THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE FOREST
OR
Laying the Ghost of Oak Ridge
BY CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN
AUTHOR OF "THE OUTDOOR CHUMS," "THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE LAKE," "THE
OUTDOOR CHUMS AFTER BIG GAME," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1911 BY
GROSSET & DUNLAP
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS SERIES
BY CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS
Or The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE LAKE
Or Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE FOREST
Or Laying the Ghost of Oak Ridge
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE GULF
Or Rescuing the Lost Balloonists
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS AFTER BIG GAME
Or Perilous Adventures in the Wilderness
[Illustration: "WOW! LOOK AT THE BUNCH, WILL YOU?"]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A QUESTION OF NERVE 1
II LAYING PLANS 12
III THE CAMP BY THE WAYSIDE 21
IV THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN 30
V JED, THE RUNAWAY BOUND BOY 38
VI FARMER DOBSON CHANGES HIS MIND 47
VII THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 57
VIII EVERYTHING SEEMS TO COME THEIR WAY 66
IX FRANK TRIES TO SOLVE THE RIDDLE 75
X THE "TOTE" ROAD IN THE FOREST 84
XI FARMER DOBSON AND HIS PRIZE BULL 93
XII THE NIGHT ALARM 101
XIII A CHANGE OF BASE 110
XIV FIGHTING THE QUICKSAND 121
XV JERRY MAKES A GUESS 129
XVI A TIME FOR QUICK ACTION 137
XVII THE NEWS ADOLPHUS BROUGHT 146
XVIII THE DEN OF VIPERS 155
XIX AN ORDER TO VACATE 164
XX A MORNING WITH THE BLACK BASS 172
XXI THE SHERIFF DIPS INTO FAIRY STORIES 183
XXII PADDLING ACROSS LAKE SURPRISE 192
XXIII DOCTOR WILL TO THE FRONT 200
XXIV THE PROOF OF THE NEGATIVE 208
XXV CONCLUSION 217
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE FOREST
CHAPTER I
A QUESTION OF NERVE
"That's a likely yarn, Sandy. I tell you I don't believe in ghosts."
"All right. You can say what you like, Bluff Masters, but Caleb declares
he saw it."
"Oh, shucks! He must have been dreaming."
"Guess you never had any experience with that sort of things."
"Only once, and that time it turned out to be a crazy man. Since then
I've got my opinion of any fellow who takes stock in ghost stories."
"Think you're mighty brave just because you've got that old gun of yours
along--been having it at the locksmith's again, I reckon. Seems like
it's there half the time, getting some tinkering done. I dare you to go
out to Oak Ridge and settle this ghost question once for all. There you
are, and it's either take me up, or back down off that high horse."
"Vacation's set in, and my chums don't seem to know just where to go.
Tell you what, I've got a good notion to put it up to the crowd right
away."
"Talk is cheap, Bluff. I'll believe it when I hear of you fellows going.
So long," and the speaker, a boy who attended the same school in
Centerville that Bluff did, walked down the main street of the little
town that lay on Lake Camalot.
Bluff looked after him for a minute, as though he might be turning the
daring project over in his mind. Then he fondled the repeating shotgun
he was carrying, as if he resented the slur the other had cast upon its
good qualities.
"Say, now, perhaps that would be a dandy idea, all right. Some people
take considerable stock in that blooming old ghost story, and I reckon
it would make a lot of silly ones sleep sounder if we went out and
learned that the thing was only a fake after all. Wonder what the rest
of the boys would say if I proposed it. And Will, he'd declare he wanted
to take a snapshot of the ghost with his camera."
The idea seemed to amuse the boy, for he laughed softly to himself as
he once more shouldered his gun, took a new grip on the package of
ammunition he was carrying home, and again started along the main street
of the town.
It was a July morning. School was out, the Glorious Fourth was but a
memory, and the boys were trying to make suitable plans for spending
their vacation in various little outings of a character to suit their
love for the open.
