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Boy Scouts in the Blue Ridge

<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> <h3>THE VOICE OF THE SILVER FOX PATROL.</h3> "We're going to pitch our camp right here, boys!" said the scout leader, some time later; "and remember, there's to be no shouting from this time on. We're in the enemy's country, and must observe the rules of caution." "Oh! ain't I glad though," sighed Bumpus, who had been busily engaged between wiping his perspiring brow, and avoiding stumbles over obstacles that seemed to take particular delight in getting in his way, he thought. "But I hope you're not going so far, Thad, as to keep us from having our regular camp-fire?" remarked Giraffe. "Without that, it'd be a sad business, I'm thinking. And what's supper, without a cup of coffee?" Thad had been talking again with Bob White; and evidently the boy who was acquainted with the locality must have posted the patrol leader regarding things. "Oh! we don't expect to do without that, make[87] your mind easy, Number Six," he replied, with a laugh, knowing what a weakness Giraffe had in the line of eating; though it seemed to do him little good, since he was as "thin as a rail," plump little Bumpus used to declare. With various exclamations of satisfaction the weary boys tossed their burdens aside, and followed by throwing themselves on the ground. After a short rest, of course preparations for passing the night would be in order; but a little breathing spell, first of all, was in order. Thad walked away, in company with Allan and Bob White. "Now, what in the wide world d'ye think they're going to do?" demanded Step Hen, when the three had vanished from sight among the brush that lay around. "There you go," broke out Bumpus, "as curious as any old maid in all Cranford, always wantin' to know the reason why. A pretty scout you'll make, Step Hen; and it'll be a long time before you win any medals, or pass an exam, for the proud position of a first-class scout. But I wonder what they do mean to do?" The others laughed at this. "After this, Bumpus, take the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'moat'">mote</ins> out of your own eye before you try and get a fence rail from mine. But they're up to some dodge, take it from me. And it'll be mean if they don't let us into the[88] deal, sooner or later," and Step Hen shook his head dismally as he spoke; for he was most unhappy when he believed there was anything going on without his being told all about it. "Great country this," remarked Smithy, lying there on his back, and looking up at the lofty peaks that were bathed in the glow of the setting sun. "About as wild as anything I ever saw. Don't surprise me to know that the men who were born and brought up here can defy the clumsy officers of the Government, when they attempt to capture them. In my humble opinion they'll just keep on making that moonshine stuff here in the Big Smokies until the year three thousand, if the Washington people hold that big tax on the real brand, so as to make it worth while." "It sure is some ragged," remarked Davy Jones, yawning; for Davy did not happen to be possessed of a soul that could admire the grandeur of any rough scenery; and only thought what a nuisance it was to have to do so much climbing all the while. "Hold on there, Step Hen," exclaimed Giraffe, as the other started to collect a handful of small sticks; "don't you dare think of starting that fire. That's my particular job; the patrol leader gave it over to me, you understand." "Just to keep you good," sneered Step Hen, throwing the sticks down again. "You keep on itching to make fires so much, that he just had to[89] bribe you to let up, or some day you'd set the river afire." "Huh! no danger of you ever doing that, I guess," chuckled Giraffe. All the same, he got up, and began to gather small tinder on his own account. "Mind you," he observed a minute later, as though half regretting his action in squelching Step Hen so soon; "if anybody feels like lending a hand to gather fuel, why there ain't nothin' against that; and we'll have that bully old coffee all the sooner, you understand." This sort of subtle persuasion seemed to at least stir Davy Jones into life, for getting slowly to his feet, he began to collect larger wood, and throw it down close to where the energetic fire-builder was starting to make his blaze. Giraffe was a real fire worshipper. He dreamed of his pet hobby; and many times could be seen, apparently idly whittling a stick; when, if asked what he was doing, his reply would invariably be: "Well, we might want to start a fire some time or other; and then these shavings'd come in handy, you see." On several notable occasions this weakness of Giraffe's had managed to get him into more or less trouble; and the sagacious scout leader finally had to take him to task. So on this mountain hike it had been agreed between them that Giraffe would[90] refrain from attempting his favorite rôle of making miscellaneous fires at odd times, if allowed to build all the camp-fires of the trip. And so far he had really kept his word, though there were times when the temptation nearly overcame his scruples. When Thad and the other two came back, darkness had settled over the scene. This came all the sooner on account of the high walls that shut them in on either side; though just beyond the boys believed there must be some sort of an open spot, in the way of a valley. "I'm glad to see that