TELLS HOW THE FOUR PLANNED AN EXCURSION, AND HOW DAN AND NELSON PLAYED
HARES, MADE A DISCOVERY, AND HAD A FRIGHT
“I think it’s a deuce of a note that I’m going to get left on the long
trip!” said Dan aggrievedly.
They were sitting, the Four, in front of the fireplace in Birch Hall.
Before them a couple of giant logs were crackling merrily. Outside it
was raining steadily, and through the open door and windows the breeze
swept in damp, and redolent of wet earth and vegetation. Now and then
a rain-drop found its way down the big chimney and fell hissing into
the fire. Siesta was over with, and the weather made outdoor pursuits
uncomfortable, if not impossible. Besides the Four, the room held a
dozen or so other lads, three of whom--juniors these--were busily
engaged in filling a soap-box with torn paper for the hare-and-hounds
chase scheduled for the morrow.
“Well, so am I,” said Nelson. “I’ve got to get back home by the first
of September myself. We’re going to the St. Louis Fair about the first.”
“Wish _I_ was,” Dan responded gloomily. “I’ve got to put in a couple of
weeks with the oculist. He’s going to do something to my eyes, and I’ll
have to mope around for about a week with a bandage over ’em.”
“Hard luck,” said Bob. “And I wish you fellows were going on the trip
with us, I certainly do. It’s the finest sort of fun. Can’t you stay,
Nel? What do you care about their old Exposition?--a lot of machinery
and fool pictures, and such truck!”
“I’ve got to go. Anyhow, I want to see it; I didn’t get to the one in
Buffalo. I saw the Chicago Fair, though. That was swell!”
“You bet it was!” said Tom, his patriotism to the fore. “There hasn’t
been one to come up to that yet, and there won’t be for a long old
while!”
“Oh, forget it,” answered Dan, “you and your old Chicago! To hear you
go on, a fellow’d think Chicago was the only place in the world!” Dan
was from New York, and pretended a deep scorn for the Windy City.
“That’s all right,” said Tom. “But you’ve never had anything like our
fair in your tu-tu-tu-town!”
“Don’t want one,” answered Dan calmly. “You just lost a lot of money on
it.”
“Mu-mu-maybe we du-du-du-did,” said Tom warmly. “Bu-bu-but mu-mu-money’s
not the only th-th-th-thing. We sh-sh-showed you fu-fu-folks what we
cu-cu-could--could do, by gum!”
“Cut it out now!” laughed Nelson. “Tommy’s getting excited, and
excitement isn’t good for him. Besides, he wants to save his breath for
the chase to-morrow. He says he’s going to get home before you and I
do, Dan.”
Dan and Bob found the idea amusing.
“Another case of the hare and the tortoise,” suggested Bob. “You and
Dan will have to be careful, and not fall asleep.”
“If it keeps on raining we won’t have a chance to do much sleeping, I
tell you,” answered Nelson. “The ground will be as soft and slippery as
anything!”
“Hares don’t mind soft ground,” said Tom.
“This hare does,” replied Dan.
“So does this one,” Nelson added.
“I guess Tommy wants to lose flesh,” said Bob. “There’s nothing like a
good hard run to remove superfluous avoirdupois.”
“Oh, isn’t he good?” cried Tommy. “Did you hear him say that?”
“That’ll do for you, Bob,” said Dan.
Bob made an unsuccessful attempt to pull Dan’s stool from under him,
and then gave his attention to the workers.
“Come now, ‘Babe,’ this isn’t a funeral, you know. You’ll have to tear
paper faster than that, or you won’t have enough to trail from here to
the dining-hall. Say, Kid Rooke, you’ve got a wrong idea of the game
of shovelboard; it isn’t necessary to throw those weights on the floor
_every_ time! Besides, you’re making a beastly lot of noise.”
“All right, Bobby,” was the disrespectful reply. “Bobby” promptly threw
a stick of kindling-wood with admirable precision, and Rooke played
badly for some time in consequence of nursing a lame arm.
