BOB CONFIDES IN THE PATROL LEADER.
"WHAT I want to tell you about is--my father," said Bob, swallowing
something that seemed to be sticking in his throat; as though the mere
mention of his dead parent had the power to affect him so.
"Yes?" Thad said, encouragingly, wondering at the same time how one who
had passed to the other side several years now, could have any sort of
connection with the mission of the scouts to this region.
"You'll perhaps understand, suh," continued Bob, getting a firmer grip
on himself; "when I mention the fact that my father, for a year or so
before he was taken, had filled the office of United States Marshal for
this district."
"Oh!" exclaimed Thad, beginning to see light now.
"He was induced to take the office by the President himself, who was a
personal friend of my father," the boy went on, proudly; "and having
given his word, nothing could make him back out. Up to then we had
lived at peace with everybody in these mountains; but of course that was
bound to come to an end after he had sworn to do his duty; which was to
send out his agents to destroy all the secret Stills, and bring in the
law breakers, if they could be found."
"He must soon have had the enmity of Old Phin, and every other
moonshiner about the Big Smokies," Thad remarked, the other having
paused, as though to give him a chance to express an opinion.
"That is just what happened, suh," Bob went on, hurriedly, as, having
broken the ice, he wanted to get through as speedily as possible. "After
he had led several successful raids in person, the mountaineers saw that
they had a different man to deal with from the other old marshal. They
sent him terrible warnings of what was going to happen to him if he kept
up his work; but my father was a Quail; and he didn't know the meanin'
of the word fear, suh."
"Were you and your mother living near here all that time, Bob?" asked
the scoutmaster. "Because, I should have thought she might have been
worried for fear some of those desperate men tried to stop your father's
work by burning down his home, or doing something like that?"
"There were threats made, suh, to that effect; and my father moved his
family to Asheville to feel that we would be all safe. Then there came
a dreadful day for us, when my father never came back, after he had
gone into these mountains to arrest another batch of moonshiners, whose
Still had been located. One of the men who had accompanied him told us
he had seen him shot down. They were surrounded by bushwhackers, and the
rifles were popping all about, so they had to leave him there. He was
surely dead, they claimed, before they fled from the spot, and of
course, suh, they could not burden themselves with his body."
Again Bob White paused to gulp down the obstacle in his throat.
"Now, you are wondering, suh, how it happened that when we came to
Cranford there was a gentleman with us who was called Mr. Quail, and
supposed to be my father. That was my father's twin brother, living in
Philadelphia. He kindly offered to stay with my mother, who never goes
out at all, until we became settled. Her mother, my grandmother, had
left me a heap of stock in the bank and mills of Cranford; and as it was
very unpleasant for my mother down this aways, after father went, she
had determined to locate up yondah."
"And does she know about you coming down here?" asked Thad,
suspiciously, as if he feared that the other might have deceived the
only parent he had left; this bringing a tragedy of the grim mountains
so close home to them had given the scout leader considerable of a
thrill, for after all, despite his courage and grit, Thad was only a
boy.
Bob drew himself up proudly, and his black eyes flashed.
"I would sooner cut off my right hand, suh, than deceive my mother," he
said. "And, so you may understand the whole thing, I must tell you what
a strange longin' I've been hugging to my heart these two years back. It
is this. What if, after all, my father was _not_ dead at the time his
men saw him fall; what if these moonshiners have kept him a prisoner
somewhere in these mountains all this while, meanin' to punish him
because he had given them all so much trouble!"
"That's a stunning shock you've given me, Bob," said Thad, drawing a
long breath; "but see here, is it just a wild wish to have it so; or
have you any reason to believe such a thing; any foundation for the
theory, in fact?"
"I'll tell you, suh," Bob went on, feverishly. "A man came to me one
day, and said he had been sent by one of the revenues who had been with
my father that sad time, to tell me what he had picked up in the
mountains. There were rumors going around that somewhere deep in the
mountains, at one of the secret Stills, the moonshiners kept a prisoner
at work. Some said it must be one of the revenue men who had
disappeared; and that the moonshiners were bent on making him work up
the mash, as a sort of punishment for having done them so much damage
when he was in the employ of the Government."
"I see; and of course you jumped to the conclusion that it might be your
own father, alive and well, though held a prisoner of the moonshiners?"
"Both my mother and myself believed there might be just a little chance
that way. She was in bad health, and put it all in my hands. We have
never said a word about it to anybody in Cranford. While I have been
going to school with the rest of the boys in Cranford, all the time I
was in correspondence with one of the Government revenue agents, and
paying him to be on the constant watch for any positive signs. He died
six months ago, and just when he had begun to think he was getting on a
warm scent."
