A NARROW ESCAPE
The dreaded examinations came and went and, as Van Blake expressed
it, were passed with honor by Bobbie and with dishonor by himself.
After the last one was over it was with a breath of relief that the
two lads tossed pajamas and fresh linen into their suit-cases;
collected snow-shoes and sweaters; and set out on their New
Hampshire visit.
It had been a late spring and therefore although the buds were
swelling and a few pussy-willows venturing from their houses the
country was still in the grip of winter; great drifts buried
roadside and valley and continued to obstruct those highways where
travel was infrequent.
"There certainly is nothing very summerish about this New England
weather of yours, Bob," remarked Van, as, on alighting from the
train at Allenville, he buttoned closer his raccoon coat and stepped
into the waiting sleigh which had come to meet them.
"The State did not realize you were coming, old man; otherwise they
would have had some weather especially prepared for your benefit,"
Bob replied, springing into the sleigh beside his chum. "My, but
this is a jolly old pung! Hear it creak. I say," he leaned forward
to address the driver, "where did my father get this heirloom,
David?"
"Law, Mr. Bob, this ain't your father's," David drawled. "He ain't
got anything but wheeled vehicles in the barn, and not one of 'em
will be a mite of use till April. I borrowed this turnout of the
McMasters', who live a piece down the road; the foreman, you know.
It was either this or a straight sledge, and we happened to be using
the sledges collecting sap."
"Are you sugaring off already?" questioned Bob with evident
disappointment. "I understood Father to say we'd get here in time to
be in on that."
"Bless your soul, Mr. Bob, you'll see all you want of it," was
David's quick answer. "There's gallons of sap that hasn't been
boiled down yet. It's a great year for maple-sugar, a great year."
"Are some years better than others?" Van inquired.
"Yes, indeed. What you want to make the sap run is a good cold snap,
followed by a thaw. That's just what we've been having. It's a prime
combination."
He jerked the reins impatiently.
"Get up there, Admiral! He's the very worst horse to stop that ever
was made. You see in summer he drags a hay-cart, and he has to keep
halting for the hay to be piled on; then in the fall we use him for
working on the road, and he has to wait while we pick up stones and
spread gravel; in the spring he makes the rounds of the sugar
orchard every morning and stands round on three legs while we empty
the sap buckets into the cask on the sledge. Poor soul, he never
seems to get going that he ain't hauled up. He's so used to it now
that he'd rather stop than go, I reckon."
David's prophecy appeared to be quite true, for the Admiral proved
to be so loath to proceed that every few paces he would hesitate,
turn his head, and seem to be inquiring where the hay, stones, or
sap buckets were to-day. It was only David's repeated urging which
kept him moving at all. In consequence it was dark before the boys
caught sight of the "Pine Ridge" lights gleaming through the tangle
of hemlock boughs that screened the drive, and saw the door of the
hospitable old farmhouse swing open.
"Well, I'll wager you're pretty hungry," a cheery voice called.
"Hungry, Mother! We're starved--hollow down to our shoe-strings!"
Swinging himself out upon the steps Bob bent and kissed his mother.
"Mother, this is my roommate, Van Blake," he added.
"I'm very glad to see you, Van," Mrs. Carlton said, putting both her
hands into those of the big fellow who smiled down at her. "How
strange it is that although you and Bob are such friends and he is
continually talking and writing of you that you and I should never
have met!"
"I don't just know how it's happened, Mrs. Carlton," Van answered.
"It seems as if the times you've been at the school to visit I've
either been away or shut up in the infirmary with chicken-pox or
something. I'm great at catching diseases, you know--I get
everything that's going. Father says he thinks I can't bear to let
anything get by me."
He laughed boyishly.
"Speaking of fathers, where's Dad, Mater?"
"He stopped to put another log on the fire. Come in and see what a
blaze we have ready for you."
The two boys followed her into the hall, while David staggered at
the rear of the procession with the luggage.
Mr. Carlton came forward.
"This is Van Blake, Father," Bob said, proudly introducing his chum.
"I'm glad to see you, young man," Mr. Carlton responded. "Bob's
friends will always find a welcome from us."
"Thank you, sir."
Mr. Carlton reflected a moment then asked abruptly:
"I don't suppose you happen to be a connection of the Colorado
Blakes."
"I come from Colorado," replied Van quickly.
"You're not one of the sugar Blakes; not Asa Blake's son."
"Yes," cried Van. "Mr. Asa Blake is my father, and he is in the beet
sugar business. Do you know him?"
"I believe I've met him," Mr. Carlton admitted hurriedly, stooping
to push the glowing back-log a little further forward.
"Why, Father--"
Bob was interrupted.
"Come, boys," said Mrs. Carlton bustling in. "I guess you've warmed
your fingers by this time. Bob, take Van up-stairs and tumble out of
those fur coats as fast as ever you can so to be ready for dinner."
