THE JONES BOY COMES TO GRIEF AT LAST.
THERE was a rumbling sound, not unlike the roar of a heavy freight train
coming down the grade of a mountain. All of the scouts plainly felt the
cabin quiver as though in the throes of an earthquake.
Then succeeded a crash, as the further end was knocked out. For a moment
Thad really feared they were done for, and his very heart seemed to
stand still with dread. Then, as the awful sounds died away, save for
the patter of small stuff on the cabin roof, he breathed naturally
again.
Whatever it was that had happened, no one had been hurt; and at least
they could find consolation in this.
"It's an earthquake!" exclaimed Bumpus, being the very first to recover
the use of his voice.
"A landslide, you mean!" echoed Giraffe, contrary minded.
"Thad, you say?" asked Step Hen; just as though the leader could
determine the nature of the calamity better than any one else.
"I think Giraffe struck it about right," Thad answered.
"You mean part of the hillside caved away?" further questioned Bumpus.
"Must have been the whole mountain top, by the racket it kicked up,"
Davy Jones grumbled; "say, my heart turned upside down; and I'll have to
stand on my head to get it to working again the right way."
"And look at what it did to our snug old cabin; tore the whole end off!"
observed Step Hen, ruefully. "Now, if it happened to be a cold night,
why, we'd just be freezing to death, that's what. Anybody seen my cap
around; my hair stood up on end with the scare, and I must have dropped
it? Thank you, Allan, for picking it up. I do have the worst luck about
losing my things you ever saw."
"Seems to me," remarked Allan, soberly, "that instead of complaining the
way you fellows are doing, we ought to be mighty thankful it wasn't any
worse."
"Yes, that's what I was thinking," Smithy added, as he let go Allan's
arm, which he must have unconsciously gripped in his sudden fright;
"what if we had run to that end of the cabin, things would look somewhat
different right now."
"Ugh! guess that's right," Giraffe admitted; "and for one I ain't goin'
to make any more complaint. But what under the sun was it hit us?"
"A big rock must have dropped down from the side of the mountain, and
tore out the end of the old cabin," Thad explained. "It came on this
night of all nights, just when we happened to be camped here. And the
cabin has stood unharmed for as much as thirty years, Bob White says."
"I call that queer, now," said Bumpus.
"It's more than that, Bumpus," Smithy remarked, in his most mysterious
manner; "I'd call it highly significant, if you asked my opinion."
"Wow! listen to that, would you?" exclaimed Step Hen, shuddering again.
"He means that the rock was smashed down by somebody who wanted to chase
us out of this region. And that must be our old friend, Phin Dady, the
moonshiner!"
Thad bent down, and proceeded to light a handy little lantern which one
of the boys had carried for emergencies.
"I'm going to take a look out, and see what struck us," he remarked.
"Be careful, Thad," warned Allan; "another rock might follow the first."
"And if you hear the least suspicious sound, jump for all that's out,"
added Bumpus, ready to admire the nerve of one who could face danger so
readily, even though not capable of imitating Thad's example himself.
"Oh! I reckon there's little chance of anything like that happening,"
the other sent back, with a little laugh, as though he wanted to cheer
his chums up; "you know, they say lightning never strikes in the same
place twice. It's taken thirty years for a rock to hit this cabin,
though plenty must have slid down the side of the mountain in that time.
Be back in a jiffy, boys."
With that he stepped out of the door, which had been burst open when the
log structure received such a terrific jolt. The other boys clustered
there by the revived fire, exchanging views, and waiting for the return
of those who had gone outside; for Bob White had silently followed Thad,
as though he felt that since it was through his invitation that the
scouts were placed in this predicament, he ought to do everything in his
power to ease the strain.
When they entered again in less than ten minutes, of course a
bombardment of eager questions saluted them.
"Slow up, fellows," Thad said, laughingly. "If I tried to answer you
all, I'd be apt to get my tongue twisted some, and that's a fact. Yes,
it _was_ a rock that did the damage, just as we guessed. It rolled down
from somewhere above; but we could only guess at that, it's so dark out
there. And after taking a look at the size of the same, Bob and myself
made up our minds we had reason to be mighty thankful that it only
touched the end of the cabin, instead of hitting it square in the
center."
"But whoever started it rolling?" demanded Bumpus; and it was evident
from the way the others waited to hear what Thad would say to this, that
they laid great stress on the answer.
