Produced by Jim Ludwig
THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY
By Scout Master Robert Shaler
CONTENTS
CHAPTERS I. The Golden Feather II. A Timely Suggestion III. The Combat on the Cliff IV. A Night in the Woods V. Friends at the Farm VI. A Nocturnal Visitor VII. Boy Scout Detectives VIII. The Surveying Squad IX. Awaiting a Decision X. Camp Life XI. The New Project XII. An Illustrious Example XIII. The Result of the Surveys
CHAPTER I
THE GOLDEN FEATHER
"This was a pretty fair catch, for a change," thought Ralph Kenyon,as he tied the limp animal to his pack-saddle, and reset the trap,hoping next time to catch the dead mink's larger mate. He ran aquick, appraising eye over the load slung across Keno's broad back."Pretty good, eh, old boy?" he added aloud, stroking the velvetynose of his dumb companion on many a solitary hunt. "Now, Keno, youhang around, and browse on these young cottonwoods, while I do somefiguring. I want to see what I'm likely to get for this nextshipment of pelts."
The old horse, nothing loath, obeyed his young master's behest aspromptly as though he had fully understood the words. Meanwhile,Ralph found a mossy spot on the shady side of a big gray,lichen-covered boulder, and, seating himself thereon, with his backcomfortably adjusted to a depression in the rock, he drew a wornaccount book from a pocket of his corduroy coat. Moistening histhumb he began to turn the pages rapidly, until he came to the placewhere he had made the last entry in his accounts. With a stubbypencil, which he had taken from another pocket, he jotted down thenew items:
"So far, one mink, six coon, three skunk, a gray fox, and seventeenrabbit skins. All told it ought to bring---let me see." He relapsedinto silence, as he estimated the total, and then he sighed deeply."Not very much," was his inward comment; "not anywhere near enough!"
Ralph felt that it was high time that he brought to a close hisseason's operations with trap and gun. The spring was unusuallyearly this year, and the fallow truck patches were fairly clamoringfor his attention. Yet he was reluctant to abandon his winterpursuit of pelts and to return to the sterner and less thrillinglabor of ploughing and planting and peddling vegetables.
Not that he was averse to hard work---far from it! Ralph Kenyonwas as industrious, energetic, and sensible a young fellow asone would wish to know; yet, being a very average, normal lad, andat that age when love of freedom and adventure is foremost, henaturally preferred the varied life of a huntsman and trapper---eventhough his field of activity was not extensive---to the moilingoccupation of a market gardener.
On the other hand, there were times when he thoroughly enjoyed thelabor of wresting a livelihood from the soil, and he took pride inraising the choicest products that could be offered for sale. Suchspells were most frequent in midsummer, when all nature was in aplacid mood for growth; but in autumn and spring came livelier hopesand a stronger call to this lad, and in his own way he set aboutaccomplishing the chief aim of his life, the great end to whichthese winter pursuits were but a means.
After the death of his father, which had occurred less than a monthafter his graduation from High School, Ralph had taken theresponsibility of the small farm upon his eighteen-year-old shoulders,bravely putting aside his cherished plans for a course in the Schoolof Mines until he could save the necessary funds from his individualearnings. That was a year ago. In the interval he had found anopportunity to study the principles of surveying, and for two weekshe had acted as guide to a party of university students doingresearch work in his native hills. For this service he had beenpaid twenty-five dollars---which had been promptly banked as anucleus of his college fund.
How simple and easy it had seemed, earning his way through theSchool of Mines, while talking with those enthusiastic young collegiansand their professor! How well he remembered the things they had said,the advice they had given him! Yet now, after eight months of hardwork, constant hunting in the woods, and rigid economy, he seemedno nearer the goal than he had been when the portals of High Schoolclosed behind him forever. In fact, just as he was now placed inhis prospects he faced a bitter discouragement; he was on thethreshold of a new calamity.
His mother, who took in fine sewing, had developed a serious eyetrouble that threatened to put an end to her earning power, and toleave her totally blind unless she submitted to a very delicateoperation within a few weeks. Of course, his mother's welfarewas stronger than any other consideration with Ralph, but he hada vague idea that operations cost a great deal of money. At least,he had been told so by his nearest neighbor, Tom Walsh, a farmerwho lived several miles from the town of Oakvale, which was thestation from whence he would have to take his mother by train toNew York. A day's journey, a week or more in the hospital, andincidental expenses---even with the aid of his precious hoard andthe inadequate sum these furs would bring him---how could he everraise enough to help her, in time?
With another deep sigh, he replaced the worn account book, andrested his head against the mossy hollow in the stone, gazingdisconsolately up through the branches of the trees at the jaggedcliffs that towered high above the mountain trail for a while,nothing was heard in ravine or glade save the brawling of thecrystal-clear brook that went dashing and tumbling over the stonesof its rough bed, in a mad race to its fall of twenty feet ormore, or the crunching of succulent twigs and leaves of cottonwood,or the snapping of dead wood, as old Keno moved leisurely aboutfrom one spot to another. Side by side, on a jutting crag thatleaned far out over the brook, sat a splendid pair of golden eagles,joyously preening their plumage in the spring sunshine. The birdsaroused no special interest in Ralph's mind, however, on thisparticular morning; he had seen them many times before, whilerambling over the mountains with his father. But the sight oftheir glittering napes awakened memories of that loved and admiredman.
