,” he explained. “Here are the rocks on the right. We must go this way!”
Neither of the others attempted to make any answer. In fact, they had submitted so many times to Hugh’s guidance that they were ready to do anything he said without a word or question as to its advisability.
At least one thing favored them—a change in their course was bound to work more or less to their advantage, since it would no longer be necessary to plunge directly into the teeth of the biting wind.
Gus was almost ready to drop. He staggered like a drunken man at times. Part of this came from exhaustion, but no doubt the despair that was commencing to tug at his heart had much to do with the state of his near collapse. Could he have been assured of success just then, probably he would have felt quite invigorated, and capable of enduring much more than had already come his way.
Hugh must have guessed this much, for somehow he managed to take hold of the other’s arm while pushing steadily on along the rocks, as called for in the scanty directions given by Casey the tramp. And no one but a fellow who has been in somewhat similar conditions bordering on collapse could understand just how much this friendly act did for poor Gus. He would never forget it, he told himself again and again, as he plucked up a little more courage just through sheer contact with the boy with the valiant heart.
Hugh knew they must by now be close to the spot where they hoped to come upon the castaway. He was hoping for the best, even while gritting his teeth, and preparing to face the worst. His one thought was Gus. He expected that if they were doomed to meet with bitter disappointment the other might give way utterly, and even faint, such would be the shock of his discovery.
Well, it was a comfort to Hugh to remember that he had Arthur along, Arthur who would be quick to meet just such an emergency as that, and who it seems had before this made out to grip the other arm of Gus in order to add to his stability.
Arthur may have been worrying greatly to account for this remarkable phenomenon of Nature, when an actual thunder-storm could come along on the eve of Thanksgiving, a thing never before known in all his reading of weather freaks. At the same time he was not giving up any time just then to bothering about such things. It was a condition that confronted them, not a theory, and they must devote all their attention to weathering the gale and finding Sam Merrivale.
Suddenly Hugh stopped short, and seemed to be trying to look around him.
“Oh! is this the place, Hugh?” almost shrieked poor Gus, overwhelmed with renewed anxiety.
“So far as I can tell it must be,” replied the other, loud enough to be heard.
Upon hearing this Gus shivered with a new dread, for there was certainly no sign of his brother.
“Hugh, he’s gone, don’t you see?” cried Gus, staring around helplessly in the dim light given by the moon that was hidden somewhere behind those heavy clouds overhead.
It chanced that the wind slackened its force for a brief spell just then, allowing, them an opportunity to exchange a few sentences, just as if the elements felt sorry for the misery of the poor fellow whose heart was full to overflowing.
“Yes, it looks like it,” Hugh admitted, “but if what Casey told us is true he must have been too weak to go far. We’ll find him, Gus, I hope.”
The other did not seem to be overconfident, even when he heard Hugh, whom he trusted as he did no other comrade, try to cheer him up in that way. A reaction was already setting in. Gus had been buoyed up much of the time by the hope that kept his heart warm, and now that this seemed gone a dreadful chill settled down upon him.
Hugh did not mean that this should be the end. He planned to bolster up the courage of his chum by prompt measures.
“Come,” he told the others, shouting aloud because the wind was rising again, with all those noises breaking forth around them once more, “what do we call ourselves scouts for if we can’t handle a little thing like this?”
“But what can we do, Hugh,” asked Gus. “Which way would we figure we’d better try and follow, when a dozen directions are open to him?”
“Stop and think,” said the other, quickly; “would a fellow who was weak, and ready to shrink from the storm, start out by facing it, or going the other way?”
Gus gave vent to a cry. New hope immediately started to tug at his heartstrings. Surely, as a scout, he should likewise have reasoned out things. But then Gus found himself the prey to contending emotions, and in no condition to figure what the answer to a conundrum might be, as under more comfortable conditions he would possibly have done.
Yes, it was certainly plausible to believe that the weak and tottering steps of Sam would carry him with the wind, and not against it. His one desire, when he moved away from the spot where Casey had left him, must have simply been to better his condition; and so he would drift along, the sport of the elements.
Gus watched Hugh as a cat might a mouse upon which it meant to presently pounce. The scout master was moving slowly up the little gully in which the tramps had hidden themselves, meaning to go back to the cabin should the intruders leave the vicinity, sooner or later.
