CHAPTER X.
THE VOICE OF THE SILVER FOX PATROL.
"WE'RE going to pitch our camp right here, boys!" said the scout leader,some time later; "and remember, there's to be no shouting from this timeon. We're in the enemy's country, and must observe the rules ofcaution."
"Oh! ain't I glad though," sighed Bumpus, who had been busily engagedbetween wiping his perspiring brow, and avoiding stumbles over obstaclesthat seemed to take particular delight in getting in his way, hethought.
"But I hope you're not going so far, Thad, as to keep us from having ourregular camp-fire?" remarked Giraffe. "Without that, it'd be a sadbusiness, I'm thinking. And what's supper, without a cup of coffee?"
Thad had been talking again with Bob White; and evidently the boy whowas acquainted with the locality must have posted the patrol leaderregarding things.
"Oh! we don't expect to do without that, make your mind easy, NumberSix," he replied, with a laugh, knowing what a weakness Giraffe had inthe line of eating; though it seemed to do him little good, since he wasas "thin as a rail," plump little Bumpus used to declare.
With various exclamations of satisfaction the weary boys tossed theirburdens aside, and followed by throwing themselves on the ground. Aftera short rest, of course preparations for passing the night would be inorder; but a little breathing spell, first of all, was in order.
Thad walked away, in company with Allan and Bob White.
"Now, what in the wide world d'ye think they're going to do?" demandedStep Hen, when the three had vanished from sight among the brush thatlay around.
"There you go," broke out Bumpus, "as curious as any old maid in allCranford, always wantin' to know the reason why. A pretty scout you'llmake, Step Hen; and it'll be a long time before you win any medals, orpass an exam, for the proud position of a first-class scout. But Iwonder what they _do_ mean to do?"
The others laughed at this.
"After this, Bumpus, take the mote out of your own eye before you tryand get a fence rail from mine. But they're up to some dodge, take itfrom me. And it'll be mean if they don't let us into the deal, sooneror later," and Step Hen shook his head dismally as he spoke; for he wasmost unhappy when he believed there was anything going on without hisbeing told all about it.
"Great country this," remarked Smithy, lying there on his back, andlooking up at the lofty peaks that were bathed in the glow of thesetting sun. "About as wild as anything I ever saw. Don't surprise me toknow that the men who were born and brought up here can defy the clumsyofficers of the Government, when they attempt to capture them. In myhumble opinion they'll just keep on making that moonshine stuff here inthe Big Smokies until the year three thousand, if the Washington peoplehold that big tax on the real brand, so as to make it worth while."
"It sure is some ragged," remarked Davy Jones, yawning; for Davy did nothappen to be possessed of a soul that could admire the grandeur of anyrough scenery; and only thought what a nuisance it was to have to do somuch climbing all the while.
"Hold on there, Step Hen," exclaimed Giraffe, as the other started tocollect a handful of small sticks; "don't you dare think of startingthat fire. That's my particular job; the patrol leader gave it over tome, you understand."
"Just to keep you good," sneered Step Hen, throwing the sticks downagain. "You keep on itching to make fires so much, that he just had tobribe you to let up, or some day you'd set the river afire."
"Huh! no danger of you ever doing that, I guess," chuckled Giraffe.
All the same, he got up, and began to gather small tinder on his ownaccount.
"Mind you," he observed a minute later, as though half regretting hisaction in squelching Step Hen so soon; "if anybody feels like lending ahand to gather fuel, why there ain't nothin' against _that_; and we'llhave that bully old coffee all the sooner, you understand."
This sort of subtle persuasion seemed to at least stir Davy Jones intolife, for getting slowly to his feet, he began to collect larger wood,and throw it down close to where the energetic fire-builder was startingto make his blaze.
Giraffe was a real fire worshipper. He dreamed of his pet hobby; andmany times could be seen, apparently idly whittling a stick; when, ifasked what he was doing, his reply would invariably be:
"Well, we might want to start a fire some time or other; and then theseshavings'd come in handy, you see."
On several notable occasions this weakness of Giraffe's had managed toget him into more or less trouble; and the sagacious scout leaderfinally had to take him to task. So on this mountain hike it had beenagreed between them that Giraffe would refrain from attempting hisfavorite role of making miscellaneous fires at odd times, if allowed tobuild all the camp-fires of the trip.
And so far he had really kept his word, though there were times when thetemptation nearly overcame his scruples.
When Thad and the other two came back, darkness had settled over thescene. This came all the sooner on account of the high walls that shutthem in on either side; though just beyond the boys believed there mustbe some sort of an open spot, in the way of a valley.
