THE BOY SCOUTS
ON THE
ROLL OF HONOR

BY
SCOUT MASTER ROBERT SHALER

AUTHOR OF “BOY SCOUTS OF THE SIGNAL CORPS,” “BOY SCOUTS OF PIONEER CAMP,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIFE SAVING CREW,” “BOY SCOUTS ON PICKET DUTY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FLYING SQUADRON,” “BOY SCOUTS AND THE PRIZE PENNANT,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE NAVAL RESERVE,” “BOY SCOUTS IN THE SADDLE,” “BOY SCOUTS FOR CITY IMPROVEMENT,” “BOY SCOUTS IN THE GREAT FLOOD,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FIELD HOSPITAL,” “BOY SCOUTS WITH THE RED CROSS,” “BOY SCOUTS AS COUNTY FAIR GUIDES,” “BOY SCOUTS AS FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS,” “BOY SCOUTS WITH THE MOTION PICTURE PLAYERS,” ETC.

NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Sterling Boy Scout Books

By Scout Master Robert Shaler

Bound in cloth Ten titles

1 Boy Scouts of the Signal Corps. 2 Boy Scouts of Pioneer Camp. 3 Boy Scouts of the Geological Survey. 4 Boy Scouts of the Life Saving Crew. 5 Boy Scouts on Picket Duty. 6 Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron. 7 Boy Scouts and the Prize Pennant. 8 Boy Scouts of the Naval Reserve. 9 Boy Scouts in the Saddle. 10 Boy Scouts for City Improvement.

You can purchase any of the above books at the price you paid for this one, or the publishers will send any book, postpaid, upon receipt of 25c.

HURST & CO., Publishers
432 Fourth Avenue, New York

Copyright, 1916, by Hurst & Company.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. [The Nut Gatherers] 5 II. [At the Deserted Logging Camp] 16 III. [Backed by Scout Comrades] 27 IV. [The Coming of the Storm] 39 V. [A Helping Hand] 51 VI. [The Duty of a Scout] 63 VII. [The Peril of the Falling Timber] 75 VIII. [The Rescue] 84 IX. [Gus in the Lime-light] 93 X. [Things Change for the Better] 104 XI. [Good News] 118 XII. [Thanksgiving in Camp] 128 XIII. [Sam Redeems Himself Gloriously] 136 XIV. [The Honor Medals] 152

The Boy Scouts on the Roll of Honor.

CHAPTER I.
THE NUT GATHERERS.

“It’s turned out to be a nutting trip worth while, fellows!”

“Three sacks full of black walnuts and shellbark hickories, with a peck of big chestnuts! Well, for one I’m glad Hugh asked me to go along.”

“And say, think of those poor little kids over at the orphan asylum—what a high old time they’re going to have this winter cracking all these nuts, when the snow that’s kept off so long comes to Oakvale!”

“Hugh, it seems to me you’re always doing something to make those orphans think a heap of Hugh Hardin, our assistant scout master, eh, Billy?”

“That’s right, Arthur,” responded the boy addressed by the name of Billy. “Why, only a short time ago didn’t I see him put through a neat job that I reckon saved the lives of several of those kids?”

“You must mean, Billy, when Hugh threw that runaway stone-car from the track, after it was headed for a stalled wagon full of children at the foot of the steep incline. I’ve always felt sorry I didn’t see that splendid feat myself.”[1]

“Oh, come, change the subject, please! It is getting to be a regular chestnut with me,” laughingly remarked the manly-looking boy in a suit of faded khaki, that had apparently seen considerable wear, and who answered to the name of Hugh.

There were three of them perched upon the broad seat of a wagon drawn by a single stout horse. All were apparently members of the Oakvale Troop of Boy Scouts, if their khaki suits that had seen more or less rough service, campaign hats, and various medals and badges told the story truly.

The driver was a fat, chunky lad named Billy Worth. Billy was noted for his unfailing good-nature, his immense appetite, a certain amount of skill in picture writing after the old Indian style, and last but not least his hero worship of Hugh Hardin as a chum, as well as a scout leader.

Besides these two there was Arthur Cameron, a rather slender boy, but capable of displaying considerable agility and strength on occasion. Arthur was interested in a good many things, such as wireless, and photography. His greatest claim to efficiency, however, lay in his undoubted ability as an amateur surgeon. Indeed, on more than a few occasions the boy had amazed experienced doctors by his astonishing skill at caring for serious wounds and handling cases in a wonderful manner.

Arthur would certainly miss his calling if he later on decided to follow any other profession as a life career.

As for Hugh himself, he was an all-round scout, good at almost everything that goes to make a proficient member of a patrol. In woodcraft he had few equals, and certainly no superior, as many of the boys were ready to attest from having been in his company when tests came.

Oakvale Troop was thriving these autumn days. Time was when many people were wont to look sneeringly down at the struggling organization. Some wise parents, mistaking the true objects of the scout movement, absolutely refused to allow their sons to join, despite much pleading and bitter feelings.

Those days, though, were now pretty much in the past. It must be a bold man who would dare to argue along such lines, after all the manly things Hugh and his comrades of the khaki had successfully carried out.

These scout activities consisted of so many varieties of deeds that time and space would not allow me to repeat them here. If the reader has not already enjoyed the earlier numbers of this series and feels a desire to know what the Oakvale scouts had succeeded in accomplishing since the time of their organization as a troop, he could not do better than to secure some of the preceding volumes and peruse them in their regular sequence.

At a meeting of the troop in a cozy room under one of the Oakvale churches, allotted to their use by the men who firmly believed in scout work, Billy had only the preceding evening been elected secretary. He was consequently inclined to be full of the subject, and from time to time would burst out in some speech regarding the books he had been poring over.

So now, as he softly touched the lazy horse with his whip, to coax him to increase his pace, as they were drawing near the outskirts of the town, Billy once again allowed his rather slow mind to recur to the subject of his perusal of the organization books.

“D’ye know, Hugh,” he remarked, “I’ve been making out a list of present members, as well as the patrols to which they belong. It shows that we’ve struck the thirty-three number, with two patrols chock full, and three lacking seven to be complete.”

“How’s that come, Billy?” demanded Arthur, who was seated on his left. “Seems to me we ought to have four full patrols out of that number.”

“Oh! well, you forget that we lost several fellows when their folks moved away from town,” replied the important secretary, “and that some new members joined the latest patrol by choice, which was the Owl, you know.”

“I’d like to know just how the troop stands right now, Billy,” ventured Hugh, who possibly could read the fat boy as he might a printed page, and hence knew that the secretary was fairly itching to give the details of the scout membership and divisions.

“Huh! that’s as easily done as falling off a log,” said Billy instantly, taking the bait like a hungry wolf. “Here, Arthur, help me out, won’t you? Hold the lines, and be sure not to let old Peter run away while I fish in my coat pockets and find a certain paper I made out from the books.”

After considerable hunting, for Billy was a bit inclined to be careless when he put a thing away, so that he really forgot where its hiding place might be, in the end he produced the document, smiling humorously as though he had achieved a wonderful victory.

“Here she is, right-side up with care,” he announced grandly, flourishing the paper. “I just knew I had it somewhere on my person, but a fellow has so many pockets that it isn’t any wonder he once in a long time gets things mixed a little. Now, listen you fellows, while I read the roster of Oakvale Troop.”

In a sonorous voice, as though standing on the rostrum and addressing an audience that filled every corner of the town hall, Billy started in. As there may be some readers who have not yet made the acquaintance of other members of the enterprising Oakvale Scouts, perhaps it would be just as well to let Billy introduce his comrades now.

