STEVE'S DREAM COMES TRUE
"Did you hear anything, Max?"
That was the very first thing Steve asked on the following morning, when
he poked his head out of his "hole in the wall" like a shrewd old
tortoise looking around to learn if the coast were clear.
"We listened from time to time," explained Max, "but were never sure
that we heard any strange sound. It seems that you must have been
impressed with it considerably, Steve, to have it on your mind so?"
"I was, Max, and I am right now," admitted the other, frankly. "Listen
to me, while the rest are busy getting breakfast ready over at the
fire,", and his voice sank to a confidential whisper. "I had a dream. It
wasn't so queer that it should come to me, after all that's happened. I
dreamed that we came on that bad cousin of Roland's, Robert Chase. He'd
fallen over a precipice, and was dying there on the rocks. Oh! it was
horribly real, Max, and I woke up shivering. He was sorry, too, because
he had been so wicked, and was asking Roland to please forgive him. And,
Max, I've been wondering whether that dream mightn't have come to me to
let us know we might do a good deed if we walked out that way this
morning, you and me, saying nothing to the rest of the boys."
Max was struck by the thought that Steve must have had a pretty vivid
dream to make him so tender-hearted. At the same time, he felt in accord
with the sentiments so aptly expressed by the other.
"Steve, I'll go you there," he hastened to say. "It can do no harm, and
may be a fine thing. Are you sure you know the direction fairly well?"
"Yes, because I was sharp enough to make a note of it last night, Max.
You see, at the time the wind was coming in a lazy sort of way right out
of the west. Later on it swung around to the northwest, which makes it
so sharp this morning."
"Good for you, Steve," the other told him. "Then we'll head direct into
the west, and cover the ground for, say a mile, coming back over another
route. We can call out now and then, so if any one heard us they might
answer. But you'd better hurry and get your duds on, because, unless I'm
mistaken, Bandy-legs is meaning to sing out that breakfast's ready. And
you know the last to the feast is penalized when the supply runs short."
"No danger of that happening when Bandy-legs has anything to do with the
cooking," chuckled Steve, confidently; which remark proved how well
those four chums knew one another's weak points.
Of course at breakfast most of the conversation had to do with Roland
and his valiant attempt to "make good." He told his new friends many
things that interested them exceedingly, and which were connected with
his struggle. Their questions also brought them quite a fund of
information concerning the habits of foxes, and how those who aim to
raise the valuable animals for the great London fur market, go about the
business.
"As for me," said Bandy-legs, who had been doing considerable thinking
while all this talk went on, "I mean to try and hunt up a few of those
bouncer frogs Roland here says inhabit his marsh. Of course I know that
at this time of year they're deep down in the mud, and meaning to lie
there till spring thaws 'em out; but it may be I can scare up just a
mess. I'm awfully fond of frogs' legs, you may remember, boys."
They all wished him luck. Steve advised him to borrow a spade from the
owner of the woods cabin, for he might have to dig deep. Bandy-legs,
however, only grinned and showed no signs of a change of mind; for once
he set his heart on a thing and he was apt to keep everlastingly at it
until the realization, that it was quite hopeless, would compel him to
throw up the sponge, which Bandy-legs always did with a bad grace.
So breakfast was finally finished, and the boys separated. True to his
promise the would-be frog hunter set out valiantly on his errand, urged
by his love for a dainty dish. Toby had agreed to assist Roland look
after his fox brood, for there were many things he did not yet
understand concerning their care, and which he earnestly wished to know.
This arrangement quite suited Steve and Max, for it left them free to
saunter forth. They announced their intention of taking a little look
around. Steve, of course, picked up his gun before starting, saying:
"You never know when you may want a shooting iron up in the woods. There
might be an old wildcat prowling around these diggings, which would take
a dislike to the shape of my face, so he'd attack us. And I'm homely
enough as it is right now, without inviting a cat to make the map of
Ireland over my phiz."
He and Max showed no signs of being in any unusual hurry as they left
the cabin. They started directly toward the west; and once out of sight
of those left behind, Steve quickened his pace a bit; at least he
"chirked up" and began to show more animation.
