E-text prepared by Larry B. Harrison
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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The Boy Scouts
In the Rockies

OR

The Secret of the Hidden Silver Mine

By HERBERT CARTER

Author of "The Boy Scouts First Camp Fire," "The Boy Scouts
in the Blue Ridge," "The Boy Scouts on the Trail,"
"The Boy Scouts Through the Big Timber,"
"The Boy Scouts in the Maine Woods."

Copyright, 1913
By A. L. Burt Company

THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES.

The stubborn jack stood, with his sturdy legs braced like steel, while the taut rope told that Smithy must be
dangling at the other end.

[Page 13]

The Boy Scouts in the Rockies.

THE BOY SCOUTS
IN THE ROCKIES

CHAPTER I.

PERILS OF THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL.

"How is the cripple crowd coming on these days? Hello! Step Hen, any more snake bites? Hope you're not limping with that other leg, now?"

"I should say not, Thad. But I'm always going to believe you did a lot to keep the poison from getting into my system, when you sucked that wound."

"And how about your game limb, Giraffe—was it the right, or the left you bruised so badly on the stones when you fell?"

"The left one, Thad; but thank goodness it's healing up just prime, now. That magic salve did the business in great shape, I tell you."

"Allan, I notice that you still have a halt once in a while. That old bear trap sure took a nasty grip on your leg, didn't it, though?"

"It gave me an ugly pinch, Mr. Scout Master; and only for the fact of the springs being so weak and rusty that the owners had abandoned the trap, I might have been lame for three months. The witch hazel liniment you rubbed on helped a lot."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're all such a grateful lot, considering the little I was able to do for you. It's sure a pleasure to be patrol leader and assistant scoutmaster to such a wide-awake lot of boys as we have in the Silver Fox Patrol. Don't you think so, Toby Smathers?"

Thad Brewster turned a smiling face upon the sole man of the party, a genuine woods-ranger, such as the Government employs to look after the great forest reservations in the region of the Rocky Mountains, and the Coast, away up in the Northwest region.

"Wall, it strikes me they're a purty lively lot of scouts, all right; and lucky at that to hev a leader as leads, and holds the reins tight over 'em. And I'm glad myself to be guide to such a hefty bunch. That's what I'm asayin', Mr. Scout Master," the party addressed replied.

Outside of the guide there were just eight lads in the party; and from the fact that various parts of their attire suggested the well known khaki uniform which all Boy Scouts wear, the world around it was evident that these young fellows belonged to such an organization.

This was the exact fact, since they had come from far-away Cranford in an Eastern State, and were known as the Silver Fox Patrol of Cranford Troop; there being another patrol known as the Eagles, mustered in during the late winter.

Thad Brewster was the patrol leader; he was also a First Class Scout, and had qualified for the position of Assistant Scout Master, receiving his certificate from Headquarters many moons before.

Second in charge came Allan Hollister, a Maine boy, who had had considerable actual experience in wood's life, and to whom the rest of the patrol naturally turned whenever a knotty problem faced them during an outing.

The exceedingly fat and good-natured youth was Bumpus Hawtree, bugler of the troop, even though just now he was minus the instrument on which he was accustomed to sound the various calls, such as "reveille," "assembly," "taps," and so on, the most popular being the second, as it was usually associated with meals. Bumpus had been looked upon as the real tenderfoot scout, up to recently; but having become lost in the big timber recently, he had acquitted himself so splendidly, as recorded in the preceding volume, that his mates now regarded him as one who had been keeping his light under a bushel.

Then there was Bob White, otherwise Robert White Quail, a Southern boy, warm of heart, a faithful friend, and upon whom the leader could always depend in emergencies; Step Hen Bingham, whose real name of course was Stephen, but upon appearing at school for the first time he had insisted that it was pronounced as though made up of two syllables; Davy Jones, an athletic lad; Giraffe, really Conrad, Stedman, but given the significant nick-name because of a habit he had of stretching an exceedingly long neck most outrageously; and last but far from least, a dudish looking boy who at home answered when they called him Edmund Maurice Travers Smith; but among his playmates he was known simply as "Smithy."

These Boy Scouts had seen some pretty lively times during the past year or so, down in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, where they visited the former home of Bob White, and found themselves mixed up with the moonshiners of that wild, inhospitable region; and later on up in Maine, where they had gone partly on business for Thad's adopted father and guardian, and to enjoy an outing, with a little hunting thrown in.

It happened that here among the pine woods of Maine, they were instrumental in recovering some valuable bonds and other papers that had been stolen from a bank, and for which a large reward had been offered. With this money in the treasury of the troop, they were able to lay out a great trip to the Rocky Mountain region for the following summer. As the money really belonged to the eight lads individually, they felt justified in using it in this manner; for the second patrol had only been formed after the Cranford boys learned what glorious times the Silver Foxes were having right along.

One guide who had been hired had gone off with a party of big-horn hunters, who lured him with better pay, and the other had been taken down sick; so it came that the boys actually started toward the mountains without a convoy, their tents and camp-duffle being loaded on a couple of comical pack mules known as Mike and Molly, which animals afforded more or less amusement and excitement from time to time.

They had heard of Toby Smathers, and only good words. In coming to this particular region they had hoped to run across the ranger, and secure him for their service while in the valleys and mountains; for he was said to be patrolling the big timber country, on which some thieving lumbermen were suspected of having set envious eyes.

And by great good luck the boys had happened to meet up with Toby, after passing through a great variety of thrilling experiences, connected with the hunt for the tenderfoot who had "gone out to find his bear." And as the ranger was able to engage with them for the balance of their stay in the mountains, Thad and his companions now felt that they need hesitate no longer, but might strike boldly into the heart of the Rockies.

They had various objects in wanting to come out to this far distant region. Several who had the hunting fever burning in their veins, had sighed for a glimpse of big game, grizzlies and such; then another, who was rapidly being taken with the photographic craze, being Davy Jones, expressed a wish to snap off wild animals and birds in their native haunts, the famous big horn sheep for instance taking one of his amazing plunges over a precipice; Smithy was interested in wild flowers, and had heard great stories concerning the pretty ones that were to be found out here; and then there were several others who yearned for excitement in any shape or style, so long as it thrilled their pulses—which was the natural boy spirit, always feeding on action.

Some days had passed since the coming of the guide, and the breaking up of the camp at the foot of the noisy rapids, where three of the boys had remained while their companions were off for days, tracking the wandering Bumpus.

They had started into the mountains, and were at the time this conversation took place surrounded by the wildest scenery that any of them had ever looked upon.

The trail led along precipitous paths, often with a wall of rock on one side, and a yawning abyss on the other, down which the boys could look and see trees growing that seemed to be dwarfed, but which the guide assured them were of fairly respectable size.