“First there’s the original Wolf Patrol,” he started in to say, “consisting of charter members for the most part. These are eight in number, and constitute a full patrol—Hugh Hardin, leader; Billy Worth, ‘Bud’ Morgan, Arthur Cameron, Ned Twyford, Jack Durham, Harold Tremaine, and Ralph Kenyon.

“Then comes the Hawk Patrol, with one vacancy, owing to a fellow leaving town. It now consists of Walter Osborne, leader; Blake Merton, ‘Gus’ Merrivale, Anthony Huggins, Mark Trowbridge, Frank Green, and ‘Chatz’ Marsters.

“Next we have the Otter Patrol, full to the brim. There’s Alec Sands, leader; ‘Buck’ Winter, Chester Brownell, Dick Bellamy, Tom Sherwood, Dale Evans, Sam Winter, and Albert Barnes.

“Then there’s the Fox Patrol, with two vacancies, owing to the same cause, families moving away from Oakvale. No scout thus far on our membership list has died. Don Miller is the leader, with ‘Shorty’ McNeil, Cooper Fennimore, ‘Spike’ Welling, ‘Monkey’ Stallings and Addison Prentice making up the rest.

“Last of all is the Owl Patrol, with only four on the roll. Lige Corbley is acting as leader the best he knows how, and the other fellows are ‘Whistling’ Smith, Andy Wallis and Pete Craig. So you see how matters stand. Strikes me, Hugh, we ought to fill up the vacancies in the Hawk and Fox Patrols before trying to complete the new chapter, though maybe the suggestion oughtn’t to come from so humble an individual as the greenhorn secretary, William Worth, at your service!”

He put away the paper and once more took the reins, whereat the intelligent horse, as though knowing who handled the lines now, once more fell back into his indolent gait, as though time did not matter—like master, like horse, Arthur told himself, noting this immediate change of pace.

“On the contrary,” said Hugh, immediately, “I’m glad you mentioned it, and in fact I consider it a very good suggestion. We’ll thresh it out at the next meeting, when we hope to have several applications for membership.”

“Gad-up, Peter, what ails you?” exclaimed Billy, flushing with pleasure, for he would rather receive a compliment from Hugh than any one he knew of. “Here we are on the border of town, with your oats waiting for you in the stable, and yet you loaf like that. You must be pretty much of a lazybones, I reckon.”

“Don’t forget that Peter has traveled quite some few miles, uphill and down,” remarked Hugh chidingly. “The load he’s pulling now, what with the bags of nuts and three boys, isn’t to be sneezed at. We’re going to get home in plenty of time for supper, for the sun’s just beginning to set now behind the bare ridges of old Stormberg Mountain over there in the west.”

“And to-night you promised to drop over to my house, remember, fellows,” remarked Billy. “With the Thanksgiving holidays nearly on us, we’ve got to think up some sort of outing to give us a breathing spell between studies.”

“We’ll be on hand, never fear, Billy,” chuckled Arthur. “I’ve got a few ideas on that subject myself, that I’d like to have talked over, though they may not strike either of you as just the thing.”

“The fact of the matter is,” said Billy seriously, “our bunch has already gone through so many experiences that it’s next to impossible to hatch up anything new or novel these days. I’ve almost cracked my poor brain trying to concoct a scheme that would take you all by storm, but I tell you it can’t be done. And Arthur, I’ll be tickled half to death if you can invent some fine plan or other.”

“Well, here we strike town,” said Hugh. “I’ll try to offer some idea to-night, but I own up I’m in something of the same fix as Billy here, and afraid we’ll, after all, have to duplicate some of our past trips.”

“There’s some fellow waving to us!” exclaimed Arthur just then.

“I ought to know him all right,” muttered Billy. “Yes, it’s Gus Merrivale, and he wants us to pull up. Guess he heard we went after a last load of nuts up at the Hatch grove, and wants to see what luck we had.”

Hugh, however, believed differently, for with the observing eye that had helped to make him the smart scout he was he noticed that Gus looked greatly excited. Therefore Hugh was not so much surprised as his comrades when the member of the Hawk Patrol burst out explosively as soon as he reached the side of the wagon:

“Hugh, I’ve been looking all over town for you, yes, and Billy and Arthur as well. I’ve just got to go up to dad’s old logging camp, not being used this season you know, and it struck me the three of you might like to go along and spend the Thanksgiving holidays up there. We could have a glorious time of it, believe me!”

CHAPTER II.
AT THE DESERTED LOGGING CAMP.

“Would you mind saying that again, Gus?” asked Billy eagerly.

“Yes,” added Arthur, “we were just trying to figure out what we might do over the holidays, because most of the boys can’t leave home on Thanksgiving of all times in the year. Tell us some more about your scheme, Gus. I must say it strikes me as something worth jumping at, all right.”

Gus flushed with evident pleasure. Hugh instantly began to think there might be something more connected with this suddenly conceived trip than had as yet appeared on the surface; still, he, too, felt pleased to have their difficulties so quickly removed.

“It’s just this way,” said Gus, speaking quickly, and secretly watching the face of the scout master, because he knew that Hugh would be the one to settle the matter, “my mother wants me to go up there for a certain reason, and, of course, I could hardly think of undertaking it alone. She told me to hire some one to go along to act as guide and companion, but I felt I had too many fine chums among the Oakvale scouts to think of doing that, and as I happened to hear you fellows talking about spending the holidays off somewhere I decided to ask you to go along with me.”

“Let’s see,” remarked Arthur shrewdly, “unless I’m a whole lot mistaken that lumber camp your folks own is a good many miles away from Oakvale.”

“All of thirty-five,” replied Gus, without any hesitation, “but what does a little thing like that matter, when you’ve got a bully seven-passenger car to carry the grub, and everything needed? Mother told me I could take our old car, which was lately overhauled, and ought to run fairly decent. Hugh, please say you’ll go with me! I’ll be ever so thankful, because— Well, I’ve just got to spend a little time up there, you see, and I’d appreciate your company better than I c’n tell you.”

“So far as I’m concerned,” spoke up Billy, impulsively for once, “I’m with you on that proposition, Gus. It strikes me as a splendid chance to pass away a few days in having a dandy good time among ourselves. Don’t forget that this year school closes sharp on Tuesday afternoon, not to open again for a week.”

“Thanks to the heating apparatus breaking down in that first cold spell, and the delay in getting new parts from the foundry,” added Arthur, gratefully. “And let me add that you can count on my going along with you, Gus. I’m in for the outing every time.”

“Hugh, you haven’t said a word yet,” observed Gus, anxiously.

“Because I’ve been thinking it over,” replied the other.

“Say you’ll go along with us, Hugh,” urged Billy. “Why, half of the fun’d be gone if you didn’t come.”

“Gus, we’ll call it settled then,” said Hugh, vastly to the delight of the stout chum, who looked as though ready to give a regular scout yell.

“Then let’s meet to-night at my house,” Billy hastened to add, “when we can settle the preliminaries, as they say when a match is being arranged. Just now you see my untamed steed is getting restless; wants his oats, I reckon. Call it seven, Gus, and don’t you dare fail us after getting a fellow so excited.”

Possibly it was Peter’s hungry master who was growing anxious to satisfy a voracious appetite, for Billy’s weakness was well known among his chums, and caused no end of merriment, though he took all the fun poked at him in good part.

