Boy Scouts in California
OR
The Flag on the Cliff

By
G. Harvey Ralphson

CHICAGO
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.

Copyright 1913
by
M. A. Donohue & Co.
CHICAGO
Made in U. S. A.

CONTENTS

Chapter Page I— [A Thief in the Night] 7 II— [A Voice in the Thicket] 18 III— [The Law of Club and Fang] 29 IV— [Jimmie Builds Two Fires] 40 V— [The Call of the Pack] 51 VI— [A Bribe of Half a Million] 62 VII— [The Franciscan Mission] 73 VIII— [A Queer Hiding Place] 83 IX— [In Quest of Information] 95 X— [Gilroy and the Bear] 104 XI— [The Devil’s Punch Bowl] 115 XII— [Treachery Feared] 126 XIII— [At the Bottom of the Bowl] 137 XIV— [A Bit of Engineering] 148 XV— [The Troubles of Gilroy] 159 XVI— [A Fall in the Night] 169 XVII— [A Wonderful Discovery] 180 XVIII— [Jimmie Finds a Way] 190 XIX— [A Boy Scout Encounter] 200 XX— [The Flag on the Cliff] 213 XXI— [The End of a Crooked Road] 224 XXII— [A Fight in the Air] 235 XXIII— [The Treaty Under the Flag] 244

Boy Scouts in California
or
The Flag on the Cliff

CHAPTER I
A THIEF IN THE NIGHT

“Black bear steak!”

“Grizzly bear, black bear, or cinnamon bear?”

“This is cinnamon bear! You don’t suppose members of the Black Bear Patrol, Boy Scouts of America, would do a cannibal stunt by eating black bear, do you? That wouldn’t be right.”

Jimmie McGraw of the Wolf Patrol, City of New York, and Frank Shaw, of the Black Bear Patrol, also of New York City, were broiling bear steak over a glowing bed of embers just below the timber line on the eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada mountains. It was early morning in September, and the sunshine lay like a mist of gold over the broken country.

Away to the north rose the peaks of the Matterhorn, approximately 13,000 feet above sea level. Still nearer, Twin Peaks lifted their white heads 12,000 feet in the air. To the east lay Mono lake, salt and brackish to the taste, partaking of the desert, but bright and glistening now under the rays of the early sun.

To the south Warren Peak stood guard over the head waters of the Tuolumne river. Westward the tumbling waters of Rancheria creek dropped down from crag to crag on their winding way to the Pacific, nearly three hundred miles distant. Here and there granite peaks lifted white foreheads above the green of the pines.

It was a glorious scene, and the Boy Scouts were thoroughly in harmony with it. The smoke of their campfire lifted in a straight line to the blue of the sky, and the fragrance of their steak and coffee permeated the sweet air.

The boys shivered a trifle as they gathered closer about the embers, but they knew that before many hours the chill of the night would be swept away. While the boys tended the steak and coffee, a voice came from a cave at the rear. They both turned in that direction.

“Does this hotel serve meals to guests in their rooms?” the voice asked.

“Sure we do!” Jimmie McGraw replied. “We serve grizzly bear steak on toast, and on the hoof at that; we’re aiming to send you in a whole animal in about ten minutes. We feed folks right at this hotel!”

Jack Bosworth yawned sleepily and came out of the cavern to stand by the fire, warming his hands and turning round and round in order to take full advantage of the generous heat.

“Where are Ned and Harry?” he asked in a moment.

“They’ve gone out to get another bear for breakfast,” Jimmie replied. “You see,” he went on, “we’re getting up such appetites, here in the mountains, that it takes two hunters to keep the provision chest full.”

“After I eat,” Jack said with a grin, “I’m going out and bring in a deer. I’m getting tired of bear steak.”

“Go to it!” laughed Jimmie. “You needn’t have any of this bear steak for breakfast, if you’re getting sick of it.”

Jimmie and Frank each seized a huge slice of smoking steak and made for the cave, leaving Jack to broil his own breakfast in punishment for having found fault with the menu.

The cave in which the boys found themselves in a moment was not far from twenty feet in size each way, with the ceiling at least ten feet above the smooth floor. Perhaps thousands of years before that day erosion or volcanic action had honeycombed many of the granite ridges looking to the east. These openings in the ledge lay just at the timber line, as if nature halted her vegetation there, angry at the interference of contrary forces.

As the Boy Scouts had occupied the cave for several days, it was comparatively well furnished with crudely made tables, chairs, bunks, and also with cooking utensils brought up from San Francisco. Taken altogether it was an ideal place in which to camp, being dry and sightly.

Those who have read the previous volumes of this series will not need introduction to the five boys above mentioned. Ned Nestor and Jimmie McGraw, of the Wolf Patrol, New York, and Jack Bosworth, Frank Shaw and Harry Stevens, of the Black Bear Patrol, New York, had recently reached San Francisco after an exciting experience with train robbers farther to the north. The modern automobile which they had used on that trip had been shipped from Seattle to San Francisco by boat, the boys not caring to make their way by motor down to the Golden Gate.

