As he came into the open clearing by Uncle Jeb’s cabin, Westy could
detect the smell of bacon frying crisp and brown. Uncle Jeb hailed him
and good-naturedly asked if he had any trouble getting back.
“Not so’s you could notice it,” he retorted.
While they were eating supper he related to them his experience and
discovery of the afternoon. Uncle Jeb listened intently and then
cautioned the boys to be careful about going so far out on the cliff.
“Not only thet,” he said, “but yuh can’t allus tell when them birds’ll
take it into their fool heads to make a new nest on t’other side where
Westy wuz.”
They sat in breathless silence, as he told them many thrilling and
hair-raising adventures of his boyhood days.
“What do yuh boys say we turn in now?” he concluded.
Indeed the boys did not need coaxing to turn in, for their eyes were
already heavy with weariness and want of sleep.
They tumbled into their respective berths with goodwill and soon Sleep
drew her mystical curtain about them and their first night in the bosom
of the Rocky Mountains.
Uncle Jeb and the boys generally made a weekly visit to the Inn. As he
and Ol’ Pop had much to say to one another as a rule, Artie and Westy
would try to kill time by getting Ollie to talk. Between them they would
hurl a veritable barrage of questions at his poor, meek-looking head,
until one would imagine he would answer, if only to silence them.
Nothing, however, seemed to perturb his calm in the least. He was
utterly unaware that any one was speaking at all, except for an
occasional flicker of interest, visible only when Ol’ Pop’s name was
mentioned.
On this particular early summer morning, Artie and Westy were sitting on
the spacious porch reading some letters from home and many from Temple
Camp, when Pop Burrows remarked he had “fetched them from town nigh onto
three days ago. Could jes’ as well o’ let Ollie take ’em up to ye, but I
thinks to meself that you’d be down afore long.
“Ollie, he generally takes hisself off for long hikes in the afternoons.
Sez he never gits tired o’ climbin’ the hills. When he fust came, Uncle
Jeb used to say as how it was durn funny, a tenderfoot like Ollie never
got tired o’ climbin’ the hills every afternoon jes’ for pleasure. Well,
after thet, I kinda feels Ollie out once ’n fer all. I sez, ‘Ollie, how
come yer so fond of roamin’ the hills every day, you thet’s a
tenderfoot?’ ‘Well,’ he sez to me, ‘I been brought up in de city; never
outside it till I comes here, and when me woik is done I likes to go off
by me lonesome with me pipe and sit quiet, that’s all.’ Thet’s all he
ever told me about hisself,” continued Pop, “no more ’n no less. After
thet we never bothered him and he never bothers us.” He looked toward
Uncle Jeb as if for verification of his story.
Uncle Jeb nodded his assent between puffs of his pipe. Then he arose
quietly as Ollie came around from the back of the Inn, leading the two
mules who were bearing a fresh supply of provisions for the scouts.
Taking their leave of Ol’ Pop they were soon on their way, walking
single file where the trail narrowed. Presently Westy called to Artie
and told him of the word he had received from home.
They also talked of the news which they had heard from Temple Camp and
this Uncle Jeb listened to with interest.
Roy Blakeley wrote that, as usual, Pee-wee Harris was doing good turns;
that is, he started out to do them, but rarely accomplished his purpose
without a series of mishaps intervening. “At any rate,” Roy concluded,
“we’re not a bit envious of you fellows out there (Oh, no!) so long as
we have Scout Harris to disturb the calm of a hot summer’s day.”
Just then they came out into the clearing by Eagle Lake and Uncle Jeb
suggested that they sit for a while and rest, when their eagle friends
announced their advent with a series of screeches.
Instead of disappearing beyond the cliff this time, one flew into a
small hollow just underneath the precipice.
Before Artie could retract his words they were out: “Isn’t that where
the surveyors disappeared, Uncle Jeb?”
Uncle Jeb was quiet for a while but then finally he answered softly:
“Yes, my boy, ’n I always figgered somehow thet the holler is
responsible. I cudn’t say jes’ why I do, but still thar’s no tellin’
’bout them spooky lookin’ places after all!”