The lads needed no second bidding. They were up-stairs and back in
the dining-room in a twinkling, and so eagerly did they chatter of
their plans for the morrow that hungry though they were they almost
forgot to eat.
"There are so many things to do that it is hard to decide where to
begin," declared Bob. "Of course we want some coasting and some
snow-shoeing; and we must climb Monadnock. Van says he hasn't seen
a real mountain since he came East. Then we want to be on hand for
the maple-sugar making. Why, ten days won't be half long enough to
do everything we ought to do."
His mother laughed.
"You must have a good sleigh ride, too," she put in.
"I draw the line on a sleigh ride if we have to go with that horse
that brought us up from the station," announced Bob.
"Me, too!" Van echoed.
"It would take you the entire ten days to get anywhere and back if
you went sleighing with the Admiral," said Mr. Carlton.
Every one smiled.
"I'd advise your seizing upon the first clear day for your Monadnock
tramp," Mr. Carlton continued. "You'd better make sure of good
weather when you get it. It won't make so much difference with your
other plans; but for the mountain trip you must have a good day."
"I do want Van to get the view from the top if he makes the climb,"
Bob answered.
So the chat went merrily on.
Yet despite the gaiety of the evening and Mr. Carlton's evident
interest in the boys' holiday schemes Bob more than once caught his
father furtively studying Van's profile. Obviously something either
puzzled or annoyed him. There was, however, no want of cordiality in
his hearty goodnight or in the zest with which he advocated that if
the next morning proved to be unclouded the two lads better make
certain of their mountain excursion. He even helped lay out the walk
and offered many helpful suggestions. Bob's uneasiness lest his
father should not like his chum vanished, and when he dropped into
bed the last vague misgiving took flight, and he fell into a slumber
so profound that morning came only too soon.
It was David who, entering softly to start the fire in the bedroom
fireplace, awakened Bob.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily.
"What sort of a day is it, David?" he questioned in a whisper that
he might not arouse Van, who was lying motionless beside him.
"It's a grand day, Mr. Bob. There ain't a cobweb in the sky."
David tiptoed out and Bob nestled down once more beneath the
blankets. It was fun to lie there watching the logs blaze up and see
your breath rise on the chilly air; it was fun, too, to know that no
gong would sound as it did at school and compel you to rush madly
into your clothes lest you be late for breakfast and chapel, and
receive a black mark in consequence. No, for ten delicious days
there was to be no such thing as hurry. Bob lay very still
luxuriating in the thought. Then he glanced at Van, who was still
immovable, his arm beneath his cheek. His friend's obliviousness to
the world was irresistible. Bob raised himself carefully; caught up
his pillow; took accurate aim; and let it fly.
It struck Van in the head, routing further possibility of sleep.
"Can't you let a fellow alone?" he snapped.
"Wake up, you old mummy!" shouted Bob. "A great mountain climber you
are, sleeping here all day. Have you forgotten you're going up
Monadnock to-day?"
"Hang Monadnock! I was sound asleep when you lammed that pillow at
me, you heathen. What's the good of waking me up at this unearthly
hour?" yawned Van.
"It's seven o'clock."
"Seven o'clock!" Van straightened up and stared. "Why, man alive, I
haven't been asleep fifteen minutes."
"You've been lying like a log for nine mortal hours," chuckled Bob.
"Great Scott! Some sleep, isn't it? That's better than I do at
Colversham."
"Rat_her!_"
"Well, I need sleep. I'm worn out with over-study."
"You are, like--"
"I am. I'm an intellectual wreck," moaned Van. "It's the Latin."
Bob burst into a shout, which was cut short by a rap at the door.
"Time to get up, boys," called the cheery voice of Mr. Carlton.
"Step lively, please. Here's a can of hot water."
The boys wasted no more time in fooling.
They bathed, dressed, and almost before they knew it were at the
table partaking of a hearty breakfast which was capped by heaps of
golden brown pancakes rendered even more golden by the sea of maple-syrup
in which they floated.
"I'll never be able to climb anything after this meal," Van gasped
as he left the table and was thrusting his arms into his sweater.
Bob grinned.
"Don't expect us back before late afternoon, Father," he called over
his shoulder. "We've a long slow climb ahead of us because of the
snow. Probably we shall find it drifted in lots of places. Then we
shall want some time at the top of the mountain, you know. Besides,
we're going to stop and cook chops, and that will delay us. So don't
worry if we don't turn up much before dinner time."
"You're sure you know the trail, Bob?" his mother called as the
trampers went down the steps.
"Why, Mother dear, what a question! Know the trail? Haven't I
climbed that mountain so many times that I could go up it backwards
and with my eyes shut?"
"I guess that's true, Mother," agreed Mr. Carlton reassuringly.
