AN EXPLORING TRIP
After breakfast next morning the “Gray Gull” was run closer inshore. A
favorable spot for anchorage was found, doing away with the necessity
for using the dory. Each boy was able to leap across to a jutting
point. Then, jolly and enthusiastic, they began to walk along the shore.
Often they stopped to gaze upward at the gigantic cliffs, or to admire
the masses of rich green vegetation or broad expanse of river, now a
greenish-gray, for the sun was hidden.
Around a bend they saw a cabin built at the base of the cliff.
“That must be it,” said Bob.
“Hooray!” cried Tom. “Say, fellows, I like that chap, Redfern.”
“But what a funny idea, living out here, all alone,” commented Fred.
“Oh, I don’t know. I was always going to do something of the kind,
myself,” said Joe, and the others laughed in such a lively fashion that
it brought the occupant of the cabin to the door.
“Welcome, boys,” he said, with a smile. “Come in and make yourselves at
home.”
So the boys trooped in, took seats on anything they could find, and
looked about with interest.
In one corner a bunk was fastened against the wall. In another, a
shelf contained several books, which Dave and Fred immediately spied
and began to examine. A rude table and several equally rude stools
completed the furnishings, save for a charcoal drawing which hung
between the windows.
“That’s bully,” said Tom, admiringly. “Didn’t know anybody but Dave
Brandon could draw so well.”
“I’m acquainted with the artist,” explained Norman Redfern. “He and his
wife are spending the summer in a bungalow not far from here.”
“Well, he’s a dandy, that’s sure,” said Tom.
“Oh, look at these frivolous books,” laughed Joe Preston, a moment
later. “You’ll never get Fred Winter away from ’em. Listen! Here’s
Plutarch’s ‘Lives,’ Motley’s ‘Rise and Fall of the Dutch Republic,’
Gibbons’ ‘History of Rome,’ and books on Latin and Greek.”
“The kind of literature a tutor ought to read, I suppose,” said Norman,
with a faint smile.
“Great Scott, have you tooted?” asked Joe. “Doin’ it now?”
An uncomfortable expression flitted across the other’s face. He
hesitated for a moment, then, seeing the frank, interested looks on his
visitors’ faces, replied, “No, not just at present--that is--oh, well,
I suppose I might as well tell you----” then, as if half regretting his
words, he stopped short.
But Joe Preston’s curiosity was aroused. Joe hated mysteries, or,
rather, always liked to have them explained at once. So he said “Well?”
in such a tone that there was no getting out of it.
“I’ll have to give you a short history of my life,” began Redfern,
dryly. “Being an orphan, I had lived most of the time with an uncle,
near Albany. He hadn’t much money, but he was of the right sort, and
saw to it that my education was attended to. I was sent to a large
academy near the city. There was another school not far away, and the
rivalry between the two institutions was pretty fierce at times--mostly
good-natured, of course. But that hasn’t anything to do with my story.
After I graduated Uncle Ben passed away, and the little money he left,
divided among numerous relatives, was soon gone, and yours truly was
thrown on his own resources.
“Well, through the influence of a friend, I got a position as tutor
to the ward of a rich man who lives at Nyack. This young chap is
very wealthy in his own right, or will be when he reaches the age of
twenty-one. He has everything that a boy could wish for, and----”
“Oh, of course nobody could get along with a chap like that,” sniffed
Joe. “Why, in our school----”
But Norman smiled.
“George Clayton is a most unmillionaire boy, if I may use the
expression,” he said. “He always longed to be like others, in fact,
wanted to rough it a bit. George is a bright, manly chap. Why, he’d be
wild to go on a trip like yours.”
“Glad to hear it,” observed Joe. “Some boys wouldn’t have the nerve to
brave the dangers of a wide stream like the Hudson.”
“We got along splendidly together,” continued Redfern, “and but for
an unfortunate occurrence I should be his tutor still.” Norman stared
reflectively at the floor for a moment; the light seemed to fade
from his eyes, and, with a half sigh, he added, “But I was entirely
blameless, and--and--well, his guardian did not view the matter in that
light--and--so he fired me.”
“Humph! And why didn’t this George What’s-his-Name stand up for you?”
demanded Jack, indignantly.