"I see," said Thad, as the other paused, overcome with emotion; "and
ever since then you've been longing to get down here again, to find out
for yourself if it _could_ be true. I don't blame you the least bit,
Bob. And I only hope that you'll be able to learn the truth, even if it
dashes all your hopes. Whatever we can do to help, you can count on.
Scouts have to be like brothers, you know. It's a part of our
regulations to help any one in trouble; and that applies stronger than
ever when it's a fellow scout."
"Oh! thank you, Thad!" exclaimed the warmhearted Southern lad, as he
squeezed the hand of his companion almost fiercely. "I had no right to
influence you to come down here. It is a dangerous place. Right now I
ought to beg you and the rest to back out, and leave me to fight my
battles alone. But somehow I just can't find the grit to do that. I
reckon, suh, I'm too selfish. I'm right ashamed of myself at this minute
to feel such satisfaction in the grip of your hand."
"Of course," continued wise Thad, "this old moonshiner, Phin Dady, might
still have it in for you, as one of the Quail family."
"As far as that is concerned, suh, I'm not bothering my head, I assuah
you. I'd just as lief face Old Phin, and snap my fingers under his nose.
My idea in wanting to keep him from seeing me was along another line,
suh. He would be apt to think 'like father, like son;' and that I had
hired out to the Government to find where his Still lay, so it could be
raided. No man has ever done that; Old Phin declares they never will."
"If these mountaineers begin to get bothersome it might interfere some
with that other little affair you spoke about?" suggested Thad, as they
continued to walk on in company.
"That's what I'm afraid of, suh," replied Bob White; "but I'm hoping for
the best."
Some of the others happening to push up about that time brought the
confidential conversation to a close. But surely the young scout leader
had plenty to ponder over as he walked on.
The hike through the Blue Ridge, which they had looked forward to simply
as a test of endurance, and to develop their knowledge of woodcraft,
threatened to turn into a tragic affair. At least, it was no child's
play; and if they came out of it without any serious accident happening
to any of their number, they would be deserving of great credit.
But if Thad and Bob White were in a serious frame of mind, the same
could hardly be said of several other members of the patrol. Giraffe,
Step Hen and Bumpus seemed to be fairly bubbling over with good humor.
Some boys can no more control their spirits than they can their
appetites.
As usual Step Hen suddenly discovered, while they were halting for a
breathing spell, that he was minus something. The evil spirits had
evidently been at work again, when he was off his guard, and succeeded
in abstracting part of his personal property. It really was a shame how
they beset that unlucky fellow.
"If it don't just beat the Dutch what happens to me?" he was heard to
loudly wail, looking around him in a helpless way.
"What's the matter now, Step Hen?" asked Allan; although he knew full
well what sort of an answer he must receive.
"They've been and done it some more," replied the disturbed scout,
helplessly.
The trouble was, that whenever he missed anything Step Hen always ran
around looking in all the places that no sensible person would ever
dream of examining. When Giraffe declared that he was like an old hen
with its head taken off, it just about fitted the case.
"What's gone this time?" continued the boy from Maine, with a smile at
the way Step Hen was turning over small stones, and stirring the leaves
with his foot, as if he really expected a miracle to be wrought, and to
find a bulky object that way.
"That little kodak I fetched along; you know I had it wrapped so
carefully in a waterproof cloth, and tied with top cord. Now it's gone!
Needn't spring that old story on me, and say I was careless. P'raps I
have been a few times; but right now I'm dead sure the fault ain't mine.
Somebody's playing a joke on me. Mind, I ain't mentioning no names; but
I've got my suspicions."
He looked hard at Giraffe, and the accusation could hardly have been
given in plainer language than that. But Giraffe was used to being
unjustly accused. There were occasions when he did seize upon a golden
opportunity to hide something belonging to his comrade, because it had
been left carelessly around; and Giraffe believed it a part of his duty
to break the other of such shiftless habits. But on this occasion he
held up both hands, declaring solemnly:
"Give you my word for it I never touched any camera. This time you've
either been and dropped it on the road; or else the Gold Dust Twins have
nabbed it on you."
Just then Bumpus, who had been wandering aimlessly about after drinking
at the cooling waters of the little spring that had been the main cause
of this temporary halt in the march, gave utterance to a loud
exclamation.
