CHAPTER I
ON THE WRONG TRACK
"ELMER, do you believe we're really on the right track, or have we lostour bearings in this everlasting snow forest?"
"Ask me something easy, please, Lil Artha!"
"Well, I didn't like the looks of that sassy kid who was so eager tohave you make a map from what he told us."
"Struck me he grinned too much, boys, as sure as my name's GeorgeRobbins. I'm beginning to smell a rat, and think he played a low-downtrick on us."
"That is, George, you mean he purposely gave us the wrong directions,and that instead of heading straight for the winter cabin of Toby'sjolly Uncle Caleb we're away off our base?"
"Looks like it to me, that's all I've got to say," muttered the boy whohad called himself George, at the same time glancing apprehensively atthe snow-clad woods surrounding them on all sides.
"Me too!" added the fourth member of the little heavily-laden party, andwhose good-natured face usually screwed itself up in an odd series ofwrinkles whenever he spoke with such an effort.
"Well," remarked the boy called Elmer, whose last name was Chenowith,and upon whose decisions the others seemed to depend considerably, asthough he might be a leader among them; "let's rest up a bit here, andlook the matter squarely in the face. Perhaps we can figure out wherewe've gone wrong, and start on a new course."
These four well-grown lads were all dressed in the well-known khakisuits that designate Boy Scouts the wide world over. Of course they woreheavy woolen sweaters in addition, for the time was just afterChristmas, and Old Winter had taken a notion to set in unusually earlythat year.
They belonged to the Hickory Ridge Troop of Boy Scouts, which livelytown was situated many miles to the south of the place where we discoverthe quartette up against a puzzling question.
Toby Jones had an old uncle who was not only a scientific man, but wholoved the Great Outdoors so much that of late he had come to spend mostof his time at his lonely cabin in the forest. Here in the summer hestudied, and experimented to his heart's content; while during thewinter he set traps, and took wonderful photographs of the snowboundwoods, as well as of the fur-bearing little animals that made theirhomes there.
The idea had struck Toby that with some of his best chums he surprisethis jolly Uncle Caleb, who was a well-known professor amongscientists. Many times the boy had received a warm invitation to run upand visit the old gentleman, as well as fetch a friend or two along, butuntil this winter Toby had somehow never entertained the idea of doingso.
Once it took hold of him, and he became wildly enthusiastic over it.When he mentioned the scheme to Elmer, as well as two other scouts, theyfell in with it so quickly that the plans were soon arranged.
Accordingly, immediately after Christmas the four lads had taken a trainfor the north, and about noon dropped off at a lonely station, where theoperator was a new hand, and had never even heard of Uncle Caleb, sothat the boys hardly knew which way to turn. Just then they happened torun across a lanky boy with a grinning face, whom Elmer "pumped," withthe result that they were directed to follow certain landmarks, turnever so many times until they came to a frozen creek, up which if theyheaded a mile they would discover the cabin they sought.
They had been following that same frozen stream more than two hours, andthere was not the slightest sign of anything in the way of a shack orcabin. In fact, it looked as though they had managed to tramp into thevery heart of what seemed to be a trackless forest. In every directionstretched that never ending array of tall and little trees, each snowsplashed; for there were several inches of the white feathery coveringon the ground, what Elmer called fine "tracking snow;" if only they hadbeen hunting game instead of a shelter.
Though all of the scouts kept constantly on the alert they had failed todetect the first sign of human presence. Not a shout or a gunshot hadthey heard; in vain had they searched the snowy ground for the welcometrail of a trapper going to or coming home after visiting his line ofsnares.
No wonder then that some of the boys had begun to believe they weretricked by that glib-tongued native lad, who had chuckled sodisagreeably as he accepted the silver quarter Elmer thrust in his grimypalm.
All of them bore heavy loads. For the most part these consisted of extraclothes of course for use in case of extreme cold weather; but two ofthem also carried guns; and Toby had strapped on his pack a pair ofsnow-shoes his uncle had once presented to him, but which the boy hadnever found a good chance to use, though he hoped the time had nowarrived for putting them to some service.
"I've been trying to figure things out," Elmer told them, as they satdown on a log to rest, while trying to decide which way they shouldturn; "and while I'm liable to be mistaken just as much as anybody else,I really think we'd have a better chance to find that cabin, or runacross some sign of Toby's uncle, if we quit following this creek bed,and turned sharply to the right."
Now Elmer was not only the leader of the Wolf Patrol when at home, buthad long ago qualified for the position of assistant scout master of thetroop. When the regular scout master, a young man named Mr. RodericGarrabrant, chanced to be absent, which frequently happened, the boyslooked to Elmer to guide and direct them.
Consequently the three who were now in his company had come to look forgreat things from their chum; and Elmer often found it a difficult taskto satisfy their expectations. And so it was he had in the start giventhem to understand that he could make mistakes as well as the next one,and they must not think him infallible.
As usual everybody seemed ready to fall in with his suggestion butGeorge, who had a contrary streak in his make-up, and was always readywith objections and questions and serious shakings of the head. Theycalled him "Doubting George," but grown people would long ago havedubbed him a pessimist, because he was always seeing the gloomy side ofthings, and wanting to be doubly convinced.
"But it seems to me," he started to say, "that we may be jumping out ofthe fryingpan into the fire if we do that. How do we know the cabin liesto the right?"
"We don't," replied Elmer, without manifesting any feeling over hisopinion being questioned, for he knew George of old, and in fact wouldhave been considerably surprised if the other had not put up what Tobycalled a "kick."
"Would you like to direct us, George?" asked the tall scout, whose namewas Arthur Stansbury, but whom his schoolmates had in a spirit of funlong ago dubbed "Lil Artha," which ridiculous nick-name clung to himlike a leech to this day, although he was fully a head above any of theother fellows.