"Good-bye, then," said Bob's mother. "Have a fine day and don't
freeze your noses."
The boys waved, and with a scuff of their snow-shoes were off.
The climb was indeed a stiff one. At first the trail led through
low, flat woods, fragrant with hemlock and balsam; here it was
sheltered and warm. But soon the real ascent began.
"We follow the bed of this brook almost to the top," explained Bob
who was leading the way. "We come into it here, you see. In summer
it is a narrow path clearly marked by rough stones; you wouldn't
believe how different it looks now all covered with snow. It doesn't
seem like the same place. I didn't realize what a difference the
snow would make in everything. But, anyway, we can't miss the way
with these great boulders along the sides of the path; and even if
we did the trees are blazed."
They pushed on for some time.
Then the strap of Van's snow-shoe broke.
"Oh, thunder! Got a knife, Bob?" he called. "This darn thing's
busted. I'll have to haul to for repairs."
Bob stopped impatiently.
"Why didn't you look at it before you started?" he said.
"Never thought of it, Old Preparedness," was the good-natured reply.
"No matter, I have some string and I think I can fix it."
It took some time, however, to make the fastening to the shoe and
moccasin secure, and in the meantime the sun went behind a cloud.
"I guess Father wasn't a very good weather prophet," remarked Bob,
glancing at the sky. "It seems to be clouding up."
"Don't fret. What do we care?" was Van's easy answer. "We're not
really after the view. I don't give a hurrah for what we see when we
get to the top; what I want is the fun of doing it."
They shuffled on.
"I'll be glad when this luncheon is inside instead of outside of me,
won't you?" puffed Bob. "It's almighty heavy to carry."
"It isn't the lunch I mind. It's all these infernal clothes," was
Van's retort. "I don't see what on earth I wore so many things for."
"You'll want them by and by."
"I bet I won't!" protested Van. "I'm going to tie my red sweater to
this tree and leave it here; I can't be bothered with so much
stuff."
"You'll be cold when you get to the top."
"No, I won't. And anyway I'd rather be too cold then than too hot
now. One's no better than the other."
Deaf to Bob's counsel Van resolutely wound the offending sweater
about a great white birch tree that stood at a fork of the path.
"You'll be sorry," was Bob's parting thrust as they plodded on.
The trail was now steep and so narrow that frequently Bob had to
stop and search for the blazing on the trees.
"Of course I know my way, all right," he insisted. "Still, it is
mighty different in winter from what it is at other seasons of the
year, I'll admit that. Remember, I've never climbed this hill when
the snow was on the ground. However, when we once get to the top the
coming down will be a cinch, because we can follow our own tracks."
It was nearly two o'clock before the boys reached the top of the
mountain. Over the landscape hung a mass of heavy gray clouds
beneath which the sun was hidden; the wind was cutting as a knife,
and while Van sought the shelter of an old shack Bob roamed about,
delighting in the familiar scene.
"Why don't you come over here and look at the view?" he called to
his companion. "It is fairly clear in spite of the clouds."
Van shivered.
"Oh, I don't want to. I don't care a hang for the view--I told you
that before. I'm just hungry. Let's get a fire going and cook the
chops. What do you say?"
"You're cold. I said you would be."
"I'm not. I'm starved, though. Where can we get some wood?"
Bob glanced about.
"There seems to be plenty of undergrowth down in that hollow. Take
my knife and cut away some of it. There's a piece of an old stump,
too, that ought to burn well if it isn't too wet."
"That thing would never burn; but the brush will. Sling me the knife
and I'll cut an armful. Let's build it in that little rocky shelter.
Thanks to my camping training I'm right at home on this job."
Van's boast was no idle one. Soon the fire was crackling merrily and
the chops and bacon were sizzling in the frying-pan. Bob unpacked
the sandwiches and the thermos bottle of hot chocolate.
It was a regal luncheon.
How good everything tasted!
"I believe I was cold," Van admitted, rubbing his hands over the
dying embers of the blaze. "But I'm warm as toast now. Is there any
more grub left to eat?"
"Not a crumb--why? Are you still hungry?" queried Bob who was
packing up the camping kit.
Van chuckled.
"Well, not exactly. I only thought we ought not to waste anything."
Bob glanced up and laughed; then his face grew sober.
"I say, there's a snowflake!" he cried. "And another! Jove, Van,
it's begun to snow!"
"We better be getting down, I suppose," drawled Van.
"Just that, old man; fast as we can, too. Come on."
"What's your hurry? It will be a lark."
"It will be no lark if it snows much--I'll tell you that," replied
Bob seriously. "Besides, the folks will worry. Come ahead."
They turned back down the trail.
The snowfall increased.
"You can hardly see our tracks already," Bob called over his
shoulder. "And this wind is fierce. I had no idea it would snow. It
is awfully wet and sticky snow, too; see how it clings to the
trees."
