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[Illustration: It seemed as though the wind increased with every minute
as they hurried through the thick woods. _Page 69_]
THE GOLDEN BOYS
WITH THE LUMBER JACKS
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
Dean of Pennsylvania Military College
Author of
"_The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell_," "_The Golden Boys at
the Fortress_," "_The Golden Boys in the Maine Woods_," "_The Golden
Boys on the River Drive_."
[Illustration: Series Logo, boys in motorboat]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
THE
GOLDEN BOYS SERIES
A Series of Stories for Boys 12 to 16 Years of Age
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
_Dean of the Pennsylvania Military College_
The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell
The Golden Boys at the Fortress
The Golden Boys in the Maine Woods
The Golden Boys with the Lumber Jacks
The Golden Boys on the River Drive
The Golden Boys Rescued by Radio
The Golden Boys Along the River Allagash
Copyright, 1923
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
Made in "U. S. A."
CONTENTS
I. Snowbound 3
II. The Lost Deed 14
III. The Ghost 30
IV. The Ghost Has Its Picture Taken 42
V. Tom Lays the Ghost 57
VI. Coals of Fire 76
VII. Big Ben Makes a Call 92
VIII. On the Trail 109
IX. Jack Goes Fishing 130
X. Jacques Lamont 154
XI. Big Ben Falls Down Again 174
XII. Big Ben Decides That He Had Better Not 196
XIII. Jack Takes a Forced Walk 213
XIV. Jacques' Secret. What is it? 231
THE GOLDEN BOYS WITH THE LUMBER JACKS.
CHAPTER I.
SNOWBOUND.
The car, after hesitating several times as though undecided what to do
next, finally came to an unmistakable stop. The rear wheels, although
equipped with heavy chains, spun around for a moment and then they also
stopped.
"Looks as though we're stuck, Mike."
The words came from a boy in the front seat, but they were lost to the
driver in the roar of the wind as it drove the blinding snow against the
windows of the sedan.
The speaker tried again.
"Looks as though we're stuck, Mike."
This time he shouted at the top of his voice and the driver turned his
head.
"Stuck is right, begorra," he shouted back. "Sure and it's meself that's
been expecting it fer the last half hour, an' how could ye expect
inything on wheels to git through sich drifts, I dunno."
"How about a shovel, Mike?"
The question came from a second boy in the back seat and it also was
shouted with all the strength of a sound pair of lungs.
"Sure and I've got a shovel, do yez expect to dig all the way to
Skowhegan?"
The two boys, Bob and Jack Golden, were on their way home from college
for the Christmas holidays. Unfortunately they had missed the train
which they should have taken at Boston, and the only other one for the
day would take them as far as Waterville, nineteen miles from their home
in Skowhegan. Rather than wait over a day, they had telegraphed to their
father and he had sent his man, Mike, to meet them.
The snow had begun to fall soon after they left Portland and the storm
had increased rapidly in violence until, when they reached Waterville,
at ten o'clock, two hours late, it had reached the proportions of a
blizzard. Mike had been dubious about starting, declaring that they
would never make it, but the boys had laughed at his fears and, against
his better judgment, he had yielded to them.
During the first hour they made seven miles, plowing through snow up to
wheel hubs. And this brings us to the point where our story opens.
"I hope it won't be so bad as that," Bob said with a laugh, as he opened
the door and stepped out into the storm. "Where's the shovel, Mike?"
"Sure and it's under the back sate," Mike shouted, as he too got out of
the car.
"Let's have it quick, Jack," Bob called, as he stuck his head in at the
rear door. "It's colder than Greenland out here."
Jack quickly pulled the shovel from beneath the seat and handed it to
his brother, who at once started making the snow fly.
"There," he shouted to Mike, who had gotten back in the car, "Back up
and hit her hard and I guess she'll go through. Don't think I ever saw
the snow come down so fast," he added, as he threw the shovel back in
and climbed in beside Mike.
"I told you so," he shouted joyfully, a moment later, as the big car
plowed its way through the drift. "All it needs is a little elbow
grease."
But his joy was short lived for in less than a hundred rods they struck
another drift and again the car came to a standstill.
"My turn this time," Jack shouted, and was out almost as soon as the car
stopped.
This drift was deeper than the first one and it took the boy all of
fifteen minutes before he felt that there was a chance for the car to
win through.
