AT THE DESERTED LOGGING CAMP.
“Would you mind saying that again, Gus?” asked Billy eagerly.
“Yes,” added Arthur, “we were just trying to figure out what we might do
over the holidays, because most of the boys can’t leave home on
Thanksgiving of all times in the year. Tell us some more about your
scheme, Gus. I must say it strikes me as something worth jumping at, all
right.”
Gus flushed with evident pleasure. Hugh instantly began to think there
might be something more connected with this suddenly conceived trip than
had as yet appeared on the surface; still, he, too, felt pleased to have
their difficulties so quickly removed.
“It’s just this way,” said Gus, speaking quickly, and secretly watching
the face of the scout master, because he knew that Hugh would be the one
to settle the matter, “my mother wants me to go up there for a certain
reason, and, of course, I could hardly think of undertaking it alone.
She told me to hire some one to go along to act as guide and companion,
but I felt I had too many fine chums among the Oakvale scouts to think
of doing that, and as I happened to hear you fellows talking about
spending the holidays off somewhere I decided to ask you to go along
with me.”
“Let’s see,” remarked Arthur shrewdly, “unless I’m a whole lot mistaken
that lumber camp your folks own is a good many miles away from Oakvale.”
“All of thirty-five,” replied Gus, without any hesitation, “but what
does a little thing like that matter, when you’ve got a bully
seven-passenger car to carry the grub, and everything needed? Mother
told me I could take our old car, which was lately overhauled, and ought
to run fairly decent. Hugh, please say you’ll go with me! I’ll be ever
so thankful, because— Well, I’ve just _got_ to spend a little time up
there, you see, and I’d appreciate your company better than I c’n tell
you.”
“So far as I’m concerned,” spoke up Billy, impulsively for once, “I’m
with you on that proposition, Gus. It strikes me as a splendid chance to
pass away a few days in having a dandy good time among ourselves. Don’t
forget that this year school closes sharp on Tuesday afternoon, not to
open again for a week.”
“Thanks to the heating apparatus breaking down in that first cold spell,
and the delay in getting new parts from the foundry,” added Arthur,
gratefully. “And let me add that you can count on my going along with
you, Gus. I’m in for the outing every time.”
“Hugh, you haven’t said a word yet,” observed Gus, anxiously.
“Because I’ve been thinking it over,” replied the other.
“Say you’ll go along with us, Hugh,” urged Billy. “Why, half of the
fun’d be gone if you didn’t come.”
“Gus, we’ll call it settled then,” said Hugh, vastly to the delight of
the stout chum, who looked as though ready to give a regular scout yell.
“Then let’s meet to-night at my house,” Billy hastened to add, “when we
can settle the preliminaries, as they say when a match is being
arranged. Just now you see my untamed steed is getting restless; wants
his oats, I reckon. Call it seven, Gus, and don’t you dare fail us after
getting a fellow so excited.”
Possibly it was Peter’s hungry master who was growing anxious to satisfy
a voracious appetite, for Billy’s weakness was well known among his
chums, and caused no end of merriment, though he took all the fun poked
at him in good part.
At seven that same evening when Hugh, walking along in the light of the
almost full moon, reached Billy Worth’s home, he found that both Arthur
and Gus had already arrived.
Billy, like most boys, had been allowed a “den” of his own, which was
quite tastefully fitted up with books and pictures of an exciting though
wholesome character. Athletic and other outdoor sports were represented
by various things like football guards for nose and shins; a baseball
catcher’s mask, gloves and breast pad; snowshoes that had evidently seen
considerable service, a fly-rod, a stuffed black bass weighing some five
pounds, which must have given the fisherman a lordly struggle before
consenting to capture, and other articles too numerous to mention.
Billy’s den was a favorite lounging place for many of his mates. Here
the three guests were told to make themselves at home, and each hastened
to ensconce himself in a favorite chair or nook, the comforts of which
seemed to be quite familiar to the occupant from previous visits there.
“It’s understood, then,” said Gus, after they had been chatting for some
time, and, of course, were discussing what they ought to take along with
them, “that we start about eight o’clock Wednesday morning next, come
rain, come shine.”
“Huh! the weather doesn’t stop a scout when he’s got his mind made up,”
ventured Billy, with an expanded chest that bespoke pride. “What would a
little snowstorm or even a baby blizzard mean to such veterans as our
crowd? If the heavens don’t drop, Gus, or one of us falls sick
meanwhile, you can count on our being with you on the date set.”
“One thing I’m going to ask of you, boys, as a great favor,” remarked
Gus, with a queer look on his face that interested the observing Hugh
considerably.
“As what?” demanded Billy. “Though for that matter, Gus, count it as
settled before you speak, that we’ll agree to anything you ask. We’re
going to be your guests up there at the old logging camp, you know, and
we understand what that means.”
“Oh! it’s only this,” continued the other, hesitatingly. “I’m going to
ask you not to tell any of the fellows just where we expect to camp.
I’ve got a reason for that request, and later on you’re going to know
all about it, too. Just now I don’t want my father to know where we’re
headed, though mother is sending me up there, you understand.”
