Hobnail Shoes and Carrying a Rope
The next day's trip was an easy one. Each one of the party was tired,
and Mills let them sleep late. After breakfast they set off up the
quarter mile of steep trail to Swift Current Pass, through the powder of
fresh snow which was fast melting, and then down on the other side, over
the trail Joe had taken on his first ride in the Park. How different it
seemed to him now! He sat his saddle like an old timer. He did not give
a thought to the steepness--it didn't even seem steep! In fact, he hung
his reins over the horn of his saddle, and unslinging his camera,
snapped several pictures of the party as it rounded the turns of the
switchbacks, with the girls looking up at him and waving their hands,
and Bob making horrible faces.
At the usual point, Mills gave a yell, and started the race to the
hotel. But it was Joe's job now to get ahead of the packhorses, and hold
them back. He could not gallop with the crowd. It was almost ten minutes
later that he and Val reached the tepee camp, with their eight beasts of
burden.
Spider was standing in front of the tepees, and ran out to grab Joe's
hand.
"Hello, old scout!" he cried. "Gee, but I'm glad to see you! How are
you? All right? Maybe I wasn't worried in that rain yesterday. You all
right?"
"Sure I'm all right," Joe said. "Wow--some good time, too! You'll have
to stay up all night hearing about it. I'll be back soon, and get your
lunch."
"Forget that," said Tom. "I've got it already. I'm a bum cook,
though--haven't had a decent meal since you left. I'll wait for you.
Nobody in camp just now, but some due to-night."
Joe rode on to the hotel, helped unpack, and said good-bye to all the
party. It was hard, too, for after those seven days on the trail and in
camp, even though he was only the camp cook and they were congressmen
and congressmen's families, he felt as if they were all old friends.
Mr. Elkins drew him to one side a little. "I know you're working your
way out here," said he, "and we'd all like to help you, Joe, for you've
been a fine cook for us, and we've all been like a jolly family
together. I don't suppose you'd let me make you a little present, would
you, to show how grateful we are?"
Joe turned red. "Oh, no, sir," he answered. "Scouts never take tips, and
that would be a tip, wouldn't it, sir, really? I get paid by Mr. Mills,
or the saddle company. Why, I've had more fun being with you all than
you've had, I guess!"
Mr. Elkins put a hand on Joe's shoulder. "That's the talk I like to
hear," he said. "You've made me realize what the Boy Scouts are after,
Joe, and if you ever come to Washington, and want to see how Congress
works, you let me know, and you and I'll do the town!"
Every one shook hands with him then, even Mrs. Jones, who, now the hotel
was in sight again, was as cheerful as a cricket.
"I just love roughing it--now it's all over," she laughed.
But Bob was not to be seen. Joe looked around for him, and wondered
where he could be. He shook hands with Lucy last of all. She was sweeter
and prettier than ever as she smiled at him.
"Not good-bye--au revoir," said she. "You're going to swap snap shots
with us, and write me how you are, and what you see in the Park after
we're gone, and some day you'll come to Washington, won't you?"
"You bet I'd like to," he answered. "Gee, you--you--you've been awful
nice to me--kind of makes me homesick----"
He couldn't finish, and Lucy gave his fingers a friendly little
pressure, and turned away.
Joe got on Popgun again, still wondering where Bob was, and turned to
depart, when with a "Hi, there--don't go yet!" Bob burst from the hotel
door.
He was bearing in one hand a jointed bamboo fish-pole, in the other a
full box of tackle and flies.
"This is for you," he said. "'Course, you can't get a good, big fish
without me to catch it for you, but you can cook what you do get O.K.
And don't let any more bears kiss you, and send a feller some snap shots
when you have 'em developed, and here's my address."
Joe took the rod and tackle. "Gee, Bob, that's white of you," he said.
"Guess I'll never forget this trip."
"Me, neither. Old Pennsylvania's goin' to look like a prairie when I get
back. So long, Joe."
"So long, Bob."
He waved his hand to Alice and Lucy, who watched him from the doorway,
and rode off behind Mills, dropped his dunnage bag at the camp, and took
Popgun to the Ranger's cabin.
"If you boys will let me, I'll grub with you this noon. Not a thing in
my shack," the Ranger said.
"Fine--come on. Well, Mr. Mills, did I make good?"