“Say, Bob, why couldn’t we get off on a little trip of our own?” asked
Dan. “Don’t you think Clint would let us, seeing we’re not going to be
here for the regular one?”
“Maybe he might,” answered Bob. “Last year he let six of the big
fellows go off on a two days’ canoe trip.”
“Just the thing!” said Dan. “We’ll take your canoe and Carter’s--he’ll
let us have it, all right--and we four’ll go. What do you say, fellows?”
“Great scheme!” said Nelson.
“Perfectly swell!” seconded Tom.
“Maybe, though, he wouldn’t let Tommy and me go,” objected Bob,
“because we’ll be here for the long trip.”
“Well, don’t go on the long trip, then,” suggested Nelson. “Come to
‘St. Louis, Louis’ with me.”
“By ginger! I’d like to, all right. I’ll see what Clint says. If he
makes that objection, I’ll tell him I’m thinking of cutting the long
trip out this year; and maybe my folks would let me go to the fair.”
“Still, there’s Tommy; what about him?” asked Dan.
“What do you think I care about the trip, if you fellows aren’t
gu-gu-gu-going?”
“Noble youth!” said Bob. “Who’ll ask Clint?” Silence ensued.
“Whoever asks him,” said Dan presently, “had better wait until he’s
sort of forgotten about that painting affair.”
“Maybe,” answered Bob, “but I don’t believe he holds that against us;
Clint isn’t that sort. When a thing’s done with, it’s done with for
him. I don’t mind asking. You leave it to me, and I’ll wait until I
find him feeling his best.”
“Good for you, old man!” said Dan heartily. “I always said you were the
bravest of the lot.”
“Brave nothing!” scoffed Tom. “He thinks he has a winning smile. Bob’s
a regular fusser at home, I’ll bet!”
“Hey!” exclaimed Nelson, arising and stretching his arms in
accompaniment to a mighty yawn, “who’s going to soak?”
“I am,” said Bob; and the other two expressed themselves similarly.
“Babe” came up, kicking his box before him.
“Isn’t that enough, Bob?” he asked pathetically.
“Sure, ‘Babe,’ that’s enough. Come on and soak. Ho, for ‘Babe’s’ briny
ocean!”
The next day dinner was a half hour earlier, and promptly at the stroke
of two Nelson and Dan left Spruce Hall and trotted down the road to the
village, each bearing a bag of “scent” in the shape of torn paper, and
each wearing the scantiest costume modesty would permit. The hounds
were to start twelve minutes later, and the trail was to be laid for a
distance of about three miles and return, at least half the trail to be
over roads. Nelson thought twelve minutes rather scant time allowance,
but Dan, who fancied himself a bit as a cross-country runner, was quite
satisfied. Almost every fellow in camp was going to have a try at the
chase, although it was a foregone conclusion that many of them would
drop out the first mile. Mr. Verder was leader of the hounds, and he
was the only member of the pursuit that Dan feared.
Once out of sight of the camp, and having reached the beginning of
the slight slope that led down to the foot of the lake, the hares
let themselves out. It was a cloudy, threatening day, somewhat chill
for the month of August, and the rain, which had fallen continually
from Monday morning until some time last night, had left the ground
soft, and in some places decidedly slippery. Once or twice during the
forenoon there had been tiny showers, and there was every indication of
more to follow before night. The distance to the village of Crescent,
Dan’s estimate on the day of his enforced return to camp by way of the
road notwithstanding, was but a trifle over the mile, and they made
it in short order, and passed over the bridge and by the post-office,
running well, having got their second breaths. They followed the road
around to where Dan and Bob had cut across the meadow when they had
made their trip to the base of the cliff. There they climbed the fence
and struck across the field under the cliff, exchanging smiles as they
caught fleeting glimpses of the inscription on the rocks, and swung
around to the right on the farther side of Humpback Mountain. Their
plan was to keep along the lower slope of the mountain, return to the
road at the farther end of Hipp’s Pond, and come back by the highway
to some spot near the village, where they were to ford the river and
reach the road to camp near the forks. Once in the forest their going
was necessarily slower. It was slightly up-hill, and the wet leaves
made anything beyond an easy trot impossible. They lost nearly a minute
on one occasion, when Nelson tripped on a log which he had tried to
hurdle and came down sprawling, emptying most of the contents of the
bag he carried. The paper had to be picked up before they could go on,
since already they had begun to wonder whether the scent would hold
out. Half-way along the side of the mountain it suddenly grew dark, and
the tree-tops began to sway in quick gusts of wind.
