Boy Scouts in California
OR
The Flag on the Cliff
By
G. Harvey Ralphson
[Illustration: Series logo]
CHICAGO
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
Copyright 1913
by
M. A. Donohue & Co.
CHICAGO
Made in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I— A Thief in the Night 7
II— A Voice in the Thicket 18
III— The Law of Club and Fang 29
IV— Jimmie Builds Two Fires 40
V— The Call of the Pack 51
VI— A Bribe of Half a Million 62
VII— The Franciscan Mission 73
VIII— A Queer Hiding Place 83
IX— In Quest of Information 95
X— Gilroy and the Bear 104
XI— The Devil’s Punch Bowl 115
XII— Treachery Feared 126
XIII— At the Bottom of the Bowl 137
XIV— A Bit of Engineering 148
XV— The Troubles of Gilroy 159
XVI— A Fall in the Night 169
XVII— A Wonderful Discovery 180
XVIII— Jimmie Finds a Way 190
XIX— A Boy Scout Encounter 200
XX— The Flag on the Cliff 213
XXI— The End of a Crooked Road 224
XXII— A Fight in the Air 235
XXIII— The Treaty Under the Flag 244
Boy Scouts in California
or
The Flag on the Cliff
CHAPTER I
A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
“Black bear steak!”
“Grizzly bear, black bear, or cinnamon bear?”
“This is cinnamon bear! You don’t suppose members of the Black Bear
Patrol, Boy Scouts of America, would do a cannibal stunt by eating black
bear, do you? That wouldn’t be right.”
Jimmie McGraw of the Wolf Patrol, City of New York, and Frank Shaw, of
the Black Bear Patrol, also of New York City, were broiling bear steak
over a glowing bed of embers just below the timber line on the eastern
slope of the Sierra Nevada mountains. It was early morning in September,
and the sunshine lay like a mist of gold over the broken country.
Away to the north rose the peaks of the Matterhorn, approximately 13,000
feet above sea level. Still nearer, Twin Peaks lifted their white heads
12,000 feet in the air. To the east lay Mono lake, salt and brackish to
the taste, partaking of the desert, but bright and glistening now under
the rays of the early sun.
To the south Warren Peak stood guard over the head waters of the
Tuolumne river. Westward the tumbling waters of Rancheria creek dropped
down from crag to crag on their winding way to the Pacific, nearly three
hundred miles distant. Here and there granite peaks lifted white
foreheads above the green of the pines.
It was a glorious scene, and the Boy Scouts were thoroughly in harmony
with it. The smoke of their campfire lifted in a straight line to the
blue of the sky, and the fragrance of their steak and coffee permeated
the sweet air.
The boys shivered a trifle as they gathered closer about the embers, but
they knew that before many hours the chill of the night would be swept
away. While the boys tended the steak and coffee, a voice came from a
cave at the rear. They both turned in that direction.
“Does this hotel serve meals to guests in their rooms?” the voice asked.
“Sure we do!” Jimmie McGraw replied. “We serve grizzly bear steak on
toast, and on the hoof at that; we’re aiming to send you in a whole
animal in about ten minutes. We feed folks right at this hotel!”
Jack Bosworth yawned sleepily and came out of the cavern to stand by the
fire, warming his hands and turning round and round in order to take
full advantage of the generous heat.
“Where are Ned and Harry?” he asked in a moment.
“They’ve gone out to get another bear for breakfast,” Jimmie replied.
“You see,” he went on, “we’re getting up such appetites, here in the
mountains, that it takes two hunters to keep the provision chest full.”
“After I eat,” Jack said with a grin, “I’m going out and bring in a
deer. I’m getting tired of bear steak.”
“Go to it!” laughed Jimmie. “You needn’t have any of this bear steak for
breakfast, if you’re getting sick of it.”
Jimmie and Frank each seized a huge slice of smoking steak and made for
the cave, leaving Jack to broil his own breakfast in punishment for
having found fault with the menu.
The cave in which the boys found themselves in a moment was not far from
twenty feet in size each way, with the ceiling at least ten feet above
the smooth floor. Perhaps thousands of years before that day erosion or
volcanic action had honeycombed many of the granite ridges looking to
the east. These openings in the ledge lay just at the timber line, as if
nature halted her vegetation there, angry at the interference of
contrary forces.