"A mile, you said, Max, didn't you!" he asked.
"Why, yes, that ought to fully cover the distance," came the reply. "I
shouldn't think you could have caught any ordinary sound even as far as
that. Still, when the night is calm, it is wonderful how far even a
groan will carry. The atmosphere seems to be in a peculiar condition at
such times, and acts as a splendid medium for conveying sounds."
They looked to the right and to the left as they advanced. Nothing
escaped the eyes of those two chums, accustomed to the "Great Outdoors"
as they were, and having long ago graduated in a knowledge of woodcraft.
Some little time passed thus. They had so far seen and heard nothing
calculated to impress them, though Steve was just as sure the sounds he
caught on the preceding night must have been a human voice crying out in
anguish. Doubtless that vivid dream was also making quite an impression
on the mind of the boy; for Max found him unusually docile and
thoughtful.
They had now gone considerably over half a mile. Max felt that if any
discovery was going to be made, it must come very soon. He raised his
voice occasionally, and gave a half shout; after which both of them
would stand still and strain their hearing in hopes of catching some
answering hail.
Squirrels barked at the intruders of their nut domain; blue jays
screamed harshly as they flitted from limb to limb among adjacent trees;
crows sent forth many noisy caws from atop of some neighboring pine,
watching those moving figures suspiciously the while; and once a deer
suddenly leaped across the trail, with a flip of its short tail, to
speedily vanish amidst the colored foliage of some bushes.
This last event caused Steve to give a real yell, he was so startled.
Hardly had he done this than he gripped the sleeve of his comrade.
"Did you hear that. Max? Was it an echo to my whoop; or did somebody
really call out in a weak voice! Anyway, it seemed to come from right
over there," and he pointed confidently as he spoke.
Max himself was of the same opinion, for he felt almost certain that a
human voice had tried to attract their attention, though possibly the
person giving utterance to the cry was so weak that he could not make
much effort.
They changed their course a little, and headed directly toward the
region whence Steve had pointed so positively. When Max held the other
up presently and called again, all doubt was removed.
"Here, this way! I'm in pretty bad shape, I guess. Don't leave me,
please, whoever you are. I'll pay you a hundred dollars to get me out of
this scrape!"
Evidently, the speaker, whom Max decided must be Robert Chase, and no
other, supposed the persons approaching, and whose voices he had heard,
must be woods guides who might consider themselves fortunate indeed to
earn such a royal sum so easily.
Two minutes afterwards and the boys found him. He must have fallen into
the hole while hurrying through the forest, after breaking away from the
grip of the boys at the cabin. He had been severely cut by a sharp
flint-like rock, and lost considerable blood, which weakened him so
that, as he afterwards confessed to them, he must have swooned away,
and lain there for hours unaware of his perilous condition.
The two boys soon managed to get the young man up on level ground. As
often happened, it was Max who conceived the easiest way of doing this.
To lift a dead weight of a hundred and fifty pounds is no light task,
and so he started to break away one side of the pit, thus raising the
bottom of the interior until they were able to simply _carry_ Robert out
of the hole.
Steve was loud in his expressions of admiration.
"Whoever else would have thought up such a clever piece of business,
Max, but you?" he went on to say, as they rested after their effort.
"Why, if it'd been me in charge now, I reckon I'd have gone to all sorts
of trouble rigging up some sort of block-and-tackle, so as to hoist him
up; but you just knock down a part of the wall, and there you are, as
neat as wax. Wherever did you learn that trick, I want to know, Max?"
"You'll laugh if I tell you," chuckled the other. "One day in reading
about how some musty old professors are digging out all sorts of weighty
treasures belonging to bygone days over in. Egypt, I chanced to learn
how a certain Arab contracted to excavate a big stone weighing ever so
many tons, and which the learned savant could not see how they were ever
going to get out of the deep hole. Well, that Arab just kept filling up
the hole, and lifting the stone inch by inch. When he finished there
was no hole, but the great rock stood on level ground. And that, Steve,
they say is old-time mechanical engineering, which has never been beaten
in these modern days. The Pyramids were built in that simple way. Human
lives and labor counted for little in those old times."