"Well," returned the other, soberly, "of course we couldn't make dead
certain, but after seeing the heft of that rock we believed that it was
never started by any human hands. The rain and storm must have
undermined it."
Bumpus heaved a big sigh of relief.
"Well," said he, "I'm glad of that. It's bad enough to think you're
bein' bombarded by rocks that just take a silly notion to drop when we
come along; but it'd be a heap sight worse if the men of the Big Smokies
were throwing such pebbles at us, haphazard. Whew! I'm hungry, fellers;
who says grub?"
That was just like a boy, to remember his natural appetite right on the
heels of the greatest fright of his whole life. And as the others
admitted to feeling somewhat the same way, there ensued a bustle to see
how soon supper could be gotten ready.
The members of the Silver Fox Patrol were no longer greenhorns, though
one or two of them gave evidence that they had not yet graduated from
the tenderfoot class. They had learned a great deal about the things
that are connected with a camp life, because they had spent some time
under canvas on Lake Omega, which lay not many miles from their home
town.
And then again, Thad had belonged to a troop of scouts before coming to
Cranford; while, as for Allan, he had been through the mill so often up
in Maine and elsewhere, that he was, as Bumpus declared, a "walking
edition of what to do, and what not to do when in the woods."
It is true that on this big hike through the mountains they were
compelled to travel very light, and would miss many of the things that
had added greatly to their comfort on that other occasion. But then it
was their desire to learn how to rough it, taking the knocks with the
good things.
By this time some of the lads were beginning to believe that they would
rub up against plenty of the "knocks" all right; especially if things
kept on as they had commenced since striking this wonderful "Land of the
Sky."
The supper put them in something like their customary good humor.
Indeed, as they sat around the fire afterwards, Bumpus was induced to
sing several of their school songs, so that the whole of them might join
in the rollicking chorus. Strange sounds indeed to well up out of that
valley, so lately the theater of a war between the elements, as
lightning and rain vied with each other to produce a panic in the
breasts of these same boys who now sang and joked as though they had not
a care in the world.
Only Bob White remained very quiet. Thad often glanced toward the
Southern lad, with sympathy in his look. He could easily understand
that, with their arrival in this mountainous region, where the other had
spent many of his earlier years, old memories must be revived, some
pleasant, and possibly others of a disagreeable nature.
Finally they agreed that it would be wise to get some sleep, as another
day lay before them. And accordingly, in the customary fashion, the
bugler sounded "taps," and each scout tried to find a soft board, upon
which he might rest his weary body during the hours that must elapse
before dawn arrived.
A watch was kept up, one fellow taking an hour at a time, and then
arousing the next on the list; so that at no time was the cabin
unguarded while the night slowly passed.
But nothing happened to disturb the scouts; and as morning came at last
they began to get up and stretch, rubbing their limbs as though the hard
bed had not been the nicest thing possible. But there was little
grumbling. They had learned to take things as they came; which is one of
the finest results of Boy Scout experience. The philosophy of the woods
teaches that in the very start--try for the best results; but after you
have done your best, accept the situation with cheerfulness.
Again the notes of the bugle sounded the "assembly," as breakfast was
declared ready; and half an hour later they left their shelter of the
night.
"Good-bye old cabin!" sang out Bumpus, waving his fat hand back toward
the wrecked log house; "you treated us pretty decent after all, and
we'll never forget you. Long may you wave, and offer shelter to other
pilgrims storm chased!"
As the sun climbed above the rim of the encircling mountains the spirits
of the boys mounted in proportion. Davy Jones was up to his usual
pranks, being hard to control. They would miss him for a short time,
only to hear a whoop; and looking up, discover the acrobatic boy hanging
by his knees, or it might be his toes, from the limb of a tree, thirty
feet or more above the ground.
Thad knew from experience that it was next to impossible to restrain the
Jones boy; he must have his frolic out; and so they only laughed at his
antics, and wondered what next the daring Davy would attempt.
Ten minutes later he was seen standing on his head on the edge of what
appeared to be a deep ravine or gulch, and kicking his heels in the air.
All sorts of dire things had always been predicted as going to overtake
Davy sooner or later, unless he gave up these venturesome pranks; and
this time it actually looked as though they were about to be fulfilled.
For even as the seven other scouts were watching his antics, the earth
at the edge of the gully appeared to suddenly give way.
Davy vanished from their view, the last thing they saw of him being his
up tilted heels, waving what seemed to be a frantic farewell.
With cries of alarm the scouts rushed forward, fearful as to what they
would see.