THE LIGHT ON THE MOUNTAIN
"Paul, we're not alone up here after all!"
It was Jack who made this remark. He had been skirmishing around later in the afternoon; and came upon the other as Paul was standing at the edge of the lake, looking out upon its surface, to where some ducks floated.
"Well, I never believed we did own the place," returned the patrol leader, with a smile. "But what's happened to give you that idea, Jack?"
"Just by chance," his chum went on, "I saw something moving away up on the side of the mountain. At first I thought it might be some sort of animal; but as I watched I made sure it was human, either a boy or man. And whoever he was he kept track on what we were doing down here. I could see him crane his neck to look, lots of times."
"But you couldn't recognize him?" asked Paul.
"It was pretty far, and there's a sort of haze around us just now. Sometimes I thought I knew
him, and then I made up my mind I didn't," came the reply.
"Is he still there, Jack?"
"Yes, but don't look up," said his chum, quickly. "We are in too plain sight here. I thought perhaps you might step into the tent and get our field glasses. Then we could slip away, and take a good look on the sly. How's that suit you?"
"All right. Meet me at the place where you saw him. Where was that, Jack?"
"See that bunch of hemlocks over yonder? I happened to be partly sheltered back of that when I looked up. I'll wait for you there," and Jack moved off.
Two minutes later Paul joined him. He had the field glasses tucked under his khaki coat, not wishing to attract the attention of the others, lest they might express a wish to trail along, and so spoil things.
"Now, tell me where to look," he observed, as he suited the glasses to his eyes, knowing just how far they should be opened to give the best results.
Jack pointed carefully upward.
"He's there yet, because I saw him move while I waited for you, Paul," he said, in an eager tone.
"I've got him," answered the scout leader, as his hands became rigid.
After a brief look he lowered the glasses.
"Well, who is it?" demanded Jack.
For answer his chum offered him the glasses; and presently Jack had his eyes glued to the smaller end.
When he lowered them a short time later his eyes met those of his chum. Both of them laughed, as though they had exchanged their views in that glance.
"Ted Slavin?" said Paul.
"Just as sure as fate," went on Jack; "and much interested in our doings. That of course means trouble for us at any time. I believe all those fellows have come up here for is to pick quarrels with us. But Mr. Gordon will know how to handle them when he gets here."
"Meanwhile," said Paul, seriously, "we must be on our guard against a sudden attack. We don't want the name of our camp to mean that we were taken unawares. We'll have things fixed so the boot will be on the other foot, if they try to surprise us."
When they looked again, the figure had vanished from that point high up among the rocks. Evidently Ted, having seen all he wished, had gone to tell his cronies the story.
"Where d'ye think they've located; because never a tent did they bring along?" Jack was asking as they returned to camp.
"Oh! up here that wouldn't matter much. Looks like there might be hundreds of caves of all sizes among these piled-up rocks. And a cave is a pretty good hide-out sometimes. I've spent lots of nights in one."
The afternoon sun had vanished behind another elevation that lay to the west; but night was slow in coming, since these were some of the longest days of the year.
Paul could not help noticing that Joe Clausin seemed worried once more. He kept by himself a good bit of the time, and his brow was clouded. Then again, he had taken to looking suspiciously about, here and there, up the steep mountainside, and even along the dimly-defined road that skirted the lake.
It was no mystery to Paul, so far as understanding what Joe might be worrying about went.
"That man with the rig who passed our noon camp on the road—Joe knows he's up here somewhere, and perhaps he wants to meet up with him—I wonder why?" was the way the young scoutmaster ran the thing over in his active mind.
In one way it did not concern him, because Joe had not asked for his assistance; but then again it certainly interested Paul. He believed that there was some odd connection between the loss of those papers contained in the tin box, and the presence
of that stranger in the region of Rattlesnake Mountain.
Again, as before, the pressure of many other things caused him to push all concern about the mysterious stranger from his thoughts.
When supper had been cooked and the scouts sat around enjoying its delights, the shadows of coming night told that another period of sentry duty was at hand.
"No Mr. Gordon to-night, I reckon," ventured Jud Elderkin, as he sat with his tin plate upon his knees, and scooped up the luscious Boston baked beans with his fork; while a steaming tin cup of mild coffee stood beside him.