While the place had offered a certain amount of shelter before the coming of the storm, it was a mere apology of a camp, once that driving wind started in to whipping the last remaining dead leaves from the hard wood trees, and levelling many of the pines. Sam must have stood it as long as he could, and then yielded to the impulse to let the gale urge him along, in hopes of finding a better shelter.
Hugh was alert and watchful, because he knew that it was an easy thing to go wrong in a case like this. A false deduction in the beginning would send them on a wild-goose chase, and with it would go their last feeble hope of finding the lost tramp.
Hugh even got down on his hands and knees and started to crawl laboriously up the slight ascent of rocks. At first Gus was bothered to account for this action on the part of his chum, and even feared that Hugh may have been more fatigued than he cared to admit. On second thought Gus arrived at the true explanation of the mystery.
Hugh was acting on the old principle of putting himself in the other fellow’s place. He meant to try and do just what he imagined the weak and distressed Sam must have attempted when making this desperate move.
The gully was really nothing more nor less than a slight depression of the rocks. Its edges were not high enough in any place to effectually shut out the sweep of the wind. On this account it was likely to prove a poor sort of shelter, though, for one thing, the danger of falling trees was not so great here as in many other places, and Sam may have understood this.
Gus was using his eyes on his own account as they crept along up the rise in this slow and laborious fashion. In spite of their weak condition, owing to the wind and the gathering tears, he could manage to make out some object lying huddled just ahead of them, and toward which Hugh was moving steadily at the time.
As yet they could not tell exactly whether this might prove to be the object of their search, or simply an outcropping mass of rock. Another half minute would tell the tale, and therefore Gus shut his jaws firmly together, determined to prove himself a credit to his organization.
All doubt was quickly removed when Hugh, turning his head, called back:
“Here he is; we’ve found him!”
It was only natural that the first wild sense of exhilaration that swept through the breast of the eager brother should be instantly succeeded by another spasm of acute doubt. Was Sam still alive, or had he made his very last bid for existence when creeping away from the storm, as he believed?
Hugh was already bending over the recumbent figure that was huddled in a knot, as though in the endeavor to better resist the plucking fingers of the wind. Arthur, too, had pushed forward, his professional instinct aroused, since it seemed likely that poor Sam would be in need of more or less help.
Only Gus, who had much more at stake than either of his mates, hung back, consumed with mingled hopes and fears. He waited to hear whether good news or bad was coming, after Hugh had learned how matters stood. And so Gus Merrivale with clenched hands and set jaws held his breath, and felt his heart beating like mad in his bosom. What agonies the boy suffered, and how the few seconds must have seemed to him like long hours—afterwards, under far different conditions, when he allowed his thoughts to draw him back again to that dreadful moment he always shuddered at the recollection of what he passed through in so brief a period of time.
Then a spasm of supreme joy flitted through the heart of Gus. He saw the recumbent figure on the cold rocks move. Hugh, yes, and Arthur, too, bending over the tramp had managed to let him know assistance had arrived, though it must have been hard for him to understand it.
“We have come to try and help you get back to the cabin again,” was what Hugh was shouting in his ear. “You can’t stay here through the night, because the chances are this storm will turn into a blizzard before morning, and you’d freeze to death.”
The castaway upon the rocks seemed to try and stare at them. He doubtless had hard work convincing himself that he was not dreaming.
“How’d you know I was out here?” Hugh managed to hear him say, as though that strange fact impressed him most of all in his weakened condition.
“Casey told us,” said Hugh, thinking to humor him a little. “Casey is back there by the fire in the bunk-house, where we’ll have you in a jiffy. Do your best to help us, Sam Merrivale.”
“Who are you?” demanded the other, apparently staggered at hearing his name spoken by one of those boys whose faces he could just dimly see.
“Never mind about that now,” Hugh told him, with that old touch of authority in his voice that usually carried his point. “In good time you’ll know all about it. Let us help you get on your feet. You’re to lean on two of us, while we start back to the creek bed. After that it won’t be quite so hard going, for we can have the wind at our backs. Now, Arthur, give me a hand!”
It was really strange how Hugh managed to make himself heard in all that racket; but then he had one of those voices that carry in spite of all obstacles. Arthur needed no urging, for he was ever ready to perform the highest functions of a scout, and put himself to any amount of trouble in order to relieve distress, or succor a fainting heart.
Sam seemed stiff and weak. At first he could hardly do a thing for himself, and Hugh seriously considered whether they might not after all be compelled to carry him on some sort of a rude litter, fashioned on the spur of the moment.
