Barbour Ralph Henry
Four in Camp: A Story of Summer Adventures in the New Hampshire Woods

CHAPTER XI
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.

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.

CHAPTER XII
HAS TO DO WITH STORM AND LIGHTNING; DISCOVERS TOM IN TEARS, AND CONCLUDES THE ADVENTURE

When Mr. Verder gave the word, twenty-three hounds started in pursuit of the hares, and in the foremost group trotted Tom. They had just reached the village when the rain burst, and the way in which they piled into the post-office led the village gossips there assembled to jump from their chairs in terror, thinking they were attacked by a gang of desperadoes. And when the fellows had slammed the door behind them and gathered at the windows to watch the torrent, they saw through the hissing sheets of water the solitary form of Mr. Thomas Courtenay Ferris trotting doggedly on up the road. Then the door opened and closed again, and Bob sped after him.

“What are you going to do, you crazy dub?” panted Bob when he had caught up.

“Cu-cu-catch those fu-fu-fu-fellows,” answered Tom resolutely.

“Why, they’ve given it up by this time, you idiot!”

“I haven’t. I su-su-said I was going to finish, and I am!”

“Poppycock!” muttered Bob. “However, I’ll see you through.”

“You’ll gu-gu-gu-get wet,” said Tom.

“So’ll you.”

“I du-du-du-don’t mind.”

“Neither do I; I like it. Fine, isn’t it?”

“Su-su-swell!” gasped Tom.

So on they plodded, every footfall sending a spray of muddy water against their bare legs, keeping the trail in sight with difficulty, since the torn paper had in many places been washed aside or covered by the pools of water that had already formed along the road. They overran the trail where it left the highway and had to cast about for fully a minute before they found it again, and took off across the field, which was rapidly becoming like a cranberry bog. Once in the forest it wasn’t quite so bad, for the trees afforded some slight protection. But poor Tom’s breath was almost gone, and when they finally reached the place where a pile of wet paper told its own story, he was glad to throw himself down on the wet ground and rest. What to do next was a problem. Finally Bob, with a fair idea of their whereabouts, suggested climbing the hill and reaching the road on the other side. So Tom, with a final gasp, struggled to his feet, and they took up their way again. It was Tom who caught sight of the hut.

“Lu-lu-lu-look over there, Bu-bu-bu-Bob!” he spluttered.

And that is how it happened that Nelson and Dan, horrified one instant by the ghastly object at their feet, were terrorized the next by a sudden loud shout behind them. They turned and fled ignominiously to the door. The flash of lightning had intensified the darkness that followed, and neither saw anything until their exit was suddenly impeded, and even then not enough to understand what was up. Dan collided with Tom just inside the doorway, and, like a center putting out his opponent, bore him backward to the ground. Tom, stammering in surprise at the welcome, clung desperately to his assailant.

“Lu-lu-lu-let go of me! Wha-wha-what’s the mu-mu-mu-matter with you? Gu-gu-gu-get off mu-mu-my stomach!”

Nelson, tumbling out with scared face on the heels of Dan, ran into Bob outside. The latter grabbed him just in time; in another moment he would have been a hundred yards away, and still going.

“What’s the row?” cried Bob, turning from Nelson to where Dan and Tom, the latter on his back in a litter of wet leaves, and the former sitting on top of him, were viewing each other in wide-eyed surprise. “What kind of a game are you fellows playing?”

“Is that you?” muttered Nelson sheepishly.

“Hu – hallo, Tommy!” grunted Dan, pulling him up.

“‘Hallo, Tu-tu-tu-Tommy’ be bu-bu-blowed!” muttered that youth as he found his feet and viewed Dan angrily; “wha-wha-what kind of a fu-fu-funny fu-fu-fool are you?”

At that instant the rain, which had momentarily let up as though interested in the proceedings, came down harder than ever, and the Four crowded inside the hut, Dan and Nelson, however, keeping close to the doorway and casting uneasy glances into the darkness. At length the matter was explained, and Bob, lighting a match, advanced toward the back of the cabin, the others following breathlessly and gazing nervously over his shoulder. As the match flared up, there lay the skeleton, and even Bob drew a sudden breath and backed away a foot, thereby stepping on Nelson’s toes and eliciting an exclamation of pain that almost resulted in another stampede to the door. It was Tom who stayed the rout.

“Huh!” he cried; “it’s nothing but a calf!”

And so it proved. Grown suddenly brave, they examined more carefully, and Bob began to tease Dan and Nelson for being frightened at the skeleton of a calf.

“That’s all right,” said Nelson, “but I noticed you were looking up the exits a minute ago!”

“Let’s have that fire,” suggested Dan. “Any matches left?”

Tom had a pocket full of them, and in a minute they had found several dried branches on the floor and a box nailed to the wall. They tore down the latter and soon had a fire going. As the heat began to penetrate their chilled bodies their spirits arose.

“I wish it had been a human skeleton,” said Dan regretfully.

“Yes, you do!” responded Bob sarcastically. “Why?”

“So I could have had the skull. My uncle has one for a tobacco jar; it’s swell!”

“I can see you getting the skull!” said Bob laughingly. “Why, you wouldn’t have stopped running before to-morrow morning if we hadn’t stopped you!”

“Get out!” answered Dan good-naturedly. “I’d have come back for it. But I tell you, fellows, that old pile of bones looked mighty unpleasant in the lightning. I’d have sworn the thing moved.”

