THE SIGNAL SMOKE
There was silence in the camp until the last of the fish had
disappeared down the throats of the hungry boys. After breakfast Tad
ordered Stacy to clear away the things and set the camp to rights
while he went out to look for the ponies.
He was extremely careful to blaze his trail so that there could be no
mistake in following it back. At the same time Tad had learned to
look about him to make sure that no other blazes cut into his trail.
To be side-tracked into a strange trail now would be a tragedy,
indeed. He trailed the ponies unerringly, and found them much sooner
than he had hoped. The little animals were grazing in a dell about a
mile from camp.
Tad secured them without difficulty and started back to camp with
them. Stacy was in a worry over his companion's long absence. The
fat boy, without the resourceful Tad, would have been helpless, and
it is probable that in such circumstances Chunky would have starved
to death, to him the most terrible death a human being could have.
"Now, Chunky," asked Butler, "do you see that mountain yonder?"
"Yes. It's a high one, isn't it?"
"Yes. I am going up there."
"What for?"
"To spend the day signaling. The question is, do you want to stay
here and watch the camp, or do you--"
"What! Stay here alone? I guess not. No, sir!"
"I was in hopes you would be willing to do that. You don't want to
spend the rest of your life up here, do you?"
"I should think not."
"Then you must try to do your share. I am not saying that you have
not; you have done the best you knew how."
"Yes, I got myself arrested," nodded the fat boy. "What do you want
me to do?"
"I want you, if you will take this matter seriously, to stay here in
camp and look after it."
"Take it seriously? Pshaw! You think I think this is a kind of
picnic. I guess not. It hasn't been like any other picnic I ever
attended. All right; I'll stay here. But why are you making up your
mind to go up to the top of that mountain now?"
"I'll tell you. We have been away from our party for some time. They
will begin to get worried about our long absence about this time.
That means that Mr. Vaughn will get busy. Understand?"
Stacy nodded thoughtfully.
"That is why."
"Go ahead. I will defend this camp with my very life. I'll shoot on
sight the first time I see anything moving."
"I guess I had better take you along," observed Tad dryly.
Butler had reasoned out the situation rightly. There was a great
disturbance in the main camp of the Pony Rider Boys. This was due to
the hasty return of Charlie John who had been sent back to
Matungamook as fast as a horse could carry him to learn what had
become of the boys. He brought back the word that they had left
about a week before that.
"Break camp instantly!" commanded the guide. "We must look for them.
They are lost."
"That's what we get for letting Stacy Brown go with Tad. Stacy would
hoodoo the best organized force in the world," declared Ned.
"Cache all the stuff we do not need. Take enough to last for a week.
We shall find them by that time," said the guide.
"Do--do you think--" began the Professor hesitatingly.
"I think they are lost. I know they are," answered Cale. "But I have
too much confidence in Master Tad to think for a moment that he isn't
taking care of himself and his companion. Of course other things may
have happened. John, did you see any place where they might have
left the trail?"
"Me see where fat boy go other way," was the surprising reply.
"I thought so. Nothing escapes the eyes of an Indian, even if he is
a half-breed Kanuck," snapped the guide.
There was no laughter on the faces of the Pony Rider Boys now. They
were deeply concerned over the fate of their two companions, the
Professor more troubled than any of the others, because he had not
been in favor of permitting the two lads to make their way alone back
to the camp.
The party was under way within an hour after the return of Charlie
John from town. Night found them still plodding along, a silent
procession, led by the Indian, Vaughn to the rear of him watching the
trail with keen, observant eyes.
Nor did they stop until morning. Then only for breakfast and to rest
the stock. They reached the branching of the trail late that day.
A brief examination told the guide that what the Indian had said was
true. The lads had gotten on the wrong trail. No time was lost by
Cale in getting on it, but this trail was not so easy to follow at
night as had been the other. As a result they did not make much
headway that night.
The next morning they found the place where the boys had made a stop.
Both the white guide and the Indian studied the surroundings,
learning some things that they did not tell their companions.
The third day found them at the lake first discovered by Tad and
Stacy. In the trail they read the story of the two boys missing the
lake and landing on the shore of the second lake. Then suddenly the
trail was lost. Vaughn could not understand it. Somehow he had
strayed, as had the two boys who had gone before them.
"I want you people to make camp right here and to remain here until I
come back," said Vaughn.
"Oh, please don't make us sit here idle," begged Rector. "Don't you
see we have got to do something?"
"Come along then," answered the guide, after a brief reflection. "But
when we make wide detours, you will remain as a sort of center or hub
to the wheel we shall be making. In that way I think we shall not be
detained very much. Minutes may be precious, you know."
An hour's faithful work on the part of the Indian and the guide
failed to reveal any trace of the missing lads. Later in the day
Vaughn came to the spot where Tad and Stacy had halted, intending to
make camp. He found Tad's four blazes on the big pine. An
examination told him that the blazes had been placed there recently.