As the Boy Scouts had occupied the cave for several days, it was
comparatively well furnished with crudely made tables, chairs, bunks,
and also with cooking utensils brought up from San Francisco. Taken
altogether it was an ideal place in which to camp, being dry and
sightly.
Those who have read the previous volumes of this series will not need
introduction to the five boys above mentioned. Ned Nestor and Jimmie
McGraw, of the Wolf Patrol, New York, and Jack Bosworth, Frank Shaw and
Harry Stevens, of the Black Bear Patrol, New York, had recently reached
San Francisco after an exciting experience with train robbers farther to
the north. The modern automobile which they had used on that trip had
been shipped from Seattle to San Francisco by boat, the boys not caring
to make their way by motor down to the Golden Gate.
A few days in San Francisco sufficed, for the boys were out on their
annual summer vacation, and did not care to spend their time on city
pavements or in city apartments. So, leaving their automobile in
storage, they had departed for the mountains in the vicinity of Twin
Peaks.
It is needless to say that they had enjoyed every minute of the time
since leaving San Francisco. They had hunted deer, bear and smaller
game, and had fished in the clear waters of the rapid streams which have
their rise in the Sierra Nevadas and finally empty the offerings of the
summits into San Francisco bay.
“Now, Frank,” Jimmie observed as the two boys placed their still
steaming steaks on paper plates set out on a table made of slender
mountain poles, “you take a bucket and go after coffee and I’ll bring
out the bread and butter and beans. We ought to have French fried
potatoes with these steaks, but I guess we can get along with this feed
for a few hours. Tell Jack to come on in and eat.”
Frank Shaw took a tin pail from a shelf at one side of the cave and
started away toward the campfire, while Jimmie made his way to a corner
of the cave which was shut off from the main room by a heavy canvas
curtain. Taking a small electric flashlight from a pocket, he drew the
curtain aside and turned a finger of flame upon a row of shelves
arranged on the face of the rock. This was known as the “refrigerator.”
Jimmie whistled as he looked over the shelves and reached out a hand,
almost automatically, for the things he needed for the table. Then his
puckered lips opened in wonder and he glanced sharply about the cavern.
“Well!” he exclaimed. “Now I wonder what they did that for!”
“Did what?” demanded Frank Shaw, returning with the pail of fragrant
coffee. “Who did what?” repeated the newcomer.
“I believe you did it!” insisted Jimmie with a grin.
“Anything wrong with your gearing this morning?” asked Frank.
“Well,” Jimmie went on, “some of you boys went and took the last three
loaves of bread we had in the refrigerator, and all the butter there was
in sight, and all that was left of the roast haunch we had such trouble
with yesterday. I’ll bet you did it!”
“Aw, you did it yourself!” exclaimed Frank. “I heard you moving around
in the night, and wondered then what it was you were eating.”
“Up in the night?” repeated Jimmie. “Not me!”
“Someone was out of bed in the night!” insisted Frank. “I heard someone
walking around the cave and stirring up the fire. It must have been
about midnight, or a little after.”
“It wasn’t me!” Jimmie declared, continuing his search in the cupboard
for more eatables. “It sure wasn’t me up in the night!”
After continuing his examination of the refrigerator for a moment, he
handed the search light to Frank and sat down on a corner of the table.
“Look here, Frank,” he said, “take this search light and see if you can
find anything at all in that refrigerator. I left canned beans in there,
and condensed milk, and a tomato can full of sugar, and about a dozen
eggs! Now you just take this light and see if you can find anything like
that on the shelves. I’m flabbergasted!”
Frank’s face showed only amusement as he took the flashlight and threw
its rays over the rude shelves. When he saw that Jimmie had not been
joking over the disappearance of the food, but had told the exact truth,
he, too, sat down on a corner of the table and looked about the cavern
suspiciously. When the boy’s eyes met, they grinned sheepishly.
“Go and ask Jack,” Frank finally suggested.