As a rule the scouts were a rollicking set, full of jokes, and even playing innocent little tricks upon each other; but somehow the grandeur of the scenery, as well as the dangers of that mountain trail, rather stilled their spirits. Thad had also taken pains to warn them that practical pranks would be out of order during their stay in the mountains. He had heard of several that had turned out tragedies; and wanted to carry no ill tidings home to dear old Cranford, when the patrol set their faces that way.

Step Hen had one trait from which nothing ever seemed capable of breaking him. He was exceedingly careless by nature, and forever misplacing things that belonged to him. And the fun of it was, that he could never see how the fault lay with himself; but kept bewailing the misfortune that always picked him out as a victim; just as though some invisible little imp were haunting his footsteps forever, and watching for opportunities to hide his belongings in the most unheard-of places. It did not matter that they were usually found just where Step Hen had himself dropped them in a moment of absent-mindedness; he would grumble to himself, and observe his companions suspiciously, as though he really believed they had been playing a little joke upon him after all.

Thad had even lain awake nights, figuring on how the other might be radically cured of this failing; for Step Hen had many admirable traits of character, and it seemed a great pity that his record as a scout should be marred by so tenacious a fault. But up to the present the scoutmaster had not been able to build up a scheme that promised to effect a cure. And every once in a while the complaining voice of Step Hen might be heard in the land, wondering "where in Sam Hill that knife of mine has disappeared to; last time I had it I was mighty careful to put it away in the sheath; and now it's gone like magic. Who sneaked it off me, tell me that? Funny how it's only my things that disappear all the time. Oh! is that it sticking up there in the tree, Giraffe? You say you saw me put it there? Well, I don't remember the least thing about that. Guess you must have been dreaming; but of course I'm glad to find it again. I wish people would use their own knives."

Perhaps, some time or other Step Hen might be given a lesson that would make so lasting an impression on him that he would begin to see the absurdity of being careless. Thad often felt that he would like to help the good work along, if ever the chance arrived.

Smithy was more than a little curious in his way. He possessed a kindly nature, too, and had made friends with Mike, one of the pack mules. Often in the goodness of his heart the dude scout would walk alongside the burden bearer, talking to him, and patting the animal's nose. Sometimes Mike resented these attentions, for he was only a mule after all, and all scouts looked alike according to his manner of thinking.

Smithy was walking there now, having the leading rope that was connected with Mike in his hand; in fact, he had wrapped it around his wrist absent-mindedly. And as he talked confidingly to the animal, he was also engaged in rubbing Mike's nose. Twice the mule had plainly given him to understand that he preferred to be let alone while staggering along these mountain trails, bearing that big pack on his sturdy back; but Smithy was really thinking about some wonderfully beautiful wild flowers he had seen clinging to the face of a precipice further back, and wishing he might be so lucky as to get hold of such a prize; so that he paid no attention to the impatient thrust from the mule's nose.

It happened just then that Thad, Allan and the guide were in the advance. Something engrossed their attention, and they were holding an earnest talk-fest among themselves. Had it been otherwise, Toby Smathers, who knew mule nature like a book, must surely have warned the kindly Smithy that Mike was in a most irritable frame of mind, and that he would do well to leave him severely alone for the present.

Behind Smithy and Mike came Davy Jones, carrying his little camera, and looking for new worlds to conquer. He had snapped off the procession several times, and of course the mules always occupied posts of honor in the pictures. Back of him Bob White and Step Hen were sauntering along, telling stories, and observing things in general; after them came Bumpus, puffing and blowing with the exertion; while Giraffe brought up the rear, leading the other pack animal, known as Molly; and just about as full of tricks as Mike ever dreamed of being.

Thad was in the act of pointing toward the valley, glimpses of which they could obtain from their lofty position, when he heard a tremendous outcry from the rear that gave him a bad shock. Turning like a flash, the scoutmaster discovered that one of the patrol was missing. There was no need to ask who it was, for there he saw Mike, the pack mule, with his feet pushed out to keep himself from being pulled over the edge of the shelf of rock; while the taut rope told that poor Smithy must be dangling at the other end, with an ugly fall threatening him if by chance the rope came loose from his wrist, where he had wrapped it!

CHAPTER II.

TIDINGS OF THE LOST MINE.

"Help! help! Smithy's tumbled over the edge of the precipice!"

That was Step Hen shouting. He had happened to be the nearest one to the unfortunate scout, when Mike gave the other an impatient shove with his nose, that made Smithy lose his balance, and topple over the brink.

Thad never lost a second, but went on the jump toward the spot where the stubborn jack stood, with his sturdy little legs braced like steel, as though determined not to be pulled over just because Smithy had stepped off the trail.

Reaching the spot, Thad threw himself down on his face. He could peer over the edge, and see the dangling scout. Smithy was squirming at a tremendous rate, doubtless terrified at the sudden mishap that had overtaken him, and which came when he was dreaming of other things.

"Stop wriggling that way, Smithy!" called the patrol leader; "it won't do any good, and may shake the rope loose from your wrist! Here, try and get hold with your other hand; and grip it good and fast. We'll have you up in a jiffy, never fear!"

"Oh! Thad!" gasped the poor fellow, whose face was as white as chalk when he turned it appealingly upward; nevertheless Smithy had learned the quality of obedience, and particularly when he heard the acting scoutmaster speak; so that almost mechanically he groped around with his free hand until his fingers came in contact with the taut rope, when they closed upon it tenaciously; just as a drowning man will cling to the first thing he clutches that seems to hold out a single ray of hope.

"Let me help," said a quiet voice close to Thad's ear; and he knew that it was Allan who spoke—Allan, always self-possessed and cool, even in the most trying conditions.

Thad was only too glad to have an assistant, for he could never have lifted the imperiled lad alone, since Smithy was no light weight; and did not know enough to help himself by digging the toes of his boots into crevices of the rocks, so as to ease the terrific strain on his arms.

"Hold on tight, Smithy; it's all right, and you're not going to fall, understand that now. So, up you come, my boy! Another pull like that, and we'll sure have you on deck again. Easy now with that rope back there; Step Hen, hold to the mule, and keep him quiet, will you?"

Thad said all this in a reassuring, matter-of-fact tone, that was better calculated to put confidence into the faint heart of Smithy than anything else could. Step Hen and Davy Jones caught hold of the obstreperous Mike, almost frantic because of these strange carryings-on, and held him tight, so that he might not interfere with the critical work of rescue.

And so Smithy was finally pulled over the edge. Once Thad managed to secure a grip of the collar of his scout coat, he knew everything was serene, for that khaki cloth was firm and sound, and capable of bearing almost any strain.