He had tripped over something that lay in the grass, and a splash
announced that with his usual hard luck the fat boy had managed to go
headlong into the spring. Scrambling out, with the water streaming from
his red face, he turned indignantly on the balance of the patrol, now
convulsed with laughter.
"What sort of--horse play d'ye call that--I'd like to know?" he
sputtered, trying to wipe his streaming face with a handkerchief that
looked far too small for the task. "Can't a feller--just stroll around
camp--without some silly putting out a foot, and tripping him up? Tell
me that, now?"
"I'm beginning to think we must have some sort of a hoodoo along with
us," remarked Smithy, anxiously. "All sorts of things seem to be
happening, and in the most mysterious way possible. We all know that
there wasn't a single fellow anywhere near Bumpus when he pitched
forward. Yet he says _somebody_ put out a foot, and he tripped over it.
I think it a remarkable phenomenon, for a fact, and worth
investigating."
"Well, somethin' _did_ trip me, and that's sure," grumbled the other,
possibly thinking that he had been too sweeping in his accusation.
"Suppose you look in that bunch of grass, and find out if the little
evil spirit that's playing all these pranks on you is lying there?"
suggested Thad, with a twinkle in his eye, as though he could give a
pretty shrewd guess what the result of the said exploration would turn
out to be.
So Bumpus, always willing to oblige, especially since his own curiosity
must have been aroused, proceeded forthwith to get down on his hands and
knees, and begin an examination of the tangle in question.
Half a minute later he gave a loud cry. At the same time he was seen to
hold up some strange black object.
"Look! Bumpus has caught his little evil genius!" cried Giraffe. "And
ain't it a hard lookin' subject though. Caught him right by the ankle,
and threw him straight into our spring. Lucky we'd had all the drink we
wanted before he started to wash there!"
"Why, blessed if it ain't my kodak!" ejaculated Step Hen faintly, as
though it shocked him to think how his lost camera should have been
lying there in all that tangle of grass, where it had undoubtedly fallen
as he prepared to take his turn bending over the water hole.
Of course everybody laughed, for they could guess what had happened.
Step Hen's little failings were an everyday occurrence. As Giraffe had
often declared, the careless one would have long since lost his head had
not a kind Nature secured it to his body.
The march was resumed, with Thad lecturing Step Hen on his prevailing
sin; and as usual Step Hen solemnly promising to be more careful the
next time. But he had a very slippery mind, and the chances were that
before nightfall he would be up to his old tricks again, accusing the
rest of playing a prank by hiding some of his possessions.
"There's a man sitting on that rock up there, watching us!" said Davy
Jones, in a tone that thrilled them all.
"A regular mountaineer too," added Smithy. "Just as I've pictured them
often, with butternut jean trousers, a ragged woolen shirt open at the
neck, and an old hat on his frowsy head. Boys, he seems to have a gun in
his possession, too."
They were a little uneasy as they passed along; but the lone man seemed
to simply watch the squad of uniformed scouts without making any hostile
move.
"Chances are," remarked Davy Jones, after they lost sight of the man;
"he was some sort of vidette or sentry, posted up there to keep an eye
on the trail; and if any suspicious characters came along, to send word
to the other moonshiners. I understand they can telegraph all right
without the aid of instruments, or even the latest wireless outfit. How
about that, Bob?"
"Yes, it is so," replied the Southern boy. "They do it by making smokes;
or sometimes by sounds that are passed along from one station to
another. It's queer how fast a message can be relayed in that way."
"Well," remarked Thad, "that's the method used by blacks in Africa; and
they do say they can send news of a battle faster than white men can get
it along by relays of telegraph stations, with breaks where a carrier
has to be used."
"Are we getting anywhere close to the place you said old Reuben lived
at, Bob?" asked Bumpus, who was showing signs of being tired.
"Another hour will take us to where we can look across the wonderful
little valley and see the place," Bob answered. "You will all be
surprised, for nobody would ever think so fine a house could be found
among these wild mountains; but as I told you before, Reuben Sparks
seems never to have been molested by the moonshiners. Most people
believe he is a secret partner in the business."
"Say, would you look yonder, where that road comes around the spur back
of us; to think of seeing a real buggy and a flesh and blood horse, and
back of the animal a gentleman and lady! I'm sure dreaming!" remarked
Giraffe, just then.
"Not a bit of it you ain't, because I see them myself," added Step Hen,
eagerly.
"And unless my eyes deceive me, we've met that gentleman before," said
Allan.
"Yes," remarked Bob, with trembling voice, "it's Reuben Sparks; and that
must be my little cousin, Bertha!"