“By Jove,” panted Dan, “I’ll bet we’re in for a wetting!”
“Well, I haven’t got anything on that will spoil,” laughed Nelson.
And then a few big drops pattered down on the leaves.
“Coming!” shouted Dan.
And it came!
It was a veritable torrent that lashed aside the leaves and pelted the
boys with great hissing drops. For a moment they stumbled on through
the darkness. Then there was a blinding flash of white light, and a
crash of thunder seemed to shake the mountain from top to bottom. As
though by mutual consent, they dived beneath a clump of underbrush and
huddled up out of the worst of the storm.
“Gee!” said Dan, “that scared me.”
“Me too,” answered Nelson. “It was kind of sudden.”
“I should say so! I don’t suppose there’s much use in our staying here,
though. We can’t get much wetter by going on.”
“And there isn’t much use in going on,” answered Nelson. “I’ll bet the
others have given up the chase by this time. Besides, our paper’s about
soaked through, I guess. I vote we hike up over the mountain and get
home.”
“Seems to me we’d better go back the way we came.”
“It will be lots nearer if we strike up hill here. It’ll be hard going
until we reach the top, but easy going down the other side. We ought
to strike the road about half-way between the pond and the village.
Perhaps we’ll find a place where we can get out of the wet. Anyhow,
there’s no use staying here. I’m getting wetter and wetter every
minute, and there’s a regular cascade running down my back. Here, let’s
empty out this fool paper and stuff the bags in our pockets.”
“All right,” answered Nelson; and the paper chase came to an
ignominious finish then and there.
It was tough work climbing that slope in the face of a blinding
torrent, but they struggled upward, slipping and stumbling and
panting. The lightning had become almost continuous, and the thunder
did its part with might and main. What with the darkness of the sky
and the gloom of the forest, there was very little light to go by;
and as the rain forced them to close their eyes half the time, they
were continually butting into trees, tangling themselves up in the
undergrowth or stumbling over dead branches.
“This is a deuce of a note!” grumbled Dan as he picked himself up for
the fifth or sixth time, and tried to dry his wet hands on his wetter
trousers. “I’d give a dollar for an umbrella!”
“Or a tent,” sputtered Nelson. “I’m mighty nigh drowned and-- Hello!
Look yonder!”
Dan looked, and the next instant they were floundering toward shelter.
What Nelson had seen was an old log house. It wasn’t in the best of
repair, for the roof had fallen in at one end and the door had long
since disappeared. But it was a case of any port in a storm, and when,
breathless and dripping, they reached it, they found that it afforded
ample protection. It was about twelve feet long by eight feet wide,
with a door at one end, and a tiny opening at the other that had
probably served in its day as a window. It was unfloored, but, save
near the doorway and at the farther end where the roof had fallen
inward, it was quite dry. It was as dark as pitch in there save when a
flash of lightning momentarily illumined it.
“Gee,” sighed Dan, “this is great!”
“Swell!” murmured Nelson, with a shiver. “But I wish we had a fire.”
“Got any matches?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy! Let’s see if we can’t find something that’ll burn.”
Carefully they felt their way toward the back of the cabin, their eyes
gradually becoming accustomed to the gloom. Suddenly Dan, who was
slightly in the lead, gave a cry of fear.
“Look!” he cried.
[Illustration: “Look!” he cried.]
At the same instant there was a glare of lightning, and Nelson, peering
fearsomely ahead, saw a sight that sent an icy chill down his back.
Almost at their feet stretched a pile of bones that glared white and
gruesome in the uncanny light.