ON THE WAY TO BIG BEAR LAKE
“Off at last for Big Bear Lake!”
“This is the life, boys! We ought to have a dandy time!”
“Right you are, Fred! Oh, my, what fishing!”
“Yes, and what boating and bathing, Andy!”
“I wonder if Gif and Spouter will be on hand to meet us?”
“They said so in that telegram I got last night,” answered Jack.
“Sure, they’ll be on hand,” broke in Randy. “They never disappointed us
yet.”
The four Rover boys were seated in a Pullman car that was whisking them
rapidly toward Boston. Each had a suitcase with him and numerous other
things to be taken to the camp.
Fourth of July had come and gone with its usual festivities. In his
grip Andy carried an imitation giant firecracker filled with nothing
more dangerous than collars, neckties and handkerchiefs. With this
giant firecracker he had scared several of the servants half to death,
thinking he was going to blow up the kitchen of the house in which he
lived.
It was an ideal summer day and the boys sat by the windows enjoying the
scenery as it rushed past them. All were in the best of humor.
“This isn’t like going out to Big Horn Ranch,” said Fred, a bit
wistfully. “I’m afraid we’ll miss the cattle and the cowboys and all
that.”
“I’d like to get a crack at a bear,” came from Fred. “Gee, wouldn’t it
be a feather in our cap to bring down a big fellow!”
“How about it if the bear came along and brought you down by hugging
you to death?” questioned Jack dryly.
“Pooh! who’s afraid of bears?” answered the stout young Rover.
The boys had left New York after an early breakfast and one o’clock
found them at the South Station of the Hub. As they came forth from the
smoky train shed, suitcases and bundles in hand, Gif and Spouter rushed
forward to meet them.
“Well, I see you’ve got here safe and sound!” cried Gif.
“Now we can catch the two o’clock train for Rocky Run,” put in Spouter.
“Come ahead. We can get a couple of taxicabs right outside.”
“I thought maybe you’d want to stay in Boston all night and start for
Rocky Run in the morning,” remarked Randy, who had not visited the Hub
many times and who would have liked to look around the city.
“Oh, come ahead! We want to get to Rocky Run as soon as we can!” cried
Spouter. “Don’t you say so too, Jack?”
“It’s up to Gif,” answered Jack. “We’re his guests, you know.”
“Oh, stow that, Jack,” answered Gif quickly. “We’re going up to
Big Bear Lake on an equal footing. Nobody is to be boss. This is a
free-for-all,” and he gave a happy little laugh.
Having piled into two taxicabs, it did not take Gif and his guests long
to reach the North Station. Here they procured tickets for Rocky Run
and then found they had still half an hour to wait for a train.
“Let’s get some books and magazines to take along and maybe a game or
two,” suggested Fred. “We may want something to read or to play if we
strike bad weather. You know how dull a week of rain can be in camp.”
The boys procured a number of newspapers and magazines and some
packages of candy, and in a little while the train for Rocky Run
rolled into the station. All this while Gif was looking around
anxiously.
“What’s up, Gif? Are you expecting somebody?” questioned Jack.
“I am. But it looks as if he wasn’t coming,” answered Gif. “It’s just
like him. He’s the slowest fellow I know. But dad said we might as well
take him along. There’s nothing much for him to do at home just now.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Jeff, our hired man. Dad said we might as well take
him up to the bungalow to do the cooking and some of the other work.”
“Gee! a colored man, eh?” exclaimed Andy. “We’re to go up there in
style!”
“I’d rather not have him along,” answered Gif. “But dad said we might
as well take him and make him earn his salary. You see the folks are
not at home a great deal, and that doesn’t leave Jeff much to do.”
As Gif was speaking a tall, ungainly-looking colored man, wearing
a pepper and salt suit and a light derby hat, shuffled into view,
carrying a valise in one hand and a bundle done up in a newspaper in
the other. As he came closer he began to smile languidly.
“I’d an awful walk reachin’ here, Mistah Gif,” he remarked, as he let
his bag and bundle drop. “Awful walk! I got all tangled up in them
roundabout streets. Never did see no streets like these here ones in
Boston.”
“I thought you wouldn’t get here, Jeff,” answered Gif. “Get aboard. The
train is about to start. Boys, this is Jefferson Adams Lincoln Wilson,
always called Jeff for short. Jeff, this is Sir Spouter and these are
the Mr. Rovers, number one, two, three and four.”
“Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” responded the lanky colored man, bowing
profoundly all around. “Yes, sir! One, two, three, four! That’s easy,
yes, sir,” and then he followed the boys as they boarded the train.
“How far is it to Rocky Run?” questioned Fred, after the crowd had
seated themselves with Jeff just behind them.
“It will take us about four hours to get there on this train,” answered
Gif. “We run as far as Hammingwood on the main line and then switch off
to Rocky Run.”
“In that case we won’t reach Rocky Run until almost dark,” answered
Jack. “Do you think we can get to the bungalow to-night?”
“Dad said if we couldn’t we were to ask old Mose Mumbleton if he
couldn’t put us up all night. He said he was almost certain Mose could
accommodate us, for he often accommodates fishing parties.”
“Then that’s all right. We wouldn’t want to get lost on the lake in the
darkness,” put in Randy.