At seven that same evening when Hugh, walking along in the light of the almost full moon, reached Billy Worth’s home, he found that both Arthur and Gus had already arrived.

Billy, like most boys, had been allowed a “den” of his own, which was quite tastefully fitted up with books and pictures of an exciting though wholesome character. Athletic and other outdoor sports were represented by various things like football guards for nose and shins; a baseball catcher’s mask, gloves and breast pad; snowshoes that had evidently seen considerable service, a fly-rod, a stuffed black bass weighing some five pounds, which must have given the fisherman a lordly struggle before consenting to capture, and other articles too numerous to mention.

Billy’s den was a favorite lounging place for many of his mates. Here the three guests were told to make themselves at home, and each hastened to ensconce himself in a favorite chair or nook, the comforts of which seemed to be quite familiar to the occupant from previous visits there.

“It’s understood, then,” said Gus, after they had been chatting for some time, and, of course, were discussing what they ought to take along with them, “that we start about eight o’clock Wednesday morning next, come rain, come shine.”

“Huh! the weather doesn’t stop a scout when he’s got his mind made up,” ventured Billy, with an expanded chest that bespoke pride. “What would a little snowstorm or even a baby blizzard mean to such veterans as our crowd? If the heavens don’t drop, Gus, or one of us falls sick meanwhile, you can count on our being with you on the date set.”

“One thing I’m going to ask of you, boys, as a great favor,” remarked Gus, with a queer look on his face that interested the observing Hugh considerably.

“As what?” demanded Billy. “Though for that matter, Gus, count it as settled before you speak, that we’ll agree to anything you ask. We’re going to be your guests up there at the old logging camp, you know, and we understand what that means.”

“Oh! it’s only this,” continued the other, hesitatingly. “I’m going to ask you not to tell any of the fellows just where we expect to camp. I’ve got a reason for that request, and later on you’re going to know all about it, too. Just now I don’t want my father to know where we’re headed, though mother is sending me up there, you understand.”

Billy’s eyes opened very wide at hearing this. Arthur, too, stared, and seemed to be puzzled, but quickly went on to say:

“Oh! that’s all right, Gus, we promise to keep as mum as an oyster about it all. No matter what the reason may be, don’t think we want to pry into your private affairs. Hugh here has said he’s willing to go along, and we’ll make up the party without a question.”

“Yes, that’s so,” added Billy, “and while we’re about it let’s settle on what kind of grub we want to carry along. If we’re likely to be gone as long as six days, why, we’ll have to figure on enough to last us out. I can’t afford to lose any of my weight, in starving myself, you understand, boys.”

This was always a pleasing subject with Billy. He invariably found himself at home when it came to making up a list of eatables to carry along. There was little danger of starvation visiting any camp where Billy Worth was occupying a place at the mess table, and had a hand in ordering the supplies.

So by the time Hugh and the other fellows got up to go home the arrangements for the Thanksgiving outing had been pretty well completed. What little more they might need could be added in the few days that must elapse before making the start. On the way home Arthur and Hugh might have incidentally mentioned the fact of Gus acting so strangely in connection with the trip, only that his being in their company prevented any such exchange of opinions.

Monday came again after a Sunday that did not differ from any ordinary day of rest from school duties and labor. Then Tuesday dragged its weary length along, and finally school was dismissed for the Thanksgiving holidays.

That night the boys again met at Billy’s house, where the supplies for the little campaign had been slowly gathered. Hugh was amused at the immense heap that filled one end of the “den.” Gus, too, wondered whether there would be any room for a quartette of healthy fellows after that load had been placed aboard the car.

“Never fear about that,” Billy cheerfully assured them. “You don’t know how you can stow things away, once you try.”

“Well,” laughed Arthur, “we’ve seen you doing the same stunt lots of times, Billy, and only wondered if your legs were hollow, because none of us could guess where you put it all.”

“Leave that to me,” Billy remarked complacently, “and I’ll guarantee that every bit of this stuff will fit in the car, and then some. I’m an adept at packing; you see I like comfort so much I’m always carrying along heaps more than the law allows; and so I’ve had to study the subject of getting much in little.”

Indeed, when the next morning came, and Gus drew up in his big seven-passenger car, Billy proved the truth of his bold assertion. He did succeed in getting every bit of the luggage aboard, and there was still room for the boys to stow themselves away, though Arthur and Hugh had to let their legs dangle outside more or less.

The start was made under promising conditions.

“Looks like we might be favored with a spell of real mild weather,” Billy observed, after they had left Oakvale some miles behind, and were speeding along the road at a fairly lively pace.

“Indian summer hasn’t come and gone yet, they say,” remarked Gus. “Like as not this is a spell of the same. But no matter what sort of weather we strike I’m glad as can be we’ve made the start, and hope things will turn out for the best.”

Again did Hugh pay attention to some hidden meaning back of what Gus Merrivale was saying, though neither Billy nor Arthur seemed to notice anything strange.

“I honestly believe Gus has some sort of reason for wanting to visit that deserted old lumber camp just at this particular season of the year,” mused Hugh, as he sat there and paid strict attention to the scenery along the route. “Besides, when he says his mother is setting him up to making the trip, and that he didn’t want his father to hear about it, it looks pretty queer. But then he promised to tell us all about it later on, so what’s the use bothering any more?”

They were fortunate not to have any “blowout” or other accident on the way—which Hugh considered lucky, for the car was an old one, only lately repaired. Miles upon miles were passed over. Gus did not try to make undue haste; for he entertained a certain amount of suspicion regarding the propensity of the Atlas to break down.

By degrees they found themselves entering upon a wilder stretch of country than the region bordering Oakvale. Farms became less frequent, and stretches of heavily wooded land took their place. Some great gashes had been made in this valuable timber belt, mainly through the logging operations carried on by Mr. Merrivale’s gangs of hardy lumbermen.

This year, however, there was nothing going on. Gus explained something about a strike that had taken place late on the preceding spring, which had so angered the rich owner of the land that he declared he would not cut another stick until he could get the right sort of men to contract with him.

It was not much after ten in the morning when Gus told his chums they were drawing near the camp. Indeed, the other scouts had already seen numerous evidences of this fact around them. They were accustomed to draw their own conclusions.

Gus began to show signs of nervous excitement, Hugh discovered. In fact, the other was trembling like a leaf as they finally drew up in front of a long log building evidently serving as the “bunk-house” of the logging camp.

Without saying a word Gus scrambled out of the car the first thing, and hurried toward the heavy door of the low structure. Billy was so stiff he could hardly move without groaning; but both Hugh and the nimble Arthur were close upon the heels of Gus when he swung open the door, looked within, and then with a deep sigh exclaimed, evidently greatly disappointed:

“Oh! the shack is empty! And poor mother’ll break her heart when she finds out that story was only a mean fraud after all.”

CHAPTER III.
BACKED BY SCOUT COMRADES.

Gus staggered over to a rude chair made from hickory branches, and threw himself down, covering his agitated face with both hands. Arthur looked ruefully at Hugh as though hardly knowing what to make of these strange actions on the part of the boy whose rich father owned this deserted lumber camp.

The coming of Billy, loaded down with traps, broke in upon the dead silence that seemed to grip them.

“‘Everybody works but father!’” sang out the stout boy, cheerfully, as he cast his burden on the puncheon floor, it consisting for the most part of camping blankets of gray material, and which had seen considerable service in times gone by.

“Well, we don’t expect you to do it all, Billy,” remarked Arthur, as he hurried outside once more.