A few days in San Francisco sufficed, for the boys were out on their annual summer vacation, and did not care to spend their time on city pavements or in city apartments. So, leaving their automobile in storage, they had departed for the mountains in the vicinity of Twin Peaks.

It is needless to say that they had enjoyed every minute of the time since leaving San Francisco. They had hunted deer, bear and smaller game, and had fished in the clear waters of the rapid streams which have their rise in the Sierra Nevadas and finally empty the offerings of the summits into San Francisco bay.

“Now, Frank,” Jimmie observed as the two boys placed their still steaming steaks on paper plates set out on a table made of slender mountain poles, “you take a bucket and go after coffee and I’ll bring out the bread and butter and beans. We ought to have French fried potatoes with these steaks, but I guess we can get along with this feed for a few hours. Tell Jack to come on in and eat.”

Frank Shaw took a tin pail from a shelf at one side of the cave and started away toward the campfire, while Jimmie made his way to a corner of the cave which was shut off from the main room by a heavy canvas curtain. Taking a small electric flashlight from a pocket, he drew the curtain aside and turned a finger of flame upon a row of shelves arranged on the face of the rock. This was known as the “refrigerator.”

Jimmie whistled as he looked over the shelves and reached out a hand, almost automatically, for the things he needed for the table. Then his puckered lips opened in wonder and he glanced sharply about the cavern.

“Well!” he exclaimed. “Now I wonder what they did that for!”

“Did what?” demanded Frank Shaw, returning with the pail of fragrant coffee. “Who did what?” repeated the newcomer.

“I believe you did it!” insisted Jimmie with a grin.

“Anything wrong with your gearing this morning?” asked Frank.

“Well,” Jimmie went on, “some of you boys went and took the last three loaves of bread we had in the refrigerator, and all the butter there was in sight, and all that was left of the roast haunch we had such trouble with yesterday. I’ll bet you did it!”

“Aw, you did it yourself!” exclaimed Frank. “I heard you moving around in the night, and wondered then what it was you were eating.”

“Up in the night?” repeated Jimmie. “Not me!”

“Someone was out of bed in the night!” insisted Frank. “I heard someone walking around the cave and stirring up the fire. It must have been about midnight, or a little after.”

“It wasn’t me!” Jimmie declared, continuing his search in the cupboard for more eatables. “It sure wasn’t me up in the night!”

After continuing his examination of the refrigerator for a moment, he handed the search light to Frank and sat down on a corner of the table.

“Look here, Frank,” he said, “take this search light and see if you can find anything at all in that refrigerator. I left canned beans in there, and condensed milk, and a tomato can full of sugar, and about a dozen eggs! Now you just take this light and see if you can find anything like that on the shelves. I’m flabbergasted!”

Frank’s face showed only amusement as he took the flashlight and threw its rays over the rude shelves. When he saw that Jimmie had not been joking over the disappearance of the food, but had told the exact truth, he, too, sat down on a corner of the table and looked about the cavern suspiciously. When the boy’s eyes met, they grinned sheepishly.

“Go and ask Jack,” Frank finally suggested.

Leaving their cooling breakfast on the table, both boys finally dashed out of the cave and ran around a sharp corner or rock to where Jack Bosworth was broiling bear steak.

“Did you do it, Jack?” Frank shouted as they came up to him.

“You bet I did!” Jack replied, turning a very red face to his chums, and drawing his now thoroughly cooked steak from the fire. “You bet I did do it. What is it?”

“How did you ever manage it?” asked Jimmie with a wrinkling of his freckled nose.

“How did I ever manage it?” repeated Jack. “What’s the answer?”

Jimmie took his chum by the arm and headed for the cave.

“Bring your breakfast along with you,” he said, “and hold onto it tight. Clutch it with the grip of destiny! I’ll show you what I’m talking about, and then you can tell me who’s got the appetite.”

Directly the three boys stood before the roughly built cupboard and then Frank drew aside the canvas curtain. The shelves were entirely bare except for knives, forks, spoons, a sack of salt, and an empty plate.

“There!” Jimmie cried. “Did you go and eat all our perfectly good provender last night?”

“I wasn’t out of bed last night!” insisted Jack.

“Then it must have been Ned or Harry!” Frank declared.

Jack looked from one to the other with amazement showing in his face.

“Did some one clean out the refrigerator in the night?” he asked.

“You’re just right, some one cleaned out the refrigerator!” Jimmie answered, “and we’ve got to go and make baking powder biscuit, or corn pones, or something like that for breakfast, or go hungry!”

“I guess this bear steak will be all right for me,” Jack replied. “I always did like bear steak and coffee.”

“I’m not going to make any biscuit, or cook any corn pones!” Frank exclaimed. “Let the kids that robbed the refrigerator do the cooking!”

“Ned or Harry got busy in the night all right enough!” Jack insisted.

At that moment Ned Nestor and Harry Stevens, the other members of the party, entered the cavern, dressed in neat khaki uniform, as were, in fact, all the boys, and approached the table where the bear steaks lay exposed. Harry seized a knife and fork and laughingly prepared to attack Jack’s breakfast. Jack seized the meat and darted out into the sunlight.