Mills gave him a funny look out of his pale, keen blue eyes.
"I never pick a man that doesn't," he said. "By the way, here's your
money--seven days at three dollars a day. Cooks are coming high this
year."
He handed the astonished Joe twenty-one dollars--six of it in cart
wheels, which you almost never see in the East.
"Say, I didn't expect so much. Is that on the level?" Joe demanded.
"Regular price this season--labor's awful scarce. I don't see why you
shouldn't have all the work you want for the rest of the season."
"Gee, and it isn't work--it's fun!"
"Glad you think so," the Ranger laughed. "Yesterday struck me as work."
"Sure, but it was fun, too."
The two boys and the Ranger ate their lunch at the tepee camp, where Tom
had been experimenting on the stove. Poor Tom! He wasn't much of a
cook--not compared to Joe, at any rate, and he got rather sore for a
minute when Mills suggested that Joe remake the coffee.
"Don't get peeved," Mills laughed. "Just take one drink of Joe's coffee,
and you'll feel better."
Then Tom laughed, too. "Well, old Joe's a professional chef now," he
said. "I'm only a janitor. Has he been well, honest and true, Mr.
Mills?"
"Far as I've seen, he's as sound as the best," Mills answered. "Why
don't you take him over and weigh him this afternoon?"
"I will," said Tom.
And he did. They found some scales in the basement of the hotel, and Joe
got on. He had gained five pounds that week, in spite of the hard work
of the trip! Spider gave a shout of glee.
"Hooray!" he cried. "I told you the old ozone would do it! We're giving
the bugs the knock out. Now, when an M. D. comes along, you're going to
get the once over again, and see if you can climb."
"I--I----" Joe began, looking rather guilty. "Well, Tom, I did climb a
glacier, and fell in, too!"
"It would have served you right if they hadn't fished you out--tell me
all about it."
All that afternoon, after Joe had given his money to Big Bertha, to keep
in the office safe for him, the two boys sat by the lake shore, on a
little point of rocks, taking turns fishing with the new rod, while Joe
narrated the story of his trip. They caught only two smallish trout,
hardly enough for a good mess, but that didn't matter. It was too much
fun telling and hearing about the wonders of the Park.
"And you've just had to stick around here, old Spider, working for me,"
Joe exclaimed, penitently. "To-morrow, I'm going to see Big Bertha, and
get him to let me run the camp for a while, so's you can take a trip."
"Yes, and who'll go with me?" said Tom. "Can't go alone. Besides, didn't
we come out here for you to get well? Forget it, wifey."
"Oh, I don't care what you call me to-day," Joe laughed. "I've had too
good a time--and I'm going to find a way for you to, now. You
wait--something will turn up."
Something did--and that very night, just after the party Tom expected
went into the chalets, too tired to camp.
Yet the turn-up did not look a bit promising when it arrived. It was a
small man, with big steel spectacles, enormous hobnail boots, a huge
pack, a blanket roll, and a coil of curious, soft rope around his waist.
He was a man about forty years old, and didn't look as if he could carry
such a load two miles. Yet he came down the trail at six o'clock erect
and brisk, and said casually he'd come that day from the Sun Camp, over
Piegan Pass.
"That's twenty-two miles!" the boys exclaimed.
"Is it?" said he. "I should hardly have called it so far. Have you a
cook here?"
"Why, yes," said Tom. "Joe's a cook. Folks at camp generally get their
own meals. I'd hardly know how to charge."
"I hate my own meals," the man said. "That's why I always take a pocket
full of raisins for lunch. You get me dinner and breakfast, and I guess
we can reckon out a fair payment. Am I alone in the camp to-night?"
"There was a party coming," Tom said, "but they were so tired, they went
to the chalets. I don't expect anybody else."
"Too bad," the man said. "Not that I pine for company, but I do want to
find somebody to climb with me. Here I've brought an Alpine rope all the
way out here, and I can't find a soul to shin a precipice."
He wriggled out of the coils of the soft, braided rope, which was almost
as pliable as silk, and laid it on the table.
"You don't know of anybody, do you?" he added.
"Why, no sir, I don't," Tom answered, fingering the rope curiously, to
feel its soft, strange texture.
"I do," Joe spoke up.