Leaving their cooling breakfast on the table, both boys finally dashed
out of the cave and ran around a sharp corner or rock to where Jack
Bosworth was broiling bear steak.
“Did you do it, Jack?” Frank shouted as they came up to him.
“You bet I did!” Jack replied, turning a very red face to his chums, and
drawing his now thoroughly cooked steak from the fire. “You bet I did do
it. What is it?”
“How did you ever manage it?” asked Jimmie with a wrinkling of his
freckled nose.
“How did I ever manage it?” repeated Jack. “What’s the answer?”
Jimmie took his chum by the arm and headed for the cave.
“Bring your breakfast along with you,” he said, “and hold onto it tight.
Clutch it with the grip of destiny! I’ll show you what I’m talking
about, and then you can tell me who’s got the appetite.”
Directly the three boys stood before the roughly built cupboard and then
Frank drew aside the canvas curtain. The shelves were entirely bare
except for knives, forks, spoons, a sack of salt, and an empty plate.
“There!” Jimmie cried. “Did you go and eat all our perfectly good
provender last night?”
“I wasn’t out of bed last night!” insisted Jack.
“Then it must have been Ned or Harry!” Frank declared.
Jack looked from one to the other with amazement showing in his face.
“Did some one clean out the refrigerator in the night?” he asked.
“You’re just right, some one cleaned out the refrigerator!” Jimmie
answered, “and we’ve got to go and make baking powder biscuit, or corn
pones, or something like that for breakfast, or go hungry!”
“I guess this bear steak will be all right for me,” Jack replied. “I
always did like bear steak and coffee.”
“I’m not going to make any biscuit, or cook any corn pones!” Frank
exclaimed. “Let the kids that robbed the refrigerator do the cooking!”
“Ned or Harry got busy in the night all right enough!” Jack insisted.
At that moment Ned Nestor and Harry Stevens, the other members of the
party, entered the cavern, dressed in neat khaki uniform, as were, in
fact, all the boys, and approached the table where the bear steaks lay
exposed. Harry seized a knife and fork and laughingly prepared to attack
Jack’s breakfast. Jack seized the meat and darted out into the sunlight.
“That’s a nice way to serve a guest you’ve invited to breakfast!” Harry
exclaimed. “Where do I get my eatings this morning?”
“You and Ned got yours last night!” Jimmie grinned.
“Oh, we did?” queried Harry. “Perhaps Ned got his last night, but if I
got mine I don’t know it. What are you talking about?”
“Go and look in the refrigerator,” suggested Jimmie.
Both Ned and Harry walked to the corner and drew aside the curtain. They
stood in front of the empty shelves for a moment, and then walked back
to the table, their faces showing only amusement.
“What did you do with it?” asked Ned, presently, as Jimmie and Frank
attacked their fast-cooling steaks vigorously.
“What did _you_ do with it?”
Frank answered the question by asking one.
Ned Nestor’s face became serious in a moment. He glanced from one chum
to the other, and then went to the shelves and looked them over
thoroughly. There was a puzzled line between his eyebrows as he walked
back and seated himself beside Jimmie and Frank.
“Honest, now, boys,” he asked, “what does this all mean?”
“Didn’t you get the eatings?” asked Jimmie seriously.
“I certainly did not!” replied Nestor, seriously.
“Now about you, Harry?” Jimmie questioned. “Where did you find a market
for all that good provender?”
“Never touched it!” Harry insisted. “I went to bed at nine o’clock, as
you all know, and when I awoke the sun was just showing his nose over
the foothills.”
“And you were good and hungry, too, just about that time!” Jimmie
scoffed. “You must have been hungry to eat all that!”
“Wait a minute, boys,” Ned replied. “There’s something mysterious about
this! No wild animal ever entered the cave last night. Some creature on
two legs stripped the refrigerator while we slept!”
“Je-rusalem!” exclaimed Jimmie. “It’s a wonder he didn’t do something
more than steal our grub.”
“I didn’t suppose,” Frank cut in, “that there was a human being anywhere
in this district except ourselves.”
“Well,” Ned replied, “there’s some one prowling about, and the thing for
us to do is to find out who it is.”
“It’s the mystery of the thing that gets me!” declared Frank.