“That’s a nice way to serve a guest you’ve invited to breakfast!” Harry exclaimed. “Where do I get my eatings this morning?”

“You and Ned got yours last night!” Jimmie grinned.

“Oh, we did?” queried Harry. “Perhaps Ned got his last night, but if I got mine I don’t know it. What are you talking about?”

“Go and look in the refrigerator,” suggested Jimmie.

Both Ned and Harry walked to the corner and drew aside the curtain. They stood in front of the empty shelves for a moment, and then walked back to the table, their faces showing only amusement.

“What did you do with it?” asked Ned, presently, as Jimmie and Frank attacked their fast-cooling steaks vigorously.

“What did you do with it?”

Frank answered the question by asking one.

Ned Nestor’s face became serious in a moment. He glanced from one chum to the other, and then went to the shelves and looked them over thoroughly. There was a puzzled line between his eyebrows as he walked back and seated himself beside Jimmie and Frank.

“Honest, now, boys,” he asked, “what does this all mean?”

“Didn’t you get the eatings?” asked Jimmie seriously.

“I certainly did not!” replied Nestor, seriously.

“Now about you, Harry?” Jimmie questioned. “Where did you find a market for all that good provender?”

“Never touched it!” Harry insisted. “I went to bed at nine o’clock, as you all know, and when I awoke the sun was just showing his nose over the foothills.”

“And you were good and hungry, too, just about that time!” Jimmie scoffed. “You must have been hungry to eat all that!”

“Wait a minute, boys,” Ned replied. “There’s something mysterious about this! No wild animal ever entered the cave last night. Some creature on two legs stripped the refrigerator while we slept!”

“Je-rusalem!” exclaimed Jimmie. “It’s a wonder he didn’t do something more than steal our grub.”

“I didn’t suppose,” Frank cut in, “that there was a human being anywhere in this district except ourselves.”

“Well,” Ned replied, “there’s some one prowling about, and the thing for us to do is to find out who it is.”

“It’s the mystery of the thing that gets me!” declared Frank.

CHAPTER II
A VOICE IN THE THICKET

“That’s just what it is—a mystery!” Jimmie McGraw exclaimed.

“How could anyone get in here and lug away a load of provisions like that without our waking up? They just couldn’t do it!”

This from Jack, who had now returned with his half-eaten steak.

“I heard some one moving around in the night,” Frank declared.

“Then, why didn’t you get up and see about it?” asked Ned.

“Oh, I thought I dreamed it!” grinned Frank.

“I’d give a good deal to know who it was that had the nerve to pay us a visit in the night-time,” Ned said, presently. “I don’t like the idea of keeping open house during the dark hours. The person who came here last night may come again, and may make more trouble the next time.”

“And that means,” Jimmie complained, “that we’ve got to set a guard every night, and watch our property, just like we were on Third Avenue in New York. It makes me sick to think of it!”

“And just think of all the fun we’ve been having here, playing that we were scores of miles away from anybody! Look here, boys,” he went on, “we’ve been under the sea and over the sea. We’ve had adventures in Panama and in China, and I don’t think we ever had anyone walk over our sleeping forms and steal provisions before.”

“That’s right!” Frank answered. “We must be getting careless in our old age. Now the next thing is to find out who did this.”

“Some poor tramp, probably,” suggested Ned. “We’ll make a business of watching for him during the next few hours, and probably we’ll catch him. I’m sure I hope it was a tramp, for I don’t want to get mixed up with any hostile element up here.”

As Ned ceased speaking he went to the rough cupboard again and began a second inspection of the shelves. Newspapers had been neatly arranged on the boards, and these did not appear to have been disturbed. After going over everything in sight thoroughly, the boy took the sack of salt out to the open sunlight and examined it critically.

“Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, what do you find there?” demanded Frank. “I’ll tell you what,” he went on, “we have seemed to forget that Dad owns one of the leading newspapers in New York City! I will sit down right now and write a long article and call it ‘The Magic Breakfast; or, Who Stole the Beans!’ I think that title would make a hit on the Bowery, eh?”

“It’s about time you began sending in correspondence,” Jimmie grinned. “You know you promised to send in a full account of our ruction with the train robbers, but you never did. The first thing you know, your father will be cutting off your supply of ready cash.”

“Oh, well, then,” Frank laughed, “I’ll retain Jack’s father, who is a rich corporation lawyer, and sue Dad for a breach of promise, or something like that. But look at Ned,” the boy went on, “he’s surely found something on that salt sack!”

“Is that right, Sherlocko, you Sleuth?” asked Jimmie.

Ned turned to his chums with amusement showing in his eyes.

“Let me read you the story told by the salt sack,” he said whimsically. “And remember,” he went on, as the boys laughed and nudged each other, “this story will not be reprinted in book form, so you’ll have to catch it as I tell it. It will not even be told again!”

“Go on with your blessed old dope,” laughed Frank.

“Well,” Ned began, holding the sack up for inspection, “the person who stole our provisions took salt from this sack in order to season his meal. He took quite a lot, too, judging from the way the salt lowered during the night. Probably thought he’d take enough while the taking was good, for which we can’t blame him.”

