GETTING READY FOR CAMP
"Come on, fellows!" exclaimed Bart, as he stumbled on ahead. "We mustn't
lose sight of him again! There's some mystery about that man. I believe
he stole the diamond bracelet."
Slipping, and almost tripping over sticks, fallen trees, stumps and
stones, the chums hurried on. But the man had a number of advantages. He
had a start of several hundred feet, darkness was coming on, and he
evidently knew the paths through the woods better than did the boys, for
when they caught occasional glimpses of him he appeared to be running at
full speed, whereas they had to go slowly, and pick their way.
At last they could see him no more, and, as it seemed to grow rapidly
darker, the boys were forced to give up the chase.
"Well, wouldn't that get on your nerves?" Bart demanded of his chums, as
they stopped for breath. "That's the third time we've seen that man, and
the second time he's gotten away."
"The next time he sees us he'll know enough to run without waiting to
take a second look at us," observed Frank, grimly.
There was little use lingering longer in the woods, the chums decided,
so, after a last look about, hoping for a sight of the mysterious
stranger, they once more started for home. It was quite dark as they got
out on the main highway, and to their great delight they saw approaching
Jed Sneed, a teamster whom they knew. He readily consented to give them
a ride back to town.
As they were nearing the centre of Darewell Ned exclaimed:
"By jove, I believe it's snowing! I felt a flake on my face."
"You're right," added Bart, a moment later. "It _is_ snowing," and a
little flurry of white flakes confirmed his words.
"Yes, and I don't like to see it," remarked Jed, the teamster, as he
cracked his whip, to hasten the pace of his horses.
"Why not?" asked Frank.
"Because it's a sign we're going to have a long, hard winter," went on
the man, who was rather an odd character, and a great believer in signs
of various kinds. "It's a sure sign of a hard winter when it snows just
before the new moon," Jed went on. "It'll be new moon to-night, and
we're going to have quite a storm. Besides it's down in my almanack that
we're going to have a bad spell of weather about now. I shouldn't wonder
but what we'd have quite a fall before morning," and certainly it seemed
so, for the flurry was increasing.
"Sandy and those fellows will have lots of fun hunting for us," remarked
Ned with a chuckle. "They'll think we've been snowed under."
"I see Sandy Merton, and two or three lads in a wagon, just before I met
you chaps," observed Jed. "They asked me if I'd met you, but I
hadn't--up to then. What's up? Been playing jokes on each other?"
"They tried one on us, but I think it's on them," said Bart. "Well,
here's where I get off, fellows. Come over to-night, and we'll have a
talk," and Bart was about to descend from the wagon, as his street was
reached first.
"Hold on! Wait a minute! Don't get down on that side!" cried Jed,
earnestly.
"What's the matter; is the step on this side broken?" asked Bart, in
some alarm, as he hastily checked himself.
"No, but you started to get down with your left foot first," explained
the teamster. "That's sure to bring the worst kind of bad luck on a
fellow. My team might run away before I get two blocks further. It's a
bad sign to get out with your left foot first. Don't do it."
"Oh, Jed, you're a regular old woman!" exclaimed Bart good-naturedly,
for he and his chums were on familiar terms with the teamster.
Nevertheless the lad did as requested, and changed his position, so as
to leave the wagon in accordance with the superstitious notions of Jed.
"That's better," remarked the man, with an air of relief, as Bart
descended. "Yes," he added, as he drove on, "we're going to have quite a
storm."
He was right, for that night the ground was covered with the white
flakes, but the thermometer did not get down very low.
After supper Bart's three chums called on him, and, a little later they
received an unexpected visit from Sandy Merton and some of his friends.
The latter were much worried when they had gone back to Oak Swamp, and
had failed to find a sign of the candidates whom they had initiated into
the "Shamma Shig" society.
"Say, that's a nice trick to play on a fellow," declared Sandy,
indignantly, when he found that Bart and his friends were safe and snug
at home. "We've been hunting all around that swamp in the dark for you,
and we're all wet and muddy. Why didn't you stay there?"
"Didn't think it was healthy," observed Bart, with a chuckle. "You told
us you wouldn't be back for an hour, so we concluded to leave. You
should tie your ropes better, Sandy."
"We weren't going to leave you there an hour," went on the president of
the secret society. "That was only a joke on you."
"Well, our coming away was only a joke on you," declared Ned with a
grin. "Are we full-fledged members now, Sandy?"
"I suppose so," was the somewhat ungracious answer. Then as Sandy's
chums declared that the manner in which they had been outwitted by the
four chums was perfectly fair, it was agreed to call the incident
closed, and consider the initiation finished.
"You're now regular members," declared Sandy, "and you can come to the
meeting to-night, if you want to."
