Читать книгу The Banner Boy Scouts in the Air - George A. Warren - Страница 7

Mystery

At the airport the boys had to wait a while until Major McCarthy showed up. When they told him their plans, he approved heartily and assured them that he would try his best to get them a good second hand airplane for the money available. Then he also informed them that he was leaving that same afternoon for New York and expected to be away about a week. The boys would therefore have to wait, until he returned, for their flying instructions.

On their way back to town the boys decided that in the meanwhile they could go camping for a week. Someone mentioned that Bobolink would be unable to come along and that therefore they should postpone their camping trip. Paul then called their attention to the fact that for the next month or so they would be occupied at the airport; in three weeks they had an agreement to play a baseball game against the Ted Slavin team and then a swimming match against the same group. “Sure,” he said, “we won’t have another opportunity to go camping until just before school opens and we plan to do that anyhow.”

Jack suggested, “Let’s put it up to Bobolink and then do whatever he decides.”

They all agreed to the proposal. Bobolink, when he heard of it, urged them to go. And they decided to leave early the following morning.

The air was fresh and clear. The dew was still on the ground. The sun shone brightly. Stanhope was only now awakening out of its slumber and an occasional car or truck that passed seemed to be committing sacrilege against the peace and quiet that hung like a mantle over the town.

Main and Chestnut Streets was the meeting point upon which they had agreed. Paul, Jack and Ken arrived almost simultaneously. They greeted each other with a smile. They inhaled deeply the fresh, invigorating air that set their blood dashing through their veins. William and Wallace arrived next and a minute later followed Nuthin’. They conversed in whispers lest they disturb the hushed, still air that hung everywhere about them. They were aglow with the joy of life. They huddled together, bubbling over with excitement and anticipation.

Bluff, gasping for breath, came running up. All there, Paul, the leader, gave the order to fall in line. Then he called out, “Forward, march!”

They were on their way. They walked in double file; each boy was dressed in his Scout uniform, with a knapsack on his back. As far as the end of the town they marched in formation. Turning into the road leading to Black Mountain, Paul gave the order to break formation. They divided into groups of twos and threes and walked along briskly. Soon they broke into song and during the next hour they sang every song they ever knew.

At about eight-thirty they decided to stop for breakfast. They picked a small clearing about a mile and a half up the slope of the mountain. Under the direction of Paul, enough wood was soon collected to build a fire and Ken, the official chef, set to work. It didn’t take long to prepare the meal and soon they all sat around in a circle and ate heartily, with gusto. After putting out the fire and cleaning up their dishes, they decided to rest there for about half an hour. The boys stretched out on the ground and stared up at the sky. Paul remarked casually, “This is the life, eh fellows?”

Bluff agreed, saying, “N-n-nothing l-l-like it.”

William interrupted, calling out, “Is that so! Just wait until we learn how to fly and have our own ship, then we’ll be able to camp anywhere within a radius of a thousand miles.”

Jack wanted to know, “What’s the matter with camping on Black Mountain?”

“Nothing at all,” answered William. “But just think of it: being able to fly, being able to pilot your own airplane and going anywhere your heart desires; and think of it, you pick out your camping ground as you fly along and looking down from a height of 5000 feet, that tree over there would look like a tiny household plant.”

Paul said, “Yes, there is something staggering about it, a feeling of tremendous power when you’re up in the air.” He sat up and yawned. “However,” he added, “what we have to decide right now is where are we going to camp?”

Ken spoke up, “Let’s return to where we camped last year; it’s as good a spot as you can find anywhere on the mountain.”

Bluff agreed, saying, “That s-suits me.”

Wallace suggested, “Why not go somewhere else this year? I know a swell spot about three miles south east.”

Jack asked, “How about it, Paul, you want to try this new camping site Wallace suggests?”

Paul nodded. “It’s all right with me,” he said.

The boys resumed their hike. It took them about four hours of steady walking with a few short rest periods to reach their goal The clearing was off the beaten track. A hundred feet away was a precipice overhanging the tops of many trees about a hundred feet below. There was a stream of fresh, cool water just behind the clearing.

Tired, footsore, ravenously hungry, they immediately set to and prepared a sumptuous meal of chops and potatoes prepared over an open fire. Later they pitched their tents and settled themselves for a week’s stay. That night, at the camp fire, the boys huddled close around the flaming logs of wood. Jack and Wallace were sitting together, about a yard or so away from the rest of the group. Jack asked his companion, “How did you happen to know of this place?”

