The Boy Scouts in A Trapper's Camp

by Thornton W. Burgess

"Do you suppose there's any truth in that claim by the owner of the car that it was a joy ride by unknown parties who had taken the car without his consent or knowledge?" Hal asked.

"Looks pretty fishy to me," replied Upton. "Still, he may get away with it. Understand that neither of the victims can identify the men in the other car. You remember that curve is pretty sharp, and they were hit almost before they saw the other car, let alone who was in it. Sparrer and Pat seem to be the only ones who even had a glimpse of the scoundrels, and that a mighty brief one. If there is any identifying done I guess it is up to you two fellows. Think you can do it?"

"Not I!" declared Pat with emphasis. "I could shwear to the number of points on a jumping buck in the brush, but nary a thing could I shwear to about that ingine av destruction."

"How about you, Sparrer?" demanded Hal.

"If Oi was one of them artist guys Oi could draw you a picture of both of them. Let me put my peepers on them and Oi'll shwear to them in a tousand," replied the newsboy with such an air of finality that there was no doubt in the minds of his companions that he could do just what he said he could.

"Well, you're likely to have a chance if that case goes to court," Upton remarked. "For my part, I hope you can do it. I'd like to see those fellows get what's coming to 'em. I move we turn in now, for we've got to get up at an unearthly hour. It's bad enough to turn out before daylight in the summer, but it makes me shiver to think what it will be at this time of year. Br-r-r-r."

Pat laughed. "If you're going out on the trap line you may as well get broken in to early rising at once. We often have some miles behind us by the time the sun is up," said he. "However, I guess you're right about turning in. I'm ready, for one."

It seemed to Sparrer that he had hardly closed his eyes when some one shook him, and he tumbled out of his berth to find the others in the dressing room hurriedly getting into their clothes. They had no more than time to dress and gather up their baggage and various parcels before the train stopped. They had reached Upper Chain.

As they stepped down into the night, for day had not yet begun to break, Upton recalled his first arrival there, a rather lonely youngster, uncertain that this was the right place. It had been summer then, but everything had been shrouded in a heavy night mist and the chill of the high altitude had struck clear to the marrow in his bones. He had been a tenderfoot then, his only knowledge of woodcraft what little he had gleaned from books. He remembered how the mystery of the great woods had swept over him and engulfed him even as did the night mist, and how insignificant he had felt. Even now, after three years of experience in camp and on the trail he felt something of that same spirit of awe, and he knew that it would always be thus. It was the tribute exacted by nature from the true devotee entering her temples.

He glanced curiously at Sparrer, wondering what responsive chords might be struck in the soul of this waif of the great city, but it was too dark to see his features clearly, and he could only dimly surmise something of the younger lad's feeling from Sparrer's quick intake of breath as the dark, heavy coaches of the train rumbled off into the night, leaving them standing between two walls of white. Overhead a myriad of stars burned like jewels. Never had they seemed so near, so brilliant, so alive. The snow thrown high on either side of the tracks, for there was a siding at this point, was above their heads. The stillness was almost oppressive now that the train was beyond hearing.