DICK’S FOREST STUNT
“Do you suppose that’s our Nate Webster?” inquired Garry.
“Quickest way to find out is to go and see,” answered Dick, and
suiting the word to the action started for the front hall.
It was the Nate Webster they knew, and he greeted the boys heartily.
“How do you happen to be in this part of the state, Nate?” asked
Garry.
“Why, I thought I’d like to see some of my old friends up this way,
and I found out from your father where you were, so I just put a man
in charge of my place for a while and came up. We’re going to get a
couple of good rainy days and that will stop any chance of fire for
a time. In fact it was lowering this morning when I started. You
know I used to be around here a spell of years ago, and this is a
bit of a vacation for me.”
The story of their adventures and those in particular that related
to the doings of LeBlanc were retailed for Nate, and at the
conclusion he asked what they were going to do.
“I thought perhaps we’d wait for orders from the Chief Ranger, and
in the meantime just take it easy for a day or two,” answered Garry.
“Might just as well, at least till the rainy days are over,” agreed
Nate.
They took a walk during the afternoon and met some of Nate’s old
friends, enjoying the reminiscences that were started when old
cronies of the guide got to talking old times with him. They brought
Nate back to supper with them, and Garry found a letter waiting for
him.
He read the letter over, and then called his chums together.
“This letter is going to cause rather a change in our plans. From
what I gather, my mother and yours, Phil, are rather worried; and,
furthermore, Mother wants us to have a short vacation at the beach
with her before we go to school. Dad suggests that we stay here a
week or two, if we want, and have a little fishing and swimming and
so on, without feeling that there is any work to do and halt us from
just enjoying ourselves.”
“Say, why wouldn’t this be a good time to go and visit the mine, and
see if after all it is really a good one, or was just a vain hope,”
said Phil.
“You know, I hope that there are some real tourmalines there, for
they are valuable things. You know the last time that we were in
Bangor, when I slid out for awhile and you wondered where I was. I
was at the library, reading up on the stones. I find that they are
valuable for more than gems; something I didn’t know before. They
are used a great deal in delicate electrical instruments, as they
are responsive to electricity and are used to measure the intensity
of radium emanations. Then they are used by oculists to test lenses
with. The finest specimens are the ones that are used for gems,
after being cut, and the others are used in the electrical
apparatus. You know, I’d give most anything if we could make some
money out of the mine,” he concluded wistfully.
Garry was about to answer, when he caught a significant expression
on Dick’s face. He did not know what it was all about, but took it
as an indication that he should keep silent.
Soon after that Nate engaged Phil in conversation, and perceiving
this, Dick left the room, motioning Garry to follow. They left the
house and walked down the street, and as soon as they were out of
hearing, Garry asked:
“What kind of a high sign were you trying to give me, Dick?”
“Garry, if it’s the last thing we ever do, we’re going to start for
that mine right away. I see the whole idea in the back of Phil’s
head.”
“I don’t get your meaning yet,” responded Garry in a puzzled tone.
“Dunderhead! It’s as simple as the nose on your face. First thing
that started him off was your reference to our going away to school.
You know Phil hasn’t said a word about it to either of us since the
day we first mentioned it, except to refuse Dad Boone’s offer to
stake him through and let him pay it up later on. But you can bet
you that he’s thought about it a lot. Now he has built up a lot of
hope on making money out of this mine. If it is anywhere near
successful, he could easily afford then to go to school with us. Now
does the idea percolate through that thick skull of yours?”
“Thick is right, Dick,” admitted Garry, as he rapped the offending
skull with his knuckles. “We’ll outfit up and start tomorrow. In the
meantime I’ll write Dad and explain matters to him, and get him to
secure our release from the State Forest Ranger at Augusta. I think
perhaps we’ve been of enough service so that we can be let off.
Anyway, we would have to be released to carry out Dad’s wishes about
our vacation with Mother.”
They returned to the house and there broke the news to Phil.
The boy said nothing, but the chums could tell from the look on his
face that the news was the most welcome he had heard that summer.
