THE BOY SCOUTS TO THE FORE
“Jack, Jack, where are you?” Tom called wildly, groping around in the
inky blackness for his friend.
“Here, old man!” Jack replied from his corner. “I thought from the
roar a lion had come to interview us. What has happened, anyway?”
“What has happened? Why, man, it seems as if the whole mountain has
slid down to cover the cave. It’s shut out all the air, and we can’t
breathe very long with the little we have in here. Why, Jack, do you
realize that unless someone finds us in a hurry we will die in this
horrible smelling hole like rats in a trap?”
“It sure is some tight place, old fellow, but what we’ve got to do
now is to brace up and think of some way to get out.”
“Oh, yes, that sounds all right, but how are we going to do it? Can
we dig our way through rocks and dirt with our fingers? Can we change
into moles and burrow our way out underground? I tell you, Jack,
we’re goners unless somebody discovers us within the next hour at the
most.”
“Tom, Tom, don’t talk like that! Brace up and be a man! If we’ve
got to face Death, let’s meet him bravely, as a true Scout should.
Besides,” he added after a moment’s thought, “don’t you remember the
bones that we saw scattered around here the other day? Let’s hunt
around and see if we can find some. They might possibly help us to
dig our way out.”
The boys searched desperately for a bone big enough to be of service
to them. Finally they found a couple that they thought might serve
and they set to work fearfully to see what they could do.
Slowly but surely they dug through the mass of dirt and stones and
they were just beginning to hope that they might succeed when they
received an unexpected check. They had cleared away a good part of
the debris, but when they started again after a moment’s rest they
found that they could go no farther, for the bones struck upon a
solid rock.
Mad with disappointment and rage, the boys threw themselves upon the
rock, tore at it with their nails and struck at it with their bare
hands until they were all raw and bleeding. Finally, exhausted and
weakened by the lack of air, they threw themselves, panting, on the
ground where they lay unable to move for a few minutes.
Jack was the first to recover himself and, sitting up, he put his
hand to his head, which seemed to be whirling around dizzily, and
said sharply:
“Come, this will never do! Here when we need what little brains we
have, we use them by acting like fools. If I could only think! If I
could--only--think,” he muttered, while his head dropped wearily to
his knee.
“Jack, Jack!” Tom cried, springing to his feet. “I can’t stand it!
I’ll go mad if I have to stay here much longer! Can’t you hear the
birds singing out there? Can’t you hear the murmuring of the brook?
Can’t you smell the air sweet with the glorious sunshine filtering
through the leaves and touching all the flowers with gold? Why,
man, the world’s alive out there, while in here the darkness--awful
darkness is bearing me down, crushing me--” and with a shuddering sob
he sank down and buried his face in his hands, trying to shut out
that impenetrable wall that seemed to be closing in upon him on all
sides.
“Listen a minute, Tom, old friend, old comrade!” Jack said gently,
soothingly, reaching over to put an arm about Tom’s shoulders. “We
forgot all about Don,--our Don who has never failed any of us in a
tight place. He must have escaped from those lumbermen all right or
they would have said something about having done for him when they
came to look for us here. Well, now, suppose he has escaped, what
would he naturally do first? Why, he’d go straight to the camp of
course and get the fellows here to help us. If he did that, we may
expect them any time now. All we have to do is to wait.”
At Jack’s calm, matter-of-fact tone, Tom gathered himself together
and said frankly, “Jack, you make me heartily ashamed of myself! From
now on I’ll try to act like a man and a Scout!”
So the boys, encouraged by the faint ray of hope, sat side by side
to wait for whatever might be in store for them. Only once, as the
air got thicker and they found it harder to breathe, Tom muttered,
“I only hope they come soon!” And with that they fell into a sort of
stupor from which they aroused themselves with great difficulty from
time to time.
* * * * *
Meanwhile Don’s one thought and aim had been to reach camp and bring
help to his friends. At first he had trouble in striking the trail
and had to go way back to the scene of the attack before he finally
found it. Then with nose to the ground and with eyes that turned
neither to the right nor to the left, he trotted steadily along.
There was no rabbit in that whole wide expanse of forest that could
have tempted him to leave the trail that day, for the well-being,
perhaps the lives, of his two best friends were at stake.
Once he lost the trail and for a few terrible seconds ran about
wildly in vain search of it. Finally he picked it up again on the
other side of the brook and started on, faster than before to make up
for lost time.
Another time a thorn stuck into his foot and, although it hurt
him cruelly, he never once faltered or stopped, but only limped on
unflinchingly.
Ay, Don, Old Sam spoke very truly when he said, “Ye have the look o’
my Rover,” and he might have added, “an’ the good, brave heart o’
him, too!”
Although it seemed ages to the tired, lame dog, it was in reality
only a very short time before he reached the camp. Luckily the boys
had come back from their scouting and were talking over their various
experiences. As the dog limped painfully up to them Harry exclaimed,
“Say, fellows, what’s the matter with Don?”
“Looks as if he had something in his foot,” Dick commented. “Come
here, old fellow, and let me see what’s the matter.”
Don came up willingly and held up his paw to be examined. Impatiently
he waited while Dick, with many expressions of sympathy, took out the
long thorn and gently bound up the injured paw.
“Poor old boy!” one of the Scouts said, as he patted the dog’s shaggy
head, “it must have pained you terribly! But where are Jack and Tom?
It’s not like Jack to leave Don to come on alone especially when he
knew he was hurt,” he added, turning to the boys.
At this Don, who had been waiting impatiently while his foot was
being doctored, ran to the edge of the woods and stood there looking
back at the Scouts pleadingly.
“What does he want?” asked a Tenderfoot Scout, who did not know Don
as well as the rest.
