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Bert Wilson at the Wheel

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<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> <h3>Mountain Scouting</h3> Sunshine! glorious, golden sunshine! Was ever sunshine more bright? Was ever sky more blue? Was ever day more beautiful? So questioned our campers as, fresh and glowing from a cold plunge in the lake, a hearty breakfast despatched, bedding aired and cots freshly made up, camp cleared up and morning duties all attended to in tip-top fashion, they mustered about Mr. Hollis to receive the day’s commissions. It mattered little what might be the commission allotted to each squad. Anything, everything that might come to them in the way of camp duty, could not but be a pleasure on such a glorious day as this. With young bodies aglow with health, young minds, awake and alert for all new impressions, young hearts filled with desire to live right, to do right, to be kind and helpful to all with whom they came in contact, how could they help being happy? The camp was full of merriment, but perhaps the happiest squad of all was the auto squad.[177] In fact this was always the case, but today the autoists had a special expedition. They were to play the mountain scouting game, and as the nearest mountains were at a distance from camp the squad had been detailed for the automobile. Gaily the fellows piled in and away they flew. As the roads which they must travel today were rough, their progress was much less rapid than usual; but, despite this they reached their destination in about half an hour. “Hurrah for the ‘Red Scout,’” cried Bob, as they tumbled out of the car. “If she can travel like that over these roads, what’ll she do on the race track? Oh, say, fellows, the ‘Gray Ghost’ won’t be in it. She’ll fade away like a real ghost.” “Don’t I wish the day of the race was here,” said Tom. “Seems as if it would never come, doesn’t it, fellows?” and “It sure does,” they all chorused. The “mountains” were really very high, rocky hills, but, as they were known to embrace many very steep and dangerous ravines, some of them nearly as perilous as mountain precipices, many and earnest had been the warnings given by Mr. Hollis as the boys had started on their expedition, and each boy carried in the pockets of his jacket some part of the equipment for first aid to the injured that was a part of the[178] camp outfit. Thus safe-guarded, they felt no fear. As soon as they had arrived the three “hares,” who had been coached in the game, went to hide themselves in the mountain, and, after sufficient time had been given them for this purpose, the “hounds” followed them; while Bert and Dave Ferris remained in the auto to watch for any signal that might be given them from the mountain. The game of mountain-scouting consists in the “hounds,” who must stay within certain limits of ground, finding or “spotting” the “hares” within a given time. If they find or spot them even with field glasses, it counts, provided that the finder can tell who it is he has spotted. The hounds write down the names of any of the hares that they may see. If at the end of the allotted time no hare has been spotted, the hares win. To-day two hours had been the given time and the boys in the mountains were to signal to Bert the news as each hare was found. Time was nearly up. Three hares had been found. The chase had been a merry one and now hares and hounds together, no longer pursuers and pursued, but just happy-hearted campers were hiking down to the two in the automobile. [179] The return signal had been given, and Bert and Dave, relieved of the slight anxiety they had felt while the game was going on, expected each moment to see the boys come into view. Suddenly Dave sprang to his feet. “Look, Bert,” said he, “another signal.” Breathlessly the boys read the signal wig-wagged to them from a point high up on the side of the hill. “Come quick! Fred hurt. Bring splints and kit and ropes.” It took only a very short time for the boys to reach the scene of the accident, and one glance took in the situation. Turning a corner the boys had come, all unknowing, upon a spot where the rocks shelved suddenly down into a deep ravine. The edge of the descent was hidden by a fringe of breast-high bushes, and Fred Morse, all unconscious of his danger, had stepped upon a piece of rock which gave under his foot, and, before the boys could even put out a hand to save him, had slipped through the bushes, and the horrified boys had heard their comrade go crashing through the bushes on the side of the ravine. His frightened cry, “Help, fellows, I’m falling!” still echoed in their ears. While two of the boys were signalling, the others had called to Fred but no reply had come back to them. When Bert reached them, Bob was running along the edge of the cliff, in great danger of going[180] over himself, in a vain effort to find a place to climb down. Now, not waiting for the call for volunteers, he ran to Bert and begging him to hurry and help him, began fastening the ropes about himself. In a twinkling, the rope was adjusted, the knots securely tied, and the rope firmly held by four boys, Bob was lowered slowly and carefully over the side of the cliff. Down, down he went till, just as the boys began to fear that the rope would not be long enough, it lay slack in their hands, and they knew that Fred was found. Presently came the signal, three distinct pulls on the rope, and soon poor Fred was lifted tenderly over the edge and laid gently down. A few minutes more and good old Bob was back with them. Now, all attention was turned to Fred. After a careful examination from head to toe, Bert relieved the anxious fears of his comrades by the announcement that he was sure that Fred’s life was not in danger. A faint cheer went up, which faded when Bert said Fred’s leg was broken. Consternation filled their hearts, for the nearest doctor was miles away, and though Bert felt sure there was no more serious injury than the broken limb, it was hard to tell what internal injury might have been sustained, and a long ride in the motor with the leg in the present condition[181] might prove a serious matter. There was no doubt about it, the leg must be set at