“We knew all that before!” Jimmie declared.

“Now listen,” Ned went on, “here comes the magic part of the case! The person who took the salt from this sack was fifteen years of age. He was tall and slender, and had gone without food for three days. He did not come down from the divide, but crept up from the valley. He was lightly clad, and wore a ragged coat and broken shoes. He stood outside the cave for a long time before gaining courage to enter.”

The boys gathered around Ned with laughing faces and pretended to inspect the salt bag with reverential interest.

“Go on, now,” Jimmie demanded. “Go on and give us the answer to all this! Tell us how you know so much about a person you have never seen.”

“Look here,” Ned explained, “I know the person was a boy because the finger marks on the sack show a small, slender hand. Slender fingers represent a slender body, you know, and that’s why I say the person was young and slim.”

“That’s good deduction!” Frank declared. “Now tell us how you know that he hadn’t had anything to eat for three days.”

“Look at the shelves and you’ll discover how I know for yourselves,” Ned said, marching the boys into the back end of the cave.

“You will notice,” he went on, “that the shelf where the bread lay is covered with crumbs. That shows that he began to eat the minute his hands touched the loaf. He must have been perfectly ravenous to begin his meal while in such imminent danger of discovery. Of course, he might have dined in less than three days, but I think he’d have to be pretty hungry in order to eat with five boys likely to wake up at any moment lying around him. You see that, don’t you?”

“That’s good, too!” Jack exclaimed. “Now, how do you know whether he came down the slope to the timber line or up the slope from the valley?”

“If you notice the floor directly in front of the shelves,” Ned explained pointing, “you will see numerous pine leaves scattered about. Now, there are no pines above the cavern, so the boy crawled through the thickets below. Is that clear?”

“Clear as mud!” shouted Frank, “and suppose you have got a photograph of him so that you know that he was ragged and wore broken shoes!”

“Look at the nail sticking out of the shelf,” Ned went on, “and you’ll see several shreds of cloth hanging to it. Jack thought he was making a pretty good job on that cupboard but he left a nail sticking up, just the same. The nail tells the story of a ragged sleeve.”

“Correct!” laughed Jimmie. “Now, how are you going to make good on the broken shoes?” he continued.

“That’s the easiest part of it all,” Ned answered. “When he stood in the cool ashes close to the embers, he left imprints of wornout soles.”

The boys broke into shouts of laughter and Frank declared that he would immortalize Ned as a detective in his father’s newspaper.

“Yes, but hold on!” Jack interposed. “Did you hold a stop watch on him while he stood outside the cave, Ned?”

“He held a stop watch on himself,” the boy answered. “You can see where he walked about, taking many steps and stirring up the wash from the rocks at the mouth of the cave. Now do you understand?”

“Now, then,” Jimmie questioned, “perhaps you can tell us where this boy is, and why he didn’t make himself known to us if he was as hungry as you say he was. Go on, now, and tell!”

“And while you’re about it,” Jack suggested, “you might as well tell us whether the boy who stole our grub is white or black or mixed.”

“There are limits to the ability of even a Sherlock Holmes,” laughed Ned, “but,” he continued, more seriously, “there is little doubt that the person who stole our provisions is just about as I have described him.”

The boys now gathered about the fire again, and Ned and Harry proceeded to broil steaks for their breakfast. After a time Jimmie and Frank wandered down into the pines in the hope of securing the material for a squirrel stew for a dinner.

It was still and dim in the thicket except for the ceaseless murmur of the trees. The sun’s rays could not penetrate the heavy foliage. Here and there great rocks, evidently shunted down from the summits in some convulsion of nature, lay scattered about.

“Talk about your weird places,” Jimmie exclaimed, “this beats any graveyard I ever saw!”

“That’s no dream!” Frank answered. “I’ve been hearing ghostly voices for the last ten minutes. Listen, and you will hear them, too!”

Before the words were well out of the boy’s mouth, Jimmie caught him by the arm and drew him to the shelter of a great tree.

“What did you say about ghostly voices?” he asked.

“Aw, that was just a joke!” Frank replied.

“But I did actually hear some one speak!” Jimmie insisted.

“If you heard anything at all it was a bear, or a deer, or a squirrel or something like that!” Frank declared. “Just you wait a minute and see if you don’t hear some bear ordering us off his premises.”

While the boys stood close to the bole of a pine, listening, a shrill, excited voice came to them from some undiscoverable quarter.

At first they could not distinguish the words which were spoken. Jimmie turned to his chum with a half frightened grin on his face.

“Does that sound like bear-talk?” he asked.

“Not a bit of it!” Frank admitted, “but it may be one of the boys playing a joke on us. They are full of such tricks.”

Then the voice came to their ears again, lifted just above the sighing of the pines—sharp, imperative.

“Beat it! Beat it!”

The two boys gazed into each other’s faces with wonder in their eyes.

“Can you beat that?” Jimmie asked. “Was that a bear?”

Again the words of warning came to the ears of the amazed boys:

“Beat it while the going is good!”