“He wants us to follow him. I’m afraid, fellows, that something’s
happened to Jack and Tom. And I, for one, mean to find out what it is
and mighty quick, too!” said Pete Stubbs.
“We’re with you!” came a chorus of hearty voices.
By this time Mr. Durland had come up and asked the cause of the
excitement. He listened to the recital of their fears with a very
grave face. In a moment the boys were flying around everywhere to
carry out his directions.
“Some of you boys go and get anything that you can find in the lodge
or out of it,” he said, “to dig with. There are three or four old
shovels there that may come in handy and a lot of trowels that we use
for digging up specimens of flowers. Hurry, boys!”
In a short time the Scouts were ready to start, and Don, forgetting
all about his sore foot, led them rapidly along the trail.
Dick turned to Mr. Durland and asked him how he meant to use the
shovels.
“There is great danger in this part of the country on account of
the landslides that frequently occur,” the Scout-Master explained.
“Of course, they are not usually on a very large scale. They are
very often caused by a loose rock starting to fall from the top of a
mountain and so loosening masses of stones and dirt.”
“But do you suppose that the boys could possibly be caught in one of
them?” Dick asked, while his face grew white at the very thought.
“There is a chance, of course,” Mr. Durland replied anxiously, “and
because of that chance, I thought it was best to bring the shovels
along.”
“Be prepared!” Dick murmured, and felt a curious tightening of his
heartstrings as he thought of his comrades in distress.
Finally Don brought them to the clump of bushes behind which O’Brien
and Levine had been hidden. The boys noticed how the ground had been
trampled down and the bushes torn aside, and at once it flashed
through their minds that the boys might have been attacked. Here Don
seemed to lose the trail, but the Scouts now readily picked it up,
trained for trailing as they were, and they started on again with
redoubled speed.
A dozen wild conjectures chased each other through the boys’
bewildered heads. Suppose the two lumbermen had learned of the boys’
intention to warn Flannigan! Suppose they had waylaid Jack and Tom!
Would the boys stand up to them? If they did, would they win? If they
had been attacked on their way to the lumber camp, every Scout felt
sure that the boys would do their best to avoid the plotters and
deliver their message. On the other hand, if they had been coming
back, it was more than likely that the boys would stand up to the two
ruffians. If this last were so, what had been the outcome? As nobody
was able to answer this, all they could do was to follow Don, now
plunging on far ahead.
As they neared the cave some of the boys recognized their
surroundings. Then a new fear came to torment them. What if the boys
had run to the cave for shelter and had found the unknown inhabitants
there?
In another minute they had scrambled down the ravine, rounded the
rocks and had come into full view of the place where the cave had
been. At the sight that met their eyes they stopped short and fairly
gasped with astonishment and dismay.
They all looked to Mr. Durland for an explanation of this state of
affairs.
“Boys,” said the Scout-Master in a strained, unnatural voice, “you
say that there was a cave in the side of that mountain?”
“Yes, sir,” said Bob. “We examined it thoroughly the other day.”
“Then I am afraid that you will all have a chance to test every ounce
of courage and fortitude you possess to-day. Boys,” he said, and his
voice shook a little in spite of himself, “our Tom and Jack are
almost certainly in that cave and are suffering--perhaps dying--for
lack of air! Are you ready, now, to get them out?”
The boys’ answer was a deafening shout, and, snatching up their
shovels and trowels, set to work with a grim do-it-or-die expression
on their young faces that did Mr. Durland’s heart good. In earnest
they applied themselves to their heart-breaking task, opening their
lips for nothing except to call the boys’ names from time to time.
* * * * *
What was that voice? It seemed so far away--as if someone were
calling from a great distance. What was it they were saying? Was
it “Jack?” No, it was “Tom.” Why were they calling them? Where
were they? What was that strange feeling in his head, that dizzy
sensation, that made him feel as if he were spinning around and
around? Had the lumbermen caught them after all? No, that could not
be it. Now he had it! They were smothering to death in this loathsome
hole! So, by painful degrees, Jack drew himself back from the dark
abyss of oblivion and came to a full realization of his whereabouts.
“Tom, Tom,” he cried, shaking his friend fiercely, “they’ve come,
they’ve come! Do you hear them?” and he called out in as loud a voice
as he could again and again.
When Tom came to himself, he added his shouts to Jack’s and they
finally succeeded in making themselves heard by the straining
workers outside. With glad cries of encouragement, the Scouts went to
work once more with redoubled energy. In five minutes, that seemed
like five ages to the gasping boys inside, a tiny place was cleared
before the entrance of the cave, letting in a breath of cool, fresh
air. In another half hour the cave mouth was entirely free and the
two half-smothered boys were helped out by their anxious friends.
With a sharp cry Tom clapped his hands over his eyes to keep out the
dazzling light.
The Scouts crowded eagerly about the two boys, scarcely able to
restrain their delight. They patted them all over to see if there
were any broken bones, shook their hands and overwhelmed them with
questions.
Then it was Don’s turn. Limping from the wound in his foot, he came
slowly over the pile of dirt and stones and looked wistfully up into
his master’s face.
“Don, darling old Don!” Jack cried, hiding his face in the dog’s
rough coat. “Then they didn’t hurt you, beauty, did they?”
Then the boys learned all that Don had done for them, and if they had
loved him before, they idolized him now.
Of course Jack and Tom were too exhausted by their nerve-racking
experience to continue their journey to the lumber camp, so Mr.
Durland chose Dick in their place, and with the good wishes of the
boys, he started off through the trees.
On the way home, the boys could not hold their wild spirits in check.
They chased rabbits and squirrels, shouted to each other, played
leapfrog and sang rollicking college songs. Only Don walked soberly
along beside Jack, too happy to leave his master’s side, and his eyes
alone told a story more eloquent than words.