LOST MINE HILL
The camp was very still. Each tree and bush stood motionless and distinct
in the queer gray light of early morning. Their tent was the last in
the row, and lying on his side, Dale could look under the rolled-up flap
straight across the sloping, sandy beach, over the smooth, rhythmic
lapping water of the bay to the low, sparsely wooded line beyond which
lay the sea. There was a crisp tang to the air that made him snuggle
into his blankets as he drowsily watched the eastern sky turn pink and
gold and delicately crimson in the glory of the rising sun.
The boy gave a sigh of content, and his lids drooped sleepily. The next
thing he knew reveille was sounding, and he rolled over to meet the
glance of Ranny Phelps, sitting tousle-headed on the edge of the opposite
bunk.
"Gee! Isn't this great!" exclaimed Tompkins, impulsively.
Ranny nodded. "It sure is!" he agreed, in a half-friendly,
half-embarrassed fashion. And then, almost as if regretting his tone,
he sprang up and reached for his swimming-tights. "Everybody out for
the morning dip, fellows," he called authoritatively.
They needed no urging. Vedder was the only one who clung to his blankets,
and the others lost no time in dragging these off and applying the sole
of a sneaker with a dexterity that brought a howl of protest from the
plump youth.
"Ouch! Quit that!" he roared, rolling over the side of the bunk and
thudding to the floor. "Wait till I get hold of you, Court Parker, and
I'll--"
The threat ended in a sputter as the rest fled, giggling, to gather
before headquarters for the brief ceremony of flag-raising. Then
followed five minutes of setting-up exercises that sent the blood
tingling through their veins and made them more than ever eager for the
refreshing plunge, after which came dressing, the airing of blankets,
and breakfast--and the day's work and pleasure had fairly begun.
It was mostly work that first morning. Dale's tent had pioneering
duties, and for two hours or more he sweated with ax and grub-hoe,
clearing out more undergrowth and making the camp shipshape. Ranny was
no easy taskmaster. He kept everybody hustling without any let-up,
and half an hour before inspection he had the whole seven hard at
work on the tent, sweeping, folding blankets, and tidying up generally.
There were a few grumbling asides, but the credit they received at the
inspection silenced all that and made each boy resolved to be just as
thorough every day. It wasn't so bad, after all, most of them decided.
Certainly they enjoyed their swim twice as much for the knowledge that
the longest part of the day lay before them, unburdened by a single duty.
Both before and during dinner, there was a good deal of speculation as to
what had been planned for the afternoon. But this was not revealed until
the last spoonful of dessert had been consumed, when Mr. Reed arose from
his place at the officers' table.
"Most of you fellows have heard of Lost Mine Hill," he said, "and are
probably wanting to get a closer view of it. There's a legend, you
know, that before the Revolution there were copper workings in the
neighborhood which were long ago abandoned and the entrance to the
shafts, or whatever they were, lost track of. This afternoon we'll take a
hike over there and see if a little systematic scouting can't solve
the mystery. To make it more interesting, we'll consider it a sort
of competition on the treasure-hunt idea, each tent working together
as a unit against the other five. If the entrance should happen to be
located, the crowd that finds it will be given a certain number of
credits toward the emblem. Everybody be on hand at headquarters at
one sharp, for we don't want to waste any time starting."
The idea met with instant approval, and the burst of eager talk that
followed showed how thoroughly it had stirred the boys' imaginations.
For the next twenty minutes the camp buzzed with interested discussion,
and at one o'clock not a scout was missing from the throng before
headquarters tent.
They started at once, with Mr. Reed and Mr. Curtis in the lead. There
were no regular roads to follow, but after half an hour's tramp through
the woods they struck an overgrown track, and kept to it until it
simply dwindled away into nothing and disappeared. A little distance
beyond, the ground began to rise, gradually at first, but with increasing
steepness, while outcroppings of rock showed more and more frequently.
Presently, reaching a small open place among the trees, the scoutmasters
paused and waited for the stragglers to come up.
"We may as well start the hunt here, fellows," said Mr. Reed, taking
out his watch. "I won't make any suggestions as to how to go about it;
each tent-leader must think that out for himself. Use your heads, that's
all, and don't get too far away to be back here at four-thirty sharp.
It's taken us over an hour to make this point, so we ought to start
back then at the latest. Remember, a little blazing will make the return
trip easier, and if nobody finds anything to-day, we'll take it up later
in the week. Go ahead."