After he had been enabled to work his limbs a little, however, it seemed as if some sense of initiative must have come back to the wanderer, for he even put out one foot and took his first step, without being urged by his attendants.
Slowly they moved along, down the slight grade, and facing the worst of the still bitter wind. Gus hovered close behind the others, feeling ever so much better, now that his worst fears had not been realized. If Sam could only be taken to the cozy cabin in the old lumber camp owned by his father, all might yet be well. Gus had great faith in the ability of Arthur to pull a fellow through when he seemed to be on his last legs. Yes, he certainly had cause for great rejoicing, and no doubt there was a song of thanksgiving welling up in his heart that could not wait for expression until the dawn of the National Day devoted to gratitude wherever true Americans are found, the world over.
Now they had managed to reach the creek at the second bend, and from this time on it might be expected they would find the going much easier, although bad enough at the best. The storm was at their back, and the haven of the bunk-house just a quarter of a mile away, as they made the turn, and pushed on resolutely, the two scouts who flanked Sam and gripped his arms, steadying his feeble steps.
This lasted only a short while. Then a change came about that put quite another face on the matter, and one that looked much less rosy.
Gus, hovering close behind the others, trying to figure out how his brother was going to take it when he eventually learned of his identity, and heard the message he was bringing from their devoted mother—Gus felt his heart apparently jump up into his mouth, when he saw that Sam had drooped, and was hanging helplessly on his guardians.
Undoubtedly Nature had played out, and the exhausted young fellow could not go another step of his own volition. He had been sick of late, and besides that must have suffered considerable privations while leading that roving, reckless life into which he had latterly drifted.
Had Billy been present his first remark would probably have been, “here’s a pretty kettle of fish.” On the part of Gus it was a feeling of intense dismay that gripped his anxious heart. Still that confidence in Hugh Hardin remained, and so long as the scout master stood by there was really no reason to give way to utter despair.
He waited only long enough to make sure that they were lowering their charge to the ground. Gus had no fear that two such staunch fellows as his chums would dream of giving up the game and deserting Sam then and there; they were not made of such base stuff as that.
He could see that they had their heads together, and eager to learn what was in the wind, he pushed up very close, so that he could catch their words. It was, of course, necessary to almost shout so as to be heard, and sometimes a sentence was utterly drowned by the crash of falling timber close by. Nevertheless this is about what the strained ears of Gus caught.
“He’s all in and done for, that’s sure, Hugh,” Arthur was saying.
“No question about that,” the other went on to say. “I began to guess it was coming from the way he hung on us. He couldn’t walk ten steps further if his life depended on it. Poor chap, he’s game, though!”
“Then I reckon we’ll have to carry him,” cried Arthur. “The only trouble about that is it’s always mighty hard to get a proper grip on a limp body, and walk for any distance. And I’m afraid it’s going to tax us to the limit to do that same thing, with this wind blowing forty ways for Sunday.”
“No use talking, we ought to have some sort of stretcher,” Hugh admitted. “That’s what makes me feel silly, because of all the things I thought to fetch along the camp hatchet wasn’t among the lot.”
“Too bad,” said Arthur. “What under the sun will we do about it, Hugh? To make a stretcher without anything to cut poles with is going to be a tough job.”
“Oh! Hugh, Arthur, I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” shouted Gus just then, so excited that he could hardly frame his words coherently.
From his actions any one might think Gus had suddenly been bitten by a rattlesnake, for he was jumping wildly up and down, and seemed to be pawing at his leg in a most idiotic manner.
“Got what?” burst from the astonished Arthur.
“The hatchet, don’t you know!” came the answering whoop. “I don’t understand why I ever thought to snatch it up, and tote it along, but say, I’m mighty glad now I did. See, here it is, Hugh, and oh! I’m ever so pleased to handle it.”
When the scout master heard that he gave a shout of joy.
“You’ve saved the day, I tell you, boy!” he exclaimed, slapping the delighted Gus heartily on the back. “It was an inspiration that made you think of the hatchet. The credit of the whole undertaking rests on your shoulders, Gus! Here, give me the blade, and see me get busy.”
“By great good luck,” added Arthur, also decidedly pleased by the new twist fortune had taken in their behalf, “here are all the poles we need close by, though without that hatchet they might as well have been in Africa.”
Hugh had not wasted a second of time.