"Dad used to say---and I guess he believed it, too---that iron inpaying quantities lies just beneath the stones of our little farm,"mused Ralph. "We might become rich, mother and I, if we could onlyget money enough to open up our mine."
One of the eagles, rare birds in that part of the Country, evidentlyalarmed or annoyed at the approach of some intruder on their domain,some animal or human being Unseen by Ralph, thrust out its head,opened its beak, and uttered a harsh shrill cry; at which its matewalked forward to the very edge of the crag, poised there for aninstant, and then, spreading wide wings, launched itself into theair and sailed swiftly out of sight. It returned, however, in afew minutes and rejoined its mate on the ledge of rock.
"Old King Eagle," called Ralph, whimsically, knowing well thathis voice would not carry above the roar of the brook, "I wishyou'd tell me where you get all your gold! I believe I'd go diggingwith my finger-nails this morning if I only knew where to begin!"
As if in answer to his appeal, one golden feather drifted down andlay glittering iridescently among the pebbles at his feet.
The lad sprang up with a laugh; then, going down on his knees, hebegan to dig at the exact spot on which the feather fell.Imagination had carried him for the moment to a point of almostsuperstitious energy. But the spell passed quickly. With a scornfullaugh, he straightened his lanky form to its full height.
"Gee!" he exclaimed aloud. "I never supposed I could be such a fool!"
A low laugh sounded behind him, startlingly near, and, turning toglance over his shoulder, he beheld a tall, lean, swarthy young mandressed in a faded and soiled brown suit, with a soft felt hat pulleddown over his eyes, and leggings like those often worn by woodsmen.
"Seven kinds of a young fool, eh?" remarked the stranger, shiftinga long-handled axe and a heavy wooden mallet which he carried fromhis shoulder to the ground.
"Well, you ain't no fool, boy, an' Iknow it, an' that's why I follered you up this trail. I want terhave a little confab with you to-day. Know who I am?"
"No, I don't know you," Ralph replied truthfully, "and I can't guesshow you knew I was up here in the hills."
"Your ma told me. I stopped at your shack, about two hours ago,an' she told me you was out lookin' after your traps. Any luck?"
"Not much." Ralph did not wish the man to observe either thelocation of the traps or the valuable mink that dangled from Keno'ssaddle. "What did you want to see me for?" he queried, after aminute's pause, during which he eyed the woodsman quizzically.
"You're Ralph Kenyon, ain't you?" asked the other, evidently insome doubt.
"Yes. Who are you?"
There was a, blunt directness in Ralph's questions that seemed todisconcert the man who had expected to meet a rather shy, immaturelad---certainly not one who bore himself with an air of calmself-possession and who wasted no words. He gave another low laughthat ended in a chuckle, and replied briefly:
"My name's Bill---Bill Terrill---perhaps you've heard tell o' me?I'm Old Man Walsh's nevvy, your friend Tom's Cousin."
"I've heard of you," said Ralph, drily.
"Who told you, then?"
"Jack Durham---another cousin of yours."
"Oh! You don't mean the kid that joined that 'ere Boy Scout crowdover at Pi'neer Camp last summer, after---after------"
"After you attacked the old man and him in the woods, one day. Yes,he's the one. He told me."
"You an' him pals?"
"Not exactly; he's much younger than I."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen next month."
"Old enough ter know better, eh?"
"What do you mean?"
"Better than ter go diggin' fer---well, gold, in these 'ere parts."
A blush overspread Ralph's freckled face, but it faded as quickly asit had come, and he continued to stare at Bill Terrill.
"I wasn't digging for gold," he said quietly.
"Of course not! I was only joshing you, boy! Say, what I wanted tersee you about is this: there's some dispute between thewhat-d'-you-call-uns?---executors?---of your dad's will and Old ManPerkins, who owns the farm next ter yours, about the boundary lines.Old Man Perkins, he claims-----"
"He has no claim whatever!" interrupted Ralph, vehemently. "That olddispute was almost settled before my father's death. Dad had ourfarm surveyed, charted, and the boundaries marked. I can show youthe stone on the northwest corner; it's only a few yards away, overthere."
"Well, Perkins is havin' _his_ acres surveyed now," said Terrill,"an' I'm one of the crew that's doing the job fer him. I'm axeman.You see, I've reformed consid'r'ble since-----since last summer, andI j'ined a surveyin' crew; axeman now, rodman later, if I'm good,an'-------"
"But why did you want to see me? Was it about this boundary question?"
"Oh, you admit there is some question about it, after all?"
"Are you trying to pump me, Terrill?" asked Ralph, shrewdly suspicious."If you are, you won't get any satisfaction until I've seen ourlawyer. It seems to me you're playing detective instead of surveyor,and you don't do it very well! You had better stick to your job,and the axe!"
Terrill grinned.
"If it turns out that your pa made some mistake or was---er---toocock-sure about the lay o' this land, what d'you think Old Man Perkinswould do about it?" he inquired meaningly.
"Prove his claim, and take part of our present farm away from us, ofcourse," Ralph retorted. "But there is no mistake. The land is ours."
"And if it is, would you be willing to sell----"
"Not a square foot of it---to Perkins."
So saying, Ralph picked up his cap, and carefully brushed off the clayand leaves. As he did so, the shining feather caught his downcasteyes once more, and this time he stooped, picked it up, anddeliberately stuck it under the band of the inside of his cap. Thenhe secured the faithful Keno, and, without another word to BillTerrill, who had moved away whistling defiantly, he tramped homeward,in a rather gloomy mood.
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