After he packed his lunch in his saddlebags, Jim rode off down the road. He decided to carry out his long delayed project of exploring Briggs Woods. He had been so busy recently that he had forgotten his resolve.
The quiet gloom of the woods just fitted Jim’s mood of black despondency. After he reached the center of the forested area, he turned up one of the little trails that led invitingly into the tangled depths. He followed the first one for some distance. It was slow going, winding in and out between the trees, trying to keep branches from slapping him in the face. Finally the path just faded and disappeared, leaving him nowhere. The second and third attempts were equally unsuccessful. Feeling that the job of exploring was vastly overrated, Jim decided to abandon the false trails. He struck off through the woods, following roughly the course of a stream. He had no fears about returning, putting complete trust in Ticktock’s ability to find the way home.
Deep in the woods he turned from the main stream and followed a tiny brook up an incline. Suddenly, to his delight, he came out in a small natural clearing. There was bright sunshine on the deep grass, while the little stream trickled away merrily at one end of the clearing. The open area which was almost flat was several acres in extent. Tall trees grew on every side, giving perfect seclusion.
“What a swell hideaway,” Jim said to his horse excitedly. “There’s plenty of pasture and water for you and no one could ever find us.”
He began to make plans immediately for his secret camp. He would bring over his roping dummy and his jumping bar. At one end of the clearing he could build a brush hut. As he planned, his ideas grew larger. He would make a big brush hut, big enough for Ticktock. In front of it he would build a fireplace where he could cook. Then, if no one at home wanted him and Ticktock, they would come here to live. He could cut some of the hay for the winter. Perhaps he would also buy some grain and store it. As for himself, he would trap and hunt for food. Now and then he would mysteriously appear in town with valuable furs to sell. He would buy candy and cakes and other delicacies and then disappear as mysteriously. People would wonder where he lived and perhaps try to follow him, but if anyone came too near the hide-out he would think up some plan to scare them. Soon they would say the woods were haunted.
Jim ate his lunch full of all these plans, while Ticktock unconcernedly cropped the grass. As the afternoon wore on, Jim decided to wait at least another day before he became a lonely woodsman. He would eat one more supper at home since there was apple pie. He rode home and went in to supper with an air of secrecy.
There was no crisis at home that evening; so Jim further delayed his plan of moving. However, the following day he did take his jumping bar and his roping dummy to the new hide-out. He also took a hatchet and spent the better part of several days building a brush hut which looked very impressive, even though the brush roof did leak. In front of it he built his fireplace. He thought about buying some weiners in town and holding a weiner roast, but somehow the idea didn’t seem too much fun alone.
Ticktock and he seemed to be partially forgiven at home; so Jim stayed on. There was no use becoming an exile if you didn’t have to, he concluded sensibly. Still, it seemed a pity to waste such a perfect hideaway. He used it for roping practice and for jumping, but it seemed there should be something more dramatic that he could do.
It was hard to keep the secret of the hide-out to himself; so Jim began to hint darkly to Jean about his lonely spot. At first that young lady begged to be let in on the secret. She wanted to accompany him to his hidden headquarters and teased and begged for several days. That suited Jim exactly, and he went about acting mysterious and important. However, Jean was not quite so guileless as her brother thought. Although she was only ten, she knew a little about handling men, her brother in particular. She dropped her attitude of pleading and began to scoff openly.
“You are just making up the whole thing,” she said derisively. “You haven’t got a secret hangout any more than I have.”