“Why not? It would be a barrel of fun,” added his twin carelessly.
“Has Jeff ever been up there?” asked Fred in a low tone.
“Oh, yes. He’s been up there several times. That’s one reason dad
wanted us to have him along. He said Jeff could show us where the best
fishing places were and all that sort of thing. Besides, Jeff has quite
a reputation when it comes to serving fish. That’s his specialty.”
“Well, we’ve got to catch the fish before we have ’em served,” remarked
Jack dryly.
“There’s only one trouble with Jeff. He’s very lazy, and apt to go to
sleep if you give him half a chance. Otherwise, he isn’t a half bad
sort.”
The Rover boys and Spouter soon had evidence of Jeff’s failing, for the
train had been traveling for less than half an hour when, on glancing
back, the boys saw that Jeff was leaning back in the seat with eyes
closed, evidently sleeping soundly.
“I’ll bet he isn’t of a worrying disposition,” was Fred’s comment.
“I don’t believe he ever worried about anything,” answered Gif.
“I think I’ll give him a little bit to worry about,” murmured Andy,
tearing a long slip of transparent paper from one of the candy packages
the boys had purchased. Taking the slip, Andy rolled it into a long
taper with a pointed end. Then he walked down the aisle and took a
place in a vacant seat directly behind the sleeping colored man.
Reaching over, he began to tickle Jeff in his ear. The colored man paid
no attention for a few seconds. But then, very slowly, his hand came up
and he brushed his ear. This operation was repeated several times, and
caused all of the boys to snicker. Then Andy reached over and tickled
Jeff in the nose.
Ker choo! Ker choo! Jeff suddenly awoke with a start and began to
sneeze vigorously. As he did this, Andy dropped out of sight while the
others pretended to be busy with their papers and magazines.
“My, my! I must be ketchin’ cold,” murmured the colored man. “I guess
I’d better close that window,” and he suited the action to the word
by bringing the window down with a bang. Then he settled himself for
another nap.
Again the end of the pointed taper came in contact with his ear, and
again Jeff slapped not once but several times at an imaginary fly. Then
once more Andy applied the pointed paper to his nose.
This time the sneezing that followed brought more results than had been
expected. Poor Jeff bobbed up suddenly, and then his head came down
violently in contact with the seat in front of him.
“My land sakes!” he wailed. “What am the mattah with my nose?” and then
he sneezed again.
“You sure are catching a cold, Jeff. Better take another seat where
there’s less draft,” suggested Gif.
“I knowed yeste’day I was ketchin’ cold,” answered the colored man
slowly. “I was in the kitchen at your house workin’ and they had the
window open. I was sure I was goin’ to ketch cold. I can’t stand no
draft nohow,” and he shuffled away to another seat in the extreme
corner of the car.
“Some fun, Andy, I’ll say,” remarked Randy, with glistening eyes,
as his twin rejoined him. “I think Jeff is going to give us many a
pleasant time while we’re up at Big Bear Lake.”
“I’ll say so,” was the quick reply.
“You take care that Jeff doesn’t discover what you’re up to,”
admonished Jack. “He may not like it a bit.”
“Oh, Jeff is too lazy to notice most things,” answered Gif. “Just the
same, I wouldn’t stir him up too much,” he added, after a moment’s
reflection.
Quickly the afternoon wore away, and a little after six o’clock the
boys arrived at the little station of Rocky Run. Here they alighted,
followed by Jeff, who had all he could do to carry his own baggage and
did not attempt to assist any of the others.
The lads found that Rocky Run consisted of nothing more than half a
dozen houses, a general store and post-office, the railroad station,
and half a dozen boathouses. Over the store was the sign:
MOSES MUMBLETON
_General Merchandise_
_Laundry Agency_
_Rocky Run Post-Office_
_Justice of the Peace_
_Notary Public_
_Boats to Hire_
_Orders taken for Cord Wood_
“Looks as if Mose did a little bit of everything,” was Jack’s comment,
with a grin.
“He’s about the whole shooting match up here, I guess,” answered Gif.
“Come on! Let’s leave our baggage here in a heap and go over to the
store.”
With Gif and Jack in advance, the six boys left the railroad station
and walked across a broad roadway to where the general store was
located. This was in a long and broad two-story wooden building with a
one-story addition in the rear. In front was a piazza with two steps, a
broad double door, and two show windows filled with various goods which
had evidently been there on exhibition for some time.
As the boys entered the establishment it was so dark inside they could
for the moment make out but little. Then they saw an elderly man with
a heavy gray beard leaning on a broad counter in the rear talking
earnestly to two young fellows who were evidently customers.
“Well, that’s the price,” the man behind the counter was saying. “I
can’t sell those goods for any less.”
“It’s a fierce price, I’ll say,” remarked one of the would-be customers.
“We could get those things much cheaper in the city,” put in the other
youth standing at the counter.
At the sound of the two voices Jack clutched Gif by the arm.
“What do you know about this, Gif!” he gasped. “Am I dreaming, or is
that really Tommy Flanders?”
“It’s Flanders all right enough,” answered Gif. “And Paul Halliday is
with him. Now what in the world brought those two fellows up here?”