AT WHISPERING PINE LODGE
BY LAWRENCE J. LESLIE
1919
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE HALT ON THE ADIRONDACK CARRY
II. GRIPPED BY A GIANT'S UNSEEN HANDS
III. OBED GRIMES BOBS UP
IV. BANDY-LEGS SUSPECTS
V. PACKING OVER THE "CARRY"
VI. THE LODGE OF MANY WONDERS
VII. THE YOUNG MAGICIAN
VIII. PRODUCTS OF THE FUR FARM
IX. LAYING PLANS TO HELP OBED
X. TRAPS FOR NIGHT PROWLERS
XI. A TREE THAT BORE STRANGE FRUIT
XII. THE TAPS ON THE CABIN WALL
XIII. OBED LEARNS SOMETHING
XIV. A BIG SURPRISE
XV. STEVE'S DREAM COMES TRUE
XVI. THE FUR FARMER'S TRIUMPH--CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
THE HALT ON THE ADIRONDACK CABBY
"Where's Touch-and-Go Steve, fellows?"
"Why, Max, he slipped away with his little steel-jointed fishing-rod as
soon as he heard you say we'd stop here over night. And I saw him
picking some fat white grubs out of those old rotten stumps we passed at
the time we rested, an hour back. Huh! just like Slippery Steve to get
out of the hard work we've going to have cutting enough brush for making
our shanty shelter tonight; seeing that we didn't fetch our bully old
tent along this trip. He's a nice one, I should say."
"N-n-never you m-m-mind about Steve, Bandy-legs. He t-t-told me he
_knew_ he c-c-could yank a m-m-mess of fine trout out of that c-c-creek,
where it looked so s-s-shallow just back there. He's m-m-meaning to
w-w-wade in, too, I reckon, and when you s-s-smell the fish c-c-cooking
you'll be s-s-sorry you said what you did."
"Well, let's get a move on, and start that shanty. I chose this place
partly on account of there being so much brush handy, you see."
"Sure you did, Max. It takes you to notice things that miss our eyes.
Here, let me handle the hatchet, because you see I was such a truthful
little shaver away back that my folks often regretted they hadn't named
me George Washington."
"All I c-c-can say then, Bandy-legs, they b-b-builded wiser than they
knew when they j-j-just let it g-g-go at regrets. A f-f-fine George
Washington you'd m-m-make, I'm thinking."
The boy answering to the peculiar name of "Bandy-legs" laughed
good-naturedly as he began to swing the sharp-edged hatchet, and cut
down some of the required brush which, having camped many times before,
he knew was suitable for their requirements.
Besides this sturdy young chap with the lower limbs that were a little
bowed, and which fact had doubtless suggested such a nickname to his
schoolmates, there were two others busily engaged in gathering the
material to be used in affording them a rude, but effective shelter
during the coming night.
The one whom they called Max seemed to be looked upon as a leader, for
it is absolutely necessary that in every pack of boys some one takes the
initiative. His whole name was Max Hastings, and on numberless occasions
he had shown an aptitude for "doing things" when the occasion arose,
that gained him the respect of his chums. For a complete record of these
achievements the reader is referred to earlier volumes of this series,
where between the covers will be found much interesting and instructive
reading.
The third boy of the trio in sight was Toby Jucklin. While Toby was
certainly agile enough when it came to acrobatic stunts, and such things
as boys are fond of indulging in, his vocal cords often loved to play
sad pranks with his manner of speech. As the reader has already
discovered, Toby was fain to stutter in the most agonizing fashion. When
one of these fits came upon him he would get red in the face, and show
the greatest difficulty in framing certain words. Then all of a sudden,
as though taking a grip on himself, Toby would stop short, draw in a
long breath, give a sharp whistle, and strange to say, start talking as
plainly as the next one.
In time perhaps he would conquer this weakness, which after all is only
caused by nervousness, and a desire to rattle out words.
There was a fourth chum also, the Steve spoken of and who had slipped
away with his new steel-jointed bait-rod, and a handful of fat grubs, as
soon as he heard Max say they had gone far enough on their way. Steve,
being one of those hasty lads who do a thing while many people would be
only figuring it out, had long ago fallen heir to a number of suggestive
nicknames, among others "Touch-and-Go Steve," and "Old Lightning."