The rescued scout sprawled on the shelf, panting hard. His face was still ghastly white, for Smithy lacked greatly in fortitude, and needed building up as much as the other tenderfoot, Bumpus, had, before his adventures in the big timber, that had gone so far to raise him in the estimation of his chums.

"Whew! that was a close shave!" exclaimed Giraffe, from the rear, where he had been holding on the other mule with more or less difficulty; because, when Molly discovered that her mate was in some sort of panic, she also wanted to frisk around, and cut up, after the way of mules in general.

Step Hen and Davy Jones were poking their heads over the edge, curious to know just what Smithy had been saved from. The former turned, and grinned.

"Guess you might have been bruised some, Smithy, if you'd gone on down;" he remarked; "but there's a big shelf that was waiting to grab you, just five feet under your toes. But as you didn't know that, and thought the drop was half a mile, more or less, I don't blame you for feeling shaky about it."

Smithy recovered sufficiently to insist on crawling to the edge, and also peering over. When he really found that what Step Hen said was the truth, it seemed to annoy him, strange to say.

"Now, isn't that provoking," he declared, in his precise way of talking that he had learned from his maiden aunts; "why, if I had only been aware of that circumstance, what an amount of mental suffering it would have saved me. When a fellow gets such a fright as that, he likes to know that it was worth while."

The journey was soon resumed; but Thad saw to it that some one else besides Smithy held the leading rope of the tricky Mike. Perhaps the mule might never afterwards try the same game; and then again he was liable to break out in a new direction; for there was a little demon in that wicked eye of his, Thad thought.

Already they were on the downward grade. By the time night arrived, the guide hoped they would have reached the lower canyons, where a camp might be made. All of the boys were really tired of climbing about among so many dangerous narrow paths, and would welcome the coming of the time when they could move around without constant danger of being dashed to death over some precipice.

None of them claimed to be born mountain climbers. They preferred to take their fun in some other way.

When the route changed somewhat in its character, so that the little party could gather more together, an animated conversation broke out. The guide was fairly flooded with questions concerning the country, and what he knew about its past.

"I've been all through here many's the time," Toby declared, waving a hand to cover the surroundings generally. "And some other fellers, they've jest been fairly hauntin' these regions in years past; but 'twa'n't any use; for they never could find that old mine again."

"What's that?" demanded Step Hen, scenting an interesting item, for he was always on the look-out for such things as seemed to promise a touch of mystery.

"A mine; what kind was it, Toby; who lost it; and why haven't they been able to find it any more?" asked Giraffe, eagerly; while Bumpus crowded closer, for he had a little mercenary streak in his make-up, and was keen to discover a chance to lay by another store of hard cash, that might insure a succession of glorious outings for the Silver Foxes.

The guide seemed nothing loth to tell what little he knew.

"Why, you see, thar was a man named Rawson—met him lots of times myself; and one time after he'd been pokin' about in this section, prospectin', he came to Greeley with his pockets just bulgin' out with the richest silver ore ever seen. All he'd say was he'd struck a lode that was mighty nigh the pure stuff. Then he went away, to try an' get up a company to work his mine, they sez, an' he never kim back. Nobody never knowed whatever became of Rawson; but heaps of folks has hunted high an' low to find his rich mine. Why, thar was that old miner, Kunnel John Kracker, I jest reckon he spent as much as four months several times up around here, pokin' into the most unlikely places you ever heard tell of. They sez as how he was so dead sot on findin' that same lost silver mine, that he near went dippy over it."

"And nobody has ever managed to locate it again, since that day so many years ago; is that what you mean, Toby?" asked Thad.

"So she seems, Mr. Scout Master," replied the other, who always gave Thad this full appellation when addressing him.

"Bumpus, what in the wide world are you chuckling at, back there?" demanded Davy Jones.

"Don't you know Bumpus enough," laughed Allan, "to guess that already he sees the wonderful Silver Foxes discovering that lost silver mine, and just grabbing handfuls of cash right out of it, to pay the expenses of the next trip—where's it going to be another time, Bumpus; down to the gulf, cruising; or along the Mexican border; for you know scouts should never go outside the borders of their own country?"

"Well, why not?" demanded the fat boy, defiantly; "look back at the stunts we've carried through so far, and tell me if it would be so very strange if we just happened to drop in on this old hidden mine of the Rockies? Luck camps on the trail of the Silver Fox Patrol every time; and I'm ready to shake hands with anything that needs clearing up. You just wait, and see if I'm so far off, that's all."

"And just to think of his name being John Kracker; now, what boy could ever keep from twisting that around, and calling him a cracker-jack?" chuckled Giraffe.

"That's a good one, all right," declared the guide, laughing heartily; "and I'm some surprised, I am, that nobody ever thought to put that same on the kunnel afore this. I wish you could aseen him, boys. Why, he's as fat as—er——"

"You needn't look at me that way, Toby," burst out Bumpus, instantly, for he was more or less touchy with respect to his size. "I'm taperin' down right along these days. Why, I don't reckon I weigh within three pounds as much as I did when we said good-bye to Cranford."

"And you lost all of that the time you walked and walked for days, huntin' for your bear!" put in Davy Jones.

"Well, I got him, all right, didn't I, tell me that?" asked Bumpus, proudly, as he patted the double-barreled ten gauge Marlin shotgun, which he insisted on carrying across his shoulder, while most of the others were satisfied to secure their guns to the pack saddles.

"You sure did," replied Davy, willing to give honor where honor was due.

"I was jest agoin' to say, the kunnel, he's as fat as all get-out," Toby went on, a twinkle in his eye telling how much he really enjoyed these little skirmishes between some of his charges. "But all the same, he's the most energetic critter you ever seen. And temper, say, he's gettin' as red in the face as a turkey buzzard, struttin' around with a chip on its wing, ready for a fight. I 'spect some day the kunnel, he'll jest blow up, and disappear in a cloud of steam. And p'raps after all you might git a chanct to set eyes on him yet; because I heard down at Greeley, last time I was thar, that he'd passed through with a couple of fellers, and packs; so it looked like he meant to give that pesky lost mine another whirl, makin' p'raps the fourth time he's been up thisaways."

"Glad to hear it," spoke up Bumpus. "Makes it more interesting to know that he's still got some faith in the story of the lost Rawson mine. But I'm real sorry for Colonel Kracker, because he's a back number since the Foxes have come to town. If he knows what's good for him he'll go away back and sit down."

"It's refreshing just to hear you say that, Bumpus," declared Allan.

"He's just talking for the fun of hearin' himself, that's what?" grumbled Step Hen. "What sort of chance would we have, a lot of greenhorns who never yet saw a silver mine; against an old-timer like him? For one I'm not going to take any sort of stock in the yarn. Like as not it's just one of the thousands of lies that are circulated all through the mining regions. Why, I've heard that there are just any amount of wonderful lost mines that never existed, my dad says, except in the mind of some crank. And my dad ought to know, because he owns stock in heaps of mines that was salted dreadful, just to sell to innocent people in the East."