“It was you that moved,” said Tom, “and you moved fast.”

“Say, what the dickens are we going to do, fellows?” asked Nelson. “We can’t get home in this storm. Just listen to it!”

“Oh, it’ll let up after a bit. What time is it?” asked Bob.

“Ten of four,” answered Tom. “Wish we had something to eat; then we could stay all night. Wouldn’t it be swell?”

“Yes,” said Dan, “but we haven’t, and I, for one, prefer to get wet again rather than go without supper. I’m starved now.”

“Well, let’s wait a bit and see if it doesn’t hold up some. This fire’s immense! Wonder can we find any more wood?”

At that instant there was a blinding flash of lightning, a terrific crash of thunder, and a shock that threw Dan and Tom, who had been standing, off their feet. Simultaneously a portion of the roof of the cabin fell, with a cloud of dust and débris, and one of the timbers crashed into their midst, scattering the fire. For an instant there was silence. Every one of the quartet had been momentarily stunned by the lightning. Then they were on their feet, white-faced and trembling; all save Nelson, who lay stretched on the floor, with the blood flowing from a gash in his head. Here and there a brand from the fire flickered, but a new light flooded the cabin from without, where a giant pine, its trunk lying across the cabin, was burning fiercely. After the first instant of terror Bob ran to Nelson.

“Get some water, somebody!” he called.

“Is he dead?” asked Tom weakly.

“I don’t know; he’s got a beast of a cut here from that log; stunned him, I guess. Where’s the water?”

Dan hurried back with his cap dripping.

“Here’s some,” he panted. “Fetch some more, Tom; hold your cap under the corner of the house. Is he much hurt?”

But Nelson answered the question himself, reaching up to push away the hand that was bathing his face and head, and opening his eyes to blink dazedly about him.

“You lie still a minute,” commanded Bob. “That log fetched you a whack on the head, but you’ll be all right in a minute.”

“Oh,” said Nelson, memory returning, “say, that was a peach of a bump, wasn’t it? Any one struck? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s here. Shut up a minute and lie still.”

“I’m all right.” He felt of his wound, and wiped the blood from his fingers onto his jersey. “If I had a handkerchief – ”

“Here’s one,” said Dan. “You tie it on, Bob.”

Bob did so, and Nelson was helped to his feet, where he stood an instant swaying unsteadily.

“Say, we’ll have to get out of this,” said Dan. “The hut’ll be on fire in a minute. Gee, but that was a close shave! That tree wasn’t thirty feet away!”

“We got some of it as it was,” said Bob. “I felt as though some one had hit me with a plank. Can you walk, Nel? Here, we’ll give you a hand. We’ll have to get out at the corner there; the doorway’s blocked up. Where’d Tommy get to?”

“He went for some more water,” said Dan. “Come on; it’s getting hot!”

Outside they came on a strange sight. Tom was sitting on a log, with his face in his hands, sobbing as though his heart was breaking. Beside him lay his cap, and a small rivulet of water from the top of the cabin was spattering down onto his bare head. The three stared in bewilderment. Then Bob patted him on the back:

“Come on, Tommy,” he said kindly. “You’re all right; cheer up!”

But Tom only shook his head without looking up.

“He’s du-du-du-du-dead!” he wailed.

“Who’s dead, you idiot?”

“Nu-nu-nu-Nelson,” sobbed Tommy.

“No, I’m not, Tommy,” called Nelson; “here I am!”

Tom raised a wet and miserable face; then he leaped to his feet, tumbled over a branch, and fell into Nelson’s arms.

“I th-th-th-thought you were a gu-gu-gu-goner!” he cried.

“I’m all right,” answered Nelson, cheerfully submitting to Tom’s hugs. “Get your cap and come along, or we’ll be drowned.”

Tom sniffed a few times, picked up his hat, and sheepishly joined the procession that wound its way up the hill in the rain.

“Poor old Tommy!” chuckled Dan.

“He’s a good-hearted dub,” answered Nelson softly.

Five minutes of toil brought them to the summit, and after that it was easier work. By the time they had reached the road the rain had almost ceased, and for the rest of the way they had only the mud and their chilled bodies to contend with. Twenty minutes later they straggled into camp to find Mr. Clinton in the act of leading a search party after them. Nelson was conducted to the surgery, where Dr. Smith washed and bandaged his head, and the other members of the party hied them to the dormitory and dry clothes, followed by half the fellows of the camp eager to hear the story of their adventures. And when it had been told – losing nothing in the telling by Dan – Bob suddenly exclaimed:

“Well, if he didn’t do it!”

“Do what?” “Who did?” “When?” were the queries fired at him.

“Why, Tommy did! He said, before we started, that he was going to beat the hares home, the cheeky kid! And he did it!”

“But we all came home together,” objected Dan.

“Yes, but if you’ll recollect, it was Tommy who headed the procession coming into camp.”

“So it was,” said Dan.

“So I did,” said Tom. “Ain’t I a smarty?”

Whereupon Dan tumbled him over backward onto the bed and sat on top of him a long, long time, and told him how very, very smart he was. And it was not until Nelson, appearing on the scene with a wealth of surgeon’s plaster adorning his brow, asked innocently, “Who’s going to soak?” that Dan’s attentions ceased; and then it was only because he felt obliged to stand firmly on his feet in order to put the necessary amount of withering sarcasm into his reply to Nelson.