“He did. But his guardian is one of those men who, when they get an
idea, stick to it. Unfortunately, I had no proof of my--my--I mean,”
he added hastily, “of my being in the right. So that is the way my
position as a tutor slipped away from me last spring.”
“Well, by George--no joke intended”--cried Bob, energetically--“I’d
never let a thing like that drop; you bet I wouldn’t, eh, fellows? I’d
follow it up till I showed this gentleman where he stood.”
“Wish I had a bit more of that spirit in me,” sighed Norman, “but the
fact is, I’m not much of a fighter,” he added, with a faint smile. “The
odds were against me, and I got discouraged.”
“And what are you doing here?” asked Joe, bluntly.
“Well, one of my old school chums once spent a summer in this old
shack. He told me about it--no rent to pay, you know. I’m going to look
for a job in New York pretty soon, and hope to make out until then.”
“Don’t you feel awful lonely?”
“My books are company, and I get a good opportunity to study and write.”
“Say,” remarked Jack, “we’ll pass right by this George Clayton’s town,
won’t we?”
“Surest thing I know of,” answered Joe.
“Then why not join our crowd, Redfern?” said Jack, in his usual free
and easy manner, “and go and see Mr. Guardian again, eh, fellows?”
He glanced inquiringly toward his companions.
“Just the scheme,” agreed Bob, warmly.
“Very kind of you chaps to make such an offer,” said Norman,
hesitatingly, “but----”
“Don’t let there be any ‘buts’ about it,” urged Jack. “Unless you fight
the thing, Mr. Guardian will always say you are in the wrong. That’s
plain, eh, Bob? It might do you a whole lot of harm.”
“Of course it might,” chimed in Tom.
“I’m glad you have confidence in me,” said Norman, pleased at their
earnestness, “and I can assure you it is not misplaced. That affair
broke me all up.”
“When did you see the guardian chap last?” inquired Joe, with a
directness that almost made his chums smile.
“Several months ago.”
“Plenty of time for him to have changed his opinion. Was the
millionaire boy mixed up in the row?” asked Dave.
“No, it did not concern him in the least.”
“Honest--don’t you think you gave up a bit too soon, though?” said
Jack. “Come along with us as far as Nyack, tackle Mr. Guardian again,
and our crowd will have a chance to meet the millionaire boy. I’m
awfully curious to see what kind of a chap he is. It will kind o’ give
variety to the trip. What do you say?”
“I don’t know how I can resist such an invitation,” laughed Norman, his
face lighting up with pleasure. “You have given me hope, boys. I guess
you are right--I got discouraged too soon. I hate quarrels, and Colonel
Ellison is a hard man to deal with; but it won’t do any harm to see him
again.”
Bob Somers, who had taken a great fancy to the quiet, studious-looking
young fellow, was delighted.
“That’s the idea,” he cried, “eh, fellows?” and a chorus of assenting
voices came from his chums.
“And now that it’s all settled,” remarked Fred, as he slowly turned
the pages of a history, “would you mind taking a couple of these books
along? This is a dandy--tells all about Peter the Great; and there’s
another about Mars, by a chap named Lowell, and----”
But Joe interrupted him with a loud burst of laughter, whereupon Fred
told him just what he thought of such conduct, and of the dreadful
risk he ran of growing up to be a perfect ignoramus, all of which Joe
listened to with many smiles and chuckles.
After sitting around for a quarter of an hour, Jack proposed climbing
the Palisades, and this being agreeable to all, the five soon started
out.
Viewed at close range, the cliffs loomed up grim and gigantic, the
fringe of trees lining the top appearing like a row of bushes. The base
of the Palisades is almost everywhere broken into a slope formed by
the débris that has fallen from the cliffs, and in places this extends
upward for hundreds of feet, reaching to the very summit. Norman
Redfern declared that he would soon pilot them to a place where the
climb to the top would be easy.
The slope along which they made their way was thickly wooded in parts,
and the rich green foliage and cool, refreshing shadows pierced by the
shafts of sunlight presented a delightful picture. Close by was the
ruin of a mill. A few crumbling walls and a rusted fly-wheel alone
remained to tell of its existence. A melancholy stillness seemed to
hover about it, as if to draw a contrast between its present condition
and that of its busy past, and the boys, scrambling over the cracked
and broken walls, speculated with interest as to the causes which had
brought about so wonderful a change.