"About this Rawson who was said to have found the silver lode that was nearly pure," Thad remarked, wishing to pick up more information; "what sort of a man was he, Toby—you said you used to know him once, I believe?"

"A pretty fair an' square sort of a prospector; and they sez as how he was that tickled over his rich find, sayin' that now his fambly could enjy some of the comforts o' life. Seems like his fust thought was 'bout them. But I never knowed whar he lived, except that it was somewhar down in Utah among the Mormons; though to be sure he wasn't belongin' to the plural wife colony, not much. Seemed to think all the world 'bout the one wife, and the children he'd got."

"Then it's too bad poor Rawson never lived to profit by his discovery," went on the scoutmaster. "If he'd only been able to hand the key to his find over to his family, they might long ago have come in for a fair share of the profits of the lode. Well, Bumpus, if, as you seem to believe, in that stubborn way of yours, that the Foxes are just bound to tumble into this lost mine, we'll remember, boys, to hunt up the family of Rawson, and let them share in our luck. And now, as the afternoon is getting along, we'd better be thinking of hurrying, if we hope to camp in the valley this coming night."

They made a little spurt, though it was always next to impossible to hurry those two independent pack animals, as contrary by nature as anything could be. Step Hen indeed declared they would do well to turn the animals around, and pretend to want to go in the other direction; when Mike and Molly would keep on backing until they had reached the valley below in good style.

The sun was of course out of sight behind the mountainous wall standing like a great barrier in the west, when the little company of scouts finally reached the base of the eastern ridge.

"Thar's a hunky camp site jest over beyond that bunch of trees, boys;" the guide announced; "plenty of good drinkin' water for man, an' beast too. So let's head that way. Reckon you-all must be some tired with that long trip in acrost the range."

Five minutes later, and they drew up at the spot, which Thad immediately saw was just the place for pilgrims to pass a night.

"Hello! there's been a fire here!" exclaimed Giraffe, always on the lookout for anything that pertained to a blaze; for he was the greatest fire worshipper ever known.

The guide flung himself down beside the ashes, and felt of them; while the scouts waited to hear what his report would be.

"Somebody camped here jest last night," declared the forest ranger, quickly; "and like as not 'twar that ole Kunnel Kracker an' his party, bound to comb these mountains onct more, lookin' for the lost silver mine!"

CHAPTER III.

THE LETTERS OF FIRE ON THE CLIFF.

"Now, how'd he know that, Allan? D'ye reckon he tells the same way you would?" asked Step Hen, immediately interested.

Some of the others had seen the Maine boy do various "stunts" along the line of woodcraft, on previous occasions; and among others he had been able to tell just about how many hours previous a fire had been abandoned, by the "feel" of the ashes, as Giraffe always declared.

"Pretty much the same, I suppose, Step Hen," replied the other, pleasantly, for Allan, being one of the officers of the patrol, was always glad to find any of the scouts interested in picking up information; and never refused to assist to the best of his ability.

Toby was examining the ground around the ashes with those snapping eyes of his, small in point of size, but capable of taking in every point going.

"How d'ye suppose he did do it?" persisted Step Hen, who was very determined, once he had set his mind on anything—stubbornness some of his camp-mates called it.

"Oh! there are ways easier to grasp in your mind than explain," Allan remarked. "You just seem to know a thing. Some hidden instinct tells you, I might say. You feel a deadness in the ashes that's different from fresh ones. And then the looks tell you whether the dew has fallen on them or not. In this case Toby, I reckon, has found out that they seem mighty fresh; and so no night has passed since the last spark of fire died out. There are other ways of telling about how many nights ago it may have been made, if an old one. But you ought to make a practice of studying these things connected with fires, Giraffe, instead of being always wanting to make fresh blazes. You'd find the matter mighty interesting, and worth while, I give you my word."

"Say, that gives me an idea!" exploded the tall scout; "and mebbe I will. Just as you say, Allan, everybody's getting sore on me for wanting to always build fires and fires, and fires. I've been able to start 'em every which way, from flint and steel, to twirling a stick with a bow, after the style of them South Sea Islanders; and like old Alexander I'm cryin' for new worlds to conquer. Well, here they are, just like you say; and connected with fires too; right in my line, so to speak. Thank you for giving me the tip, Allan; I'm sure goin' to think it over."

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Step Hen, fervently.

"Now, what d'ye say that for?" demanded Giraffe, taking umbrage at once.

"If ever you devote your colossal mind to the job of seeing how many ways fires can be put out, instead of started, the rest of us'll have a chance to get some decent sleep nights; because we won't be always afraid of the woods burnin' up with your crazy experiments," and Step Hen moved a little further away from his chum as he said this, not knowing how Giraffe might take it.

But the tall scout, after meditating over the matter for part of a minute only remarked indifferently:

"Oh! that's all right, Step Hen; you've got your faults too, and big ones in the bargain. Ask Bumpus here if my faculty for makin' fires didn't save us from a whole peck of trouble that time up in Maine when we found ourselves lost, a cold night comin' on, two partridges shot, and not a single match in the crowd to start a fire to cook the game and keep us from freezing stiff. He knows."

"That's right," declared the fat scout, instantly, and with a fond look toward Giraffe, as memories of the occasion referred to came trooping into his mind, so that he could almost smell the odor of those cooking birds, thrust near the delightful fire on the points of long splinters of wood.

Meanwhile the guide had come back to where the little party began to make preparations for the night, the packs having been taken from the backs of Mike and Molly, and everybody finding something to do in the bustle.

"Get anything?" asked Thad, as Toby Smathers came up, a grin decorating his sunburnt but honest face.

"Oh! it was the kunnel, all right," replied the guide. "I knows the mark o' his hoof among a thousand. An' he's got them two pizen sharks along o' him, Waffles and Dickey Bird. They been kicked out of nigh every camp in the silver region, but they just about suit the ijee of the kunnel, when he wants any dirty work done."

"And that's what you call finding the long lost silver mine, do you?" asked the scoutmaster, smiling.

"Well, accordin' to the ijee of most decent miners, that same Rawson had the first claim on that ere mine; and any feller that rediscovers it ought to turn a third of the proceeds over to the fambly of the man as got thar first. But you don't ketch Kunnel Kracker doin' any such foolish business as that. He'd gobble the whole business, and snap his finger at the widow and orphans. But they's one thing I don't just exactly understand about the marks hereabouts. Seems to be a boy along with the gang. Now, whatever could such an old seasoned prospector and miner as Kracker want with a half grown boy up in this part of the country, when he's huntin' for a mine that seems to have dropped out of sight, like it fell through to China? That's what gets me."