"All I can say is, Max, it takes you to apply whatever you read to
working out your own problems. But however are we going to get this man
back to the cabin! Must we build a litter and carry him?"
Robert seemed to be suffering from something more than physical anguish.
A tortured mind can stab even more keenly than painful bodily wounds.
Lying there and facing possible death, Robert Chase had evidently seen a
great light. He beckoned to the boys to bend over him, and then in a
weak voice went on to say:
"I don't know just how badly I'm hurt, young fellows, but I do know that
I'm done with this miserable business. I've got just what I deserve, and
it may be the best thing that ever happened to me. During the time I lay
here and had my senses, I've made up my mind to ask my cousin Roland to
forgive me, and let me make amends for the evil I've tried to do. I know
now that it doesn't pay in the long run, for I've come near losing all
my self-respect. Yes, get me to the camp, if you can. I want to face the
music, and have it over with. Something seems to tell me that the boy
isn't the one to hold a grudge against a chap who's been punished
already for doing an evil deed."
That sort of talk pleased Max immensely. He saw that Robert Chase must
have been having a terrible conflict between his better nature and the
insatiate craving for wealth; and now that a wise Providence had stepped
in to nip all his plots in the bud, why things began to look very bright
all around.
It was found that with one of the boys on either side, Robert could
manage to walk fairly well, although they often had to stop and let him
rest.
It took them a full two hours to get back to the cabin, where their
arrival created considerable excitement. At the moment, Roland was out
somewhere attending to his pets, and so the injured man was made as
comfortable as possible by Toby and Bandy-legs, the latter of whom had
just come in carrying a pretty fair mess of frogs' legs all dressed for
the frying-pan.
Then when Roland came along, to be told what had happened, and how his
cousin was anxious to see him alone, he looked actually pleased at the
queer turn affairs had taken. He went in and was with Robert for quite a
long time. They must have had a good heart-to-heart talk, for when
Roland appeared again, he was smiling broadly, and hastened to say:
"We've not only patched up a truce, boys, but made an enduring covenant.
After this there's not going to be any war in the Chase family; and now
that Robert has humbled himself to confess his wrong-doing, I believe
we're going to be the best of friends. I've promised him, without his
asking it, that I'll never tell a single soul about what happened up
here. You must agree to the same thing, for my sake. I feel sure you'll
all like Robert, when you get to know him."
"Who can tell," muttered Toby, as if to himself; "in time we might even
g-g-get _familiar_ with him. Stranger things than that have happened. I
only hope he won't hold a g-g-grudge against me when he sees the mark of
all my f-f-fingernails down his face."
"Just now, Toby, he isn't in a mood to bear anybody a grudge," Roland
went on to say; "for he believes he didn't get half that he merited. But
after all it's come out a thousand per cent better than I ever dreamed
it would. And when I start off with my pair of grown cubs I needn't be
afraid of any one waylaying me on the road."
"All the same," observed Steve, raising his heavy eyebrows suggestively,
"we'll see to it that you have plenty of company on the way. Since the
object of our trip up here into the heart of the Adirondacks has been
fulfilled, I rather reckon we'll be wanting to go along with you, to see
the fox pups handed over, and that lovely check received. Afterwards we
can all start for Carson, where you and your good old aunt may have a
family reunion all to yourselves; unless you see fit to invite Uncle
Sephus, Uncle Nicodemus, Uncle Job, or some of those old worthies to
join with you, so as to make things hum."
They all laughed at Steve's humorous remark.
"B-b-but what's to be d-d-done with this p-p-pretty thing?" demanded
Toby, pointing as he spoke to their prisoner, who was sitting outside
the door, having one of his ankles held fast with a trailing rope, so
that he could not run away, even if tempted to do so; which, considering
his helpless condition, with both hands tied behind his back, he was
hardly in the humor to do.