“You look after Sam, both of you, and rub his limbs,” he told his chums. “Leave the cutting of the poles to me, though I’ll need help when it comes to binding them together.”
He said no more than the law allowed, because it was a most arduous task to do any sort of decent talking in the midst of all that clamor. Already Hugh had turned in the quarter where Arthur’s extended finger had pointed at the time he spoke of the “poles” being conveniently near by.
Long practice had made the scout master a clever hand at using a hatchet. When a fellow has cut cords and cords of wood for campfires from time to time, he gets considerable experience in swinging both ax and hatchet. Besides, Hugh always took especial pains to have every tool he handled well sharpened, under the plea that a good working edge saved “heaps” of muscle.
The “poles” mentioned by Arthur were really second-growth ash springing up all around the butts of several trees that had been cut down a year or so ago by the lumbermen. They grew straight up, and would possibly have been used sooner or later by any nomad hoop-pole man wandering that way in search of material to eke out his scanty winter’s wages.
One after another those slender but stout saplings fell before the keen edge of the camp hatchet wielded so skillfully by the scout leader.
When Hugh considered that he had felled enough of the stuff, he paused and began to fumble in his pockets. There was no doubt about his action this time, because he knew full well he had hurriedly thrust a bundle of stout cord somewhere about his person before starting forth, under the conviction that it was going to come in handy.
Meanwhile, Arthur, assisted by Gus, had been rubbing the limbs of poor Sam, who could not raise his weak voice loud enough to make himself heard, but by certain gestures gave them to understand that he appreciated their efforts in his behalf.
“You go and help Hugh, while I stay by Sam, and keep the circulation of his blood up!” Arthur shouted in the ear of Gus.
The latter, while a little loth to turn aside, knew that he could do more to help his brother that way than by lingering over him. Accordingly he hastened to join Hugh, who was already busily engaged in trying to fasten some of the poles, so as to make the framework upon which the real stretcher would immediately afterwards be constructed.
Every scout is taught how to do this, for it is a very useful accomplishment to know, since there is no telling when one of their number may meet with some accident while in the woods, necessitating his being carried, perhaps a distance of several miles, and on such an occasion a stretcher is invaluable.
Possibly, if left to himself, even Gus, although not claiming to be adept at this sort of work, with the aid of a greenhorn, might have made some sort of clumsy contrivance that would have answered the end in view. Fortunately there was now no need of his depending on himself when in the company of such a clever artisan as Hugh Hardin.
The latter had made stretchers on numerous occasions, but if asked later about it he would certainly have admitted that never in all his experience had he worked under such a serious handicap as when that storm howled about his ears, taking his very breath away.
Gus managed to make himself useful in holding the pieces that were thrust into his hands, as well as in other ways. His heart was in the work, and for a good reason. It was his own brother whose life lay in the balance. He, Hugh and Arthur might survive the night, even if compelled to remain out in the gale, with the mercury constantly sinking, but such exposure would undoubtedly be the finish of sick Sam.
The job was really completed in a wonderfully short time, considering all the difficulties Hugh faced. He often mentally congratulated himself afterwards on that task, and Hugh ought to be a pretty fair judge of such things.
Gus, however, was laboring under such a strain that it seemed an interminable time before he knew from the actions of his comrade that Hugh considered the rude stretcher fit for service.
The next thing was to get Sam on the same. Of course, the stretcher had no legs, so that it had to be laid directly on the ground. That mattered little or nothing, however, for in all probability it would only be required for this one occasion.
“Got it ready, have you, Hugh?” was the boisterous way Arthur greeted the others when they came hurrying up with the clumsy but serviceable stretcher held between them.
“Just as I promised, and done with a rush, too, but it’s going to hold all right. How is Sam getting along?” Hugh asked, his lips close to the other’s ear.
“He’s recovering some from his weak spell,” came the reply, as Arthur drew the scout master’s head down near his lips. “But he never could walk it, never, Hugh. The sooner we get him under cover the better I’ll be pleased, for I’m afraid he’s in a bad way.”
It was lucky for the peace of mind of Gus Merrivale that he did not overhear those last words spoken by Arthur. The sense of exultation and triumph that was filling his brotherly heart would have received a rude jolt had he suspected that Arthur, so experienced a physician, considered the case of Sam as bordering on the desperate.
They quickly placed the almost helpless young fellow on the litter. He tried the best he could to assist himself, but if the success of the undertaking had depended on Sam’s ability to do things it would have been an utter failure.