"Perhaps it might be an Indian boy; we had a glimpse of such a half grown brave skulking along, one day. He seemed to want to count noses in our crowd the worst kind, and we wondered if he meant to steal anything; but after a while he just cut stick and cleared out, looking a lot disappointed over something. Giraffe here tried to get close enough to him to speak, but he was that shy he kept moving off all the time. We thought he might have expected to see somebody he knew among us, a boy perhaps, and when he found that we were a pack of strangers he didn't want anything more to do with us."

"This wa'n't any red-skinned boy, but a white," Toby declared, positively. "An Injun would a toed-in, and wore moccasins; but he had on shoes, and turned his toes out, all right, civilized way. But then, just as you say, p'raps it don't matter a row of beans to us who he was. We may run acrost 'em sooner or later; and again mebbe we won't."

When the two tents were in position it began to look "jolly much like a camp," as Step Hen declared.

The mules were allowed to graze on the little tufts of grass that grew in spots around, where there was enough earth to allow of such a thing. Close by was an occasional stunted tree, from which the boys easily secured all the firewood that was apt to be needed.

And how genial that blaze did look in the coming night, as it shone upon the tents, the smiling faces of the scouts, and the general surroundings, so wild and lonely.

"Looks like we owned the whole world," remarked Bumpus, "when you just squint around, and see the old Rockies towerin' up to the right and to the left, behind and before. Say, this is what we've been lookin' forward to a long time, ain't it, fellers?"

Bumpus seemed to be happier over the situation than any of the others. Really, it was queer how deep an interest the stout youth had always taken in this trip to the Wild Northwest. He it was who first suggested the same, and on every occasion he had fostered the idea. Up in Maine, when they first heard about that rich reward offered for the recovery of the missing valuables that had been stolen from a bank, Bumpus had been the one to declare that they ought to recover them, so as to have plenty of funds in the treasury, to pay the expenses of a grand trip to the backbone of the continent, those glorious mountains which he saw so often in his day dreams, and yearned so much to visit.

Of course, by this time every one of his chums had become filled with enthusiasm also, and there was no faint answer to this question on the part of Bumpus.

Pretty soon supper was started, and that was a time when the scouts began to be more or less restless. Tired as they might be, when the delicious odors permeated the outermost limits of the camp, no one seemed able to sit still. The fact of the matter was that they were ravenously hungry, and it was tantalizing to get the "smell" of the cooking, with the knowledge that it would be at least half an hour ere they could begin to satisfy their appetites. Any one who knows the make-up of average boys, understands that.

"I wouldn't like to be caught in parts of this valley, in a cloud-burst," Davy Jones remarked; "I've been alookin' around some, and there's signs that tell of floods long ago. Guess a feller'd have hike some, to get away if a wall of water came whirlin' down here."

"But the hunting ought to be fine, don't you think, Toby?" asked Step Hen, who had begun to have aspirations to equal the record of several of his comrades; and more than once declared that nothing less than a big-horn Rocky Mountain sheep would satisfy his ambition. "I c'n just think I see the jumpers playin' leap-frog up along some of the cliffs that stand out against the sky yonder."

"We'll find sheep, sooner or later, all right," asserted the guide, who was engaged in cutting wood for the fire; and more than that he would not say, being a man of words rather than big promises.

"Look at Giraffe, would you?" remarked Step Hen. "He just can't quit playin' with fire all the time."

"What's he doing now?" asked Thad, with a laugh, and not bothering to look up; for it happened that just then he was making some notes in his log book, fearing lest they slip his mind, if he waited until after supper.

"Oh! he's got a firebrand, and standing out there in the dark he's doing all sort of queer stunts! with it—whirling it around several times; then movin' it up and down, quick like; after which he crosses it horizontally a few times. Why, just to look at him you'd think he was sending a message like we do with the wigwag flags in the day time."

"Well, that's just what Giraffe is pretending to do, right now," said Thad, after he had taken one quick look. "Only instead of using flags, he's taking a light to make the letters with. Giraffe is a pretty good hand at heliograph work and all kinds of wigwagging, you know. I've talked with him by means of a piece of looking glass, on a sunshiny day, more than a mile away; and we managed to understand each other first-rate. Leave Giraffe alone, Step Hen. He's a nervous scout, you understand, and has to work off his steam some way. There couldn't be any better than brushing up his Morse code, I think."

"Huh! p'raps you're right," grunted the other; "but it does beat all, how Giraffe, always finds satisfaction in playing with fire."

"There's one good thing, about it these days," ventured Davy Jones.

"What might that be, suh?" asked the Southern boy, Bob White, looking up; for he was assisting to get supper ready.

"Why, we don't have to be afraid of Giraffe setting the woods on fire any more. It'd take a job bigger'n he could manage to get a fire goin' in this rocky valley," and Step Hen laughed as he said this; for indeed, the sparse and stunted trees that grew at intervals along the sides of the mountains did not seem to offer much encouragement to a would-be incendiary.

"How much longer do we have to wait for grub?" asked Bumpus, sighing dismally.

"What's that to you?" demanded Giraffe, from outside the limits of the camp proper; he having heard the plaint. "If you went without a bite for a week, sure, you could live on your fat, Bumpus; but think of me. Why, in two days' time my back-bone'd be rubbing up against my front ribs; and in another they would have a riot. I've got a space to fill all the time. Please hurry up, fellers. Somebody blow the fire, and make it cook faster, won't you?"

"You might be doing the same, Giraffe, 'stead of wastin' all your surplus energy aswipin' the empty air out there," called out Step Hen disdainfully, and yet with a slight touch of envy in his voice; for, truth to tell, he aimed to equal the proficiency of the lanky scout in the signal line.

So they went on exchanging remarks, as the minutes dragged slowly past, each seeming more like an hour to the half-starved boys. In vain did those who were doing the cooking tell them to keep their eyes anywhere but on the fire, because "a watched pot never boils."

But by slow degrees the supper was nearing readiness. Bumpus was even making his mouth give signs of his eagerness to begin; and some of the others had even taken up their tin platters hoping to be helped first, when Giraffe suddenly came jumping into camp, wildly excited.

Thad looked up from his writing, half expecting to see him followed by a savage mountain wolf, or possibly a full-grown grizzly bear; but to his astonishment the boy who carried the burning fagot of wood cried out as well as he could in his great excitement:

"Thad—Allan—look! look! somebody's making wigwag letters with a blaze like mine, away up yonder on the face of that high cliff; and I could read it, sure I could! And Thad, oh! what do you think, it keeps on sayin' the same thing over and over all the time, aspellin' out the one word: 'help! help! help!'"