The guide uttered a shout.
"We are on their track now. We've found the trail. Clever boy, Tad!
Clever boy. Trust him to do the right thing at the right time."
The Indian who had gone on ahead called back that the trail lay in
the direction of the lake. The party hastened on after him. They
reached the camp of Tad and Stacy, but the camp was deserted. Cale
placed a hand on the dead campfire.
"They haven't been here in more than twenty-four hours," he announced.
Walter and Ned groaned. The perspiration was standing out in great
beads on the forehead of Professor Zepplin.
"Heap big smoke," grunted the Indian, loping into camp. He had
followed the shore of the lake to the westward around a bend.
"Eh?" demanded Cale.
"Heap big smoke."
"Where? Where?"
The Indian pointed, then started down the shore again, followed by
the entire party. They halted some distance from the camp, and
again Charlie pointed. The boys and the men gazed at the peak of
the high mountain which Tad had pointed out to his companion two days
before that. As the Indian pointed a cloud of grayish smoke rose
from the forest crowning the mountain. An interval of a minute, then
came another, then still another.
"It's a signal!" cried Vaughn. "Wait!"
Ten minutes later the three-cloud smoke signal was made again. There
could be no mistake about it. Someone was making an Indian smoke
signal. Vaughn gave the rifle signal in acknowledgment. There was
no reply. He gave it again. For the third time did he give it, then
from the distance came a rifle shot.
A pause followed, then three more shots.
"We've got 'em!" cried Cale Vaughn triumphantly.
"Boys make good Indians," grunted Charlie John.
Ned and Walter set up a yell.
"Build a smudge, Charlie," commanded the guide. "I am going out to
meet whoever it is. Send your smoke up as high as you can, Charlie."
"Me smoke um."
"Not one of you must leave the camp," wound up the guide.
Regardless of his still lame foot, Cale Vaughn started off at a run,
and was lost to view in a moment. Then the boys, the Professor and
the Indian took account of their surroundings. The results of Tad
Butler's ingenuity were apparent on all sides. The Professor proudly
pointed out what Tad had accomplished as an object lesson that they
would do well to remember. They were shortly interrupted by three
signal shots, but did not know whether these had been fired by the
guide or by the persons who had made the smudge. They decided to
answer the shots, but Charlie John shook his head.
"No shoot. Fool guide, fool boys if do," he said.
It was late in the afternoon, in fact near dark, when a yell startled
the campers. Then came another yell, and a shot, and Tad Butler,
followed by the howling Stacy, came tearing into camp on their
ponies, leaping logs, roots, stumps and rocks.
A moment more and the boys were hugging each other delightedly. Such
a cheer as the four set up together startled the birds that had
sought their roosting perches for the night. Then came another
startling sound.
"Ugh, ugh, ugh, oo-oo-oo!" Stacy's eyes widened.
"There--there's that moose fellow that put our camp out of business
the other night. Take to the trees, fellows! He'll be here in a
minute."
"Never mind. Don't be frightened," answered the guide. "That isn't
the fellow who bothered your camp. That one lies dead some five
miles to the north of here with several of your bullets in his body,"
added Cale with a twinkle in his eyes.
"How did you know about that?" demanded Tad, wheeling on him sharply.
"Never mind how I knew. I usually use my eyes when I am in the woods.
And I want to say, right here, that you two boys have fulfilled all
my expectations. You went astray as many a better man will go, as I
have gone myself, but you have shown more pure woodcraft than
ninety-nine men out of any hundred would have shown. I am proud of
you. I take off my hat to you."
"Yes," answered Stacy pompously. "I always was an expert at finding
my way about in the woods."
That evening the party sat long about the campfire, listening to the
story of the experiences of the two lost boys. The story of the
charge of the moose and the wrecking of the camp caused Ned Rector
and Walter Perkins to open their eyes very wide.
"Young man," remarked Cale Vaughn, addressing Chunky, "you will do
well if you don't let your tongue get away from you and rush on to
tell everyone about Tad shooting at the moose that wrecked your camp.
If you do, you'll by and by get the story around to where you,
instead of Tad, shot the animal, and how the animal dropped dead on
the spot."
"It would make a fine and dandy story," remarked Chunky, as he chewed
reflectively at a blade of grass.
"It would," admitted Cale, "and all stories of that kind travel to
the ears of Squire Halliday very quickly. Don't forget that the
squire is still doing business in his little old office six days a
week. More than that, just keep well in mind the fact that the
squire would probably send you to jail next time. Brown, I've been
in quite a bit of the world outside of Maine; I was a scout in the
world war and did my bit for my country, and I've always kept my eyes
open. A fellow had to over there. So I've noticed that nearly all
the trouble a fellow gets into is trouble that his tongue gets him
into."
The boys nodded their heads in agreement.
"Don't talk too much," continued the guide, "not at any time, and
when you do talk always tell the truth. You've seen a great deal of
trouble, haven't you?"