“That sounds like Second avenue!” Jimmie ventured.

Frank turned in the direction from whence the sound had seemed to proceed and called out:

“What’s your motto?”

“Be prepared!” was the answer that came back.

“Be prepared for what?” demanded Jimmie.

“To help a friend!” was the answer.

“Look here!” Jimmie shouted. “If you’re a Boy Scout, why don’t you come out and show yourself? I never knew a Boy Scout who was ashamed to show his face.”

“What patrol?” came the voice from the thicket.

“Black Bear and Wolf, New York,” Frank answered.

There was a short silence, and then just a whisper came from a point near to where the boys were standing.

“Didn’t I tell you Boy Scouts to beat it?” were the words spoken.

“What’s the difficulty?” asked Jimmie. “Are you trying to make monkeys of us? Why don’t you come out and tell us all about it?”

“It wouldn’t do any good if I did,” answered the mysterious voice. “I tell you to beat it, and that’s the last word you’ll get from me.”

They heard a rustle in the thicket, and, though they listened for a long time, they heard no more words spoken. The boys darted away into the undergrowth in search of the person who had given them so mysterious a warning, but no trace of him could be discovered.

“Now, what did he mean by ‘beat it’?” demanded Jimmie in a moment as the boys met at the tree again.

“He meant for us to make ourselves scarce in this vicinity, I’m afraid,” Frank answered. “Of course we don’t know whether he warned us to keep away from this spot, or whether he advised us to break camp.”

“If he thinks we’re going to break camp on any bum old steer like that,” Jimmie grumbled, “he’s got several more thinks coming.”

“Anyway,” laughed Frank, “we wouldn’t feel just right unless we got into some kind of a mysterious situation. We’ve never been out on a trip that we didn’t butt into something desperate and uncanny.”

After another investigation of the locality, the boys hastened back to camp. They were met by Harry and Jack, who regarded them with inquiring eyes, seeming to be astonished by their return.

“Where’s Ned?” Jack finally asked.

“Why, we left him here,” both boys replied in a breath.

“Of course,” Harry returned, “but you sent a line asking him to come to where you were. What did you go and do that for if you were coming right back to camp? Was that a joke?”

“Joke nothing!” Jimmie answered. “We never sent any such word!”

“Then who sent that strange note?” Jack asked. “I’ll bet we’re up against something mighty serious right now!”

CHAPTER III
THE LAW OF CLUB AND FANG

“Where’s the note?” asked Frank.

“It isn’t here,” Harry answered, “so I guess Ned must have taken it with him. He had it the last time I saw it.”

“What kind of a note was it?”

“Just a short note written on letter paper in pencil.”

“Well, what did it say?”

“It said for Ned to come to where you were, and leave the others in camp. You say you never sent it?”

“Of course, we never sent it!” replied Jimmie scornfully. “We don’t carry paper and pencil with us every time we leave camp!”

“Who brought it?” Frank cut in.

“Why, a dark-skinned little chap who said he had left you in a gulch not far away.”

“Did he look like the boy Ned described this morning?” asked Jimmie.

“Come to think of it, I guess he did!” answered Jack. “Anyway, he was a ragged little chap and looked hungry.”

“Hungry after eating three or four loaves of bread and a lot of canned beans!” grinned Frank. “Did Ned go away with him?”

“Of course, he went away with him.”

“Then there’s some deviltry afloat,” Frank declared. “Some one out there in the thicket told us to ‘beat it while the beating was good,’ and then ducked away. I’ll bet it was the same person.”

In answer to numerous questions, Jimmie and Frank related their experience in the pines.

“Now, what are we going to do about it?” asked Harry with a troubled look on his face. “There certainly is mischief afoot.”

“The first thing to do,” Jack replied, “is to scatter and see if we can find Ned. He’s been lured away, and may be in trouble.”

“We’re the original trouble-getters!” Harry grumbled. “I believe we’d get into a mixup of some kind if we went to a Sunday School picnic.”

“And the strangest part of it all is,” Frank went on, “that the boy who told us to ‘beat it’ proved to be a Boy Scout!”

“Anyway,” Jimmie declared, “he answered our challenge correctly.”

While the boys consulted together, anxious for the safety of their chum, a shout came from the summit above.

“There’s something new,” Jimmie grinned. “I wonder whether that fellow wants bread and beans, or whether he wants to coax one of us away into the woods? Tell him this is our busy day!”

“Are you there, boys?” came the voice from above.

“Hello yourself!” Jimmie called back.

“All right, now,” the voice went on. “All I needed was something to enable me to locate you. I’ll be down there in a minute.”

“That’ll be nice!” Jimmie answered. “If you’ve got a trunk full of trouble, just bring that along with you. We’re in the market for trouble.”

Although the boys made light of the approach of another visitor, they were very anxious. They were certain that Ned had been lured away for some sinister purpose, and were consequently fearful that this new arrival might be connected in some way with future complications.

In a few moments rolling stones and exclamations of impatience announced the near approach of the man who had hailed them. Directly he turned around an angle of rock and came into full view.