The scoutmaster jumped to his feet instantly, ramming the note book deep down in his pocket as he grasped Giraffe eagerly by the arm, exclaiming:

"Come and show me what you mean! I hope you haven't mistaken a star for a torch!"

CHAPTER IV.

THE TORCH TALK.

Every one of the scouts was on his feet by this time, even fat Bumpus managing to struggle erect with the rest. And strange to say, the supper that was just about to be dished out was for the time being utterly swallowed up in this new and thrilling excitement.

They trooped after Thad and Giraffe, the latter still hanging on to his blazing torch. Toby was left alone by the fire; but after making sure that the supper was in no danger of burning up, the cool, level-headed guide followed his charges over to the spot where Giraffe had happened to be standing, when he noticed the odd signals from up on the face of the cliff.

"Where is it right now, Giraffe?" demanded Davy Jones.

"Nothin' doin'!" added Step Hen, in disgust. "Now what d'ye think of that? The feller had his own eyes blinded by whirling his old blaze around so much, that he just thought he glimpsed another light up there. Say, p'raps Thad hit the thing on the head when he mentioned a star. Like as not now, Giraffe, he just saw one peepin' over the top of the mountains at him, and thought it winked. Well, this takes the cake; and all that fine supper gettin' cold while we're gaping out here. It's a burnin' shame, that's what it is. Me for the fire again."

"Wait!" said Thad, in that tone of authority that always found ready respect from the scouts under him; it was the scoutmaster, and not their chum, who spoke, whenever Thad used that very stern voice.

"Give you my word for it, Thad, I saw it again and again," Giraffe went on, as if he felt that his veracity as a scout was hanging in the balance.

"Point out the exact place," said Thad, promptly.

"I can do it all right, and don't you forget it, Step Hen," declared the tall scout, eagerly; and accordingly, raising his torch, he held it stationary at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees.

"Right there she was, Thad; and if you look close now, p'raps you c'n see a sorter glow like," he went on, again showing excitement.

"I believe I do," replied Thad. "Here, give me that torch of yours, Giraffe."

"What are you goin' to do, Thad?" asked the other, even while he complied with the request, which was in the shape of a command.

"Try and see if I can get a raise again."

As Thad said this he started to wave the torch in several ways. Now he lifted it and lowered it rapidly; then it went out at an angle; and followed with several circles, or possibly a diagonal dash.

And Giraffe saw that he was spelling out the word:

"Hello!"

Eagerly they waited to see the result.

As the last letter was formed, and the wind-up sign made to indicate the message had been completed, to the astonishment of most of the boys there was a sudden response. Away up on the face of what seemed to be a high cliff a light appeared, and began to cut strange figures and lines in the air, as an arm swung it to and fro. And Thad, as he started to read the letters, realized that whoever it might be trying to get in communication with those in the valley, he certainly knew his Morse code all right; indeed a regular telegrapher and wigwag artist belonging to the Signal Corps of the United States Army could hardly have shown more proficiency in the business.

Regularly then, without a hitch, the fiery finger outlined against the dark background spelled out the significant word:

"Help!"

Thad read each letter aloud, for the benefit of those among the scouts who, not being so well along in the work, might have some difficulty in following those wizard flashes to and fro, up and down, and around.

"Just like I said, ain't it, Thad?" breathed Giraffe, as if he felt that his reputation, assailed by Step Hen, had been fully vindicated; but the scoutmaster did not bother answering his question, since he had his mind wholly bent upon solving the mystery of the mountains.

Again he started making erratic movements with the torch he gripped in his right hand; and the staring Giraffe read what the patrol leader was saying to the unknown party perched aloft.

"What is the matter?"

Then the light appeared again, and it seemed as though the other might purposely be keeping it concealed between messages; and back came the startling answer, which Thad spelled aloud as it was sent:

"In trouble—come up—help me!"

"Great governor! what d'ye suppose ails him?" exclaimed Giraffe, seldom being able to keep a still tongue in his head, especially when excited very much; and just then he was quivering all over with nervous eagerness to solve the mystery.

"Somebody bring me another stick from the fire," said Thad; "this one is getting burnt out. Giraffe, you go, because you'll know what kind I want better than any of the others."

Giraffe might have felt like rebelling, because he hated the worst kind to lose a single word of that mighty interesting exchange of signals; but Thad, as usual, had been wise enough to coat the order with a little subtle flattery that served as oil to lubricate matters. Since none of the other scouts could be trusted to select the right kind of torch necessary for signaling purposes, why, of course Giraffe must sacrifice all other personal desires, for the common good. And so he walked toward the fire, though most of the time that long neck of his kept "rubbering" backward, so as to give him something of a chance to see what came next on the programme.

"Who are you?" Thad waved upward, each letter being clear and distinct; for the scout leader knew the folly of running them into one another, and confusing the receiving end of the battery.

"Aleck Rawson!"

When Thad had spelled this out, various exclamations arose from the boys.

"Rawson—why, that was the name of the man who found the silver mine up in this country, wasn't it, Toby?" cried Davy Jones, voicing the thought that had flashed into the mind of every boy just then.

"It sure was," replied the guide.

"Can this be him, then; has he been a prisoner all these years?" gasped Smithy; at which there was a scornful laugh from the others.

"His name wa'n't Aleck; near as I kin remember 'twas Jerry," said Toby.

"P'raps, suh, he had a son?" suggested Bob White.

"Just what I was going to remark," added Allan, eagerly.

The intelligence that had come to them in that last reply had created a sensation among the scouts. Indeed, even Thad was so astonished that for the moment he could not find words in which to continue the interesting conversation by fire.

Then his torch expired.

"Hurry Giraffe, and fetch me that other light!" he called; but there was hardly any need of saying this, because the party in question was already advancing by kangaroo-like leaps, covering ground in a manner simply miraculous.

"What was that last he said?" he demanded, and Step Hen made haste to answer, partly because he wanted to stagger the tall scout; and then perhaps he realized that Giraffe would really give them no peace until he was told:

"Said his name was Aleck Rawson—remember what Toby told us about the man who found the mine long years ago! Well, this might happen to be his boy, we think."

"Keep still! Thad's going to talk some more!" grumbled Bumpus.

Again did the fire signaling go on; and the new torch selected by the expert Giraffe proved even better that the one that had burned out. Letter by letter did Thad send a long message, and Allan spelled it out as it progressed; so that by the time it was completed every one knew just what had been flashed upward toward the unseen receiving party above.

"Can we get up to where you are?"

Now the fiery finger in the darkness began to write an answer; every letter was plainly carried out, so that not in a signal instance did Thad "trip up" as he read it aloud.

"Yes, but come quick—bring rope—might fall any minute!"

"I bet you he's hanging on to a little narrow shelf of rock!" declared Bumpus.