There were an unusual number of people on the street that morning, Bluff
noticed. A circus was in town, and they had promised a street parade at
some time before noon, so that the boys and girls haunted the main
thoroughfare in large and constantly increasing numbers.
Now Bluff liked to see such an exhibition just as well as the next one,
but he believed he had plenty of time to get home with his gun and come
back again.
A little further on he came face to face with a rough-looking fellow
about his own age, whose freckled countenance took on a sneer at sight
of the gun which Bluff carried.
"See yuh been repairin' the little old shootin'-iron again, Bluff. Think
yuh happen tuh be some punkins because once yuh held up some of my crowd
with that stick when we happened to be empty-handed. Sho! yuh can be
brave enough when it's all one-sided, but turn the tables around an' I
bet you'd run faster than we did over on Wildcat Island," said this
worthy, as he stopped in front of the other.
Bluff belonged to a club of four boys who had formed plans to spend
their vacations in the open whenever possible. They called it the Rod,
Gun and Camera Club, and when a convenient storm tore off the roof from
half the Academy, the previous October, necessitating a short session of
holidays, they had gone up into the woods to camp, as told in the first
volume of this series, entitled "The Outdoor Chums; or, First Tour of
the Rod, Gun and Camera Club."
Here they were constantly annoyed by a crowd of town idlers, under the
leadership of one Andy Lasher, and the four chums passed through a
series of the most entertaining adventures, such as pleases all boys who
love excitement. These three comrades of Bluff were named Frank Langdon,
Jerry Wallington and Will Milton, the latter being a camera crank of the
first water, always ready to sacrifice his comfort and time if there was
any hope of securing a picture to commemorate the event.
During their outing, Jerry, being lost in the woods during a storm,
succeeded in saving the life of Andy, who after that refused to
continue his mean tactics of plaguing the chums, so that the leadership
of the opposition fell upon another fellow, the same Pet Peters who was
now jeering Bluff.
When the Easter week of holidays came, in early April, the chums had
decided to spend a portion of the time camping on a timber-covered
island near the foot of the ten-mile lake, and which was seldom visited
by any one on account of the stories told about the vast number of
wildcats to be found there, as well as the wild man who had been seen at
various times. A fire on the little steamboat plying the lake, and the
robbery of a passenger, played an important part in the exciting events
that occurred while the chums were at Wildcat Island, all of which,
including the solving of the mystery connected with the wild man, have
been set down in the second volume of this series, called "The Outdoor
Chums on the Lake; or, Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island."
As can be seen from what Bluff said, the boys were a bit uncertain as to
where they should go during the early part of vacation time. Later on
they expected to separate, as Will was to accompany his widowed mother
to the seashore, and two of the others also had plans after the same
kind; but for a couple of weeks they wanted some little, delightful
camping experience, not too far away.
Bluff secretly had a contempt for Pet Peters. Still, he knew the other
was an antagonist not to be lightly esteemed, and that once he set his
mind on a thing he could hardly be called off. The trouble was, as a
rule, his object proved to be a vindictive one, rather than worthy of
praise.
"Oh, I don't pretend to be a hero," said Bluff, as he gave the other boy
look for look, "and I'll put you wise to that right here. But when it
comes to a pinch, and some mighty mean fellows are trying to play tricks
on me and my chums, I can hold my own, all right. This gun may be
unlucky about getting out of order too often, but she can scatter the
shot, and is all to the good. You want to fight shy of her, Pet, that's
all."
"Say, they named yuh all right when they called yuh Bluff. Sometimes
these yer windbags they get punctured like. Take care that don't happen
to you. I reckon the parade must be comin', ter judge from all the
racket along yonder. Better fall in front and let the people of
Centerville see the great hero, hey?"
Bluff had turned his head to look. If what the other said were true,
then he would have no time to go home and leave his gun.
There did seem to be considerable excitement just at the bend in the
street, and it was growing greater with the passage of every second. Men
were running, shouting, and making for the sidewalks. Some caught up
small children in their arms. Every one appeared tremendously stirred,
as though an event far out of the common were about to occur.
Bluff laughed.