He was a short, fat, heavily built man of perhaps thirty, with the pale face and assertive manner of a city dweller. At all events it was plainly evident that he was not familiar with mountain work, for he stumbled about as he advanced down the declivity, and more than once fell to his knee and caught hold of projecting boulders with a pair of hands not at all familiar with such service.

Jack eyed the fellow critically for a moment, and then advanced to meet him with a shout of welcome.

“Gilroy!” he cried. “What the Old Harry are you doing away out in California? Boys,” he continued, turning to his chums, “this is Gilroy, one of Dad’s confidential clerks. Nothing wrong at home, I hope,” he continued addressing the newcomer.

“All were well and happy when I left New York,” Gilroy returned, puffing with his long struggle with the mountain side.

“Did Dad give you a vacation?” asked Jack.

“Vacation nothing!” Gilroy answered. “He sent me flying over the continent on a special train, and told me to get to you in seven days. This is the tenth day I’ve been on the road.”

“Whew!” whistled Jack. “Dad won’t like that.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it,” Gilroy returned. “Your father measured surface distances only. He didn’t figure how many thousands of miles I’d have to go up in the air in order to find you!”

“It is some climb,” Jack admitted, “but what’s the rush?”

“If you’ve got a place here where we can talk without being in danger of being overheard,” Gilroy suggested, “I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Oh you can say whatever you have to say in the presence of my chums,” Jack answered. “They won’t leak.”

“That isn’t the idea,” Gilroy stated. “Your father even instructed me to report to your chums if you were not to be found. I know the boys are all right, but the fact is that he is afraid of rank outsiders.”

“Rank outsiders!” repeated Jack with a laugh. “Who is there up here on the mountain to listen to private conversation? Eavesdroppers couldn’t get within sound of our voices without being seen if they tried.”

“They couldn’t, eh?” Harry cut in. “They couldn’t get close enough to steal our beans, or to tell you boys to beat it while the beatin’ was good, or to send a fake note in order to get hold of Ned!”

“What’s that you say?” asked Gilroy. “Has Ned Nestor already been lured away?”

“He certainly has!” answered Jimmie. “While Frank and I were away a strange boy brought a note and Ned fell for it.”

“And some one stole your provisions, too?” the fat clerk asked.

“Stole everything last night that wasn’t locked up in the provisions boxes,” answered Harry.

“And appeared to us in the bushes and told us to beat it,” put in Jimmie. “I wonder if he did that before he brought that lying note to Ned? Oh, we seem to be keeping busy all right!”

“Why,” Frank suggested, “he must have seen us before he brought the note, for he went away with Ned.”

Gilroy looked very much puzzled for a moment and then said:

“I’m afraid that this is a scheme to get Nestor out of the way. If I could only have reached you on schedule time, this would never have happened. Still, I did the best I could under the circumstances.”

“I hope you also didn’t come out here to tell us to ‘beat it,’” laughed Frank. “We’ve just got to enjoying ourselves.”

“I came out to deliver a message from Mr. Bosworth,” Gilroy answered. “He has some work he wants you boys to do.”

“Work is right in our line!” Harry answered with a laugh.

“Well, hurry up and tell us all about it,” Jack suggested calmly, “because, you know, we ought to be out looking for Ned.”

“It’s just this way,” Gilroy began, “Jack’s father is acting as attorney for a large mining corporation. His employers have always believed their title to certain lands in this vicinity absolutely flawless. Some of these lands are valuable for timber, some for minerals, and some for agricultural purposes. As I said before, some of these lands lie in this vicinity, and a railroad the employers own will soon build a spur in here to market the minerals and the lumber.

“Now,” the confidential clerk went on, “it has been discovered that there are other claimants to these lands. It is asserted that they were given to the descendants of Franciscan monks who were here at the time so many missions were scattered over California. At any rate, people who came over with the Franciscans, if not Franciscans themselves, left progeny who now claim these lands.

“The Mexican government recognized the titles, but the United States government never did. The claimants have no standing whatever in the courts, but they propose to keep possession under the old law of club and fang. Of course, they can’t keep possession long, but they can put the corporation to a great deal of trouble.”

“It looks to me,” Jack interrupted with a grin, “that father should have sent a regiment of United States troops instead of one confidential clerk. Now, just what is it he wants us to do?”

“He wants you boys to scout about and find out exactly who is at the bottom of all this trouble. He believes that the alleged heirs are ignorant pawns in the hands of a corporation with which his own companies are at sword’s points.

“His first thought was to send a company of detectives in here, but he concluded later on that a vacation crowd of Boy Scouts would attract less attention, and might not be suspected at all. In accordance with this reasoning he sent me out to tell you to learn everything possible regarding present complications.”

“Does he think this corporation he is fighting has already sent mercenaries out here to make trouble?” asked Jack.

“He is quite positive that such is the case,” answered Gilroy. “At any rate, he wants you to find out what kind of people they have leading this outlaw gang.”

“I knew it would come,” Jack laughed. “Every time we go out for a vacation, we get mixed up in a scrap of some kind.”

“Well,” Frank suggested, “we have all the more fun because of the trouble we get into. I like to be doing things.”

