Bert Wilson at the Wheel

by J. W. Duffield

As soon as they had arrived the three “hares,” who had been coached in the game, went to hide themselves in the mountain, and, after sufficient time had been given them for this purpose, the “hounds” followed them; while Bert and Dave Ferris remained in the auto to watch for any signal that might be given them from the mountain.

The game of mountain-scouting consists in the “hounds,” who must stay within certain limits of ground, finding or “spotting” the “hares” within a given time. If they find or spot them even with field glasses, it counts, provided that the finder can tell who it is he has spotted. The hounds write down the names of any of the hares that they may see. If at the end of the allotted time no hare has been spotted, the hares win.

To-day two hours had been the given time and the boys in the mountains were to signal to Bert the news as each hare was found.

Time was nearly up. Three hares had been found. The chase had been a merry one and now hares and hounds together, no longer pursuers and pursued, but just happy-hearted campers were hiking down to the two in the automobile.

The return signal had been given, and Bert and Dave, relieved of the slight anxiety they had felt while the game was going on, expected each moment to see the boys come into view.

Suddenly Dave sprang to his feet. “Look, Bert,” said he, “another signal.”

Breathlessly the boys read the signal wig-wagged to them from a point high up on the side of the hill. “Come quick! Fred hurt. Bring splints and kit and ropes.”

It took only a very short time for the boys to reach the scene of the accident, and one glance took in the situation. Turning a corner the boys had come, all unknowing, upon a spot where the rocks shelved suddenly down into a deep ravine. The edge of the descent was hidden by a fringe of breast-high bushes, and Fred Morse, all unconscious of his danger, had stepped upon a piece of rock which gave under his foot, and, before the boys could even put out a hand to save him, had slipped through the bushes, and the horrified boys had heard their comrade go crashing through the bushes on the side of the ravine. His frightened cry, “Help, fellows, I’m falling!” still echoed in their ears. While two of the boys were signalling, the others had called to Fred but no reply had come back to them. When Bert reached them, Bob was running along the edge of the cliff, in great danger of going over himself, in a vain effort to find a place to climb down.

Now, not waiting for the call for volunteers, he ran to Bert and begging him to hurry and help him, began fastening the ropes about himself. In a twinkling, the rope was adjusted, the knots securely tied, and the rope firmly held by four boys, Bob was lowered slowly and carefully over the side of the cliff.