Hugh, too, busied himself, knowing that in all probability Gus would explain what his queer words meant, in his own good time. The boy was beginning to master his feelings when the others came in again, each loaded with packages of food, clothes-bags, and such things as a camera, a shotgun, an ax, and the cooking utensils they knew so well.

Gus offered to assist them, but Hugh declared they were more than half done, and that another trip would finish the job.

“When you come back again,” said Gus, evidently determined to explain things at the start, “I’ve got something I want to tell you all.”

A short time later, everything having been carried under shelter, Hugh and the other pair gathered close around Gus, who was now smiling bravely, though still laboring under considerable excitement bordering on keen disappointment.

“Don’t bother telling us a thing unless you really want to, Gus,” said Hugh in his kindly fashion, but the other nodded his head as he went on to say:

“Oh, I meant all along that you should know,” he said. “Fact is, I couldn’t have gotten along even a little bit without explaining why I was urged to come up here by my mother, and without father knowing a thing about it.”

He sighed again, and then went on bravely. Hugh saw by the way he compressed his lips that it hurt Gus keenly to say what he meant to, but that even this would not keep him silent. After a moment he started to say, grimly:

“Perhaps you’ll remember that once upon a time I had an older brother by the name of Sam. Most people believe Sam went out West to live with an uncle who had a ranch there; but the truth of the matter is he had a terrible quarrel with father, and was turned out of the house! That’s been the skeleton in the Merrivale closet ever since, and Sam’s name has never been mentioned to my father by any of the rest of us.”

Gus swallowed hard to master his emotion, and then proceeded with his story.

“Sam was a lovable fellow, only weak, and he fell in with a bad lot who dragged him down. From the day he disappeared, now some four years back, none of us have ever set eyes on him. I’ve got a suspicion that my mother tried to keep in touch with him, for once I saw her get a letter that had a Chicago post-mark on it; but that was three years ago. Since then I don’t believe even she has known whether poor Sam was alive or dead.

“Then a short time ago she learned something that has caused her plenty of sleepless nights, let me tell you. I don’t know just how the news traveled, but it was to the effect that Sam had come back to his old haunts, accompanied by another tramp; he had fallen as low as that, and was believed to be lying sick up here at the old lumber camp.

“My father is an awfully stern man, you must remember, and mother is afraid of his terrible temper, so she didn’t dare speak to him about it. Finally, she took me into her confidence, and begged me to fix it so I could go off on a camping trip, running up here to see if there was any truth in the rumor she had heard, and if so to do what I could for my brother Sam. But you can see he isn’t here, and I’m afraid it was a false alarm. Oh, I’m sorry for my poor mother, that’s all!”

Gus looked as though about to break down again, seeing which Hugh hastened to say something.

“But hold on there, Gus,” was what he remarked, hastily and cheerfully; “remember that a scout doesn’t give in so easily as all that. It’s true your wandering Brother Sam doesn’t seem to be here now, but that’s no reason he hasn’t occupied this bunk-house of late.”

“Hello, that sounds like you have seen signs, Hugh!” exclaimed Arthur.

“Well, I have,” came the answer. “Let’s look around a bit before we decide that there was nothing back of the story. Here you can see there’s been a fire lately on this broad hearth where the cooking is done. Like as not the last time the loggers were here was many months ago, and the rain coming down the broad chimney would have leveled the ashes, which you see isn’t the case right now.”

The scout master bent down and placed his hand on the heap of ashes. He quickly drew it back again, and turned a smiling face toward the other boys.

“Try the test and see for yourselves,” he urged, which every one of the others hastened to do, also receiving a surprise in turn.

“Why, what d’ye think of that, it’s actually warm!” exclaimed Billy, as he started to wring his fingers as though he had burned them.

Gus stared hard at Hugh. The pallor was leaving his face, while a sparkle as of revived expectation and hope could be seen in his tear-dimmed eyes.

“What does that mean, Hugh? Oh, please tell me, because it seems as if I couldn’t collect my wits enough to reason it out!” he begged, laying a quivering hand on the khaki sleeve of his chum.

“Well, there’s certainly been some person or persons holding forth here not so long ago,” said the other, with the positiveness of conviction. “You can see signs where they’ve done some primitive sort of cooking. Here’s the head of a rabbit which no doubt they snared or shot; and over there are scales showing that they found some way of getting fish out of the stream.”

“That’s so, every word of it!” said Billy Worth, who would, however, have unhesitatingly believed Hugh, no matter what sort of theory the other advanced.

“Now, let’s look around a little further, and perhaps we can find out something else,” continued the energetic scout master. “For instance, this bunk has been occupied lately, I should say from the looks of it—and the next one ditto.”

“Then that would mean just two men had been in here, wouldn’t it?” asked Gus, feverishly. “The report mother received stated that Sam had one pal along with him.”

“And over by the fireplace,” remarked Arthur, “I saw a couple of old tomato cans that had been used for cooking coffee in, some time or other; which I happen to know is a favorite trick among hobo—er—traveling men of the railway ties.”

Gus smiled faintly at hearing Arthur so hastily change his words.

“Oh! don’t worry about hurting my feelings when you call my brother a tramp,” he went on to say. “He’s done enough to nearly break his poor mother’s heart, but you know a mother will keep right along loving a fellow no matter how wicked he’s been. So she sent me up here on this wild-goose chase, hoping I might talk with Sam, and find out if he didn’t want to make one last try to be decent again.”

“Well, we’ve got a whole week to find him in,” remarked Hugh, encouragingly.

“But why do you suppose they cleared out of here in such a big hurry?” asked Billy, seeking enlightenment from the source that seldom failed him.

“That’s a question that might have a good many answers,” Hugh told him. “It may be that, well, the hobo who is with Sam has reason to be afraid of the officers of the law on account of something or other he’s done. I kind of think he must have sighted our car coming along the logging trail several miles off, for you know it took us quite some time to get here from the main road. So he hurried Sam away with him, taking along what little they had.”

Gus bent his head to hide the tears that came unbidden into his eyes. He knew Hugh was saying that partly to shield Sam, for there was nothing to tell them it was not the latter who had good reason to shun the officers of the law.

“Well, we’ll try and unravel all this conundrum a little later,” Billy remarked just then. “Let’s get settled first, and after that look around some. If Sam is sick I shouldn’t think he’d be able to get very far away from here. We’ll find him yet, see if we don’t, Gus! In fact, I feel sure we will!”

“It’s mighty good of you all to stand by me the way you do,” whimpered Gus, as he shook hands first with Billy, and then the others in turn.

“Shucks!” snorted Billy, himself winking pretty hard it must be confessed, for the stout boy had a very tender and sympathetic heart. “What’re scouts good for if they can’t back each other up when trouble swoops down, tell me? I wouldn’t give five cents for a fellow who wore the khaki and turned a cold shoulder to a chum in time of need.”

“It’ll all come out right, Gus, you can depend on that,” said Arthur, stoutly.

How could any boy give way to despondency when surrounded by such loyal comrades? Gus soon mastered his feelings, and even assisted the others get the various bundles unfastened. There is always something fascinating about this game of preparation, especially to boys who know the delights of camping out; and in good time Gus had apparently decided in his mind that the sky did not look quite so gloomy and forbidding.

Soon they were all working enthusiastically. A lot of things had to be attended to, such as chopping firewood, making up the bunks, undoing the food supplies, a task no one but Billy dared undertake, and all sorts of other duties too numerous to mention.