"But if he is, how in the dickens could he get the fire to signal with; that's what bothers me?" muttered Giraffe.

"Where are you?" signaled the scoutmaster, promptly, thinking to get all the information possible while the chance remained.

"On a ledge part way down the cliff," answered the one who had said his was Aleck Rawson.

"How did you get there?" went on Thad.

"Lowered here, and left to die like a dog," came the stunning answer.

"Did you ever hear the equal of that?" cried out Bumpus. "Now what sort of people could ever be guilty of such a horrible thing as that, I'd like to know?"

"Oh!" remarked the guide, "they's a heap of bad men around these parts, I tell ye; but I got a notion I kin see through a board that's got a knot-hole in it. Ask him who put him there, Mr. Scout Master, please?"

Thad would have done this, even though Toby had not spoken; indeed, he was even then about to start putting the question.

"Who put you there?"

"Colonel Knocker did—will you come and get me?"

"The old villain!" gasped Bumpus. "He ought to be tarred and feathered for such a wicked piece of work. What d'ye suppose he did it for? I wonder now, if this same Aleck Rawson could know anything about the secret of that hidden mine; and Cracker-jack John just wants to torture him till he tells?"

"That sounds like it, Bumpus; you're good at guessing things, after all," remarked Step Hen.

"Keep still, back there; Thad's sending another message!" warned Giraffe.

And in his steady way, the scoutmaster went on to flash back the reassuring words:

"Yes, we will come to you. Hold on! It may take us some time. Start right away!"

"Thank you!" came from above, and then the light that had moved backward and forward, up and down, and around in eccentric circles, vanished, as though with that last word the torch, if that was what it was, had been exhausted.

But at least it had served long enough to bear a startling message to the boys of the Silver Fox Patrol, camping there in the valley of the great Rockies.

"Now what?" exclaimed the impatient Giraffe.

Somehow, not one of them gave the waiting supper a single thought just then; for this new and exciting diversion had made them utterly forget such a thing as being hungry.

"I want several of you to go along with me," said Thad; "Toby for one, because of his strong arms, in case we have to do any lifting; also Giraffe; and Allan, perhap you'd like to be in the party also?"

"I certainly would," declared the Maine boy instantly; "if you think I can be spared from the camp."

"Oh!" said Thad, "they'll get on all right here, because every fellow will be put on his honor not to stray away from the fire while we're gone. Bumpus, please let me have that rope you carry with you. It's proved valuable several times already, and may come in all right again."

Bumpus had a very queer idea, in that he persisted in carrying a thin, braided rope wrapped around his body. It was of the sash cord species, slender, but extra strong. Bumpus had seen the great need of a rope once or twice, and made up his mind that he would never be without one, when abroad in the woods or wilderness. And it had proven useful to him too; in fact, but for its possession Bumpus might not have been there, so blithe and happy, at that very moment. Having unfortunately become mired in a slimy mudhole when lost in the big timber, he was slowly sinking on account of his desperate efforts to get out, when he happened to notice the convenient limb of a tree just a couple of feet over his head; and remembering his rope, he had thrown it, doubled, over the same; and by making a tremendous spurt, managed to drag his feet out of the sucking mud, climbing to safety.

And of course after that nothing could ever induce the fat scout to think of abandoning that precious rope.

So he started to unwind it now; and as if this might be a signal for some of the boys to assist, they seized hold of Bumpus, pulling at the rope, until they had him whirling around in a dizzy fashion, protesting all the while, but without any avail. Finally the rope was wholly unwound, and Bumpus found himself sitting there on the ground, with the stars waving in all sorts of queer circles over his head, for he felt as "rocky" as though he had been indulging in strong drink.

"But be awful careful of that rope, won't you, Thad?" he managed to call out, as the scoutmaster started to coil it up for carrying.

"I certainly will, Bumpus," replied the other; "and thank you for the loan of it. Come on, those who are going with me; take your guns along, even if we don't find any use for them. And say, you fellows in camp, save our share of supper for us, remember!"

CHAPTER V.

TAKING FATHER'S PLACE.

"Must be nearly up at the top now, Thad."

It was Giraffe who said this. The little party of four, Thad; Toby, the guide; Giraffe, and Allan, had been climbing upwards steadily for more than an hour now; and even the long-legged scout was beginning to pant more or less from the exertion.

Having been through the valley more than once before, Toby Smathers had been able to take them along the trail that led up the other side. Often they would have been at a loss just how to proceed only for his superior knowledge. And then the moon had risen too, which meant considerable in the way of light; for topping the other range, it shed its brilliant illumination on the side of the elevation the scouts were now mounting so bravely.

"How about it, Toby?" asked the patrol leader, wishing to satisfy his own curiosity, as well as please Giraffe.

"Right thar, now, and arter this we ain't goin' to have much climbin'. But you-all want to be keerful 'bout goin' too clost to the edge. That drop is all of three hundred feet, I reckons," the guide made answer.

"And think of those sharks aleavin' that boy part way down the face of that awful precipice!" said Giraffe, gritting his teeth in a way he had of doing when he wished to let everybody know just how mad he was.

"It's taken a whole hour for us to climb up here," remarked Thad; "and we can hardly count on getting back to the camp in less than another, even if things go right with us."

"Well, wasn't I wise, then, in sayin' we had ought to snatch up some grub, to bite at on the way?" declared Giraffe, triumphantly. "I reckon, now, I'd never a been able to a dumb up this far, if I hadn't kept nibblin' away at the stuff they handed us when we was startin' out. And there's more awaitin' for us after we get back, which I take it is a lucky thing; because my appetite keeps on growin' all the while, what with this tough climb."

On the way of course the three scouts had indulged in all sorts of speculations concerning the cause of Colonel Kracker treating the son of Jerry Rawson in such a scurvy way.

And after the subject had been thoroughly discussed, it seemed to be the consensus of opinion that the boy must possess some map, or at least some knowledge concerning the location of the hidden mine, which the money-mad prospector, whose one idea in life nowadays seemed to be the discovery of this rich silver lode, was trying to force him to give up.

"Anyhow," Giraffe had declared, with conviction in his voice, "I give you my word now, that Aleck's been a Boy Scout, some time or other; because he wouldn't a known how to wigwag that clever way if he hadn't."

Thad had come to the same conclusion some time before; and somehow the idea gave him more or less satisfaction. How often was it being made patent that the very fact of a boy taking up with the scouts might prove one of the most valuable assets he could possess. If the boy on the ledge—for they insisted on believing that this Aleck Rawson must be a fellow of perhaps their own age—had not known how to communicate by means of the telegraphic code, he might have had considerably greater difficulty in letting them know of his predicament, and asking for immediate assistance.