"Yes," admitted Stacy Brown, assuming the air of a man of the world.
"I've had so much trouble that I've grown old in it."
Then, as the other boys began to laugh, Stacy saw the drift of the
guide's remarks.
"But not trouble that my tongue got me into," he made haste to add.
"I'm a silent, thoughtful sort of fellow. If you haven't seen enough
of me to know that, then just ask these fellows."
"Yes, Cale," cried Ned. "Chunky's deaf and dumb when he's asleep or
eating."
Cale nodded and smiled.
"Young man, the next time you get into difficulties, just hold an
honest, searching experience meeting with yourself," suggested Cale
dryly, "and see if you can't find the mean part your tongue has
played in your affairs. That's all."
"I'm sorry we missed the bull moose incident," sighed Ned Rector. "I
knew that if Stacy stayed behind something surely would happen, but I
never dreamed that it would be anything that I'd hate to miss."
"It wasn't much fun at the time--take my word for that," Tad uttered
grimly.
"No, but it is going to be a great event one of these days,"
suggested Ned innocently, stealing a glance at the fat boy.
"When?" Walter wanted to know.
"When we see Chunky's version of the affair in the home paper. After
that paper comes out, though, I am going to teach Chunky a lesson."
"What kind of a lesson?" demanded Stacy suspiciously.
"After your story comes out in home print," laughed Ned, "I'm going
to take all the wind out of your sails by telling everybody in town
the real version of the affair."
"You just dare," flared Chunky.
"Why?" queried Walter mildly. "Do you mean, Stacy, that you would
knowingly give a false version to the home paper, and that you'd
resent having Ned tell the people the straight account of the matter?"
"I mean," sputtered Chunky. "I mean--Well, I mean that I won't have
anybody else mixing up in my business and trying to make me look
ridiculous. That's what I mean, and I mean it."
"No fellow looks half so ridiculous," put in Tad quietly, "as the
fellow who tells yarns about his achievements that no one in the home
town would think of believing. Remember your lion story, Chunky, as
printed in the Chillicothe paper?"
"Yes. And it was a mighty good story, too," declared young Brown.
"The editor told me so."
"What do you suppose no less than three persons at home asked me?"
Tad went on. "They wanted to know how it was that you never did
anything at home to amount to a hill of beans, yet, as soon as you
got a few hundred miles away, you invariably began to prove yourself
a wonder. You see people are beginning to size your stories up."
"Who asked you that?" demanded Chunky heatedly.
Tad shook his head smiling, declining to give names.
But Chunky was growing wrathful. A look of suspicion in his eyes, he
began to glare around at the other boys. Even staid old Professor
Zepplin he regarded with considerable disfavor.
"The trouble with you fellows," broke in Chunky, after two full
minutes of actual silence, "is that you can't recognize genius and
greatness when you mix up with them. You're always picking on me,
you fellows. You--"
Choking with indignation, Stacy rose and began to walk away, his
fists clenched. But Tad Butler, with a laugh, leaped up and darted
after the offended boy.
"Stacy, old fellow, why be so touchy? What on earth would we do on
our trips if we didn't have you along? Who would supply the fun and
the jokes for us?"
Tad forced open the boy's right fist, then shook hands with him,
smiling the while.
"I'm never going out with you fellows on another trip," Stacy
declared stubbornly.
"How are your folks going to stop you?" Tad wanted to know. "Are
they going to tie you hand and foot, and lash you down to rings in
the floor of the Brown mansion. Oh, pshaw! Forget it!"
"They won't have to," growled Stacy. "I don't want to go anywhere
with you fellows any more."
"You come right back and shake hands with Walter and Ned," Tad
commanded. "Then you may tell them about your new resolve."
Despite the fat boy's resistance, Tad led him back to the circle.
There, Stacy reluctantly shook hands all around, and inside of five
minutes he was chatting away with his usual good humor.
For a few days more the Pony Riders roved through the woods. Then,
most regretfully--on both sides--the boys and their tutor parted from
Cale Vaughn. At Bangor they found a pile of home letters awaiting
them. Best of all were the letters that Tad received from his mother.
She had regained her health, she wrote, and was putting on flesh at a
rate that would soon be cause for alarm and--fasting.
It was some months before Cale Vaughn settled, to his satisfaction,
the score against Squire Halliday and the game warden. Cale had a
wide and valuable acquaintance throughout the state, and in time he
secured the removal from office of Squire Halliday, who didn't need
the justice's fees anyway. Jed, too, "walked the plank" in favor of
a new game warden for that section.
As for the Pony Rider Boys, they were already planning a trip to the
South, from which they would not return until late in the fall. The
story of these most interesting of all adventures that they had
experienced will be told in a following volume entitled, "THE PONY
RIDER BOYS IN LOUISIANA; or, Following the Game Trails in the
Canebrake."
THE END