Then they decided to have a warm lunch before looking around outside. Gus had so fixed the car that it could not be stolen; at the same time the top was left raised in order to protect the interior in case of a heavy storm.

The time passed away as the afternoon advanced. Hugh had a dozen things he wanted to do, but for the time being he allowed them to take a back seat. There would very likely be an abundance of time to accomplish them all later on; first in order was this heart service of Gus Merrivale’s.

Hugh—yes, and both Billy and Arthur as well—could easily picture the intense anxiety of that poor mother waiting at home to learn about the fate of the wanderer for whom she still yearned. Yes, and what must make it doubly hard was the fact that she stood in such awe of her husband, and dared not even hint at the fact that the long-absent one was again near his old home from which he had been so summarily thrust.

“I’ve got in touch with the trail they left when they went away,” Hugh announced late that afternoon, coming back to the bunk-house after an absence of half an hour. “I followed it some little distance by means of the holes made by a cane one of the two men was using to help him walk. Then I struck some stony ground where I lost the tracks. But the first thing in the morning I’ll lead you to the spot, and we’ll see whether scout-craft is worth its salt or not.”

Gus beamed on the speaker. It could easily be seen that the boy’s heart was in the task that had been committed to his hands by the one he loved so dearly. Hugh only hoped circumstances would be such that Gus could go back home bearing some good news for the suffering mother of Sam Merrivale.

“It’s a good thing we’ve got this comfortable camp, let me tell you, boys,” Billy was saying later on, as he listened to the rising wind sighing around the corners of the log bunk-house. “Unless all signs fail, there’s going to be something of a storm coming this way before another sunset.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Billy,” agreed Arthur, “because it’s warm for the time of year. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a regular whooper out of that quarter, with the trees going down all around us like they did two years ago.”

CHAPTER IV.
THE COMING OF THE STORM.

Perhaps it was rather thoughtless of Billy to make such a remark as that. Gus immediately commenced feeling blue again.

“Oh, I hope that isn’t going to happen!” he remarked, while helping the stout boy get supper ready.

“Why, bless your innocent heart, Gus,” said Billy, patronizingly, “no storm that ever blew could hurt us here in these snug quarters, don’t you know?”

“But I wasn’t thinking so much of our getting injured as something else,” remonstrated the other, quickly.

“You mean about that trail, don’t you, Gus?” asked Hugh, who happened to overhear this little talk between the chefs.

“That’s just it, Hugh!” cried Gus. “I’m afraid that if it starts to raining real hard, or snowing, either, for that matter, we can never follow it any further. That would be too bad, you know.”

“Yes, that’s liable to happen,” Hugh admitted. “I’m sorry myself that twilight came along in the woods before I could get track of the trail again, so I had to give it up. But we’ll just have to lay on our oars, Gus, and hope for the best.”

By the time they had started eating, the wind had increased alarmingly. The moaning of the pines was now broken by frequent roars as the rising gale began to lash the trees furiously.

Although the scouts had weathered full many a storm during their previous experiences in camp, there seemed to be something altogether unusual about this one. It came so late in the season that it was, as Billy called it, “uncanny.”

“Why, to listen to that wind rushing through the woods,” he remarked, with his mouth filled with food, “you’d think it might be along about the equinox time instead of close on the end of November.”

“As for me,” declared Arthur, “I absolutely refuse to believe it. We must all be dreaming, or else the times are out of joint. I guess sounds are queer to us, for we’ve never been cooped up in the bunk-house of a deserted lumber camp before.”

“But that howl is made by the wind, you know,” urged Gus.

“We imagine it is,” grinned Arthur. “I tell you such a thing as a storm like this was never before known in the tail end of November. It just can’t be, that’s all!”

Now it chanced that all along Arthur Cameron had been looked up to by the rest of the troop as a clever weather prophet. He made it his business to study the various phases of the moon, and read up the reports sent out by the Government Weather Bureau.

Frequently he had been able to predict a change in conditions when no other fellow dreamed it was coming. He knew all about “signs” such as wise old countrymen go by when anticipating a severe winter, or a mild one. As a rule, these were based upon pretty sure foundations connected with the remarkable powers of instinct on the part of squirrels and other little wild animals while laying up their winter’s store of food.

Usually Hugh entertained considerable respect for what Arthur had to say concerning weather conditions. On this occasion, however, he laughed out loud.

“Excuse me, Arthur,” he said, seeing that the other was looking at him in a surprised way, “but when you said that it made me think of a story I once read.”

“Go on and tell it to us then, Hugh,” urged Billy, always eager to hear the assistant scout master relate anything, for, as a rule, it was to the point, and well worth listening to. The others also urged him to tell his story.

“There was a fellow who had been arrested and thrown into jail,” began Hugh. “He sent for his lawyer, who listened to his story, and seemed a whole lot impressed, as well as indignant. ‘I tell you, sir, they can’t put you in jail on such a silly charge as that; it’s utterly impossible!’ The man grinned and remarked: ‘But all the same, here I am, Mr. Jones; they’ve got me locked up all right.’”

Billy roared, while even Arthur smiled.

“Well, the story applies to what you were saying about the weather, Arthur,” continued Hugh. “Of course it’s out of all reason for such a wild summer storm to come down on us away at the end of November; and for one I would never believe such a thing could happen; but, nevertheless, listen a minute to all that racket outside, and you’re bound to agree with me that rule or no we’re up against it good and hard.”

“It’s a phenomenon, that’s what, and altogether unprecedented!” muttered the amateur weather sharp, at which Billy laughed some more, saying derisively:

“That’s right, Arthur; folks would know you had lawyers in your family. When you can’t argue against the opposing lawyer begin to abuse him, and make him mad. You want to strike at the weather now because it’s got the better of you. But listen to the wind shrieking, will you? Little it cares what you say about it, Arthur.”

After they were through supper Hugh made another suggestion.

“There’s no telling how long we may be cooped up here by this storm, fellows. On that account let’s get busy and fetch in all the wood you’ve cut.”

“A good idea, Hugh,” said Arthur. “If it rains hard we’ll want a fire to keep ourselves dry and warm.”

“Huh! guess you forget we’ve got to eat in order to live,” said Billy, sarcastically. “I admire a nice camp fire as much as anybody; but the practical side of my nature always crops up, and to my mind the best result of a fire is what comes from it on to the table.”

It did not take them long to carry out Hugh’s suggestion. Indeed, the supply of fuel was not nearly as large as Billy would liked to have seen.

“Might do for a couple of meals,” he remarked reflectively, eying the heap, “and then there’s got to be some tall hustling, no matter what the weather says. I never could eat cold stuff, and enjoy it. But say, that wind is sure some corker. Like as not it’ll knock over a few of these tall pine trees.”

“As the lumbermen have picked off the best of them,” added Hugh, “it’s left gaps in the timber, so that the wind can get a full sweep. On that account I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if a lot of them did blow down, providing the storm becomes more furious.”

“Well, it’s sprung up mighty sudden, I tell you,” urged Billy, “and from that I reckon we haven’t seen the worst yet, by a jugful.”

Gus, with an expression of gloom on his face, was saying next to nothing. He sat, looking into the glowing fire. Undoubtedly the boy was severely disappointed. He had hoped to find his erring brother Sam in the bunk-house of the deserted camp, possibly sick or injured, but in a condition to be repentant, so that he would listen to reason. Now this wretched storm had chosen to come down on them, threatening to destroy the only clue they had concerning the new whereabouts of the two tramps.