Billy’s eyes opened very wide at hearing this. Arthur, too, stared, and
seemed to be puzzled, but quickly went on to say:
“Oh! that’s all right, Gus, we promise to keep as mum as an oyster about
it all. No matter what the reason may be, don’t think we want to pry
into your private affairs. Hugh here has said he’s willing to go along,
and we’ll make up the party without a question.”
“Yes, that’s so,” added Billy, “and while we’re about it let’s settle on
what kind of grub we want to carry along. If we’re likely to be gone as
long as six days, why, we’ll have to figure on enough to last us out. I
can’t afford to lose any of my weight, in starving myself, you
understand, boys.”
This was always a pleasing subject with Billy. He invariably found
himself at home when it came to making up a list of eatables to carry
along. There was little danger of starvation visiting any camp where
Billy Worth was occupying a place at the mess table, and had a hand in
ordering the supplies.
So by the time Hugh and the other fellows got up to go home the
arrangements for the Thanksgiving outing had been pretty well completed.
What little more they might need could be added in the few days that
must elapse before making the start. On the way home Arthur and Hugh
might have incidentally mentioned the fact of Gus acting so strangely in
connection with the trip, only that his being in their company prevented
any such exchange of opinions.
Monday came again after a Sunday that did not differ from any ordinary
day of rest from school duties and labor. Then Tuesday dragged its weary
length along, and finally school was dismissed for the Thanksgiving
holidays.
That night the boys again met at Billy’s house, where the supplies for
the little campaign had been slowly gathered. Hugh was amused at the
immense heap that filled one end of the “den.” Gus, too, wondered
whether there would be any room for a quartette of healthy fellows after
that load had been placed aboard the car.
“Never fear about that,” Billy cheerfully assured them. “You don’t know
how you can stow things away, once you try.”
“Well,” laughed Arthur, “we’ve seen you doing the same stunt lots of
times, Billy, and only wondered if your legs were hollow, because none
of us could guess where you put it all.”
“Leave that to me,” Billy remarked complacently, “and I’ll guarantee
that every bit of this stuff will fit in the car, and then some. I’m an
adept at packing; you see I like comfort so much I’m always carrying
along heaps more than the law allows; and so I’ve had to study the
subject of getting much in little.”
Indeed, when the next morning came, and Gus drew up in his big
seven-passenger car, Billy proved the truth of his bold assertion. He
did succeed in getting every bit of the luggage aboard, and there was
still room for the boys to stow themselves away, though Arthur and Hugh
had to let their legs dangle outside more or less.
The start was made under promising conditions.
“Looks like we might be favored with a spell of real mild weather,”
Billy observed, after they had left Oakvale some miles behind, and were
speeding along the road at a fairly lively pace.
“Indian summer hasn’t come and gone yet, they say,” remarked Gus. “Like
as not this is a spell of the same. But no matter what sort of weather
we strike I’m glad as can be we’ve made the start, and hope things will
turn out for the best.”
Again did Hugh pay attention to some hidden meaning back of what Gus
Merrivale was saying, though neither Billy nor Arthur seemed to notice
anything strange.
“I honestly believe Gus has some sort of reason for wanting to visit
that deserted old lumber camp just at this particular season of the
year,” mused Hugh, as he sat there and paid strict attention to the
scenery along the route. “Besides, when he says his mother is setting
him up to making the trip, and that he didn’t want his father to hear
about it, it looks pretty queer. But then he promised to tell us all
about it later on, so what’s the use bothering any more?”
They were fortunate not to have any “blowout” or other accident on the
way—which Hugh considered lucky, for the car was an old one, only lately
repaired. Miles upon miles were passed over. Gus did not try to make
undue haste; for he entertained a certain amount of suspicion regarding
the propensity of the Atlas to break down.
By degrees they found themselves entering upon a wilder stretch of
country than the region bordering Oakvale. Farms became less frequent,
and stretches of heavily wooded land took their place. Some great gashes
had been made in this valuable timber belt, mainly through the logging
operations carried on by Mr. Merrivale’s gangs of hardy lumbermen.
This year, however, there was nothing going on. Gus explained something
about a strike that had taken place late on the preceding spring, which
had so angered the rich owner of the land that he declared he would not
cut another stick until he could get the right sort of men to contract
with him.
It was not much after ten in the morning when Gus told his chums they
were drawing near the camp. Indeed, the other scouts had already seen
numerous evidences of this fact around them. They were accustomed to
draw their own conclusions.
Gus began to show signs of nervous excitement, Hugh discovered. In fact,
the other was trembling like a leaf as they finally drew up in front of
a long log building evidently serving as the “bunk-house” of the logging
camp.
Without saying a word Gus scrambled out of the car the first thing, and
hurried toward the heavy door of the low structure. Billy was so stiff
he could hardly move without groaning; but both Hugh and the nimble
Arthur were close upon the heels of Gus when he swung open the door,
looked within, and then with a deep sigh exclaimed, evidently greatly
disappointed:
“Oh! the shack is empty! And poor mother’ll break her heart when she
finds out that story was only a mean fraud after all.”