Both Garry and Dick tactfully forebore to intimate that they had
discovered Phil’s secret, and stated that they were off to the mine
solely because it was a lark, and would be an interesting conclusion
to their summer.
“There’s one thing, however. Once we start operations at the mine,
it will mean that the news will spread about and as soon as we leave
we will have to hire a guard to take care of it for us, or perhaps
someone to work it until we have exhausted the mine.”
“I have a bright idea,” exclaimed Phil.
“All right, little brightness, shoot it,” said Garry laughing.
“We’ll just hire Nate Webster here; or better than that, I propose
that we give him a share in the mine, and let him get a couple of
trustworthy friends of his to help him, and he can operate it after
we leave.”
“That’s a first class suggestion, Phil. What do you say to it,
Nate?” asked Garry, turning to the old timer.
The question struck Nate rather by surprise, and he made them tell
him some more details of the mine. When these had been furnished
him, he answered:
“Well, I’d be willing to take a chance at it. I’ve done a little of
everything but mining, and so I can try that once. But I won’t take
any share in the mine. If you boys want to hire me at day wages, all
right; but the mine’s yours, and I don’t feel that I should take a
share when I’ve done nothin’ towards findin’ it.”
“That suits us all right, Nate, if it does you; for we are not sure
that it will pan out. If we were sure it was O. K. I’d insist on
giving you a share, for you’ve helped us wonderfully mainy times
this summer.”
Some discussion ensued after this, and it was finally terminated by
Nate’s reluctantly agreeing to take a share in the mine. He
insisted, however, that if they went on this basis, he must be
permitted to share and share alike in all expenses and take his
chance of luck along with the boys. After some talk this was agreed
to, and the boys wrote out a business-like memorandum, making Nate a
partner in the venture.
Plans were then made for the outfitting. It was decided that since
all were anxious to get at the business of mining, it would be a
waste of time to build a shack, and the weather might not continue
fine enough to use only a brush house. So a tent was to be
purchased. They found that Denton had a large wall tent among his
numerous articles in the general store.
There was little to be bought except necessary provisions, and these
could be secured at Chester. The essential thing to be purchased was
dynamite, and this too they found at Denton’s. It was something that
he had occasion to sell often to the farmers, who used it to blow up
stumps on the land that was gradually being cleared and used for
farming.
Bright and early next morning they started for their mine. An auto
was hired to carry them, and on account of the dynamite the long way
around was taken.
“If we ever hit one of those bumps the way we did coming from
Chester with Ruth and Simmons, we’d wake up in another world,”
declared Garry. Goodbyes were said, and arrangements made for Ruth
and her grandfather, together with Aunt Abbie to visit them and see
the mine in operation.
They reached the mine about noon, and a camp site was selected about
a hundred yards from the stony face where the tourmalines, if there
were any really there, lay hidden. This spot was chosen because of
the proximity of a forest stream; that would at once provide them
with clear cold water, and a chance for a bit of trout fishing now
and then.
Camping meant outdoor cooking again, and so Dick’s first thought was
for the building of a proper stone camp fireplace.
Also he dug a hole, for they had brought shovels with them to use in
the mining, and prepared a “beanhole” to use the next day.
Practically all the afternoon was taken in making camp, and a visit
was paid to the ledge and tomorrow’s operations were planned.
Phil was made “engineer in charge,” for his hours at the library had
told him nearly all there was to know about the mining of
tourmalines. As they sat around the campfire after supper, Phil
explained the process.
“It shouldn’t really be called mining; it’s almost too simple an
operation for that. Tourmalines are generally found in pockets in
crumbling places in a ledge of rock, or are often found in the sandy
subsoil. No instance in this country has been known where they were
found at a greater depth than eight feet. Also there is little or no
way of determining where there is a geological likelihood of their
being located, as in the case of oil, when a geologist can tell
whether the formation is that which denotes the presence of oil.
Lepidolite, followed by smoky quartz and feldspar is a pretty good
indication, however, of their presence.”