"I'm glad to see that you made a fine fireplace for cooking, NumberSix," remarked the patrol leader, as he looked around; "because we mayspend a day or so right here, resting up a bit. Now, while supper isgetting underway I'm going to tell you a few things that are apt tointerest you some. They concern our comrade Bob White here, and he'sgiven me full permission to say what I'm going to."
"There, Step Hen, what did I tell you?" cried Bumpus, gleefully. "Nexttime just get a throttle grip on that bump of curiosity of yours."
"I've heard my maw say people that live in glass houses hadn't ought toheave any stones," retorted the other, witheringly.
But the boys quickly forgot all their differences, once Thad started totell of the strange things which he had heard from Bob White.
There was an intaking of the breath, such as would indicate greatexcitement, as they learned how Bob's father had been connected with theraids on the secret Stills of the mountain moonshiners. And when finallythey heard how he had met so terrible a fate, while pursuing his swornduty by the Government, glances of true brotherly sympathy were cast inthe direction of Bob.
"Now," said Thad, in conclusion; "you've heard about all there is totell; and I know you're tremendously astonished, because none of us hadany idea that we were going to run up against such a thing as this whenwe asked Bob to let us go with him to his old home here among the BlueRidge Mountains. But what is important to know, is your decision.Majority rules in everything of this kind; and if more than half of youthink we ought to turn right back, and not keep on, why, there's nothingto be done but turn about, and go over the trail again."
"Well, not much!" exclaimed Giraffe, filled with a spirit of boyishcomradeship toward the chum who had been so sorely afflicted, and whosesad story was now discovered for the first time.
"Put it up to a vote, Thad!" remarked Bumpus, trying to look grim anddetermined, though his round face was usually so merry that it was ahard proposition for him to seem serious.
"All in favor of returning to-morrow say aye," Thad suggested.
Just as he expected, there was absolute silence.
"All in favor of sticking to our chum through thick and thin, and doingall we can to help him over the rough places, say aye!" the leadercontinued.
A chorus of eager assents drowned his words. Bob White's fine dark eyesfilled up with tears. He could not trust himself to speak; but the lookhe gave each and every one of those seven loyal comrades was moreeloquent than any words could have been.
"After we've had supper," Thad went on warmly, "Bob means to go to keephis appointment with his little cousin, who expects to slip out of thehouse, and meet him where he wrote her he would be at a certain hour.There's the queerest valley you ever saw just ahead of us. Across it youcan see the lights of Reuben Sparks' house, and several others that liethere in a bunch, a sort of hamlet, because it's hardly a village. AndBob says that Reuben really owns about t
he whole place. He can get overthere in an hour or so, because he knows the ground so well. And whilehe's gone, we can take it easy here, making up our beds for the night;if so be there are any bushes to be cut, worth sleeping on."
"Hey, would you see how fine a fire-tender that Giraffe is; it's goneclean out, that's what?" cried Step Hen, just then.
"Well, would you blame him, when he was listening to such an interestingstory as the one I had to tell?" asked Thad. "Get busy, Number Six, andhave a blaze going in quick time."
"Ay, ay, sir," sang out Giraffe, who had wisely laid aside a surplussupply of fine stuff when making the fire, which now came in very handy.
And when the coffee was finally done, and they gathered around, sittingon rocks, logs, or even cross-legged, tailor-fashion, on the ground, theeight scouts made a very fine picture in their uniforms.
Apparently their appetites had been sharpened by that afternoon jaunt,judging from the way they pitched in. And perhaps, after all, ReubenSparks had been a wise as well as prudent man when he failed to invitethis squad of lads to stop over with him; for they would have made a sadinroad on the contents of his larder; and food costs money.
"Where's Bob?" demanded Bumpus, suddenly, after they had been about halfan hour trying to lighten their supplies, and with wonderfully goodsuccess. "He was sitting over yonder only three minutes ago; and nowhe's gone. Reckon that bad spirit of yours is sneakin' around again,Step Hen, and must a took Bob by mistake; though I pity his eyes if he'dever think so good lookin' a feller as Bob could be you!"
"Bob's gone to keep his appointment," remarked Thad, quietly.
And the boys said nothing more about it, knowing that the Southern ladlaid considerable store upon this meeting with his little cousin Bertha;whom he expected to coax in to helping him try and see whether sly oldReuben Sparks might not have forgotten to destroy all evidence of fraud,in connection with his dealings with her father, the uncle of Bob.
So the conversation drifted to other topics; and soon they were laughingover some of the queer happenings in the past history of the Silver FoxPatrol.
Boy Scouts in the Blue Ridge; Or, Marooned Among the Moonshiners Page 10