Most of the boys were not used to this appetizing drink for supper; and a few of them did not take it, being satisfied with cold water; but Paul had considered the matter, and was of the opinion that a little change from the regular programme of home life would not hurt these hardy chaps, especially as they were so tired that nothing could keep them awake, once they lay down.
"I guess you're right, Jud," remarked Paul, "and I'm sorry too."
"Oh! well, we're not worrying," declared Jud, looking around at the ring of bright faces, and nodding, "are we, fellows?"
"Mr. Gordon's all right, and a mighty fine
gentleman; but we don't really need him," declared one, promptly.
"Not so you could notice it, while we've got such smart guides as Paul and Wallace along," declared Tom Betts.
"D-d-don't you g-g-go to forgetting W-w-william here; he's t-t-turned out just a w-w-wonder, you know!" burst out Bluff, vigorously waving his knife and fork.
"It's William the Discoverer after this, fellows; for you know he proved that this bully old lake was here, long before any of us had set eyes on it!" argued another scout.
"Joking aside, boys," remarked Paul, earnestly, "I hope a few more of you will take a pattern from the way William learned that fact. If you only keep your eyes about you all the time, there are dozens of things just as interesting that you can read in the plain signs. And the deeper you dig into the Indian way of knowing things the better you'll like it. Please fill up my platter again, William, if there's enough to go around a second time. You're getting better as a cook every day you live."
As always, the utmost good cheer existed around the rude mess table which had been constructed by several amateur carpenters, while the rest were doing other necessary things.
It was meant to go under the big "round-top,"
as the scouts came to call one of the extra canvas spreads; and could be moved to the open at pleasure, during good weather.
"Oh! I think he's a bum chef, and ought to get bounced!"
Every one stared at Joe Clausin as these words appeared to proceed from his mouth, and no one looked more surprised than Joe himself.
"If I've just got to eat his messes, you'll have to carry me back to good old Stanhope, and mother's cookin', that's what!" Joe persisted in saying, though no one saw his lips move.
"Hey, what d'ye think of that, fellows?" exclaimed William, trying to look indignant. "Here I've been breaking my back trying to get up the right kind of grub for the patrol, and this ungrateful member kicks me when I ain't looking!"
"But I never——" started Joe, when he was cut short again.
"Now don't you go to saying you didn't mean anything, because the boys heard you speak right out in meetin'!" exclaimed William, getting up, and throwing his hands out as though he meant to wash them of the whole business.
"But William," the accused boy went on, eagerly, "didn't I eat more'n any one else? I declare I never said your cooking was off color. It's really decent, and I'm ready to tackle any
thing you try. Somebody's joshing us—somebody's putting the words in my mouth."
"It's Bobolink changing his voice," called out Paul, laughingly.
"Sure it is!" cried William; "look at his grinning there, for all he makes out to be so innocent. He's up to his old tricks again, fellows; he's practicing that game of ventriloquism on us, that's what."
Whereupon Joe made a dash for the author of his humiliation; but Bobolink had been expecting such a move, and was prepared to sprint out of the danger zone.
It was in this spirit of merriment that they finished their supper. If any of the scouts began to feel a homesick sensation creeping over them, they were manly enough to hide it from the eyes of their comrades.
And later on, when the dishes had been washed systematically, and everything arranged for the night, Paul and Jack sat together watching the stirring scene. The campfire glowed and snapped, boyish laughter and small talk abounded, and beyond the confines of the camp the sentries walked their beats.
"Looks good to me, eh, Jack?" remarked the weary acting scoutmaster.
"Same here," declared his chum, warmly; "though I guess you'll be right glad when Mr.
Gordon comes. To-morrow you said we would have some tests of endurance, whether he is on hand or not. I think that is a good idea. But look yonder, Paul. Isn't that a moving light away up on the side of Rattlesnake Mountain?"
And Paul, turning quickly in the direction indicated, was thrilled to discover once more the phantom jack-o-lantern flickering light that had mystified him on that other occasion. This time Wallace could not have said it seemed to be made by a man lighting his pipe, for it was too steady. It moved to and fro, now clear, and again dim. Then even while the two boys stared, it suddenly vanished from sight.