“I suggest that we take and dig a bit along the front of that ledge
and perhaps find some pockets. Then after we have tried that for
awhile, we can pick out likely spots in the face of the ledge which
indicate that it is crumbling there, and by using very small charges
of dynamite break it away and screen or wash the contents of the
pockets until we find our tourmalines.”
Phil never gave thought to a chance of failure. They had found one
tourmaline there, and the old map that had guided them to the spot
had hinted at riches. Also the faith of the first owner of the map
had transferred itself to Phil.
Work started in earnest the next morning, and the four of them, the
three chums and Nate, shoveled away until their hands were
blistered. It was not until the fourth day that they were rewarded.
Nate was the one to whom the honor of finding the first pocket was
given. He gave a shout and the chums ran to his side.
“I swan, but thar she is,” and he pointed with his shovel to a half
a dozen glinting objects that sparkled in the sunlight.
All four dropped on their knees and investigated. They gathered up
handfuls of the earth and sifted it through their fingers. Nearly
twenty specimens were obtained, while their excitement was
unbounded. Pale pink and green were the different stones. Four in
particular were beauties, being a pale green, translucent and
sparkling. These were the ones that could be laid aside to be
disposed of as gems for rings or pins.
The next step was to start a more scientific way of getting at the
gems. To this end, Dick and Phil were set to bring pails of water,
while Garry and Nate procured flat tin pans that had been provided
for the purpose. The method used was that which is used in placer
gold mining. A quantity of the dirt was scooped up, and water poured
in. Then the pan was gently tilted back and forth; “rocking” it is
called by the miners, and the dirt gradually was washed away,
leaving the pebbles and gems in the bottom of the pan. Then it was
an easy matter to pick from the pebbles the real gems. Sometimes
they would pan a dozen times before they would pan a gem, and then
they would be lucky and pick a half dozen, sometimes half a score of
the glinting mineral.
The kind that could be sold for gems were a rarity, but the
specimens were all good and could be used for commercial purposes.
After two days of panning they apparently exhausted this particular
pocket, and considered moving a few feet and trying again.
Phil suggested that since they had found gems in this particular
spot, they blast away a small section from the ledge. He pointed out
the fact that there was a fissure at one spot, and this might be the
place where a pocket was concealed in the stone.
As it was nearly nightfall, they decided to postpone the blasting
until the morning.
Around the campfire, after supper, they chatted and listened while
Nate told stories of the forest. One of Nate’s stories was about the
search that he had once led for a camper that had gotten lost in the
forest, and how he had been found just in time to prevent death from
starvation and exposure. This led to a discussion on the part of the
boys as to the foolishness of campers in straying so far away from
their party as to become lost.
“It’s a crazy thing for one unused to the woods to do,” declared
Dick. “And yet it seems such a simple thing to do to keep from
starving in the woods. I know I wouldn’t suffer.”
“That’s a pretty broad statement to make, young fellow,” warned
Nate.
“I know I could do it,” persisted Dick. “First place I’ve learned a
lot of things from practical experience since I’ve been in the
woods, and second place, ever since I was a kid and in the Boy
Scouts, I’ve studied about it.”
“You might make it for a couple of days, but that’s a long time
unless you’re used to the woods and know them end for end and
backwards and forwards,” said Nate.
“Could live a week easy, and if I could live that long, will you
concede that I’d spend a summer safely and without starving?” asked
Dick.
“Don’t believe you could,” said Nate.
“Say, listen, I’ll wager anything I’ve got that I can do it, and by
gosh, I’m going to do it anyway, whether you fellows take me up or
not,” he announced stubbornly.
They ragged him for awhile and then saw that he was in dead earnest
about the matter. From that point the talk developed into whether or
not the trick could be turned, and finally they agreed to let Dick
try if he wanted to. To make it a fair test, however, they made him
agree that if twenty-four hours passed without his being able to get
a meal in the woods, that he would come out and admit it was a
failure.
“All right, that’s a go. Now what will you allow me to have?”
inquired Dick.
“Nothing at all; you’ve got to use Nature’s weapons all the time,”
promptly answered Phil.
