THE "TOTE" ROAD IN THE FOREST
"Wake up there, lazybones!"
Frank opened his eyes. The sun was actually shining in through the front
of his tent, much to his mortification and surprise.
"That's about the first time I've ever been caught napping," he remarked
to Will, who was now ding-donging a big spoon on the bottom of a
frying-pan, to indicate that breakfast was ready.
Frank had been up the greater part of the night, on guard. He had
assumed most of the care of the camp himself, only dropping down when
the hour was getting on toward dawn.
The others, knowing this, had been careful not to arouse him, but had
gone on with the duties of the morning.
"It's good of you, boys, to let me sleep so long. I guess I must have
needed it, too. Count me in before you've been at it five minutes," and
so saying he slipped through the woods to a little brook near by, where
they could hear him splashing about at a great rate.
When breakfast was done they began to consider what the duties of the
day were to be. They had come up here into the mountains not to hunt,
for the close season was on all edible game, but to knock around and
have a good time generally. Incidentally, of course, they expected to
look into that ghost story, and endeavor to learn just how much truth
lay back of it.
Already considerable progress had been made, Frank thought.
He had prodded the boys who were in the camp at the time the specter
showed up, and upon putting their stories together, came to the
conclusion that the ghost must have appeared on the east side of the
place.
Hither Frank hied himself immediately after he had finished eating.
Dropping down on his hands and knees, he commenced to examine the ground
with all the care of a red trailer of the plains and forest.
"Find anything?" asked Jerry, joining him.
Neither of the other chums would even so much as look. They had had an
experience, and were quite content to let it rest at that. The absentees
might take it into their heads to continue the treatment, if they
wished. Perhaps they might not feel quite so ambitious after one chance
to look at that grim white figure.
"Nothing to boast of. You see the ground is rather hard here, and a man
might stand all around without making much of an impression. Still, it
seems to me as if that might be the imprint of a shoe, and this, too."
He pointed as he spoke, and Jerry bent lower to look.
"I think you're right. Somebody stepped there, that's sure. Whether last
night, or a week of Sundays ago, I wouldn't care to say," he admitted.
"Well, you ought to be able to place it better than that, for if you
stop to think, you must remember that it rained just three days back."
"Correct! And that would have washed the footprint out completely, eh?
But if we only had a hound here, used to following a human trail,
wouldn't it be the easy thing to run down Mr. Ghost?" chuckled Jerry.
"It certainly would; but we happen to have nothing of the kind. I know
of a couple of dogs able to do it. Colonel Halpin brought them up from
the South. Don't you remember early last spring they were borrowed by
the wardens of the penitentiary to track an escaped convict? They got
him, too," remarked Frank.
"Yes, one of them; the other got clean away. I heard he walked in water,
and in that way broke the trail."
"Well, the fellow who told me said the convict had some red pepper along
with him. When he found the dogs were on his track he scattered this
around. The poor beasts almost choked to death, and were not fit to
scent a thing for days. That was a clever rascal, all right," said
Frank.
"I declare I'm almost tempted to say he deserved to get away; but if we
can't follow the tracks of Mr. Ghost I suppose we'll have to just wait
until he chooses to pay us another visit, eh, Frank?"
"That's the only remedy; and if what I suspect is true, I imagine we'll
be apt to see something of him again soon. We're not wanted in this
region, and he means to let us know it frequently."
"Do you think it can be a crazy man's freak?" queried Jerry.
"Honestly, I don't. There is a motive back of this thing, but I'll be
frank with you, and say that as yet I don't catch it. Perhaps the idea
may flash in on me at any time. I have several suspicions, but nothing
to prove that they can hold water."
Presently, therefore, the two searchers wandered back to where Will and
Bluff sat talking with the fugitive bound boy.
Bluff looked up at them with a grin.
"S'pose you've got it all fixed now, and can tell us the name and
antecedents of our ghost? It's mighty kind of you to go to all that
trouble," he gurgled.
