CHET GREENE'S PAST
"Hello, Andy!"
"Hello, Chet! I never expected to find you here! This is a real
pleasure!" And Andy rushed into the old cabin, threw down his luggage,
and grasped another lad by the hand.
"And I never expected you to come here tonight," said Chetwood Greene,
as a smile lit up his somewhat square face. "I thought I was booked to
camp here alone. What brought you, hunting?"
"Not exactly. It's a long story, Chet. Say, I'm glad you have a fire.
I'm half frozen from tramping through the woods. The snow was pretty
deep in spots."
"I know all about it, for I have been out all day. Here, draw up to the
blaze. I was just getting supper ready. You've got some game, I see. I
had very little luck--three rabbits and a wild turkey. I looked for deer,
but it was no use."
"You've got to go pretty well back for deer these days," answered Andy.
"Thought you were going to strike Storburgh for a job."
"So I did, but it's the same story everywhere."
"Too bad! Well, you are no worse off than myself. I'm sick of even
asking for work. I've about made up my mind to try my luck at hunting. I
guess I can bring down enough to live on, and that's better than
starving."
Chetwood Greene, always called Chet for short, was about the same age as
Andy, but a trifle taller. He had a square chin, and dark, piercing
eyes, that fairly shot forth fire when Chet was provoked. He was a good
fellow in the main, but he had a hasty temper that occasionally got him
into much trouble. Andy liked him very much, and the two boys were more
or less chums.
There was a mystery surrounding Chet which few folks in that district
knew. Many supposed that both of his parents were dead. But the fact of
the matter was that Chet's father disappeared when the lad was fourteen
years old. Some thought him dead, while others imagined he had run away
to escape punishment incidental to a large transaction in lumber. Some
signatures were forged, and it was held that Tolney Greene was guilty.
He protested his innocence, but failed to stand trial, running away
"between two days," as it was termed. He was traced to New Bedford, and
there it was reported that he had last been seen boarding a sailing
vessel outward bound. What had become of him after that, nobody knew.
Mrs. Greene had believed her husband innocent, and it grieved her
greatly to be thus deserted. She tried to bear up, however, but during
the following winter contracted pneumonia, and died, leaving Chet alone
in the world.
Nobody seemed to want anything to do with the lad--thinking him the son
of a forger, and possibly a suicide. Some tried to talk to him, but when
they mentioned the supposed guilt of his parent, he flew into a rage.
"My father wasn't guilty, and you needn't say so!" he stormed. "If you
say it I'll lick you!" And then he knocked one man flat. He was subdued
after a while, but he refused utterly to live with those who offered him
a home, saying he did not want to be an object of charity, and that he
could get along alone. He took his belongings, and a little money left
by his mother, and moved to another part of the State--close to where
Andy resided. Here he lived with an old guide for a while, and then got
employment at one of the lumber camps. The old guide had departed during
the past year for the Adirondacks, and Chet was now living alone, in a
cabin that had seen better days.
It had been no easy matter for Andy and Chet to become chums. At first
when they met, at a lumber camp where both were employed, Chet was
silent and morose. But little by little, warmed by Andy's naturally
sunny disposition, he "thawed out," and told his story in all its
details. He knew a few things that the general public did not know, and
these he confided to Andy.
"My father went off on a whaler named the _Betsey Andrews_," he once
said. "He said he would come back some day and clear himself. The mate
wrote to my mother that my father's mind was affected a little, but he
hoped he would be all right by the end of the trip."
"Well, hasn't the _Betsey Andrews_ got back yet?" had been Andy's
question.
"No."
"Where is she?"
"That's the worst part of it--nobody knows."
"Do you think she was lost?"
"I hope not--but I don't know," had been Chet's somewhat sad answer. He
lived in daily hope of hearing from his parent again.
Chet knew Andy's story, of Josiah Graham's meanness and laziness, and of
the papers left by Andy's father, and he now listened with deep interest
to what his chum had to tell about the visit of Mr. A. Q. Hopton, and of
the escape through the bedroom window.
"Now what do you make of the whole thing, Chet?" asked Andy, after he
had finished his recital.
"It looks to me as if this real estate dealer was mighty anxious to get
the papers," was the answer. "And that means that the papers are
valuable."
"Just what I think."
"Your uncle has no right to sell 'em for three hundred dollars, or any
other amount," pursued Chet. "I understand enough about law to know that
he's got to get a court order to sell property. To my way of thinking,
he'd like to do this on the sly, and pocket the three hundred. He's no
good, even if he is your uncle."
"He's only my father's half-brother, and he always was a poor stick. I
wish I knew of some lawyer to go to."
"Why not try Mr. Jennings, over at Lodgeport? I've heard he's a good
man, and smart, too."
"I might try him. But it's a twelve-mile tramp."
"Never mind, I'll go along, and we may be able to pick up some game on
the way," answered Chet.