These four lads were a long ways from their home town of Carson, nestled
on the Evergreen River, and near which we have seen them in the earlier
books of this series successfully carry out numerous of their
undertakings.
In fact they were deep in the wildest part of the famous Adirondacks at
the time we run across them on this particular occasion. There was not a
town within many miles, nor for that matter a regular camp where summer
guests were entertained. The difficulties to be encountered along this
"carry" were so great that ordinary excursionists avoided it severely.
Indeed, few fishermen ever invaded these solitudes, although there were
undoubtedly many places where trout of generous size might be picked up.
All this would make it seem a bit queer that Max and his three chums
should venture into this section of the wilderness without a guide
along; so perhaps it might be wise to enter upon explanations while the
opportunity is open.
Now these tried and true chums had had strange things happen to them
before, but they were well agreed that their present undertaking far
exceeded everything else that had ever come their way, at least so far
as its being a romantic quest was concerned.
Everything combined to make it seem a page torn from one of those
old-time fairy books they used to love to read when much younger, and
more gullible. In the first place, it was a wonderful piece of luck that
came their way, when the School Directors agreed, after the summer was
half over, that the school buildings required considerable alterations
in order to make them sanitary for the coming winter; and really a
special providence that watches over the fortunes of boys and girls must
have caused the carpenters and masons to go on a protracted strike, so
that when this had been finally settled there was not nearly time enough
left in which to complete the extensive repairs.
School had started, and gone along in a rough-and-ready fashion for some
weeks; but everybody was "sore" about it. The builders complained that
they could not accomplish half the work they should, because of the
annoyance of having so many children trotting around, and bothering
them. And the teachers were almost distracted on account of the constant
pounding together with the presence of rough men, who broke in upon
classes, and forced them to vacate certain rooms because they had to do
something there.
And so along about the first of October the School Board wisely
concluded that a vacation of some two weeks would do far less harm to
the scholars than a continuation of these interruptions. Besides, the
teachers on their part threatened to also strike unless relief came
promptly.
Imagine the delight of such fellows as Max, Bandy-legs, Steve and Toby
Jucklin, all of whom loved life in the open so much, when they got the
chance to further indulge this propensity, especially at the most
glorious time of the whole year, when the nut crop was coming on, the
trees turning red and yellow from the magical touch of Jack Frost's cold
fingers, with a tang in the air that made a fellow twice as hungry as he
ever got in the hot old summer-time.
And then, as though Fate had determined to make this the most wonderful
of periods in all their checkered careers, a thing happened that seemed
just like one of those old but once much beloved fairy stories.
Perhaps, by listening to the workers exchanging comments as they gather
the necessary brush, which later on would be fashioned into a shelter
capable of shedding even a moderate amount of rain, we may be able to
pick up enough general information to understand the nature of their
mission up into the Adirondacks.
Bandy-legs was speaking at the time. He had a little fault in the way of
often showing a disposition to look at the darker side of things; and
doubtless being unusually tired, after a hard day's tramp, with such a
heavy pack on his back, had something to do with his spirit of
complaining on the present occasion.
"Well, all I can say, fellows," he remarked, as he carried an armful of
the stuff he had been gathering to the spot where Max had already
commenced to erect the sides of the squatty shelter by driving stakes
into the ground, "is that I hope we haven't come all the way up here on
a reg'lar fool's errand. It'd cost Mrs. Hopewell a pretty good sum, and
be a real disappointment to her, if after all we didn't find that
good-for-nothing nephew of hers, Roland Chase. Honest to goodness now,
I'm a little inclined to believe he'll be leading us a wild-goose Chase,
if you want my opinion."
"Oh! l-l-let up, c-c-can't you, Bandy-legs!" spluttered the indignant
Toby, pausing for a minute to wipe the beads of perspiration from his
brow, and regain his breath in the bargain. "You're g-g-getting to be a
regular old g-g-granny, that's what, with all your d-d-dismal
p-p-prophesies. Tell me, d-d-did we _ever_ f-f-fail yet in anything we
undertook? C-c-course we haven't. Right in the start we found all those
b-b-bully p-p-pearls in those mussels we g-g-gathered in the Big
Sunflower River, and laid away a n-n-nice n-n-nest-egg in bank for the
crowd. Sure we'll f-f-find Roland Chase; we've just g-g-got to, that's
all."