The boys had been standing in little groups about him, and at the signal
most of these started off hotfoot, as if they expected to gain their
end by speed alone. Some hurried on toward the summit of the hill;
others turned to right or left and, pushing through the undergrowth,
disappeared along the side of the slope. Somewhat to Tompkins's surprise,
Ranny Phelps dawdled along until the others were out of sight. Then,
however, he turned swiftly and led the way almost directly downhill.
"What are you going back for?" asked Court Parker, in surprise.
"I've got a hunch," returned Ranny, briefly. Though instantly besieged
with questions, he did not continue until they were well away from the
clearing.
"It's just this," he said, without moderating his brisk pace. "We
certainly can't expect to find something that even the natives have lost
track of, by just tramping around aimlessly. Of course, we might happen
to stumble on it, but that would be a thousand-to-one chance. The
best way is to use system. Did any of you notice the old fellow who
brought over a load of fish this morning?"
"The man with whiskers you were talking to at the cook-shack?" asked
Frank Sanson.
"Yes. Well, he's lived around here all his life and is quite a character.
I was asking him about this lost mine just out of curiosity and
without having heard anything about the stunt this afternoon. He didn't
know much, but he finally did say his grandfather had once told him of
an old building they used as a smelter, or something."
"Gee!" exclaimed Sanson, excitedly. "And is this the way to it?"
"He hadn't any idea. He'd never seen it himself, and of course it must
have gone to ruin ages ago. But it stands to reason, doesn't it, that
a smelter would be more on the level and not on the side of a hill like
this? They'd have to cart stuff to and from it along some kind of a
road--"
"The one we came along!" put in Parker, eagerly.
"Maybe, though no road would keep open all this time without cutting.
Very likely that's just a lumbering-track. The point is, if we can only
locate this building, we'll be somewhere near the mine and won't have to
go prospecting all over the map. So that's what we want to look for--a
foundation of any kind or the least sign of a building. As soon as we're
down a bit farther we'll spread out and hunt systematically. It may be
clear on the other side of the hill, but at least we'll have something
definite to look for."
"I'll bet it's on this side," said Dale Tompkins, suddenly. "In the
old days they didn't have many roads and did most of their traveling by
water, so I should think-- Oh, shucks! I forgot the smelter would be
near the mine and that might be anywhere."
"It might," agreed Ranny; "but it won't do any harm to try this side
first."
Full of enthusiasm, they hurried down the slope, and when the steepest
part was over they spread out in a line about twenty feet apart. In this
formation they moved forward, keeping a sharp lookout for the slightest
sign that might help them in the search.
They moved slowly forward through the forest, the fascination of the hunt
gripping them more and more strongly. The sense of emulation, always
keen with a crowd of boys, was intensified by the belief that, thanks
to Ranny, they had just a little better chance of success than any of
the others. The object of their search, too, stirred the imagination.
There was a glamour of mystery about it which placed the whole thing in a
different class from the games that they ordinarily played.
But little by little, as they found only the same monotonous succession
of rocks and trees and tangled undergrowth, Dale's mind began to dwell on
the growing probability that they might not find the mine after all.
Over an hour of close search had failed to reveal any trace of the
ruined smelter. The ground on the river side of the hill had been
thoroughly gone over, and they were now making their way inland, keeping
well in toward the slope, and even spreading out a little on it. Without
actually running into any of the other searching-parties, they had
twice heard voices farther up the hill. The second time, in fact, these
were so near that Dale could distinguish the familiar tones of Wesley
Becker, and it was while peering curiously through the trees in that
direction that he tripped over an obstruction and fell headlong, bruising
his shin and twisting one wrist painfully.
"You want to look out for those feet of yours, Tommy," laughed Frank
Sanson, from the right. "They're awful things to trip over."
Usually quick enough with a retort, Tompkins made no answer. He had
scrambled up and stood clutching his aching wrist instinctively. But
neither his gaze nor his attention was on the injured member. Flushed,
bright-eyed, he was staring eagerly at the obstacle that had caused his
tumble.
It was nothing more than a line of stones, barely showing above the
decaying vegetation of the forest floor. But the boy's swift vision
had already taken in the fact that the line was straight and true, and
that the stones were held together by crumbling remains of mortar.