"Seems like people get crazier every year over the old circus. I
understand this is a bum one, anyway. Look at 'em scoot! They couldn't
act more like a lot of loons if the elephant had broken loose and was on
the warpath. I don't hear the band playing, do you, Pet?" he said.
"No, I don't. And I reckon there's somethin' gone wrong around that bend
in the street. Them fellers wouldn't act that way, else. See that fat
woman tumble over, will yuh! Now she rolls like a barrel to the
pavement. She's nigh about scairt to death, I tell yuh! What kin it be?"
exclaimed Pet.
By this time Bluff was aroused. He realized that all this tremendous
excitement could not have been caused by the near approach of the circus
parade. There was the sedate head of the Academy footing it for the
shelter of a shoeshop as if he had entered for a hundred-yard dash.
Heads were appearing at all the windows, and now shrieks began to be
added to the clamor.
Bluff wondered if he were dreaming. Had all Centerville gone crazy?
There was an asylum over at Merrick, but since when had its inmates
broken loose and taken up quarters in Centerville?
If he had not been gripping his gun and that package of shells, Bluff
might have rubbed his eyes to find out if he were really and truly
awake.
"Run! run!"
It sounded as though a dozen people were shouting that word. Why should
they want to get others to run? Had the lion broken out of his cage, and
was he coming down the street, looking for victims?
Some boys were climbing trees with mad haste. Perhaps they did not as
yet fully understand the need of such a retreat, but in time of danger
it seems natural for the ordinary boy to find refuge in a tree, as
though he were, in truth, descended from monkey ancestors.
Now for the first time they caught other words that were being shouted
by the panic-stricken people along the street, as they rushed hither and
thither, anxious to find shelter somewhere.
"Mad dog! Mad dog!"
Pet Peters gave a howl of fear. He was greatly afraid of all dogs, and
the very idea of a mad cur caused him to turn white and show his craven
blood.
He made a wild rush for the nearest tree, and clambered into the lower
branches with a speed that would have won a medal in a race.
Bluff wanted to follow after him. He felt his nerves quivering with
fright, and as he started to run his knees showed an inclination to
knock together.
There was the choirmaster, Mr. Melod, chasing across the street, and
heading for the milliner's establishment opposite. He was usually a very
dignified man, but just then, with his hat fallen off, and fear written
upon his face, he startled Bluff not a little.
"Run, Richard! Come this way, my boy!" he called, beckoning wildly; for
Bluff had come to a sudden pause in the middle of the road as a sudden
terrible thought flashed into his mind.
He had a gun in his hands, and ammunition in plenty. Pet Peters had just
called him next door to a coward, who could only show valor when
everything was on his side. Who was to stop this mad dog in his career?
There were many little children around the next bend, awaiting the
coming of the circus parade. What if some of them were bitten by the
beast, and he with a gun in his hands?
Bluff turned as white as a ghost. His hands were shaking furiously as he
broke open the package he carried. The shells fell in a heap to the
road, and eagerly the boy stooped down to pick up one and push it into
the magazine of the gun. Then he took up a second and a third.
There was no time for more. He would not need them. If he could not
finish the mad beast with three shots it was bound to be all over with
him. What that boy suffered as he crouched there, staring at the
terrible brute that came around the curve in the street, no one would
ever know.
He heard a clamor of voices. Some applauded his act, while others,
frightened lest he fall a prey to the fury of the mad dog, cried to him
to run while there was yet time. Even Pet Peters, perched securely on a
limb of the tree, nearly above Bluff, shouted to him to get behind the
trunk of the same.
Bluff heard this confusion as in a dream. He only saw that advancing
beast, and to his eyes the yellow hound looked almost as big as a lion
just then. Indeed, the brute did present a terrible aspect, with
bloodshot eyes, and foam dripping from his square jaws.
Bluff could hardly raise the gun to his shoulder, in order to glance
along the single barrel, but strange to say, just then it seemed as
though a miracle had been wrought, for his nerves became like steel, and
the gun no longer wavered.