Gus pushed forward, and somehow Hugh seemed to be able to sense what was in his mind, for he immediately jerked at Arthur’s sleeve and called in his ear:
“Let Gus have the rear end of the stretcher, Arthur. He wants to feel that he’s having a big share in saving a life, and it’s an old story with us, so you won’t miss anything.”
Arthur was only too willing. He was one of those fellows who like to go about doing their work without the least bluster or boasting. Indeed, times without number Arthur Cameron had been known to do his best to hide his light under a bushel; for he took much more satisfaction from the inward consciousness that he had done his part manfully than in the thought of any reward.
When Gus realized that he was to be allowed to handle one end of the litter on which his erring brother was stretched he showed by his eagerness that his heart must be filled with gratitude toward these fine chums who were always doing things to please others.
Hugh himself took the forward end, with Arthur going ahead in order to pick out the easiest path, though truth to tell there was very little choice, so long as they were compelled to keep the creek on their right.
Manfully did Gus struggle along. If he staggered at times under the many difficulties that beset his wavering feet it was only to shut his teeth together harder than ever, and mentally take a fresh grip on himself. All that was best in the lad’s nature came to the surface in that trying hour, and he rose to meet the occasion in a manner that was bound to give him great satisfaction later on, when memory again brought the thrilling episodes of that stormy night vividly before his mind.
Thus stumbling, yet always pushing onward, they gradually drew nearer the vicinity of the old lumber camp, though poor Gus feared he would never be able to hold out to the end.
“Whoopee!”
That was Arthur shouting at the top of his voice, and the sound thrilled Gus in a wonderful manner. He realized that Arthur would not give vent to such a cry if he did not mean to infuse them with new hope.
Staring ahead, Gus discovered a light. Yes, it must be coming from one of the small windows of the bunk-house, where possibly Billy, good old Billy, had set a candle to burn with the idea of shedding hope abroad as well as he could manage it.
Perhaps Gus realized as never before what that old song really meant when it went on to tell about the “light in the window placed as a guide to wandering feet.”
At any rate, the sight gave Gus new strength and inspiration. He stumbled again and again, but would not allow himself to fall, neither could Arthur coax him to relinquish his end of the litter. Gus could be very stubborn when he wanted, and as this quality is closely allied with determination he was likely to amount to something, once he found his proper mission in the world.
Finally they arrived before the door of the bunk-house. Here their loud shouts must have been heard by Billy, for the door was suddenly thrown open and a bulky figure came rushing out, eager to assist in any way possible.
Two minutes later and the entire party had found shelter under the friendly roof of Mr. Merrivale’s big cabin, where Billy had kept the fire going merrily all the time.
Sam was immediately placed upon several blankets close to the fire, where the genial warmth would do much to restore his fast ebbing strength.
With the closing of the stout door much of the clamor of the storm that had been beating in their ears so long was deadened, so that talking became possible again without straining their voices unduly.
Sam Merrivale lay there, white of face, and with his eyes closed. Gus stared hard at his brother, and then looked pitifully toward Arthur. The latter did not need to be asked any question in order to understand what fear was gripping the heart of Gus.
“He’ll be feeling better shortly, when the warmth of the fire begins to get in its work,” he told the other.
After that Gus kept somewhat in the background, where he could see what went on and at the same time not be noticed by Sam, should the latter open his eyes and look at his rescuers.
This was the time for Billy to make his bid for recognition.
“Hugh,” he went on to say, confidingly buttonholing the scout master, “I went and heated up a can of mutton broth, thinking it might come in handy when you got the poor chap back here.”
“Bully for you, Billy!” exclaimed the other, slapping the broad back of the speaker with unction. “Just the thing to revive his energies. They always give mutton broth to invalids, because it gets in its work quicker than almost anything else going. Hurry it along in a tin cup, and don’t have it steaming hot, so it’ll scald his lips.”
Arthur meanwhile had succeeded in getting Sam into a half reclining position. He was talking to the late tramp, and in this way trying to arouse him.
“You’re all right now, Sam,” was the burden of Arthur’s communication. “No danger of your being left to the storm. See what a fine fire we’ve got here. Billy is coming right along with some jolly stuff that will warm your insides, and do you heaps of good. Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high, Sam. There’s your partner Casey, watching you, and see how glad he looks to be with us. Chances are Billy’s been and fed him to the limit while we were getting you here. This way, Billy, with that broth!”
