CHAPTER XXII
LIKE OLD TIMES FOR THE SCOUTS
“There, that settles it. Donald wants us to show up,” Tubby broke out with, rejoiced in the opportunity to discontinue his long silence.
“Are we going, Rob?” demanded Andy, even more impatient.
“Come along, everybody!” decided the scout master.
With that they arose to their feet, the distressing period of crouching and trying to hide themselves being at an end. They could all take deep breaths and begin to experience some of the joy that comes with the advent of victory after a hard-fought battle.
Rob led the way, and they quickly arrived at the foot of the steep embankment which marked the joining of the railway with the beginning of the trestle. Up this they started bravely. Tubby began to have his own troubles immediately, for, as might be expected, the soil started to crumble more or less under his feet. Tubby was unusually awkward about getting a footing.
Several times he started to slide back, and only recovered himself with difficulty. Then came an occasion when he failed to secure a grip, and as his weight caused the earth and stones to crumble more and more under him Tubby commenced rolling down the slope like a barrel, clawing at a wild rate to the right and to the left.
He undoubtedly would have gone all of the route and brought up where he began his climb, much the worse for his experience, but for Zeb. The big Maine guide chanced to be below the rest, and was thus able to reach out and seize upon the revolving Tubby. By bracing himself, Zeb also managed to bring the other to a full stop. Tubby was in luck, as usually happened. He once again started upward, as if he were the famous youth in the poem whose motto, when climbing the snow-clad heights, was “Excelsior”; only Tubby did not expect to meet with the other’s sad fate.
In this fashion, assisted by the man of the woods, Tubby was enabled to finally gain the top of the embankment. Rob and Andy had already advanced to join the little group of excited men hurrying toward the spot.
There was Donald in the lead, with a sturdy man in overalls at his side, whose arm was proudly thrown across the boy’s shoulders; for Robert McGuffey realized that his boy had covered the family name with honor by his action. Then came the conductor of the train, a man in uniform, who carried a lighted lantern, together with a number of soldiers armed with guns. Every one of them seemed eager and full of enthusiasm, for the war no longer lay thousands of miles off, with an ocean rolling between—it had actually come to their very doors.