Wallace hesitated. Finally he said, “Well, there’s a story behind it, some sort of mystery I never could make head or tail of.”

Jack perked up his ears. “What do you mean?” he inquired in a low tone of voice. “You never told us anything about it.”

The other boys were singing, and the echoes resounded far out across the mountain. The two whispered to each other. Wallace answered, “No, I didn’t, but that’s only because the story doesn’t seem to have any meaning and I didn’t want the fellows to think I was trying to put over a tall one on them.”

Jack became interested. Eagerly he asked, “Do you mind telling me the story?”

Wallace shook his head. “No, I don’t, but I warn you—there’s no sense to it all.”

“Well, let’s hear it anyhow,” said Jack urging his companion on.

Wallace twisted and turned and finally found a comfortable sitting position. He began his story by saying, “This camping ground is about three miles south east of the camping ground we usually go to. If you were particularly attentive, you would have noticed as we came here that this place is off the usual course followed by campers, is a little difficult to find and yet it appears to have been used frequently.”

Jack nodded, glanced at the fire and his companions, permitted his eyes to wander about the general extremities of the camp, then turned to his story teller and said, “Yes, but how did you come upon this camp site? Tell me that.”

Wallace betrayed a bit of uneasiness. He said, “I’m coming to that. Last year, camping up there”—he motioned with his hand—“I decided one morning to take a walk through the woods. There was no path, so I had to fight my way through bushes, shrubbery and all sorts of entanglements, until I came to a spot where the bushes were beaten down, a couple of low branches were broken off—there was every indication that on that spot a struggle had taken place between two or more people. I examined the ground very carefully for torn pieces of clothing and such things, and walking straight ahead I came upon the stream. Following the stream, I came upon this camp site.”

Jack mumbled, “Hm! Nothing mysterious about that.”

Wallace demanded, “What do you mean?”

Jack answered, “What I mean is, that there is no evidence of any mystery or anything. The whole thing seems to fall flat.”

“I told you that before,” said Wallace. “But you haven’t heard all of it. I have told you only the beginning.”

Jack felt foolish for having spoken out of turn instead of listening to the rest of the story. He squirmed in his seat and said, “I’m terribly sorry for interrupting. Go on.”

Wallace had by now become enthusiastic and he leaned closer to his companion. But just then, William called out, “Hey, you two, no secrets. Come on over and join us.”

A few of the other fellows cried, “Yes, come on, join us!”

“If it’s a story you’re telling him, Wallace, tell it to all of us.”

“Don’t be snobs. Join us.”

Jack waved to them and replied, “He’s telling me a ghost story without a ghost and no story to it.”

The boys laughed. The two drew closer together and Wallace continued. “Listen closely,” he said, “can you hear the gurgling sound of the stream?”

Jack listened closely and to his astonishment he couldn’t hear the sound of running water. Yet he was sure that the stream was less than ten feet away from where he sat. He looked in the direction of the stream but he didn’t see it. He turned quickly to his companion and whispered, “I don’t see it. Isn’t it supposed to be right there?”

Wallace grinned. “Correct,” he remarked. “But that’s another thing, one yard away from the stream and you don’t see it any more. Notice how cleverly, yet how naturally it is hidden.”

Jack nodded and looked around in amazement. He crept up on his knees, then stood up and still he couldn’t see the stream. He wanted to walk over there and assure himself that the stream was there but he was afraid of arousing suspicion. He sat down again and Wallace continued. “One more link in the chain,” he said. “About half a mile down this side of the mountain, there is a cave—a natural cave. I came upon it accidentally.”

“Did you go inside?” queried Jack eagerly.

“I only took a peek inside. Then I heard a noise or at least I thought I heard a noise and I jumped away, thinking that I would hide behind some shrubbery or something. But I never saw it again because I couldn’t find it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I looked for it, I retraced my steps as carefully as I knew how, but no cave.”

Both boys remained silent for a while. Jack seemed to be lost in thought. Finally he asked, “Is that the whole story?”

Wallace nodded. “Yes.”

Jack shook his head. “Doesn’t seem to make sense.”

“That’s what I told you before,” insisted his companion.