"We'll strike Skowhegan some time next summer at this rate," he laughed,
as he stamped his feet on the running board.
As before, the car went through, but in less than a hundred feet they
came to a halt for a third time.
"It's no use," Bob shouted, as the car came to a stop. "We'll never get
through to-night, that's sure. Suppose you turn around, Mike?"
"What's the use of trying?" Jack asked, before Mike had time to reply.
"We'd probably get stuck just as quick if we tried to go back. I move we
stay here."
"How about it, Mike? Got plenty of gas?" Bob asked.
"Filled her up in Waterville."
"Then I think Jack's suggestion is a good one. By running the engine
once in a while we can keep plenty warm and they'll probably break out
the road early in the morning. What do you say Mike?"
"Sure an I gess yer right. If we can't go ayther forninst nor behind I
guess we'd better stand still."
"That's good logic anyhow," Bob laughed, as he climbed over the back of
the seat and joined his brother. "We'll be as snug as a bug in a rug and
there's no danger of getting run into," he added, as he curled up on the
roomy seat and pulled a heavy robe over himself.
"Not much need of traffic cops on this road tonight," Jack shouted from
the other corner of the car.
Bob was just drifting off to sleep when, above the shriek of the wind he
heard a cry which brought him sitting upright in an instant.
"Did you hear that, Jack?" he shouted. "Listen: there it is again."
"Help!"
Again came the cry in piercing tones now plainly audible.
"Sounds like a girl," Bob cried, as he pushed open the door and leaped
out, closely followed by his brother.
Breathlessly they listened for the call to be repeated, but no sound
save the howling of the wind came to them.
"Which way was it?" Jack asked, straining his ears.
"Haven't the least idea," Bob replied, as he waded around to the front
of the car.
By this time Mike had joined them and, after listening a moment longer,
Bob said:
"She must have given out. Mike, you hunt around to the right, and Jack
you go back a bit and I'll see what I can find up ahead here. It isn't
likely that she's down by the river. If you find her yell," he shouted
as they started off.
The wind was still blowing a gale and the sharp particles of snow stung
like so many needles as Bob faced into the storm. It was so dark that he
could hardly see his hand before his face and the headlights were of
little use as the car had stopped at an angle to the road. The snow came
nearly to his waist as he plowed his way through.
"She can't be very far off," he thought, as he bent his head to the
force of the wind. "I don't believe you could hear a steam whistle a
hundred feet away in this gale."
He had not gone more than thirty feet from the car when his knee struck
something and the next second he was bending over a form, which was
nearly buried in the snow. Quickly he straightened up and, putting his
hands to his mouth trumpet fashion, he gave a yell that would have done
credit to a Comanche Indian.
As he again stooped and lifted the girl in his arms she gave a low moan
which he barely caught.
"She's not dead at any rate," he muttered, as he endeavored to start
toward the car. But, although the wind was now at his back, the snow was
too deep and he was unable to take a step. But help was close at hand,
as both Jack and Mike had heard his cry.
"Give her to me," ordered the big Irishman, as he reached Bob's side.
"Now break trail an' it's meself that'll take her back," and he took the
girl in his strong arms as though she were but a feather.
The boys kicked their way back, making a fairly decent path through the
snow, and in a few minutes they had her in the car. Mike at once started
the engine, as it was far from warm, while Bob wrapped her in a heavy
robe and began to chafe her hands. The girl was not unconscious, as he
could tell by the appearance of her eyes, but she seemed numbed with the
cold.
Quickly the heat from the exhaust made itself felt and soon the rich
color of health began to steal back into the pale cheeks. The chattering
of her teeth gradually grew less and finally a faint smile lighted up
her face.
"I hope--I won't--shake--the car--to pieces," she said, evidently trying
hard to make her voice heard above the howling of the wind.
"I guess she'll hold together: she's had a lots bigger shaking up than
this and came through all right," Bob assured her with a laugh.
"My, but this--robe--feels good," she declared. "It was so--cold out
there--in the--snow, and--and I thought I was--a goner."
In a short time she was recovered sufficiently to tell them her story.
It seemed that she had spent the evening at a neighbor's only a few rods
from her home. She had started for home soon after eleven o'clock, never
for a moment doubting her ability to find her way. But she had entirely
underestimated the fury of the storm and bewildered by the blinding snow
had lost the path. For nearly two hours she had stumbled about in the
deep snow before Bob had found her.