Sam smiled wanly. How could he help but feel interested when treated so like an honored guest rather than a homeless tramp?
Just then Billy came up bearing the big tin cup full of steaming broth that gave out a most appetizing smell. Sam must have been pretty near half starved, for what did he do but reach out a trembling hand, help to guide the cup to his lips, and then proceed to gulp down the contents with the avidity of a hungry dog.
Presently the cup was empty. Billy looked at Arthur as much as to say there was more where that came from, if the “doctor” considered it wise that Sam be given a second helping.
“A little later on you can feed him the rest, Billy,” he was told. “Better not go too heavy all at once, or his stomach may reject it, and he’d lose the benefit.”
One thing sure, no person seemed to be taking any notice of the storm now. It could howl its worst, and turn bitter cold for that matter; so long as they had a stout roof over their heads, plenty of food to eat, and the ability to dash out, ax in hand, to cut a fresh supply of fuel, what did it matter?
The warm and strengthening mutton broth had already affected Sam wonderfully, as could be seen in the way he began to look around, and take notice of things. He even smiled at Casey, which fact appeared to give that individual more or less satisfaction, for he grinned broadly and nodded back, muttering something to the effect that the two of them had good cause to be grateful for the favors that had come to them when things looked blackest.
It was evident that Sam was puzzled. Hugh could see his eyes, no longer dim with weakness and lack of energy, roving around. First he would stare at bulky Billy, who beamed down upon him good-naturedly; then he would turn his gaze on Hugh himself, and finally Arthur came in for a share of his attention. He gazed at them all long and steadily.
“I seem to be dreaming,” he told Hugh, when that worthy bent down closer to him. “There’s something about you all I seem to know, but when I try to place you my mind gets in a whirl again, and I think I’m seeing things like I did the time I was down with fever, and father——”
He stopped as he inadvertently said that word, which possibly had not passed his lips for a long time. Hugh saw a flash of color mount into his white cheeks as some bitter memory gripped his soul.
Wishing to change the subject as quickly as he could, Hugh hastened to say:
“You’re not dreaming after all, Sam; you ought to remember all of us here, for you used to know us some years back. I’m Hugh Hardin, this is Arthur Cameron, and the kind chap who looked after your appetite is Billy Worth!”
Sam uttered a cry. He seemed startled, and even tried to raise himself on one arm as though to stare around him.
“Oh! the boys from Oakvale, where I used to once live!” he exclaimed, weakly. “How strange for you to be up here, just when I needed help as I never did before in all my life. What brought you up in this region? Is that a fair question, Hugh?”
He had hold of the scout master’s hand, and was patting it as though the mere contact gave him fresh courage; for like many another fellow Sam had recognized in Hugh a source of new strength.
Hugh knew that Gus was hovering close behind him, fairly quivering with eagerness. He also felt that it was high time Sam understood to whom he had been so heavily indebted for the saving of his life.
“We came up here on the invitation of one of our chums who wanted us to help him find something that was lost,” was the way Hugh put it.
“Yes, there was a fourth scout with you, I remember now,” said Sam, trying to discover the object of his solicitude, but as Gus kept behind Hugh he failed in doing this. “Where has he gone to, Hugh? I’d like to thank him, too, for all that’s been done for such a worthless fellow as I.”
“You’ll get the chance soon, Sam, never fear,” assured Hugh. “It was this chum who really saved your life, for if he hadn’t thought to fetch the hatchet along with him we couldn’t have made that litter, and carrying you here would have been a risky job. I’m afraid you would never have stood the trip. Then again he held one end of the stretcher every foot of the way, and wouldn’t let Arthur here take hold. You owe that chum the heaviest debt of gratitude going, Sam. There’s nothing you could do that would cancel your load to him.”
“But tell me, why should he do all this for a poor dog like me that’s down in the gutter, and almost out?” cried Sam, excitedly.
With that Hugh swung Gus around so that he faced the one upon the blankets, and at the same instant exclaimed:
“Because he’s your own brother, Sam, the little Gus you left at home when you went away after quarreling with your father! He’s been sent up here through the love your mother still bears you, to try for the last time to bring you to your senses, and fetch you to your knees asking pardon. Now you know why we’re in the old logging camp, Sam. Your mother learned that you were here; she would have come herself if she had been able; but in her place she sent a messenger in Gus.”
The young fellow on the blankets stared at Gus as though he could hardly believe his ears and eyes. The bitter thoughts that had held possession of his mind all these years struggled desperately to keep possession of his soul, but the hour had come when their knell was to strike.