Neither of the others answered, for, indeed, what could they say?
"If you want to save that bearskin, I'll show you how to take it off,
Bluff," remarked Frank later on.
"Well, now, I would, the worst kind. Even if some of the hairs do come
out it will make a dandy rug. When you're ready, tell me what to do,"
replied the other.
So they busied themselves in that way. Will was developing his first
roll of films in the tank, which could be used as well in daylight as at
night, or in a dark-room. Jerry wandered off, with his gun over his arm,
not looking for game, but with the intention of protecting himself
against any possible danger. As for Jed, filled to repletion, he seemed
quite a different boy from the fear-haunted chap of the previous night.
Jerry was a curious boy, always seeking to learn the why and wherefore
of everything that happened. He did not believe in the ghost stories,
and only wished he could run across something to prove the fact.
It was with this faint hope springing up in his heart that he sauntered
out of the camp and into the great forest that stretched far away toward
the lake, on the borders of which Centerville and Newtonport lay.
Looking back of him, he could see the Sunset Mountains very near, the
sides covered with the same dense forest growth.
"Let's see, what have I got to look out for?" he was saying to himself,
as he upraised a finger with each count: "The ghost, for one; those
Apaches of Pet Peters, for two; that fine, hearty old gentleman, Farmer
Dobson, for three. Well, a fellow would need to have three pairs of eyes
to keep watch of all those perils at once. Perhaps there is another bear
near by, the mate of the one Frank and Bluff knocked over. Well, I'm
willing, if she only shows up."
So he was talking to himself as he wandered on. He did not mean to go
very far away from the camp, at the time he started, but somehow it was
so easy to just keep walking on. The day was fine, and he felt like
taking exercise.
Jerry did not forget to keep his eyes about him all the while. It would
not be pleasant to have those hovering plagues, the boys from town,
drop down on his head from some tree, and he did not hanker after the
experience.
Somehow his thoughts ranged back to Jed. Jerry was very much interested
in the fortunes of the little bound boy, and had determined that his
father, as well as the lawyer parent of Bluff, should do something to
relieve him from his distress.
"I wonder what there is about that little gold locket that makes old
Dobson want to get it in his possession so much? It must be proof of
something; and surely there must be money in it for the possessor, if
one only knew how to go about it. That's what we don't know, and Dobson
does. But Frank will think it out. Nothing gets past him for long, now."
Frank was far from guessing the secret, as yet, for just at that very
particular minute he sat in camp looking slyly at the very locket Jerry
referred to, and trying to figure out how such a thing as Jed's mother's
picture could be valuable to her cousin, the old skinflint farmer.
Jerry, having gone as far as he dared, was now beginning to hedge; that
is, he had turned to the left, showing that he meant to return to the
camp, but by a different route from the one already taken.
Since in another day or so they meant to change their camping-ground,
and pass on to the shores of Surprise Lake, among the mountains, he
thought he might as well see as much of this territory as possible.
Although he had taken his gun along, Jerry really did not believe he
would see anything of a character to make him glad he had carried it.
Still, if those followers of Pet Peters were hovering around they would
fight shy of him on seeing that he carried a weapon.
He changed the tenor of his thoughts to Andy, and began to wonder what
it could have been that brought him up into that lonely country, where
there were no farms.
He was aroused from his reflections by a sound that startled him. This
was undoubtedly the bellow of a bull, if Jerry knew what that was, and
he believed he did. Looking up, he saw something that startled him.
Down the "tote" road, which he happened to be following, something was
rushing toward him with lowered head, stopping occasionally to shake his
horns and give a renewed bellow as of rage.
What he had heard Farmer Dobson say on the preceding night flashed
through his mind, and Jerry knew that he was now looking upon the
missing prize bull. He could not remember of having lost any bull
himself, but the animal was heading his way, and evidently meant to make
his immediate acquaintance.