"All I want to say about it, boys," observed Max, "is that I admire the
grit of the boy. They told us he was something of a dude, didn't they,
and that his rich uncle was afraid he'd never amount to much anyhow; so
what did he do but make a most _extraordinary_ will; at least, everybody
who's heard about that proviso says so. I heard Judge Perkins say though
he guessed the old man knew boys better than most folks, and had taken
a wise course to prove whether this Roland had any snap in him or not."
"Well, he was left just two thousand dollars cash down," said
Bandy-legs, in a thoughtful manner, as though reviewing the singular
circumstance, "and if at the end of two years he could show that he had
doubled that amount, besides earning his own living, why he was to come
into two-thirds of his uncle's fortune. Some of our Carson people who
know folks over in Sagamore where the uncle lived tell whopping big
stories about the size of that fortune. I heard one man say he reckoned
it was as much as two hundred thousand dollars, in all."
"The funny part of it is," resumed Max, shaking his head in a way rather
odd for him, "that immediately after Roland received his two thousand in
cash he disappeared from the scene. That was almost two years ago; and
from that day nobody in Sagamore has ever had a peep at him. The fact is
he might almost be dead. Once his other aunt, Mrs. Hopewell, who lives
now in Carson, had a few lines from Roland. He simply said he was alive
and well, and that he had hopes of seeing her again one of these fine
days."
"Yes, that's r-r-right," burst out Toby, in a disgusted tone, "but not a
p-peep did he give about what he was d-d-doing, or if he meant to show
up and c-c-claim his f-f-fine f-f-fortune. And all she could make out
was that the p-p-postmark on the l-l-letter was Piedmont, N.Y., which
on looking up we f-f-found was away up here in the h-h-heart of the old
Adirondacks."
"Well," said Max, still working industriously away, "Mrs. Hopewell is
getting very much concerned about Roland. Somehow she seemed to fancy
the boy, though no one else thought he'd ever amount to anything,
because he used to like to wander around in the woods all the while, or
go fishing, instead of studying. But I guess those people hadn't ever
been boys themselves; and all of us can appreciate this liking for the
open that Roland showed."
"And so," pursued Bandy-legs after the fashion of a story-teller who
had-reached a crisis in his tale, "she asked Max here if he wouldn't be
willing to undertake a trip to the mountains with several of his good
chums, meaning us, fellows, to try and locate the missing Roland, and
bring back some encouraging news; for the good old soul is in great fear
that the second year will soon be finished, and unless Roland is able to
show four thousand dollars in cash, most of the estate will go to his
older cousin, Frederick. Mrs. Hopewell dislikes this chap very much,
because she says he is a bad man, who drinks, and gambles, and does all
sorts of things old ladies detest. Well, we took her up in a jiffy as
soon as we heard the glorious news about school being closed for two
weeks; and as she foots all the bills, we're bound to have a jolly time
of it, even if we don't run across Roland; and I think that is like
looking for a needle in a haystack."
That was a pretty long speech for even Bandy-legs to make, and yet it
covered considerable of the ground, and explained just how it came that
Max and his three comrades chanced to be so far away from the home town.
The boys were just about to turn their attention once more to the work
that had been undertaken when all of them suddenly stopped and listened.
"That was Steve yelling then, I reckon," snapped the owner of the bowed
legs, "but honest Injun, I didn't make out what he said. Mebbe now he
struck a whopper of a trout, and was giving one of his whoops. You all
know how excited Steve does get if anything out of the way happens."
"L-l-listen!" cried Toby Jncklin, jumping to his feet. "D-d-didn't it
sound like he was yelpin' help?"
"Just what it seemed like to me!" exclaimed Max. "Something may have
happened to Steve, because he's always getting himself in trouble. Come
along, fellows, and we'll soon find out. There, he's whooping it up
again."
And this time every one of the trio of running boys could plainly detect
something approaching agony in the thrilling cry of "Help, oh! hurry up,
fellows! Help!"