Indeed, when the next morning came, and Gus drew up in his big seven-passenger car, Billy proved the truth of his bold assertion. He did succeed in getting every bit of the luggage aboard, and there was still room for the boys to stow themselves away, though Arthur and Hugh had to let their legs dangle outside more or less.
The start was made under promising conditions.
“Looks like we might be favored with a spell of real mild weather,” Billy observed, after they had left Oakvale some miles behind, and were speeding along the road at a fairly lively pace.
“Indian summer hasn’t come and gone yet, they say,” remarked Gus. “Like as not this is a spell of the same. But no matter what sort of weather we strike I’m glad as can be we’ve made the start, and hope things will turn out for the best.”
Again did Hugh pay attention to some hidden meaning back of what Gus Merrivale was saying, though neither Billy nor Arthur seemed to notice anything strange.
“I honestly believe Gus has some sort of reason for wanting to visit that deserted old lumber camp just at this particular season of the year,” mused Hugh, as he sat there and paid strict attention to the scenery along the route. “Besides, when he says his mother is setting him up to making the trip, and that he didn’t want his father to hear about it, it looks pretty queer. But then he promised to tell us all about it later on, so what’s the use bothering any more?”
They were fortunate not to have any “blowout” or other accident on the way—which Hugh considered lucky, for the car was an old one, only lately repaired. Miles upon miles were passed over. Gus did not try to make undue haste; for he entertained a certain amount of suspicion regarding the propensity of the Atlas to break down.
By degrees they found themselves entering upon a wilder stretch of country than the region bordering Oakvale. Farms became less frequent, and stretches of heavily wooded land took their place. Some great gashes had been made in this valuable timber belt, mainly through the logging operations carried on by Mr. Merrivale’s gangs of hardy lumbermen.
This year, however, there was nothing going on. Gus explained something about a strike that had taken place late on the preceding spring, which had so angered the rich owner of the land that he declared he would not cut another stick until he could get the right sort of men to contract with him.
It was not much after ten in the morning when Gus told his chums they were drawing near the camp. Indeed, the other scouts had already seen numerous evidences of this fact around them. They were accustomed to draw their own conclusions.