Every time a wilder gust than ordinary would make the windows of the long cabin rattle and the trees outside writhe, poor Gus would start and look anxiously toward the door, which had been closed and barred. Arthur had seen to this latter precaution because there was more or less danger that the storm might blow the door open, and give them a rude shock at some time during the night.

Suddenly there came a new sound that caused every one to jump.

“Oh! what was that?” exclaimed Gus, turning pale with apprehension, for his nerves were far from steady.

“A tree went down, I guess,” ventured Arthur, grimly, and Hugh nodded as if he agreed with what the other had said.

“Not very far away from us, either, I’d wager,” remarked Billy, uneasily. “I only hope the next one doesn’t smash our roof in.”

“Small danger of that,” Hugh reassured him. “Those lumberjacks were too smart to take chances. The first thing they did was to fell every big tree close to their bunk-house, and for just that reason, though some people might think it was on account of laziness.”

The fact that Hugh was so self-possessed acted soothingly on the excited nerves of Gus and Billy. The scout master, realizing just how depressed Gus must be, skillfully turned the conversation once more in the direction of the two hiding tramps.

“According to my way of thinking,” he remarked, earnestly, “the fellow who is not sick must have discovered our car coming slowly along the lumber road, and when it was a good ways off. He would understand that we could only be meaning to strike for the old camp here, and that started him to thinking we might be coming to arrest himself and his pal.”

“Why, yes, Hugh,” Arthur took up the idea swiftly, “and it wouldn’t be the first time these khaki suits of ours had scared a fellow who had reason to fear arrest. It might be he actually believed we were a bunch of State’s troops sent out to round up all of his stripe.”

“Whee!” gasped Billy, falling in readily with the train of thought thus advanced, “I c’n just imagine how it affected him. He must have made hot tracks for the bunk-house here, and hustled the other tr—I mean hustled Sam away in a hurry. All I c’n say is that fortune played us a mean trick when that hobo saw us coming along.”

“It looks that way,” said Hugh, “but you never can tell. Lots of times in this world what seems like a misfortune is only a stepping stone to better things. I’ve heard Lieutenant Denmead, our esteemed scout master, tell of a number of things that happened to friends of his along those same lines.”

Of course the patrol leader was saying this partly to lighten the load poor Gus was staggering under. At the same time Hugh really did believe what he told them. It was the duty of a true scout, he argued, to always look on the bright side; no matter how things seemed to be going against him, they might be much worse.

Apparently the strange storm had not yet reached its apex, for as time wore on the racket outside increased instead of diminished.

“If this sort of thing keeps on all night,” grumbled Billy, “I c’n see a bunch of sleepy scouts along about daylight. Why, it’ll take us all of Thanksgiving to recuperate after our loss of rest. And how about that wild turkey somebody expected to bag so as to celebrate with? Huh! guess I was smart to make sure we’d have a half home-cured ham to boil. If it weren’t for me you’d starve!”

“Don’t worry, Billy,” Hugh told him. “We’re bound to get along fairly well. Besides, this is going to be an experience unlike anything we’ve ever struck in all our trips. Think of the lumberjacks who used to sleep in this place, and hear the roar of the wintry blizzard, being shut up for a week at a time by the drifts around them.”

“Huh! it may come to that with us yet,” grunted Billy, disconsolately. “When a storm like this strikes up it’s liable to turn into anything. Wish now I’d gone ’nd fetched my bully snow-shoes along with me.”

Then he took out pencil and paper and started figuring. Hugh guessed Billy must be portioning the supply of food out so as to discover just how long a party of their size could continue to hold body and soul together if reduced to extremes. As his employment afforded Billy more or less entertainment and did no harm Hugh made no effort to stop him.

Indeed, just then Hugh had other thoughts to employ his attention. He did not like the way things were going. They had planned for such a splendid time up in the timber belt, with headquarters in the abandoned lumber camp!

Louder grew the roar of the storm, causing Gus to almost jump with each terrible rush of the wind, or distant crash of a falling pine tree, unsupported since its taller and stouter mates had been cut down.

Suddenly without warning Gus gave a shriek that startled the others. They turned their eyes upon him, wondering if the poor fellow could be going out of his mind. But Gus was pointing with a trembling hand straight at one of the windows, and there pressed against the small pane of glass they could see a human face!

CHAPTER V.
A HELPING HAND.

“Look, oh, look there!” Gus was saying, in a thick voice, as he continued to keep his finger pointed at the apparition beyond the window pane.

Hugh, though almost as startled as the rest, managed to keep a firm grip on himself.

“Is that your brother Sam, do you think, Gus?” he demanded, sensibly, the first thing; for the man still continued to stare in at them, as though trying to make out whether they were only boys after all, and not the dreaded State militia come to arrest him.

“No, n-no, it can’t be him!” gasped the other. “Don’t you see he’s a whole lot older than my brother? Why, his beard’s streaked with gray, seems like. Hugh, that must be the other tramp. Then he’s deserted poor Sam in the storm somewhere!”

Hugh did not think the idea at all unlikely. He knew that among such men the old rule of “self-preservation first” usually applied. At the same time he did not mean to let Gus read his thoughts.

“He acts as if he wanted to get in here,” suggested Arthur, whose quick eye had noted that the man looked both frightened and weak. “It may be he’s been hurt by some falling tree and needs medical aid. Hugh, what shall we do?”

Hugh had already made up his mind on that score. No matter who the man was, or what he may have done to cut him off from the society of others, even a wretched dog could not be refused shelter when such a storm was raging without.

So Hugh immediately made signs with his hands such as might be recognized even among savages as tokens of peace and amity. Then he started toward the door, for all of them had jumped to their feet at the time Gus gave the alarm, after making his discovery.

Cautious Billy held back. As a rule, he was the last fellow to suspect any one, but Billy had a regular antipathy for tramps of high and low degree, and would not trust a single one of the species.

He suddenly remembered that they had brought a double-barreled shotgun along with them; not that they expected to do much hunting, but visions of a fat wild turkey had haunted their minds, especially in connection with the Thanksgiving dinner.

Billy now stepped hastily back and took possession of this firearm. He himself had thrust a couple of loaded shells in the chambers late that afternoon, warning the others at the same time not to handle the weapon carelessly. Billy had an idea some wandering wildcat might come prowling around their door in the night, and while not anxious to figure in the rôle of a mighty Nimrod, at the same time he believed it was the duty of a scout to “be always prepared.”

When he once clutched this weapon, Billy breathed easier. Now let that desperate yeggman, if such the fellow turned out to be, look out for himself. Should he try to run things to suit himself he would find that Billy Worth could stand like old Plymouth Rock, or Gibraltar.

Meanwhile Hugh swiftly advanced to the door. As stated previously, a bar had been placed in the twin sockets securing that means of ingress against the rush of the howling gale.

Without hesitating an instant, Hugh started to remove this bar, so that he could throw open the door, and invite the wanderer in. He had noticed that when he started in the direction of the entrance, the face at the window vanished; but Hugh did not believe the man had decamped.

He held on to the door as he cautiously opened it, though all of his strength was needed to successfully combat the fierce swoop of the next squall.

“Come in!” he shouted, upon discovering a bowed figure just without, and his voice could not have been heard ten feet away at that, such was the clamor of the elements.

The fire flared up furiously under the draught that forced itself through the opening. Arthur was compelled to trample upon numerous embers that flew out from the hearth, and threatened to set fire to things, even alighting on their packs.

Perhaps the man must have heard what Hugh called out. At any rate, he had evidently made up his mind that while he might be facing arrest by entering the cabin, the fate that awaited him if he remained outside was surely far worse.