"Oh! excuse me from taking that responsibility on my shoulders," Georgehastened to say, looking almost alarmed; "if I did, and happened toguess wrong, I'd never hear the end of it."
"So you admit that it'd have to be a _guess_, do you?" pursued Lil Arthamercilessly; "well, on the part of Elmer he's tried to reason the oldthing out, and both Toby'n me feel that we can't do better than try whathe says. I only hope the walking's better than it's been along thisfrozen creek, where the ice is too slippery for us to make use of thesame. Why didn't we think to fetch our skates along?"
"I did think of it," Toby told him; "but it meant more weight to ourpacks; and then from what Uncle Caleb's told me about the lay of thecountry up here, I couldn't figure out how we'd find any use for skateswhere there was only swamp, marsh, and mebbe a few little crooked creeksnearly always covered with a foot of snow. So I fetched these bullysnow-shoes instead. Don't I hope I'll have a chance to skim over thesnow on the same, if we're lucky enough to get a heavy fall while uphere."
"Perhaps we may get a storm before we're ready for it," observed Elmerdrily, as he shot a dubious glance up at the gray sky that had such anominous look.
Lil Artha jumped to his feet, showing signs of some excitement.
"Hey! let's be on the hike, fellows!" he exclaimed; "if a storm droppedon top of us right now it wouldn't do a thing to us, p'raps. We haven'tgot only enough grub for a single day. I guess matches are about theonly thing we're heavy on, because we expected to eat our
meals in UncleCaleb's cabin most of the time."
"Well, matches are good things to have up here in the snow woods,"remarked Elmer, who was an exact contrast to George in that he alwayssaw the silver lining of the cloud, whereas the other scout could notget beyond the pall.
"You bet they are," Lil Artha went on to say, as he shouldered his pack,which he had arranged in regular Adirondack fashion, with a band acrosshis forehead to assist in sustaining the weight; "though for thatmatter, if we went shy of the same I reckon you could depend on me toget fire by making a little bow, and sawing the same on a pointed stick,South Sea Islander way. I've done it more'n once, though I never seemable to depend on my cunning. Something goes wrong so often; or else I'min too big a hurry, and spoil everything. But if you're ready lead off,Elmer. We'll trip along in your tracks, and keep it up for another houranyway. That rest did us all a heap of good."
The four scouts kept pushing on steadily. Elmer in the van continued tomaintain a bright lookout for any sign of footprints in the snow thatwould give them encouragement, though as time passed, and he failed tofind any such, the rosy hopes with which they had started began togradually fade away.
Of course the others also kept their eyes about them, in hopes ofsighting a lone cabin, or discovering smoke rising amidst the trees.Hope died hard, and only George grumbled when more than half an hour hadcrept on without their running upon the first sign that would meansuccess.
Once Elmer had pointed out to them the tracks of a fox, and of coursebeing true scouts, they were all greatly interested in examining thetrail, and speculating on whether it had been of the ordinary redvariety, or a gray animal, perhaps one of those silver-black foxes, thepelt of which is often valued at as much as fifteen hundred dollars.
Elmer had settled this question by picking up a hair he found caught onthe split end of a branch that grew low down, and which the body of thefox, as well as his brushy tail, must have scraped as he slipped past.It was plainly a red hair, and even George could not find any cause fordisputing that evidence, though he was far from happy, and in a fit moodfor argument if the occasion arose.
Several other times Elmer pointed to the unmistakable track of abounding rabbit, and had they had more time at their disposal the boyswould have liked nothing better than to follow these, so as to figureout what was chasing bunny to induce him to take such enormous jumps.But the fact of their being astray in that unknown forest, with nightnot far away, and a heavy snow-storm brooding over them, ratherdiscouraged them from turning aside from the main thing that engagedtheir attention, which of course was the finding of the trapper's cabin.
Nobody paid the least attention to George when they heard him gruntingaway in the rear, because George would not have been happy unless he wasmiserable, strange though that may sound. There is generally a boy builtafter that fashion in every crowd of scouts. As a rule he has some goodqualities that make his friends forgive his bad ones, and finally theyget so accustomed to his grumblings that they pay little attention tothem. In fact George's complainings had little more effect on his booncompanions than so much water poured on a duck's back would. It amusedhim to grunt and object, and hurt them very little, so what was thesense of making any trouble?
Another fifteen minutes crept along. There did not seem to be anyparticular change in things, except that the light was showing signs offailing, and perhaps George stumbled more frequently, for he was not asspry on his feet when carrying a pack as the other fellows.
"Don't seem to be over this way either, Elmer," suggested Lil Artha,finally.
"That's right, Uncle Caleb's cabin appears to be as hard to locate as aneedle in a haystack," admitted the leader of the Wolf Patrol, cheerily;as though it would have to be something more than this to discouragehim, because he had made it his business in life to always look at thebright side of things; and knew that no matter how gloomy the prospectmight be it could seem much worse.
"That settles it!" came abruptly from George in the rear.
"What's the matter with you back there; stubbed your toe again? We'llhave to make a scout litter and carry you the rest of the way, if youkeep on falling over every old log there is," Lil Artha told him,severely.
"'Tain't that this time, mind you," the delinquent one answered back,with a triumphant grin; "but what's the use trying to poke along anyfurther? Might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, any day. Thisplace looks like it'd make a good camp for to-night."
"Camp?" echoed Toby.
"Sure thing!" snapped George. "We're all tuckered out, and as hungry aswolves in the dead of winter; night's comin' on right fast; and then ifyou take a look you'll see that it's begun to snow!" and as the othersdid glance hastily up they discovered the first few big flakes commenceto sail lazily down!
Storm-Bound; or, A Vacation Among the Snow Drifts Page 3