She told them that her name was Mary Scott and that she was sure that
she had not gone far from her home. She also informed them that she was
twenty years old and was a school teacher. The boys in turn introduced
themselves and Bob asked:
"Won't your folks be out looking for you?"
"Not likely. You see," she explained, "my father is a farmer and he goes
to bed early and no doubt they were all fast asleep before ten o'clock,
so you see they won't miss me till morning."
It was now nearly two o'clock and after some further talk they, one by
one, capitulated to the sand man, all except Mike, who forced himself to
keep awake in order to "kape up steam," as he afterward told them.
Day had come when Bob, the first of the three to awake, opened his eyes.
The storm had passed, although a high wind was still blowing, sending
the light snow swirling in clouds about the car. But it had lost much of
its savage force and no longer howled as it had during the night. His
watch told him that it was just past seven o'clock.
"Some storm," he said in a low voice to Mike who just then started the
engine.
"I'll say that same, begorra," Mike declared. "Sure an' it's meself that
niver seed a worser one except a few that were bigger."
"That's playing it safe all right," Bob laughed, as he climbed over to
the front seat. "Here comes some one," he announced an instant later, as
he saw the form of a man plowing his way through the snow toward the
car.
He threw open the door as the man came up.
"Ain't seed nothin' of a gal, have ye?" he asked, and it was evident
that he was much worried.
"Sure have," Bob replied quickly. "Dug her out of the snow last night,"
he added, and just then the girl spoke for herself.
"I'm all right Daddy, thanks to these folks."
"Thank God for that," the man breathed as he stepped into the car and
hugged the girl to his breast. "You see when I got up this mornin' an'
seed that you aren't home I sposed that you had stayed all night at
Lucy's but ter make sartain, I 'phoned over an when Lucy said as how you
had set out fer home last night I jest thought as how you'd be frizzed
fer sartain. Yer mother's nigh crazy, an' I must hustle back an' let her
know that yer're all right."
He thanked them for what they had done, but the boys cut him short
telling him how glad they were they had found her in time.
"My place's the second one on the left, and you won't have ter wait morn
a few minutes afore Jeb Taylor comes along with the snow plow. He was
jest gittin hitched up as I come by," Mr. Scott explained, as he stood
with one foot on the running board. "Gess ye'll have ter move your car
though so'es he can git by. Yer see Jeb he breaks out's fur as the
Waterville line an' Josh Howland he goes up tother way's fur as Hinkley.
Josh he allays gits started afore Jeb an' I low as how he's half way up
that by now. But I must hump back an' let the missus know as how Mary's
all right. If ye'll jest drop her off as yer go by it'll save her
gettin' all over snow again."
The boys assured him that they would be glad to do as he asked and after
thanking them again he started back.
By great good luck the car had stopped at a place where, after a half
hour's work with the shovel, they were able to back the car out of the
road.
"Here they come," Jack shouted a moment later, and looking up the road
they saw the snow plow, characteristic of Maine.
It was made of two huge logs fastened together in the shape of a V and
drawn by eight yoke of oxen. A half dozen men and twice as many boys
accompanied it, and the boys at least evidently considered it a great
lark as their shouts of laughter attested.
After the plow had passed came the task of shoveling through the huge
pile of snow heaped up by the roadside. But finally this was
accomplished and they were off.
Mr. Scott was waiting for them as they reached the farm house, and
insisted that they stop for breakfast, although to tell the truth, they
did not need a great deal of urging.
"Mother's got a big batch o' buckwheat cakes and sassage all ready an I
reckon as how ye'll have an appetite as'll about fit 'em," he declared,
as he led the way to the house.
They found Mrs. Scott a motherly woman who showered them with thanks,
and the breakfast was all and more than the farmer had promised.
"I guess we'll get home in time for Santa Claus at any rate," said Bob.
It was several hours after they had said goodbye to their new friends,
and they were still several miles from home. Three or four miles an hour
was about the best they had been able to make, for they had been obliged
to follow behind the slowly moving plow nearly all the way.
"We ought to make it by three o'clock," Bob replied to Jack's guess. But
it was nearer four when finally they drove into the yard.
"We were about to send out a relief expedition for you," Mr. Golden
laughed, as he welcomed them home.