MR. HARDMAN'S QUEER ACT
It was about five miles from the hotel to where the corduroy road began
to wend a tortuous way through the big woods back of the town of
Darewell. It was the same road over which the chums had traveled the time
they went camping just before the previous Thanksgiving, during which
excursion they had shot considerable game.
They walked out through the suburbs of the town, and soon were in the
open country. Then came a stretch of woodland, and, after a mile of this,
the chums turned aside into a denser forest.
"Here's the corduroy road," said Bart, pointing to where the log
highway began.
"Ah, indeed," remarked Mr. Hardman. "Quite interesting. Made of little
logs laid side by side. To prevent wagons from sinking down into the mud,
I suppose?"
"It isn't used much nowadays," volunteered Fenn. "It was built by the
loggers when they were cutting some timber, but that was several
years ago."
"Where does it lead to?"
"Right into the middle of the woods, and then it stops," replied Bart,
thinking of the winter day they had last traveled over the road, and
recalling what events had followed the discovery of the Perry family,
suffering in the forest hut.
"We'll take a walk along it," Mr. Hardman went on. "It seems to be just
the sort of locality I'm looking for. Quite lonesome enough to suit me."
It was pleasant in the forest that June day. On either side of the road
grew tall ferns and there were many wild flowers. The birds were flitting
through the branches, and, in spite of the rather queer expedition they
were on, the boys enjoyed themselves. As for the man they were guiding,
he was content to walk along, stopping, here and there, to look through
the forest, or gather some flowers.
"Is there any particular place you want to go to?" asked Bart, when they
had been walking on the road for perhaps half an hour.
"I thought you said the road did not lead anywhere."
"Neither it does, but there are paths through the woods branching off
the road, and if you wanted to get to a certain spot I think we could
take you there."
"No, I only want to see how the road runs. I am not looking for any
particular place. But these paths you speak of, are they easy to find?"
"Not unless you know the woods pretty well," put in Ned.
"Ah! Then I suppose a person coming--say from the other side of the
forest--would have difficulty in reaching the road and getting into
Darewell?"
"It would be quite hard, I imagine," said Bart, "We have never been to
the other edge of the forest. It is about ten miles in extent, and we
have only been about half way through. It is pretty wild, the farther
in you go."
"So much the better," Mr. Hardman murmured. "Now boys, are you ready for
lunch? I confess the walk has given me an appetite."
"The same here," admitted Fenn with a laugh.
They sat down on a grassy bank, and ate the food Bart had purchased. Mr.
Hardman seemed to be thinking of many things, for he hardly spoke during
the impromptu meal, and, when he had eaten a couple of sandwiches he
arose from the bank and wandered off a little way into the woods. When
he came back he addressed Bart:
"Are you sure no one--er--say a sick person--could get from the other
side of the forest to this road?"
"Well of course it's possible," admitted Bart, "but I don't believe a
sick person, or a well one, either, could get here without a lot of
trouble. There are no paths to speak of, so I've heard old hunters say."
"That's good," Mr. Hardman remarked, half to himself. "That's just what I
want. Is this the only road leading into the woods from Darewell?"
"The only one," replied Bart.
"Then I guess I've seen enough."
"Do you think you'll build a house here?" asked Ned.
"Build a house here? What do you--Of course. Well, I like the place first
rate. I must come again some day. I think we'll go back now. By the way,
I must pay you," and he handed Bart the five-dollar bill.
"I'm much obliged," Bart said. "I'm afraid it was hardly worth so much.
It was a regular picnic for us."
"So much the better," replied Mr. Hardman with a smile. "Now we'll go
back."
They started to retrace their steps along the corduroy road, the boys
wondering somewhat over the whim of Mr. Hardman. He had not acted like a
man who had come to look for a place to erect a dwelling, and, though
they expected some oddity in a man who preferred to live in the solitude
of the forest, they could not account for his questions about whether or
not a person could get from the farther side of the woods to the road.
For about an hour they tramped back over the way they had come. Mr.
Hardman said little, and walked just ahead of the boys, who conversed
among themselves. Just as they were nearing the end of the road he turned
and asked:
"You are sure now there is no other way of going through the forest but
this road?"
"Positive," replied Bart.
"You couldn't be mistaken?"
"Well, if there is a road no one in Darewell knows of it," put in Ned.
"We've lived here a good many years, and have often been in these woods,
and we never heard of any other road."
"That's good," Mr. Hardman responded, and he seemed well satisfied.
"I wonder if Frank will come to meet us?" asked Bart as Mr. Hardman
resumed his position slightly in advance of the boys.
"You can't tell much about Frank lately," replied Ned. "I don't know
what to make of him. I wish he'd tell us if he is in trouble, for we
might help him. I know what it is to be worried about something and not
have any one you can talk to. I found that out when I had to disappear in
New York," and he laughed at the recollection, though at the time of his
trouble he felt in a very different frame of mind.
"Well, we'll just have to let him alone until he's ready to tell us,"
said Fenn. "Hello!" he added, a moment later, "someone is coming along
the road."
The chums stopped, as did Mr. Hardman. The sound of footsteps
could be heard.
"Who is coming?" asked Mr. Hardman, and the boys thought he seemed
alarmed.
"I don't know," Bart replied.
A moment later a figure appeared around a turn in the road.
"It's Frank!" exclaimed Ned.
"Who?" asked Mr. Hardman.
"Frank Roscoe; our chum," Bart said. "He has come to meet us."
"Frank Roscoe!" exclaimed Mr. Hardman, and the boys could see he was
much excited.
"Frank Roscoe here! If I had known that!"
He turned suddenly and hurried past the boys, retracing his way along the
corduroy road into the depths of the forest.
"I have forgotten some papers!" he exclaimed, not turning his head. "I
must have left them on the bank where we ate lunch. I'll get them. Don't
wait for me. I can find my way back."
Then he was gone, a curve in the road hiding him from sight. But by this
time Frank had come up to his chums. He saw Mr. Hardman's sudden retreat,
and had caught the words the man called back to the boys. At the sound of
them Frank broke into a run.
"What's the matter?" cried Bart, surprised at his friend's action.
"I must catch that man!" exclaimed Frank, as he raced past his chums.
For a moment the three boys were so surprised they did not know what to
make of it. The queer action of Mr. Hardman, in suddenly fleeing, was
only equaled by Frank's pursuit.
"Let's go and see what it means," suggested Ned, as he turned to go back
over the road.
The sun had gone under a cloud and the woods were quite dark, as the
forest was dense at this point. The three chums hurried on in the
semi-twilight. They had not gone far before they met Frank coming back.
"Did you catch him?" asked Ned.
"No. He must have turned off into the woods. What is his name? How did
you fellows come to be out with him? What made him run back as soon as
he saw me?"
"One at a time," suggested Ned. "We can't answer all those questions at
once. What made you run after him?"
"Because I believe him to be a man who knows something I should know,"
Frank replied, for, though he did not tell his chums, he recognized in
Mr. Hardman's voice the tones of the stranger who had been at his uncle's
house one night and who had warned the boy back when Frank had attempted
to follow.