“No, that’s hardly fair,” protested Nate. “The average camper that
got lost would have his knife, and he’d likely have a hatchet stuck
in his belt. ’Tain’t likely, though, that he’d have any food with
him; and if he were only out for a short stroll, and got twisted in
direction, and then lost, he wouldn’t have his gun with him. Suppose
we put it this way: You’re in the woods lost, and through an
accident you lost your pack and rifle. That leaves you just as I’ve
seen you three or four times. You’d have your hatchet and your
lariat and that’s all. We’ll even make it easier than that. You can
go in as you are now. I don’t know what you have in your pockets, so
we’ll let you have that much. You can’t have your matches, though.
Say you fell out of a canoe when you lost your pack and rifle, and
wet your matches so they are useless. That makes it harder.”
All agreed that this was a fair proposal, and Dick planned to start
the next morning. He determined to take to the Forest Reserve, first
because he wanted to see it, and second because that seemed to offer
the best place to try the experiment. Dick agreed to blaze a trail
from where he started so that in case of accident he could be
followed.
Next morning all went with him to the river to see him off, and
Garry paddled him across the river, using a canoe that he hired from
a youngster who was passing that way. They agreed that one of the
boys should come to the river at noon and at six o’clock every day
to see if he would be back, having concluded the experiment was a
failure.
Dick fell into the spirit of his own adventure, and walked half a
day into the forest, blazing a trail as he went, and occasionally
leaving some of the usual trail signs and messages such as all
scouts and woodmen know. Then he pretended that he was lost and
started in to make plans for his living. He cast about until he
found a brook and set at his first plan.
The first thing was a fire, and he had no matches. That meant using
the Indian method of firemaking. The plan that he was to have
anything that was in his pockets the night before stood him in good
stead, for along with a few minor articles was a stout piece of
cord.
He procured some dry moss and tindery substance and made a little
heap of it. Then he found a piece of dry bark, and inserted this in
the tinder after having made a small hole with the point of his
knife. Next he procured a dry stick and sharpened this at both ends.
Now all he would have to do was insert the point into the hole in
the bark, and twist it briskly between his palms until it started
the blaze. This process, however, takes quite a bit of time, owing
to the fact that a great speed cannot be attained, hence there is
less friction, and so the tinder will not ignite quickly.
There was a way that this could be done quicker and easier. He found
a flat piece of wood and bored a small hole in that. Then he
searched until he found a crooked stick, and tied his cord loosely
at each end. Making a loop in the cord, he slipped it over the stick
with the pointed ends. Now all that needed to be done was to put one
end in the tinder, and cap the other end with the piece of wood.
Holding this bit of wood in one hand, and the “bow” in the other, he
sawed back and forth, the string causing the stick to revolve back
and forth with great rapidity.
In a very few minutes he had his fire going briskly. Now the next
question was something to eat. He heard a slight splash in the
stream near him, and thought at once of trout.
How to catch them was the next question. That was soon solved.
What boy does not have a pin or two sticking somewhere in his
clothes—generally in his coat lapel. Dick found one, and after some
trouble, succeeded in turning the point back about a sixteenth of an
inch. This corresponded to the barb of a fish hook. Bending the rest
of the pin into a hook was simple.
Now for a line. His cord that he used in the fire making was too
heavy, and not long enough. However, Dick soon remedied the lack. He
fished out the tail of his cotton khaki shirt, and after a few
minutes’ work with the point of his knife, succeeded in drawing out
a few of the strong threads. Knotting these together, he had a line.
Bait was now the only thing needed, and a few seconds’ search under
the rocks along the shore of the brook uncovered several slugs such
as cling to the wet bottom of rocks. Baiting his hook, he threw it
in, and in a few minutes had a fine trout. Of course this kind of
fishing was crude. Instead of delicately playing the trout, he
simply snapped the line back, and landed the fish on the shore in
back of him. He cleaned the fish with his knife, stuck it on the end
of a stick and roasted it. There was one dinner, he thought.
A drink from the stream completed the meal. Not a heavy one, but
still it would have kept starvation away had he been really lost. He
spent the afternoon in exploring, and in the course of his
wandering, always taking care to notice his trail so that he could
get back to the stream and his campfire, he came upon a moist bit of
ground.