He limped painfully as he pushed past the guardian of the door, showing that as they had already suspected, he must have received some sort of injury.

Hugh immediately threw himself against the door again, and by main strength managed to get it closed. Then he once more applied the friendly bar. After that his part of the work was done, so that he could turn and survey the stranger who had come to their camp for shelter against the wild gale.

The man was apparently “all in,” as Arthur would have said. He staggered like many a drunken fellow the boys had seen upon the streets of their home town in times gone by before the W. T. A. had started their crusade and cleaned things up considerably.

Indeed, before he had taken half a dozen steps the man fell upon his hands and knees, tried to get up, and then rolled over helplessly.

Billy, without a single word, managed to slip away the gun he was holding so tenaciously and belligerently. He acted as though fairly ashamed of his action in anticipating trouble from such a wretched source.

No sooner had Arthur Cameron witnessed the collapse of the victim of the storm than his professional instincts were immediately aroused.

“He’s been badly injured, Hugh, I’m afraid!” he cried, excitedly. “We’ve just got to look after him, that’s all there is about it.”

Another second and Arthur was bending beside the tramp, whom he rolled over on his back. At the same time he called to Gus.

“Fetch one of those pillows we filled with hemlock browse, Gus, and put it under his head. That’s right, only handle him carefully, for I’m afraid he’s badly hurt.”

Hugh joined the others, ready to lend a helping hand. In like cases Hugh almost invariably deferred to the judgment of Arthur, because he recognized a superior along the line of “first aid to the injured.” Arthur, as has been said before, had always shown wonderful ability as an amateur surgeon, and his services were in frequent demand whenever the scouts went on a hike. Indeed, it was no unusual thing for the boys to address him by the title of “Doc,” which Arthur must have considered as high a compliment as any one could give him.

To watch him making an examination of the man’s limbs first of all one could easily imagine the boy had been in close touch with some practical surgeon. Had his patient been a king instead of a wretched tramp, possibly a fugitive from justice as well, Arthur could not have been more painstaking and gentle in his work.

“No limbs broken at any rate!” he announced, which gave Hugh more or less satisfaction, because he had feared that the examination might disclose some serious injury along those lines.

The man had not fainted, after all, it appeared, for he now gave signs of having heard Arthur’s announcement.

“Hurt all over—got caught under tree—just bruised, I reckon, but played out. It’s a terrible night, gents, that’s what!”

He used much more vigorous language than given above when expressing his opinion. Hugh would not stand for such a thing a minute.

“Here, no more of that kind of talk while you’re under this roof, Mister Tramp,” he told the man, sternly. “We’re willing to treat you white, and look after you in the way scouts are taught to do, but we’ll have no swearing around our cabin.”

Arthur continued his examination. He opened the man’s coat, and presently announced he believed he had summed up all his injuries.

“He’s got dozens of bruises and scratches that are going to make him sore enough for a week or more!” he declared. “I’m afraid one of his ribs has been fractured, but it’s a whole lot less serious than I thought at first. If he keeps quiet, and behaves himself, we’ll have him fit to go back to town with us—that is, if he cares to keep us company.”

He added that last when he saw the man squirm uneasily, and look alarmed. It was evident that he did not anticipate being taken to town with any degree of pleasure, and they could easily guess why.

Gus had all this time said never a word. He did whatever any one asked of him, and kept staring at the bearded tramp strangely. Hugh could give a guess what must be in the other’s mind. Gus naturally felt a deep interest in the injured hobo, for the man must know about poor Sam, since the other had lately been in his company.

Where was Sam now? This was the dreadful question that undoubtedly obtruded itself upon the mind of Gus constantly as he continued to stare at the tramp they had rescued from the storm.

Hugh knew what was meant by that mute appeal he could see in the eyes of Gus when their gaze met. The poor fellow was hungry to know the worst, though he did not have the courage to put his desire into words. As usually seemed to be the case when any scout found himself in trouble, Gus turned to Hugh to help him out; nor did he look for aid from this source in vain.

Bending over the man who now lay there on the floor, though they expected to fix up one of numerous bunks for him near the fire, the scout master caught his eye and then went on to say:

“I suppose you’ve got a name, and as you may be with us for some little time we’d like to know it.”

“Call me Casey, then,” came the muttered reply, though for that matter Hugh took it that any other name would have answered just as well, because he did not believe Casey was what the man had been known by in days gone by, before he took to the road.

“Well, Casey, you were not up here alone,” said Hugh, steadily. “We know from the signs you had a pal along with you, and that he’s been a pretty sick man lately, though he must be on the mend if he could go away from here in a hurry, and with only a cane to help him along.”

The man looked surprised to hear Hugh say all this. Like many other people, possibly, Casey may have entertained a contempt for the ability of boys, who dressed in khaki and called themselves scouts, to read signs, and figure out things accurately without once seeing those whom they were following.

“Sure, that’s so!” he exclaimed, in wonderment; “though I don’t know how ye guessed it.”

“Your companion’s name was Sam, wasn’t it?” asked Hugh immediately.

“Just what it was,” came the reply, while the increased look of astonishment on the man’s face caused several wrinkles to cross his forehead.

Possibly his guilty conscience was giving him cause for alarm. If this boy could tell so many things that were supposed to be secret, how was a fellow to know about keeping his own private affairs hidden?

“Well,” continued Hugh, “we have come up here on purpose to find Sam, I don’t mind telling you. He used to live not forty miles away from here before he took to the life of a hobo. Perhaps you knew this, and then again it may be he never whispered a word of it to you. But this boy here is his younger brother, Gus, and your pal’s real name is Sam Merrivale.”

Casey seemed to be impressed with the sincerity in Hugh’s tone. He looked again at the eager Gus, now hanging over him with an expression that could not be mistaken on his drawn face.

“Is that so?” he finally asked, as though convinced that Hugh spoke the truth. “Then I’m sorry we didn’t get on to it before we flew the coop here. If we’d just made up our minds to face the music and stick it out, I’d be feelin’ a heap easier in my body right now, and pore Sam wouldn’t ’a’ been a goner!”

At hearing the tramp say these dismal words Gus gave a low groan, and put his hand up across his eyes as though he feared the worst.

CHAPTER VI.
THE DUTY OF A SCOUT.

Hugh’s first act was to throw a reassuring arm across the shoulders of Gus Merrivale. The action was intended to quiet his fears and revive hope. Somehow it seemed as though mere personal contact with so magnetic a fellow as Hugh Hardin was usually enough to generate a new feeling of ambition in a despairing scout, for undoubtedly Gus immediately began to show signs of fresh anticipation.

“What do you mean by saying your pal is a goner?” demanded Hugh, looking down at the tramp as he spoke.

The man lifted one of his arms, though the effort caused him to groan with pain.

“Hark to that howling blast, will ye?” he called out. “It’s by far the worst storm I ever stacked up against, and I’ve seen some in my time. The trees, they’re just goin’ over like ten-pins in a bowling alley. It’s awful, that’s what it is, and there’s a mighty slim chance poor Sam could pull through such a fiendish gale if it near did for a strong man like me, and him that weak.”

“You deserted him then, did you?” demanded Billy, filled with indignation.

If such a thing as shame could ever make its presence felt in so hard a face as that of the so-called Casey, it did at that moment.