The chums went to a "hall" that had been fitted up over the barn of
Sandy's uncle. It had all the features of a regular secret society
meeting room, with inner and outer sentinels, a hole cut in the door,
through which doubtful visitors could be scrutinized; and once inside a
more or less blood-curdling ritual was gone through with. But the boys
enjoyed it, and, his good nature restored by presiding at the function,
Sandy told how he and his friends had been much alarmed at finding Bart
and his companions missing, and how they had searched in vain for them.
A thaw, a few days after the storm, removed most of the snow, but it
remained long enough for some coasting, in which our heroes took part.
Meanwhile they had made some guarded inquiries regarding the mysterious
man, but had learned nothing. No one else seemed to have observed him,
or, if they had, they thought nothing of it.
Nor was any trace found of the missing diamond bracelet. The police had
practically given up work on the case, but the boys had not. They felt
the stigma that still attached to them, and they resolved, if it was at
all possible, to remove it. The parents of the lads were somewhat
indignant that there should be even a suspicion against them, but there
seemed to be no help for it, and Mr. Long, thinking to better matters,
offered a reward for the return of the property. But he had no answers.
"Well, Bart, what about camp?" asked Ned, one cold morning in December,
when an overcast sky gave promise of more snow.
"I was just thinking it was time we got down to business about it," was
the reply. "I'm ready to go, if you fellows are. I've spoken to my
folks, and they're willing I should take two weeks out of school,
besides the regular Christmas holidays. There's not much doing the week
before that vacation, and not much the one after. That will give us
nearly a month--the last half of December and the first half of
January."
"Good idea," commented Frank. "I'm sure I can go. Dad is going west to
visit some relatives, and, as I don't care about making the trip, I'm
sure he'll let me go to a winter camp."
"I haven't asked yet, but I'm sure I can go," said Fenn, and Ned was
also hopeful.
"Well, suppose we go down to my house after school, and look over our
camping stuff," suggested Bart, for the tents, stoves and other
paraphernalia was kept in his barn. The boys had gone camping several
times before, both winter and summer, and had a very complete outfit, as
is known to those who have perused the other volumes of this series.
Bart's idea met with favor and, when lessons for the day were over, the
four chums were overhauling cots, inspecting the big tent and seeing if
the portable stove was in good condition. It was a dark, lowering
afternoon, and, since morning, the promise of more snow had been added
to by several flurries of the white flakes.
"Well, everything seems to be in good shape," observed Bart at length.
"We've got about two more weeks of school, and then we'll cut it, and
hike for the woods. We must look up a good place, and you and Stumpy had
better find out for sure if you can go, Ned."
"We will," they promised.
"All right, then come on out, and let's try a few shots," went on Bart.
"I've got some new cartridges, with smokeless powder, and I want to see
how they work."
A little later the four chums were ready to take turns with two rifles
Bart owned. The target was set up in the deserted orchard, and the fun
began.
Bart was easily the best shot of the four, and this was so soon
demonstrated that he consented to take his aim in difficult positions,
such as firing with his back to the target, using a mirror to sight
with. He did other "stunts" which, I have no doubt, some of my readers
have seen done in "Wild West" shows, or on the stage.
"There's no use talking, Bart," observed Ned, "you can put it all over
us when it comes to handling a rifle."
"Well, I've had more practice," said Bart modestly. "You fellows will
do as good when you've had more experience."
"I'm afraid not," spoke Fenn, with a sigh. "Here, see if I can hit that
tin can on the fence post."
He raised the weapon, sighted it carefully, and pulled the trigger. There
was no smoke, for the powder was of the self-consuming type, but a bright
sliver of flame shot from the muzzle of the gun, plainly visible in the
fast-gathering darkness. The can was not touched, but, an instant after
Fenn fired, some one beyond the fence set up a great shouting.
"Great Caesar, Stumpy, you've shot some one!" gasped Bart.
Poor Fenn turned a sickly color, and the rifle fell from his nerveless
hands. The shouts continued, and there was a commotion in the bushes.
A little later Alice Keene, with her hands full of bandages, and
carrying a small medicine chest, rushed from the house and past the
group of terror-stricken lads toward the fence, whence the yells
continued to come.
"Oh!" cried the girl. "I was afraid some one would get hurt when you
boys used those horrid guns! You had better telephone for a doctor,
Bart, while I go see if I can stop the bleeding! Who is hurt?"
"We--we don't know," faltered Fenn. "I was shooting at a can, but I
missed it. I didn't know anybody was in the bushes."
Bart hurried into the house to telephone for a physician, while Alice in
the role of a red-cross nurse, hurried on toward the fence. The shouts
were growing fainter now. The boys, with white faces, followed her.