Dick spied something that meant an addition to his supper.
He bent closer to examine the find. It consisted of mushrooms. He
was familiar with the various kinds of poisonous and edible fungi,
and an examination of the pink gills and shape of the mushroom
convinced him these were all right to eat. Beyond the swampy place
was a clump of birches, and here he supplied himself with a quantity
of bark.
This would come in handy at a later time to make receptacles of.
Dick gathered a quantity of the mushrooms, and returned to his
campfire. Now he determined to try an experiment of which he was
somewhat skeptical. He had read of the Indians doing it, and so set
to work to try it.
He piled on wood until he had a good heap of coals, then made a cone
of birch bark, fastening it by sticking a twig through at intervals.
Filling this with water, he imbedded the cone in the coals, and
threw in some of his mushrooms.
The theory of the bark kettle is that the water will keep the bark
wet enough at all times so that the coals will not quite burn
through. It cannot be lifted from the coals; the water or stuff that
is cooking must be dipped out. Eventually the bark will be consumed,
but not before the water or food has been heated sufficiently to
use.
Dick had to admit that he was surprised when he found that the
contrivance worked, for he had doubted whether or not it would be a
success. Having cooked his mushrooms, he sought the rocks again for
bait for a fish, and made another discovery. Under some of the
biggest rocks were crawfish. He knew that these could be roasted and
eaten.
These, however, would do for another day. Then there were roots and
berries of various kinds that could be used as sustenance.
Altogether there was a quantity of foodstuff that he could use.
He rolled in that night close to the fire, satisfied that he would
live the week out in comfort and have the laugh on his friends.
Next morning, after another breakfast of fish and mushrooms, he
determined to push up the stream and seek out a new camp place.
After a walk that took him nearly half the morning, he branched away
from the stream and lay down for a rest. Here he made a discovery
that set him thinking. The find was nothing more nor less than a few
feathers. He knew after a brief examination that these were from
wild turkeys who probably roosted in the trees during the night. The
finding of the feathers convinced him that this was perhaps a
natural roost for the birds.
After an afternoon of exploration, during which he found some wild
raspberries, he came back to the turkey roost spot as he called it.
He found he was right in his first conjecture. There were several
turkeys roosting on some of the lower branches. Dick procured
several good-sized rocks and hurled them at the birds. Two good
shots each brought down a turkey, partially stunned. It was the work
of a minute to wring their necks.
He cleaned them and roasted them in the coals, and after eating what
he wanted, wrapped the cooked flesh in bark and put it by for the
next day.
The third morning found him exuberant and cheerful, and he decided
to take a long trek in the woods. Twice during the morning he found
signs that the mounted Rangers had passed that way, and figured that
he was in the line of patrol. He did not want to meet the Rangers so
early, as he wanted to subsist entirely on his own discoveries. The
afternoon brought him to the foot of a good-sized hill, almost a
young mountain.
He noted the location of a spring for use that night, and decided to
utilize the remaining hours of light in climbing up the big hill to
get a look at the surrounding country.
The climb consumed a good hour of hard work, and he had almost
reached the top when he found that he was looking at a cabin. It was
perched near the edge of a cliff, and looking out, he figured that
there must be a sheer drop of perhaps a hundred feet or more.
At first Dick thought this was the lookout of a Ranger, and entered.
There were no maps, however, nor anything else to indicate that the
cabin was a lookout. Someone had built a fire recently there,
though, and he looked about the cabin. There was a crude cupboard at
one end, and in this he found several packages of food.
Dick had some loose change in his pocket, and he was debating on
whether a lost man would have the right to take some and leave the
money in return.
As he pondered over the ethics of this, he heard something that
caused a flutter of excitement.
Someone was nearing the cabin. This in itself would have caused him
no great concern, except that whoever was coming was singing softly
to himself an old French chanson.
Dick darted to the cabin door, and there, facing him, stood the last
person in the world that he wanted to see—Jean LeBlanc.