Of course, there were plenty of knotty things that none of them pretended to be able to explain; but then Thad felt sure all would be made clear, once they had drawn the other up from his dangerous position on that ledge, down along the face of the precipice, that had been a cliff when they were below it.

Now and then they would come to a pause, it being necessary that the guide take an observation, in order to locate their position. He had several ways for doing this, and Thad, as well as Allan, understood enough about them to know that Toby was "making good."

It was all so much Greek however to Giraffe, who fretted considerably because there was any delay, the need of which he could not understand.

But in the end the guide announced that he believed they must now be about over the identical spot from which the fire signals had come. A dark void down below told where the great valley lay. The moon, about in the full now, was hanging there just above the opposite range, and lighting up their wild surroundings.

"Seems to me we ought to see him, if he's still there?" grumbled Giraffe, just as though he meant to hint that if the imperiled boy had lost his hold, and fallen, it would be partly because they had been so slow in getting there.

"Perhaps we may," replied Thad, as Toby crawled to the edge to peer over; "but it wouldn't surprise me if we found that the face of the precipice backed in, and that would keep us from sighting the ledge, or any one on it."

"Looky! there's Toby beckonin' to us. Come on, fellers!" and the eager Giraffe started to move toward the edge of the descent.

Knowing that Giraffe was inclined to be reckless in his haste, Thad kept close beside him, and whispered words of warning.

"Slow now, Giraffe," he said; "be careful, because we wouldn't like to have you take a plunge down there. You'd never know what hurt you, if you did."

Thus warned the other did slow up a little; but quickly they all reached a position where they could stretch their necks, and look over.

The moonlight fell on the face of the precipice. They could even see away down near the base, where the sharp rocks that had fallen during countless years in the past were piled up in ugly masses. Just as Thad had remarked, if any one did have the hard luck to fall over, he would never know what hurt him.

"It does slant in below, Thad!" said Giraffe, the first thing.

"Yes, and we've got to call out to learn whether he's there or not," returned the scoutmaster; then raising his voice a little he said:

"Hello! Aleck, are you here?"

Immediately they heard an exclamation of delight, and then came a reply:

"Yes, yes, and right underneath you too, I think. Have you got a rope along with you?"

"Just what we have; and I hope it's going to be long enough," replied Thad.

"Then quick, tie a stone to the end, and lower away. When you have got it down opposite to me, give a swing in and out. I can take hold easy enough, if you do that," came from below, in the eager tones of one in whose heart new hope had taken lodgment.

Thad lost no time in fastening on a piece of stone, after which he started to lower away, all the while listening, hoping to hear a cry that the stone had gone down far enough. As he was getting perilously near the end of the rope, his heart had begun to misgive him, when suddenly came a hail:

"Hold on! that is far enough! Now, keep a tight grip up there!"

"Get hold with me, the rest of you," said Thad, allowing the guide to be first; for he wished to take as much advantage of Toby's great strength as possible, when it came time for the hard pulling.

Thad started to swing the rope inward and outward, as he had been directed. A minute later, and the one below called again:

"There, I've got it, all right; and I find you were smart enough to make a loop for my foot. Tell me when you're ready, and I'll let loose down here. It'll be a heavy load; and I hope you won't let the rope slip through."

Looking down at the dim vacancy far below Thad felt that the other had some reason for feeling a trifle worried over the possibility of an accident; so he hastened to reassure Aleck.

"Four of us have hold here, and one is a strong man; so don't believe anything is going to happen to you, Aleck. Tell us when you're going; it's all right up here with us."

"Then I'm off!"

With the words they felt a sudden heavy strain, and knew that the speaker had allowed himself to swing clear of the ledge, as he suggested he would do.

"Careful now, everybody!" warned cautious Thad; "there's no hurry about it; and we don't want to knock him to hard against the face of the wall. Easy, Giraffe, Rome wasn't built in a day; and slow makes sure, sometimes. This is one of them."

While Thad was speaking in this manner, he lay close to the edge of the abyss, so he could guide the rope, and avoid letting it be cut by any sharp stone; and at the same time watch out below.

Foot by foot did the guide, assisted by the two scouts, draw the imperiled one upward. Presently Thad could see him plainly below, swinging a little, turning around also, but always coming closer and closer.

He was reminded somewhat of Smithy's little adventure on the preceding day; only in his case there had been really very little danger, although at the time the poor fellow had not known but that a thousand feet of space lay below him, rather than a beggarly five, as was later on discovered.

Now Thad could stretch out a hand, and touch the other.

"Slower still; he's right here, boys!" he cautioned.

Then he got a grip himself, and held on. Giraffe came to his assistance; while Allan and the guide continued to grip the rope. One supreme effort, in which the one they were saving did his part; and then Aleck Rawson climbed alongside his young rescuers, panting hard with the exertion he had been through.

Giraffe felt like giving a shout; but somehow he knew Thad would frown on any such demonstration. When scouts were in a region where danger of any kind might be expected to lurk, "discretion must take the part of valor, and noise be utterly prohibited." He could distinctly remember the patrol leader saying just those very words, and not so long ago, either. So the explosive Giraffe had to bottle up his enthusiasm for another occasion, when the cork might safely be removed.

The scouts had already discovered that in one thing they guessed truly; for Aleck Rawson did prove to be a boy, about the size of Thad, and possibly in the neighborhood of sixteen years of age.

He was beginning to get back his breath now, and even moved a little further away from the edge of the precipice, as though it possessed only terrors for him. Nor could Thad blame him in the least; for it must have been frightful torture to be left all alone on a narrow shelf of rock, where he could not have any too good a foothold at the best, and might slip off if, overpowered by exhaustion, he dared allow himself to lose consciousness in sleep.

Presently, when the other had recovered his wind, he might offer to tell them what it all meant; and just why that vindictive old prospector and miner, Colonel Kracker, had dared place a boy in such a position of peril; for it seemed a monstrous proceeding in the mind of the scoutmaster.

Now the boy was moving. The first thing Thad knew, a hand clutched his in a warm, fierce clasp, and he heard Aleck saying:

"Oh! how can I ever thank you for getting me out of that scrape?"

"I wouldn't try it, then," replied Thad, laughing softly. "Why, we're only too glad to have the chance. It's been an experience to remember, too; the talk with the torches, the climb up the face of the mountain, and then hauling you up safe and sound. We're Boy Scouts, out looking for adventure, and doing a little hunting; and this has all been just great, for us."

"But think what it's been for me?" said the other, with a quiver in his voice, although he tried very hard to disguise it. "My poor mother and little sisters came nearer to losing their man of the house, than I'd like them to know; because, you see, I've just had to try and take my father's place ever since he died."

"Your father, then, was Jerry Rawson, I take it?" said Thad.