“But how are we going to get a line on these people?” asked Jack.

“It seems to me that they’ve got in the first blow,” Harry declared. “If we only had Ned here, he could tell us exactly what to do.”

“We’ll have him here before night!” Jimmie answered.

“You ask how you are to get a line on the people you are to watch,” Gilroy said, “and I think I can tell you what you ought to do first. It is said that somewhere out in the hills, perhaps within a few miles of this very spot, there are the ruins of an old Franciscan mission. It is said to stand high up on a mountain, facing east. Our information is that the walls of the original mission have been leveled to the ground, but that the subterranean rooms and passages reaching under the mountain are still fairly intact. You must find this mission.”

“And after we find it, what then?” Jack asked.

“It is said to be the headquarters of the outlaw claimants who are making us all this trouble,” replied Gilroy. “If you find the ruined mission, you will also find, without doubt, the agents of the corporation we are fighting. They are undoubtedly there.”

“And after we find them, what then?” Frank questioned.

“What Mr. Bosworth wants,” the confidential clerk continued, “is to connect this hostile corporation, through its agents, with what is going on here. Once in the possession of positive information that the corporation is instigating this revolt against law and order, and he will know exactly what to do. He expects you boys to bring in the proof.”

“Are you going to remain and help us?” asked Jack in a moment.

“Remain and help you?” repeated the fat little confidential clerk in dismay. “I should say not! In fact, Mr. Bosworth was thoughtful enough to intimate to me that I would better get out of the mountains as soon as possible after delivering my message. Personally, I wouldn’t stay in these hills for a thousand dollars a day!”

“If you’ll wait until we find this romantic old mission,” Jack grinned, “we’ll make you a suite of rooms that will beat anything in New York.”

“Say, boys,” Gilroy answered with a grim smile, “I’d rather be blind and be tied to a lamp post in New York than to own all the country west of the Mississippi river.”

“Well, then,” Jack said, “run back to Dad with your little old story about Ned’s being abducted the day you reached us!”

“If you do,” Jimmie called out, “we’ll murder you when we get back to New York! Ned will be with us before you get down to the foot-hills.”

“I certainly hope so,” Gilroy answered.

“Because,” Jimmie declared, “we’re going out right now to find that romantic old mission and dig him out of a ruined chamber!”

CHAPTER IV
JIMMIE BUILDS TWO FIRES

“I am really alarmed about the disappearance of Mr. Nestor,” Gilroy said, as the boys began frying ham and eggs and making fresh coffee for him. “There is no doubt at all in my mind that he was induced to leave the camp by the agents of the hostile corporation.”

“No doubt about that,” Jimmie put in.

“And that means,” Gilroy went on, “that they really suspect what you are here for. That is the worst part of it.”

“But why should they suspect us?” demanded Jimmie. “We never knew a thing about the complications until you came in here half an hour ago!”

“I’ll tell you why they’re suspicious of us,” Jack exclaimed. “They know that I am the son of the lawyer who is putting up the fight against them. Now you see how the case stands! We’ve been given a mission to execute on the theory that we could work without being suspected, when, as a matter of fact, we were suspected before we were given the work to do.”

“That’s funny!” Jimmie laughed.

“It might be humorous if it wasn’t so serious,” the confidential clerk explained, pompously, “and I’m going to give you boys a little advice, which may not meet with the approval of Jack’s father.”

“Go to it!” laughed Jack.

“This hostile corporation,” Gilroy continued, “will, in my opinion, stop at nothing in order to accomplish their ends. Now that the unexpected has happened—now that their agents suspect that you are here to watch and, if possible, frustrate their designs—my advice is that you get out of the country as quickly as possible.”

“And leave Ned here?” demanded Jimmie scornfully.

“If you boys break camp and leave the mountains at once,” Gilroy advised, “the agents of the corporation will not hold Nestor for any great length of time. Nestor, as you boys well know, has an international reputation for clever work in the detective line. Still, it is well known, that he works with Boy Scouts invariably, and the people who have abducted him will understand that he would be likely to abandon any case not shared with his old chums. Am I right in that?”

“You’ve got it sized up right!” declared Jimmie.

“I wonder why they didn’t trap me?” Jack asked.

“I rather wonder at that, too,” Gilroy answered.

“Huh,” laughed Frank. “They wanted the detective, and not the son of his father. To capture Jack would be to admit that their efforts were directed against the corporations under the control of Mr. Bosworth.”

“Well,” the confidential clerk insisted, “I am certain that, under the circumstances, Mr. Bosworth would object to your remaining here on any errand of his. For my own part, I advise you to get out of the mountains as soon as possible.”

“And miss all this fun?” demanded Jimmie with a grin.

“But I insist that you boys are in deadly peril here!” Gilroy went on. “Urged on by the agents of this hostile corporation, there is no knowing what desperate measures these outlaw claimants may resort to. But if you insist on remaining here against my advice, and against the advice your father would give if he understood the circumstances, you ought to move your camp to some place not in the knowledge of the outlaws. You can at least do that.”