A startled hare leaped quickly over a pile of bricks and was soon lost
to view amidst the underbrush.
“If we only had a pop gun, we could have popped him,” said Jack.
Wandering in and out, now close to the river, then near the cliffs,
Redfern finally pointed out a path which zigzagged its way upward. But
the active lads were not long content with this easy way of climbing
and took advantage of any short cut that presented itself. Some of
these were very steep, and often they slipped and slid and only saved
themselves by clutching tightly to the tangled grasses and bushes.
Showers of stones and earth occasionally rattled downward, and Joe
distinguished himself by falling flat in a deep cut formed by the rains
and still wet and soggy.
Every foot of the climb so far was through a charming little wood,
composed mainly of small trees, and all aglow with sunlight.
Panting from their exertions, they were often compelled to rest.
“Look!” exclaimed Jack, presently, pointing downward.
There, far below them, was the “Gray Gull.” The breeze had straightened
out the bunting and it fluttered gracefully at the end of the pole. It
was their boat--their home for the time being, and all surveyed it with
a sense of pride and pleasure.
The further they climbed, the more often they had to wait for Norman.
His strength was not equal to theirs, and, at length, he was obliged to
follow the beaten trail. All the boys were surprised at the length of
the climb, for they were at one of the highest parts of the Palisades.
But the top was finally reached, and, with aching limbs and panting
breath, they threw themselves amidst some tall grasses to rest.
“What a dandy view!” cried Jack, enthusiastically.
From the heights a magnificent panorama opened out before them. The
great Hudson reflected the gray, somber clouds, and the hills beyond
melted into the haze of distance. It was all vast and impressive. The
sound of a motor boat, a mere speck, four hundred feet below them,
reached their ears with singular clearness.
“You now have a good view of one of the most famous rivers in the
world,” said Norman.
For a long time they gazed, and it is safe to say that there was not
much that escaped their attention.
Finally Jack arose.
“Come ahead, fellows,” he said. “We’ll have to explore a bit.”
Through patches of woods and across rocky ledges they made their way,
sometimes keeping close to the edge of the cliff and stopping to look
down the precipice. How far below it seemed to the narrow strip of
beach! As they looked, a solitary bird winged its way across, its harsh
cries gradually growing fainter and fainter in the distance.
Norman Redfern’s nerves were not equal to the task imposed by a near
approach to the brink. He admired the courage of the active lads,
though cautioning them to be careful. But danger only lent spice to the
situation.
“Don’t worry about us,” said Jack. “It’s easy to see the dangerous
places; and we know that the shortest route down isn’t the best.”
After a time, the party found their progress along the edge of the
cliff barred by a wide, deep gully extending inward. The slopes
were broken and irregular, full of rocky ledges, tangled masses of
vegetation and trees. A small stream of water could be seen trickling
down the center.
“Here’s where we have a chance to do some tall climbing,” said Aleck
Hunt. “Going to be a rough job, too.”
“Better let it be a case of walking around,” advised Norman Redfern.
“Looks as if it would mean a quarter of a mile tramp,” objected Joe
Preston. “If I see an easy place, I’m going to beat all hands to the
top of the cliff on the other side.”
“All right,” laughed Jack. “If I knew how to climb and be on the level
at the same time, I’d accept your challenge. Guess I’ll walk around.”
This apparently settled the matter, and all five started off.
Sometimes, with loud yells, the boys chased bright-colored
butterflies--that is, all but Dave and Fred. Their interest was
centered on the plants and flowers which grew so abundantly about them.
Joe Preston, who had stopped several times at the brink of the gully,
finally went on ahead.
“Hello!” cried Bob, presently. “What in the dickens has become of Joe?”
“Gee Whitaker, where in the world did he get to?” chimed in Aleck.
“I saw him standing by that rock,” said Redfern. “It was only a moment
ago.”
Around them was an open stretch, with nothing to hide the view, but Joe
Preston was nowhere in sight.