Tom and the man both turned toward him.
"Who is it?" they said.
Joe simply made a gesture toward Tom.
"You?" the hiker asked. "You look like a strong, capable boy, but have
you had any experience with rock climbing?"
"Joe's talking through his hat," Spider stammered. "I couldn't go. My
job's to take care of this camp----"
"I can fix that," Joe cut in. "I'll look after the camp. Besides, here's
somebody comes to the Park looking for a climb, and it's up to the Park
to find somebody to go with him."
"That seems settled," the man smiled. "But have you had any experience
rock climbing?"
"No sir, not really, I guess," Tom said. "I climbed the head wall of
Huntington Ravine on Mount Washington once, when we scouts took a hike
in the White Mountains, and Joe and I have climbed some little cliffs
around home, with just a common rope, and I got a box of spikes for my
shoes, but of course, I've never been in the Alps, or anything like
that."
The man had now laid off his pack, and was inspecting his tepee as he
listened.
"The head wall of Huntington Ravine isn't a bad little climb," he said,
"though one of the side walls is better. But it hardly qualifies you as
an Alpine guide. However, if you'd care to come with me, and we could
get somebody to tell us where there's an interesting wall, I'd be glad
of your company to-morrow."
"Oh, gee, I'd like to go!" Tom cried, "if I can get off."
"You can get off," said Joe, "and after supper I'll go get the Ranger to
come and tell Mr.--Mr.----"
"Kent is my name," the little man said. "At home I'm Dr. Kent, but out
here I wish to forget it."
"----Mr. Kent where there's a good cliff. Would you like an omelette for
supper, Mr. Kent, with some chicken soup and fried potatoes and griddle
cakes and coffee?"
"That sounds very nice," said he. "But I warn you I sha'n't know what
I'm eating. I've had nothing since breakfast but a couple of raisins."
Joe went busily about getting his supper, while Tom set the table, got
fresh water, put some extra blankets in his tepee, and ran to the supply
store for some jam or canned fruit for dessert.
"Now, you be sure to explain to Big Bertha that I'm going to take your
place if he'll let you off," Joe whispered. "He knows I can do it. If he
makes any kick, I'll go up after supper."
When Tom came back, he reported that it was all right, Big Bertha had
not kicked at all.
"He's an old peach," Tom added. "Asked me why I hadn't suggested such a
scheme before."
"I knew that would be all right," Joe laughed. "After grub, I'll get Mr.
Mills, and he'll go, too, maybe. Gee, he's dandy on a trip, and he knows
how to use a rope."
The two scouts now devoted their entire attention to the single guest at
the camp. When Joe called, "Come and get it!" Tom set a camp chair at
the table, and brought the steaming food from the stove. While Dr. Kent
was eating the soup, Joe made the omelette just right, and kept the
fried potatoes sizzling, and with them sent in a pot of piping hot
coffee and a plate of rolls. Then he made griddle cakes--five helpings
of them the man ate, too, four thick cakes to a helping! He topped off
with preserved peaches. When he had finished, he drew a cigar case from
an inner pocket of his old, worn leather jacket, lit a cigar, came over
to a seat by the camp-fire which Tom had now lighted, stretched out his
short legs, which were clad in great, heavy, square-toed boots, blue
woollen stockings that were in wrinkles, and worn woollen knickerbockers
of a once rather startling brown and green striped pattern, sighed
contentedly, looked at the two scouts, and remarked:
"Tom and Joe--those are your names, eh? Well, I never fared so well,
boys, in the Savoy in London or the Waldorf in New York. Joe, I knew
what I was eating all the time, it was so good. I don't know how you
chaps ever got way out here--I can tell you both come from New England.
But I'm glad you came. I think maybe the Lord sent you for my especial
benefit. What do you think about it?"
"Tom thinks you were sent here for his special benefit," Joe laughed.
"He's not had a chance to see a bit of the Park yet."
"Why, Joe--I do not!" poor Tom cried, getting red.
"Well, it looks mutual," the man admitted. "Now, where's this Ranger? I
like to get to-morrow all settled while it is still to-day."
Tom went up to the cabin for Mills, while Joe was getting a bite ready
for Spider and himself. Mills appeared in less than ten minutes. Tom
introduced the two men, and went into the cook tepee, to eat with Joe,
while they both strained their ears to hear the plans.