once. Not one of the boys had anything but the simplest knowledge of first-aid-to-the-injured, but, though at first hearts feared and hands trembled, they conquered fear and each boy went steadily to work to do his part. Whether it was to hand the cotton batting or to pull with full strength upon the poor broken limb, or hold the splints while Bert wound yards of bandage around them, not a boy flinched, and at last the work was done, and well done. Then with faces scarcely less white than Fred’s own, they turned to the task of making a litter on which to carry him down to the motor. After a long search, for the hill was almost barren of trees, being covered mostly with scrubby bushes, two short and two long saplings were found and, laying two of the boys’ jackets on the ground and running each of the long poles through the sleeves of a jacket, the two jackets were buttoned together with buttons down. Then the short poles were lashed on and a comfortable stretcher was ready to their hand. In the auto on smooth roads, carried tenderly by his fellows over the rougher places, they at last reached the office of the crusty old village doctor and laid Fred on the couch for the doctor’s examination. But though the doctor was[182] crabbed, he was skilful, and in a very short time the temporary splints were replaced by permanent ones and the party turned toward camp. Homeward-bound in the auto at last, the boys drew a great sigh of relief and weariness. What an eventful day it had been! Begun so brightly, it had nearly ended in a tragedy, and at the thought their hearts swelled with gratitude that they were taking dear old Fred home with them alive, and, if not well, at least only the worse for a broken leg and some severe bruises. They could not be thankful enough. “Who’s that going along the road ahead?” asked one of the boys, and all saw, walking in the middle of the road and directly in the path of the motor, a little bent old woman’s figure, the most conspicuous article of whose dress was a bright red, very draggled looking feather which drooped from the brim of a very ancient hat. Very tired and pathetic, the old figure looked to the boys as they brought the machine to a stop beside her, and the old wrinkled face, wet with tears that was turned to them when they spoke to her, made every warm boy’s heart ache with pity. “Why it’s Kitty Harrigan’s old mother, who has just come over from Ireland,” said Dick, in a low voice. “Don’t you remember, fellows, how we laughed when Mr. Hollis told us about[183] her the other night? He said, you know, that the poor old lady had been quite a village belle in her young days, and now, in her age, she imagines herself back in her girlhood. Look at her now.” Indeed, the old lady was a study, for no sooner did her old eyes fall on Bert’s handsome face as he spoke to her, than tears were brushed hastily aside, and with a coquettish glance from her brown eyes that, despite the years, were still bright, she made him so deep a curtsey that her long black coat swept the ground. She had eluded all watchful eyes, and slipped off by herself for a walk, and when she wished to return, had taken the wrong direction, and was walking away from home instead of toward it. She had enjoyed herself immensely at first, making the most of her seldom-obtained freedom, but now her old feet were very tired and the old limbs that had carried her sturdily for nearly ninety years were growing weak at last, and, after such unusual exertion, were trembling beneath her. At the boys’ proposal to take her into the car and give her an automobile ride, the tired old face broke into a smile, and, as the boys settled her in the most comfortable seat in the tonneau, she leaned back luxuriously, and, clasping her old hands, said in ecstasy, “Did annybody iver[184] see the loike of Biddy Harrigan ridin’ in an artymobile, no less.” She beamed upon the boys, she patted the hands and shoulders of all of them within her reach, and in her rich Irish brogue showered compliments upon them; for a very demonstrative creature was old Biddy Harrigan. She did not notice that mischievous Bert, whom she had called a “rale foine gintleman,” took advantage of her flow of talk to sing in a very low tone, “‘H-a-double r-i-g-a-n spells Harrigan’,” but the boys found it very hard to keep their faces straight. On Fred’s account, poor Fred, who had, perhaps, shown more courage than anyone else in that day’s ordeal, for not one word of complaint had he uttered through all his pain, the boys felt that they must go on to the camp where he could get the rest and attention he so sadly needed. They did not know that what was causing him keener anguish than the physical pain was the fear that he would be unable to be on hand on that day of days which he, like every other fellow in camp, had thought of every waking moment, dreamed of every night and looked forward to with daily-increasing impatience—the day of the race between their adored “Red Scout” and the challenged “Gray Ghost.” To miss seeing the “Red Scout” come in gloriously victorious (not a single doubt of her victory entered[185] any boy’s mind), what was the pain of a broken leg to the misery of that possibility! But they did know that he needed care, so they carried Biddy Harrigan with them. As supper was ready when they reached camp, they placed Biddy in the seat of honor and regaled her with the best of the camp fare. Never had an old women enjoyed herself so much. She could not get over the fact that the delicious supper had been cooked by boys. “If Oi hadnt of seen it and tashted it, Oi niver, niver would have belaved,” she said over and over again. After supper they hurried the old woman, gesturing and exclaiming at the delight of another “artymobile” ride, into the auto and soon had her home. Irish Kitty, who washed for the camp, was overjoyed at her old mother’s safe return and overwhelmed them with gratitude. The boys last view of Biddy was a grateful, curtseying, waving, delighted old woman who repeated over and over again, “O’ll not forgit yez, B’ys, O’ll not forgit yez. Yez’ll hear from old Biddy agin,” and they did. <hr class="chap" />[186] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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