He thrust out and seized the eager hand of his younger brother, which he pressed to his lips. Nor was Hugh at all surprised to see him burst into tears, as though the long-pent-up emotions had suddenly swept everything before them.
“Oh! what wouldn’t I give to be able to see her again!” he cried. “No fellow ever had a better mother than she always was to me; and how basely I treated her. I’ve been sorry so many times, but in shame I didn’t dare write to her. And so it’s to my own brother Gus I owe my life, do I? Well, it was worth coming all the way from the West to learn that they do still think of me at home—some of them.”
He would not let go of the hand he had taken. Hugh and the others were intensely interested in everything that was said, though the scout master had a little suspicion that it might not be the best thing they could do to let Sam excite himself so much in his present weakened condition.
“Oh! no danger of his feeling it,” Arthur told him when he mentioned something of his fears in this respect. “He’s buoyed up now by a new hope that’s going to do more toward bringing him around than all the cordials or broths he could take. See how the color’s come to his face, will you? And his eyes fairly sparkle. Joy seldom kills, you must know, Hugh. Sam is already beginning to get glimpses of a new life. It’s all right, and don’t stop Gus from talking all he wants to about home and mother. He knows what he was sent up here to do. It’s all for a purpose.”
“We’d about given up hope of hearing from you again, Sam,” Gus was saying. “It must have been all of three years since you wrote that last letter in which you said you meant to try your luck up in Alaska. Day after day, and month after month, mother would watch for the mails until even her dear heart grew sick with the suspense. Why didn’t you let her hear from you once in months, Sam?”
“I was a wretch not to do it,” admitted the other, contritely; “but I had vowed I wouldn’t let any of the home folks hear from me again until I had won out, conquered my evil nature, and actually done something to show father I wasn’t the good-for-nothing he called me. So I made my way to the mines up in Alaska, and began work at the bottom. In a year I bought a piece of ground of my own, a mine that was supposed to be played out. Then later on I struck it rich, and began to hug myself in thinking how I would appear before you all a wealthy man. Then there came a claimant for my property. The court decided against me, and I lost all I had believed I owned. I fell sick after that, and it was an uphill fight; finally I gave it all up and came back to the States as poorly off as I started.”
Sam looked very dejected when he reached this point in his brief story. Gus, however, seemed to see the circumstance in a different light.
“But you did stick at it as long as any fellow could, you see, Sam,” he hurriedly observed, with a touch of pride in his voice. “That shows you’ve got it in you to do the right thing when you get another chance. Mother wants to see you. She has something to give you, Sam, money that will start you going in some business, away from Oakvale. She has saved it dollar by dollar, doing without things she had expected to buy for herself. Oh! you ought to buckle down and make a man of yourself for her sake, Sam—our mother!”
“I can, and I will, Gus,” said the other, firmly. “I told you I’d managed to throw off my bad habits, and there’s no danger of them ever getting the better of me again. If I have just one more chance to make good you’ll see how I can lie awake nights trying to get there. I’d give ten years of my life just to prove to father that I had it in me to do things worth while.”
Gus looked around toward the others. His eyes were moist, and it was evident that the boy was laboring under a tremendous strain. Still, through it all he could give Hugh a happy smile.
“Tell him what he needs to do to get there, Hugh,” he pleaded. “You can do it better than any one else I know. Things seem to be working out right, don’t they, Hugh, when just a little while ago it looked so terribly gloomy?”
“They’re going to get just where you and your mother have been hoping would be the case, Gus,” said Hugh. “And I must say that it would spur almost any sort of a fellow on to doing his level best if he had such a loyal mother as you’ve got, Sam. As for telling you what’s best to do, what’s the use, when you know deep down in your heart there’s only one way you can repay her for all her love and prayers. I firmly believe you will make good, Sam Merrivale, and if I can do anything to help out, you can count on my services. Gus is a particular chum of ours, and scouts always stand up for each other, you know.”
Sam was nearly overcome at such hearty offers of assistance.
“I’m going to get well in a hurry, don’t you see?” he told them. “Why, even now I feel a thousand per cent better than I did before I skipped out of this place when Casey told me we’d have to leave as there was danger staying here. By the time you’re ready to go back home I’ll be fit to meet my mother and tackle anything she wants me to do so as to wipe out the shame I’ve brought on her.”