"Well," the Ranger was saying, "there's a mighty nice climb at the head
of Iceberg Lake. I was never up it, but I know where the goat trail
starts. Might be good sport to follow that trail."
"Chimney work, or mostly shelf?" the other man asked.
"Mostly everything, I should reckon. I don't now recall any real
chimney, till the top. The goats sort of switchback on ledges. Guess
you'll need sharp toe-nails, here and there."
"Any ice work?"
"Nothing sticks on that wall!" said the Ranger.
"And the height?"
"Oh, maybe two thousand."
"You mean two thousand, all cliff?" the man demanded.
"Sure," said Mills. "Well, maybe you can knock off two hundred for the
shale slide at the bottom. It goes right up to the crest of the Divide."
"Well, that sounds like a climb!" Dr. Kent exclaimed. "Suppose this boy
Tom here can do it?"
Tom and Joe, pretending to eat, stopped their forks half-way to their
mouths to listen. Tom was almost trembling.
"He can if you know your business," Mills answered, laconically.
"They've got good heads, both those boys--and heads count on a goat
trail."
The doctor looked at Mills rather sharply. Evidently he was not used to
being spoken to in just that way.
"I have climbed the Matterhorn," he replied.
"We got a different kind o' stone out here," said Mills. "It ain't
reliable. What's the matter with me going too? I ain't had a good climb
since I hunted bighorns last, five years ago. And we can all ride up to
the lake on my horses, and I can see how the trail's standing up after
the rain."
"Three on the rope are better than two, of course," the other said. "And
I'd be glad of your experience. I have at least climbed enough to know
that it is safer to have a guide who knows the cliff."
"Stranger," Mills smiled, in his quiet way, "you seem kind o' sore at
me. But I'm the Park Ranger for this district, and Uncle Sam don't want
no accidents in here. You may be the next thing to a mountain goat, but
I've never seen you climb, and it's up to me to be kind o' what you'd
call sceptical. Now, wouldn't you act so, if you was here for Uncle
Sam?"
The doctor put out his hand. "I'm ready to climb anywhere you say we can
get," he said. "You're the sort Uncle Sam needs everywhere. Shake, and
say we're friends."
The boys saw them shake hands, and then they heard Dr. Kent calling.
"Tom," he said, "Mr. Mills is going with us to see that we don't break
our necks. We leave to-morrow at five o'clock. Is that too early,
Mills?"
"Not a bit," said the Ranger.
"Joe, can you have breakfast ready then?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mills, will you breakfast with us?"
"Thanks--I sure will if Joe makes the coffee."
"Then it's settled. Now, Tom, you can go to bed as early as you like.
I'm going to turn in right away."
("Sounds like a hint!") Joe whispered.
Tom nodded. He saw that the camp was all right, bade the doctor
good-night, and with Joe and Mills walked up the path toward their camp.
"Well, Joe," Mills said, "they're keeping you busy, eh? Sorry you can't
come along to-morrow--we might find a hole somewhere for you to fall
into."
"I'll let Spider do a few flipflaps now," said Joe. "I've had my turn."
"If anybody tumbles, I hope it's the M. D.," Tom laughed. "He's just a
little bit fond of Dr. Kent,--strikes me."
"Sh! You forget he's climbed the Matterhorn," said Mills.
He went on to his cabin, and the boys settled down in their own tent.
"Well, old Joey, here you are home!" Tom cried, giving him a slap. "Gee,
wifey, it's been lonely for a whole week without you!"
"And it's some nice to get back," said Joe. "It sure seems like home,
this little old tent, and Mr. Rogers' little old cot. Slept on the floor
last night, and on the ground all the other nights. Oh, you cot!"
He sank luxuriously down, wrapped in his blankets, and let Tom blow out
the lantern.
"Home!" he sighed, sleepily. "Just a little old tent, but home--with old
Spider snoring in the other bunk."
"I don't snore!" Tom retorted. "It's you who snore."
"You may if you want to," said Joe. "It would take more'n a snore to
keep me awake to-night. Oh, you cot! 'Night, Spider."
"'Night, Joe."
If either of them snored, no one knew it, except the porcupine that came
sniffing around the tent, and then, disappointed, went off through the
forest.