“What’s the use?” asked Jack. “Don’t you suppose they’ve got people watching us now? From this time on, we can’t make a move without their knowing it. We may as well stay here and barricade this cave.”

“That’s a good idea!” Jimmie exclaimed. “All we’ve got to do is to roll a few large boulders down the slope and line them up at the entrance of the cavern. We’ll be as snug as bugs in a rug in behind them, and we have provisions enough to last us for a month.”

“Yes,” Harry submitted, “and we can lay behind the boulders and shoot outlaws and railroad mercenaries to our hearts’ content!”

“It’s dangerous, boys, it’s dangerous!” insisted Gilroy.

“Huh, we’re just beginning to enjoy ourselves, now that we have some object in life!” Jimmie insisted.

The boys set to work with a vim rolling boulders down the slope and placing them in front of the cave. It was the work of only a few minutes to barricade the entire entrance to within a foot of the top, leaving only a narrow place to pass in and out. Thus protected, the cave was quite dark but the electric flashlights carried by the boys would, they considered, supply sufficient illumination.

“And now,” Jimmie said, regarding the work critically, “we can give our whole attention to learning what has become of Ned.”

“If you don’t mind, boys,” Gilroy interrupted, “I wish you’d give a little attention to the ham and eggs and coffee you are preparing for my breakfast! This mountain air creates an appetite.”

“Sure thing!” Harry shouted. “We forgot all about your breakfast, and there’s the ham burning and the coffee bubbling over. But just you wait a minute,” he went on, “and we’ll soon have a meal better than any you could get at the Waldorf-Astoria!”

While the breakfast was being cooked and eaten, Gilroy continued to urge the boys to go out with him and wait at the nearest transportation point for Ned to follow them. The boys only laughed at the idea, however, and ended by urging him to remain with them until Ned should be brought back.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, boys,” the confidential clerk finally stated, “if you’ll give me a big roll of blankets and leave someone on watch, I’ll go back in the cave and sleep for about three days. Do you think you can find your detective friend in that time?”

“In three days?” laughed Jack. “We’ll be able to send you back to father in less time with a full report as to what is doing in the mountains.”

“I hope you’re right,” Gilroy said.

He turned toward the barricaded cave but halted at the very entrance.

“What was it you said,” he asked, “about the boy who warned you in the thicket being a Boy Scout?”

“He answered the challenge all right,” replied Frank.

“If he really is a Boy Scout,” asked Gilroy tentatively, “he ought to be loyal to his comrades, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he ought to be,” Jack answered, “but then, you know, there are renegades in all grades and ranks of society. Still, this boy may have been acting under compulsion.”

“I have read a great deal about Boy Scouts being loyal to each other,” Gilroy continued, “and I can’t help thinking that this one will in time do something to make amends for his seemingly hostile act in delivering a fraudulent note. I have faith in the Boy Scout league!”

“And so have we all of us!” declared Jack. “We have found Boy Scouts in all parts of the world, and we have always found them loyal and trustworthy. This lad may yet prove to be so.”

“Why,” Jimmie interrupted, “he did show that he was made of the right kind of stuff when he took the pains to follow us into the forest and advise us to get out of the country.”

“Yes,” Jack laughed, “but he returned from that excursion and delivered a lying note to Ned. Still,” the boy went on more mildly, “we don’t know anything about the circumstances surrounding the matter, so we’ll give him the benefit of every doubt.”

“I only made the suggestion,” Gilroy advised, “in order that you boys might be looking for some indication of friendliness on the part of this seeming enemy. The boy may be of great use to you yet.”

“It’s a mystery to me how they ever got a true Boy Scout mixed up in a dirty game!” Harry declared. “This boy is no easy mark. The language he used said ‘New York’ just as plain as anything, so they must have brought him clear from the big city for some purpose of their own.”

“Well,” Gilroy said in a moment, “I’ve given you the best advice I have at my command, and made what I regard as a valuable suggestion,” he continued with a laugh, “and now I’ll go to bed and dream that I’m back in New York sleeping on top of the Singer building.”

“The Singer building ain’t nothing to this,” Harry grinned, sweeping his hand over the great stretch of country to the east. “From the top of the Singer building you can’t see the back yard of half a dozen states.”

Gilroy passed through the narrow opening and the four boys gathered about the fire to lay plans for the future.

“Now, whatever we do,” Frank suggested, “we must never leave this cave unprotected. Just as long as we have a bullet proof place to hide away in, and plenty of provisions, they can’t drive us out of the mountains with anything less than a piece of artillery. They know exactly where to find us, so we won’t have to go chasing through the woods looking for them!” he added with a grin.

“That’ll help some!” Harry laughed, “especially when we want to sleep and have to set up to dodge bullets.”

“There ain’t going to be no bullets!” laughed Jack.

“And now,” Jimmie suggested, “I’m going to take a little stroll for my health. I’m afraid I’m not getting sufficient exercise.”

“Before we turn him loose in the mountains,” Jack laughed, “we ought to tie a bell on him. Jimmie has a way of getting lost that approaches the artistic. I believe he’d get lost in a hall bedroom.”