They sped on.
The descent was far easier than the climb, and they could go
quickly.
"I don't remember that big rock," exclaimed Van suddenly, pointing
to a huge boulder that fronted them. "Isn't it a whacker! Odd that
I didn't notice it when we came up. Could we have passed it and not
seen it?"
[Illustration: "I DON'T REMEMBER THAT BIG ROCK"]
"I suppose we must have," Bob answered. "I don't remember it,
though. Everything looks queer and different in the storm. It's a
regular squall. How quickly it came!"
"Can you still see our tracks?"
"No. But of course we're right; I couldn't miss my way after coming
over this path so many times."
"Can you see the blazes on the trees?"
"No, silly. How could I when they are all plastered over thick with
snow?" was Bob's scornful retort. He was silent for a moment. "But
don't you worry," he declared. "I am certain we came this way--at
least I _think_ we did."
His tone, however, was less convincing.
They went on.
"We don't seem to be coming out anywhere, do we?" Van finally asked.
"No."
"Didn't we pass a little clearing somewhere on the way up?"
"Yes, there was one."
"Have we passed it?"
"No."
"Then it's ahead of us."
"It ought to be. I say, suppose we stop a minute and brush the snow
off these trees so to make sure we really are on the trail."
"A bully idea!"
The boys put down their packs and reconnoitred.
"There don't seem to be any marks on these trees," Van asserted
after an interval of search.
"But there must be."
"Find them then--if you can."
Bob nervously scrutinized several gnarled trunks.
"You're right, Van," he owned at last. "We're off the trail; missed
it somehow. We'd better go back; we can't be far wrong. Or better
yet, you wait here while I hunt."
Bob was very grave.
"You bet I'm not going to be left here to be buried in snow like the
Babes in the Wood," protested Van gaily. "No sir-ee! I don't stay
here. I'll help hunt for the path too. Now don't go getting nervous,
Bobbie, old chap. Two of us can't very well get lost on this
mountain. We'll separate enough to keep within hallooing distance,
and we'll tie a handkerchief on this tree so we can get back to it
again if we want to. We know we're part way down, anyway. That's
certain."
"I don't feel so sure," was Bob's answer. "We ought to have turned
back when it began to cloud up; but I never dreamed of snow. The
family will be having a blue fit about us."
"Cheer up! We'll get down all right, only it may take us a little
longer," Van asserted.
They branched into a side path.
The snow swirled about them in blinding sheets, and their footing
became heavy and slippery.
Wandering on, they scanned the trees.
Not a mark appeared.
Both boys were chilled now, and their spirits drooped.
The possibility of being lost on the mountain began to definitely
form itself in their minds.
"I'm mighty sorry I got you into this scrape, Van," Bob said after
a long pause. "I was too cock-sure of myself. That comes of thinking
you know it all."
"Pooh! It wasn't your fault, Bob. I'd give a cent, though, to know
where we are. Do you suppose we've been making any progress all this
time, or just going round in a circle?"
"Search me. I'll bet we've walked miles," groaned Bob. "I've got to
rest if we never find the trail."
He spoke wearily.
"You're not going to sit down, Bob," Van retorted sharply. "Brace
up. You've got to keep moving."
"But I can't. I'm tired and--and--sleepy."
His voice trailed off into a yawn.
"I don't care." Van wheeled on his friend fiercely and striding up
to him shook him violently by the shoulders. "Now pull yourself
together!" he commanded. "Where's your nerve? Brace up or I'll
rattle the daylights out of you."
"I can't go another step."
"You've got to. Start on ahead. Don't crawl that way--walk! Faster!
Faster than that, do you hear? I'm just behind you, and I shall step
on your heels if you lag. Keep it up. Go on."
Panting, Bob obeyed.
Suddenly he gave a cry.
"What's the matter?" demanded Van.
"There! There on the tree!" He pointed before him with trembling
hand. "Your sweater!"
Van pushed past him.
"Sure as fate! My sweater! Blamed if it isn't."
They both laughed weakly.
"Then we've found the trail!" Bob almost sobbed the words.
"We sure have! And hark, don't you hear voices? It's David, as I'm
alive; and your father!"
Aid had indeed come.
"Father!" Bob shouted the word and then laughed again--this time a
bit hysterically.
"The rescuing party's right here!" called Mr. Carlton.
He said it lightly, but as he came up and joined them Van saw that
his face was drawn and his eyes suspiciously bright.
"David has the sledge just at the foot of the hill," he remarked,
appearing not to notice the boy's fatigue. "I guess you'd just as
soon ride the rest of the way."
He slipped an arm around Bob.
"It's not much farther, son. Move right along as fast as you can.
Hurry, boy. Your mother's pretty worried. Thank goodness we found
you in time."