“Listen, gents!” he called out so as to be heard above the noise with which the storm was beating against the end of the bunk-house. “I stuck by Sam till I knowed it was no more use. I couldn’t lift a hand to help him along any further. So I made up my mind I’d try to find me way back here and get help for me pal. That’s gospel truth, every word of it. Even then I believed I was sticking my own silly neck in danger comin’ back—well, never mind why I thought that way.”

Hugh was looking straight into the man’s face as he said this. Somehow the scout master felt that Casey might actually be telling the truth. Men like him have been known to do wonderfully fine deeds once in a while, though no one would ever expect to find such a diamond in the rough.

He remembered the famous poem of Jim Bludsoe, which only the other day he had been reading—Jim, it may be remembered, was only a rough Mississippi steamboat pilot who might be set down as a fair sample of his kind, and looked upon as a swearing type of river man; yet when the Belle took fire he manfully stuck to his wheel and held the nose of the boat against the bank until every “galoot” had jumped to safety on the bank. Jim lost his own life, it is true, but the memory of his glorious deed has thrilled tens of thousands ever since it was recorded in verse.

Yes, somehow Hugh began to believe that Casey might be built something along those lines. Such a man, to save a comrade, would even risk arrest and imprisonment. He could have found shelter from the storm so far as he himself was concerned. The sick pal, however, needed a safer refuge from the howling gale that might yet turn into one of those dreaded blizzards through means of which so many of his wandering kind have met their fate.

“Tell us all about it,” was what Hugh said. “You hurried away from here after you discovered the car coming along the logging road, headed for the old camp, didn’t you, Casey?”

“Yes, because ye see I thought youse might be some people I wasn’t carin’ much about meetin’ just now,” came the ready reply.

“Go on, then, from that point,” urged the scout master, persistently.

“Well, we went as far as Sam could stand it, and then pulled up, meanin’ to put in the night there. I reckoned that when mornin’ kim along I could sneak back an’ find out the lay of the land, and whether you uns had vamoosed or not. If ye had we meant to climb back here, an’ stay a while longer.”

He stopped to rub his injured side softly and grit his teeth, evidently to suppress the groan that Hugh could see welling to his lips; for the man was undoubtedly in great pain, despite the ointment Arthur had rubbed upon his bruises.

“Then the wind began to rise, and I knowed we was goin’ to have some sort of a storm, which I tell ye I was sorry to see, ’cause bein’ out in one with winter hangin’ fire close by wasn’t appealin’ none to me. We snugged up closer when it got worse and worser. Sam he begged me to go back to the cabin and try to get some help for him. I held out as long as I could, and then I sensed that it’d be the only thing like as not that’d save him, he was that weak, you see. So I says I’d go, an’ I left Sam there among the fallin’ timber.”

“You must have been a pretty good woodsman to find your way back here in the dark, and with such a storm blowing,” remarked Hugh, for the purpose of drawing the other out still more.

“Oh! I used to be a lumberjack a long time ago,” explained Casey. “Once ye larn the tricks o’ the woods they ain’t so easy forgot. I made a bee-line back here, but all the same I came mighty near never arrivin’, with that tree ketchin’ me when it came down with a smash.”

He gritted his teeth again at the recollection of his recent almost miraculous escape. As a lumberman Casey must have been well acquainted with the perils of falling timber. He could figure what small chances a man would have should one of those tall pines topple over on him when driven by a ninety-mile-an-hour gale.

Hugh was thinking seriously. What was their duty under such circumstances? Should some of them risk going out into the stormy night, and try to find the abandoned Sam Merrivale, so as to save his life? He figured that if the erring brother of Gus, weakened by illness as he was, should be left to the full and protracted rigor of the storm there was small chance of his ever surviving the night.

Hugh never had a question to decide that worried him more than this one did. He wanted to do his duty, yet wondered whether it would be right to imperil the lives of himself and one or more of his chums in trying to save so miserable a wretch as Sam Merrivale.

The mental combat was short-lived. Hugh could not evade the issue which was presented so squarely to him. He believed that it would be possible to rescue the miserable Sam, providing the other tramp would direct them to the scant refuge where the prodigal son of Mr. Merrivale was doubtless cowering beneath a scanty shelter that served to protect him from the chilling blasts.

Of course they would have to accept a certain amount of risk in carrying out this plan. Hugh felt that for them to remain there in their comfortable quarters, all through the long night, knowing that a fellow human being, and poor Gus’ brother at that, was perishing close by, would be something that would haunt them with shame and regrets as long as they lived.

So he turned again to the tramp, who may possibly have guessed what had been passing through the boy’s mind, for he immediately called out:

“I kin direct ye to the place, all right, mister, and it ain’t so very fur away from here, either; but better think twict afore ye starts to try it. Chances are three to one ye’ll be sorry when ye git a hundred yards away, with them pines a fallin’ like hail all around ye.”

Gus held his breath, and kept those eloquent eyes of his glued fast upon the features of Hugh. It seemed to Gus just then as though the life of his erring brother were hanging by a slender thread. In fact, it depended upon the decision of the scout master. If Hugh decided they would try to find him perhaps Sam might yet be saved; but if the decision were adverse there was scarcely any hope for the lost one.

Hugh did not fail his comrade. He quickly made up his mind where the path of duty led as seen by a scout’s eyes. Doubtless, Gus was thrilled to the bone when he caught the reassuring glance Hugh shot in his direction, for it told what was coming even before a single word had been uttered.

“Suppose you tell us, then, Casey,” said Hugh, soberly, “just how to reach the place where you say you left your pal?”

Gus did not utter a word—he was really too full for that; but he allowed a hand to steal out and clasp that of the scout leader, which he squeezed again and again in a way that told of his gratitude more than mere words could ever have done.

“Ye have got to foller the crick down,” began the injured tramp, “till ye come to where it makes a second bend, turnin’ to the right. It might be all o’ a quarter o’ a mile from here. Then strike out as the rocks run. When ye come to a dip in the same ’tis there ye’ll find Sam alyin’, dead or alive, I can’t say which. But no matter, ye’ll have to fetch him back between ye, ’case he’s too weak to walk.”

“You’ll let me go along, of course, Hugh?” pleaded Gus, still clinging to the other’s hand.

Hugh hardly knew what to do about that. Some one must stay with Casey, and under ordinary conditions he would have detailed Billy and Gus to perform that duty. But he knew how the poor fellow was fairly hungering to be able to do something personally for the brother whom his mother had sent him out to find.

His decision was quickly made. It was very hard to say no when Gus was looking so appealingly into his eyes. After all, three might be better than just a pair of them. And surely Billy ought to be able to take care of the camp while they were away.

“Yes, you can keep company with us, Gus,” he told the other.

“Then I suppose you mean for me to stay behind, and not Arthur?” ventured Billy.

“Arthur will be of more help to me in case we find Sam than you could, Billy,” Hugh told him frankly, “because I depend so much on his first-aid knowledge. And Gus ought to go because you must remember it is his brother who’s out in all that storm.”

So it was settled, considerably to the chagrin of Billy, who was to stay behind; but then he knew the scout master too well to dream of argument when once the other had laid down the law. Obedience to authority and discipline is one of the fundamental rules which every member of a patrol learns early in his career as a scout; it is one of the finest things taught by the organization, and calculated to be of great assistance to boys in later life.

Accordingly, Hugh, Gus and Arthur immediately commenced making preparations looking to sallying forth. They went about this in a matter-of-fact way, just as though they did not know they would literally be taking their lives in their hands by braving that fearful storm.

Hugh did not neglect a single thing, for he was always thorough. He even made sure they carried plenty of matches along, and some food as well.