The boys talked the matter over for two hours, during which time Chet
prepared supper, and the two ate it. Then Andy fixed the fire for the
night, and the boys turned in, tired out from their long tramps through
the snow.
It took some time for Andy to get to sleep, for the events of the day
had disturbed him greatly. But at last he dozed off, and neither he nor
Chet awoke until it was daylight.
"Phew! but it's cold!" cried Chet, as he put his head out of doors. "And
it snowed a little last night, too."
"Is it snowing now?" questioned Andy, anxiously. His mind was on the
trip to Lodgeport. A heavy fall of snow might mean much delay.
"No, the storm is clearing away."
"Then let us get breakfast and start."
Both of the youths had been camping so often that they knew exactly what
to do. The fire was stirred up, and fresh wood put on, and they prepared
a couple of cups of coffee, and broiled two squirrels. They had bread
and crackers, and a little cheese, and thus made quite a good breakfast.
The meal over, they lost no time in packing up, and placing the larger
portion of their outfits in hiding in the old cabin. To carry them to
Lodgeport would have been too much of a load.
"We can carry a little food and our guns," said Chet. "If we can't get
back tonight, we can return tomorrow. I don't believe anybody will come
here during that time."
"I hope I don't meet Uncle Si--or Mr. Hopton," said Andy.
"We can watch out and easily keep out of their way."
To get to the road that led to Lodgeport, the two lads had to cross a
heavy patch of timber. Here, under the pines, it was intensely cold, and
they had to move along rapidly to keep their blood in circulation.
"Talk about Greenland's icy mountains, I guess this is bad enough!"
cried Chet, as he slapped his hands to keep them warm.
"We'll soon be out in the sunlight again," answered Andy. But he was
mistaken, for by the time they reached the open country once more, the
sun had gone under a fringe of light clouds, so it was as cold as ever.
At the end of four miles they passed through one of the lumber
settlements, and then, leaving the wagon road, took to a trail running
in the neighborhood of Moose Ridge.
"I met a man yesterday who was coming out to the Ridge to hunt," said
Andy. "Wonder if he'll have any success."
"Hunting is not as good as it might be," answered his chum. "The best of
the game was killed off at the very beginning of the season. Still, he
may get some deer, or a moose, if he's a good hunter."
"I'd like to get a moose myself, Chet."
"Oh, so would I. If you see one, kindly point him out to me." And Chet's
usually serious face showed a grin.
"I will--after I have brought him down with my gun," answered Andy, and
then both laughed.
Less than fifteen minutes later they came on the trail of a deer. The
marks were so fresh, both boys could not resist the temptation to go
after the game. They plunged through some bushes, and Andy went headlong
into a hollow.
"Wuow!" he spluttered, as the snow got into his ears and down his neck.
"What a tumble!"
"Maybe you're training for a circus," cried Chet.
"Not out here--and in this cold. Help me up, will you?"
Chet gave his chum a hand, and slowly Andy came out of the hollow. He
had dropped his firearm, but this was easily recovered from the
snowdrift.
"I don't want another such tumble," said the unfortunate one, as he
tried to get the snow out of his coat collar. "I'm cold enough already."
Once more they went on, after the deer, but the game had evidently heard
their voices and taken fright, for when they came to a long, open
stretch, no living creature was in sight.
Another mile was covered in the direction of Lodgeport, and then they
reached one end of the rock elevation locally termed Moose Ridge. Here
there was a good-sized cliff, with smaller cliffs branching off in
various directions.
"There used to be some good hunting around here," said Chet, as, having
climbed a small rise, they paused to catch their breath. "I once brought
down a dandy buck over yonder."
He had scarcely spoken, when from a distance ahead there sounded out the
crack of a rifle, followed, a few moments later, by a second report.
"Somebody is out!" cried Andy. "Wonder if he hit what he was aiming at."
"Maybe we'll see. Come ahead."
"I hope he isn't shooting this way."
"The reports came from the top of the big cliff."
The two boys moved on, keeping their eyes on the alert for the possible
appearance of the hunter who had fired the two shots.
"Look! look!" cried Andy, suddenly, and pointing over the top of a small
tree that stood between them and the big cliff ahead.
"What did you see?"
"Maybe I was mistaken, but I thought I saw a man tumble off the cliff!"
"A man? Perhaps it was a deer, or a moose."
"No, it looked like a man to me. Come on! If he fell to the bottom he
may be killed!"
Andy set off as rapidly as the depth of the snow permitted, and Chet
followed in his footsteps. Soon they rounded half a dozen trees and came
in full view of the big cliff. Both uttered cries of horror, and with
good reason.
Halfway down the edge of the cliff was a narrow ledge, and on this
rested the body of a man,--a hunter, as was shown by his gun and game
bag. He had tumbled from the top of the cliff, and the fall had rendered
him unconscious. He lay half over the edge of the ledge, and was in
imminent danger of falling still further and killing himself.