you made a fine fireplace for cooking, Number Six," remarked the patrol leader, as he looked around; "because we may spend a day or so right here, resting up a bit. Now, while supper is getting underway I'm going to tell you a few things that are <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'at'">apt</ins> to interest you some. They concern our comrade Bob White here, and he's given me full permission to say what I'm going to." "There, Step Hen, what did I tell you?" cried Bumpus, gleefully. "Next time just get a throttle grip on that bump of curiosity of yours." "I've heard my maw say people that live in glass houses hadn't ought to heave any stones," retorted the other, witheringly. But the boys quickly forgot all their differences, once Thad started to tell of the strange things which he had heard from Bob White.[91] There was an intaking of the breath, such as would indicate great excitement, as they learned how Bob's father had been connected with the raids on the secret Stills of the mountain moonshiners. And when finally they heard how he had met so terrible a fate, while pursuing his sworn duty by the Government, glances of true brotherly sympathy were cast in the direction of Bob. "Now," said Thad, in conclusion; "you've heard about all there is to tell; and I know you're tremendously astonished, because none of us had any idea that we were going to run up against such a thing as this when we asked Bob to let us go with him to his old home here among the Blue Ridge Mountains. But what is important to know, is your decision. Majority rules in everything of this kind; and if more than half of you think we ought to turn right back, and not keep on, why, there's nothing to be done but turn about, and go over the trail again." "Well, not much!" exclaimed Giraffe, filled with a spirit of boyish comradeship toward the chum who had been so sorely afflicted, and whose sad story was now discovered for the first time. "Put it up to a vote, Thad!" remarked Bumpus, trying to look grim and determined, though his round face was usually so merry that it was a hard proposition for him to seem serious.[92] "All in favor of returning to-morrow say aye," Thad suggested. Just as he expected, there was absolute silence. "All in favor of sticking to our chum through thick and thin, and doing all we can to help him over the rough places, say aye!" the leader continued. A chorus of eager assents drowned his words. Bob White's fine dark eyes filled up with tears. He could not trust himself to speak; but the look he gave each and every one of those seven loyal comrades was more eloquent than any words could have been. "After we've had supper," Thad went on warmly, "Bob means to go to keep his appointment with his little cousin, who expects to slip out of the house, and meet him where he wrote her he would be at a certain hour. There's the queerest valley you ever saw just ahead of us. Across it you can see the lights of Reuben Sparks' house, and several others that lie there in a bunch, a sort of hamlet, because it's hardly a village. And Bob says that Reuben really owns about the whole place. He can get over there in an hour or so, because he knows the ground so well. And while he's gone, we can take it easy here, making up our beds for the night; if so be there are any bushes to be cut, worth sleeping on." "Hey, would you see how fine a fire-tender that Giraffe is; it's gone clean out, that's what?" cried Step Hen, just then.[93] "Well, would you blame him, when he was listening to such an interesting story as the one I had to tell?" asked Thad. "Get busy, Number Six, and have a blaze going in quick time." "Ay, ay, sir," sang out Giraffe, who had wisely laid aside a surplus supply of fine stuff when making the fire, which now came in very handy. And when the coffee was finally done, and they gathered around, sitting on rocks, logs, or even cross-legged, tailor-fashion, on the ground, the eight scouts made a very fine picture in their uniforms. Apparently their appetites had been sharpened by that afternoon jaunt, judging from the way they pitched in. And perhaps, after all, Reuben Sparks had been a wise as well as prudent man when he failed to invite this squad of lads to stop over with him; for they would have made a sad inroad on the contents of his larder; and food costs money. "Where's Bob?" demanded Bumpus, suddenly, after they had been about half an hour trying to lighten their supplies, and with wonderfully good success. "He was sitting over yonder only three minutes ago; and now he's gone. Reckon that bad spirit of yours is sneakin' around again, Step Hen, and must a took Bob by mistake; though I pity his eyes if he'd ever think so good lookin' a feller as Bob could be you!"[94] "Bob's gone to keep his appointment," remarked Thad, quietly. And the boys said nothing more about it, knowing that the Southern lad laid considerable store upon this meeting with his little cousin Bertha; whom he expected to coax in to helping him try and see whether sly old Reuben Sparks might not have forgotten to destroy all evidence of fraud, in connection with his dealings with her father, the uncle of Bob. So the conversation drifted to other topics; and soon they were laughing over some of the queer <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'happennings'">happenings</ins> in the past history of the Silver Fox Patrol. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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