At Whispering Pine Lodge - Lawrence J. Leslie
AT WHISPERING PINE LODGE
BY LAWRENCE J. LESLIE
1919
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE HALT ON THE ADIRONDACK CARRY
II. GRIPPED BY A GIANT'S UNSEEN HANDS
III. OBED GRIMES BOBS UP
IV. BANDY-LEGS SUSPECTS
V. PACKING OVER THE "CARRY"
VI. THE LODGE OF MANY WONDERS
VII. THE YOUNG MAGICIAN
VIII. PRODUCTS OF THE FUR FARM
IX. LAYING PLANS TO HELP OBED
X. TRAPS FOR NIGHT PROWLERS
XI. A TREE THAT BORE STRANGE FRUIT
XII. THE TAPS ON THE CABIN WALL
XIII. OBED LEARNS SOMETHING
XIV. A BIG SURPRISE
XV. STEVE'S DREAM COMES TRUE
XVI. THE FUR FARMER'S TRIUMPH--CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
THE HALT ON THE ADIRONDACK CABBY
"Where's Touch-and-Go Steve, fellows?"
"Why, Max, he slipped away with his little steel-jointed fishing-rod as
soon as he heard you say we'd stop here over night. And I saw him
picking some fat white grubs out of those old rotten stumps we passed at
the time we rested, an hour back. Huh! just like Slippery Steve to get
out of the hard work we've going to have cutting enough brush for making
our shanty shelter tonight; seeing that we didn't fetch our bully old
tent along this trip. He's a nice one, I should say."
"N-n-never you m-m-mind about Steve, Bandy-legs. He t-t-told me he
_knew_ he c-c-could yank a m-m-mess of fine trout out of that c-c-creek,
where it looked so s-s-shallow just back there. He's m-m-meaning to
w-w-wade in, too, I reckon, and when you s-s-smell the fish c-c-cooking
you'll be s-s-sorry you said what you did."
"Well, let's get a move on, and start that shanty. I chose this place
partly on account of there being so much brush handy, you see."
"Sure you did, Max. It takes you to notice things that miss our eyes.
Here, let me handle the hatchet, because you see I was such a truthful
little shaver away back that my folks often regretted they hadn't named
me George Washington."
"All I c-c-can say then, Bandy-legs, they b-b-builded wiser than they
knew when they j-j-just let it g-g-go at regrets. A f-f-fine George
Washington you'd m-m-make, I'm thinking."
The boy answering to the peculiar name of "Bandy-legs" laughed
good-naturedly as he began to swing the sharp-edged hatchet, and cut
down some of the required brush which, having camped many times before,
he knew was suitable for their requirements.
Besides this sturdy young chap with the lower limbs that were a little
bowed, and which fact had doubtless suggested such a nickname to his
schoolmates, there were two others busily engaged in gathering the
material to be used in affording them a rude, but effective shelter
during the coming night.
The one whom they called Max seemed to be looked upon as a leader, for
it is absolutely necessary that in every pack of boys some one takes the
initiative. His whole name was Max Hastings, and on numberless occasions
he had shown an aptitude for "doing things" when the occasion arose,
that gained him the respect of his chums. For a complete record of these
achievements the reader is referred to earlier volumes of this series,
where between the covers will be found much interesting and instructive
reading.
The third boy of the trio in sight was Toby Jucklin. While Toby was
certainly agile enough when it came to acrobatic stunts, and such things
as boys are fond of indulging in, his vocal cords often loved to play
sad pranks with his manner of speech. As the reader has already
discovered, Toby was fain to stutter in the most agonizing fashion. When
one of these fits came upon him he would get red in the face, and show
the greatest difficulty in framing certain words. Then all of a sudden,
as though taking a grip on himself, Toby would stop short, draw in a
long breath, give a sharp whistle, and strange to say, start talking as
plainly as the next one.
In time perhaps he would conquer this weakness, which after all is only
caused by nervousness, and a desire to rattle out words.
There was a fourth chum also, the Steve spoken of and who had slipped
away with his new steel-jointed bait-rod, and a handful of fat grubs, as
soon as he heard Max say they had gone far enough on their way. Steve,
being one of those hasty lads who do a thing while many people would be
only figuring it out, had long ago fallen heir to a number of suggestive
nicknames, among others "Touch-and-Go Steve," and "Old Lightning."
These four lads were a long ways from their home town of Carson, nestled
on the Evergreen River, and near which we have seen them in the earlier
books of this series successfully carry out numerous of their
undertakings.
In fact they were deep in the wildest part of the famous Adirondacks at
the time we run across them on this particular occasion. There was not a
town within many miles, nor for that matter a regular camp where summer
guests were entertained. The difficulties to be encountered along this
"carry" were so great that ordinary excursionists avoided it severely.
Indeed, few fishermen ever invaded these solitudes, although there were
undoubtedly many places where trout of generous size might be picked up.
All this would make it seem a bit queer that Max and his three chums
should venture into this section of the wilderness without a guide
along; so perhaps it might be wise to enter upon explanations while the
opportunity is open.
Now these tried and true chums had had strange things happen to them
before, but they were well agreed that their present undertaking far
exceeded everything else that had ever come their way, at least so far
as its being a romantic quest was concerned.
Everything combined to make it seem a page torn from one of those
old-time fairy books they used to love to read when much younger, and
more gullible. In the first place, it was a wonderful piece of luck that
came their way, when the School Directors agreed, after the summer was
half over, that the school buildings required considerable alterations
in order to make them sanitary for the coming winter; and really a
special providence that watches over the fortunes of boys and girls must
have caused the carpenters and masons to go on a protracted strike, so
that when this had been finally settled there was not nearly time enough
left in which to complete the extensive repairs.
School had started, and gone along in a rough-and-ready fashion for some
weeks; but everybody was "sore" about it. The builders complained that
they could not accomplish half the work they should, because of the
annoyance of having so many children trotting around, and bothering
them. And the teachers were almost distracted on account of the constant
pounding together with the presence of rough men, who broke in upon
classes, and forced them to vacate certain rooms because they had to do
something there.
And so along about the first of October the School Board wisely
concluded that a vacation of some two weeks would do far less harm to
the scholars than a continuation of these interruptions. Besides, the
teachers on their part threatened to also strike unless relief came
promptly.
Imagine the delight of such fellows as Max, Bandy-legs, Steve and Toby
Jucklin, all of whom loved life in the open so much, when they got the
chance to further indulge this propensity, especially at the most
glorious time of the whole year, when the nut crop was coming on, the
trees turning red and yellow from the magical touch of Jack Frost's cold
fingers, with a tang in the air that made a fellow twice as hungry as he
ever got in the hot old summer-time.
And then, as though Fate had determined to make this the most wonderful
of periods in all their checkered careers, a thing happened that seemed
just like one of those old but once much beloved fairy stories.
Perhaps, by listening to the workers exchanging comments as they gather
the necessary brush, which later on would be fashioned into a shelter
capable of shedding even a moderate amount of rain, we may be able to
pick up enough general information to understand the nature of their
mission up into the Adirondacks.
Bandy-legs was speaking at the time. He had a little fault in the way of
often showing a disposition to look at the darker side of things; and
doubtless being unusually tired, after a hard day's tramp, with such a
heavy pack on his back, had something to do with his spirit of
complaining on the present occasion.
"Well, all I can say, fellows," he remarked, as he carried an armful of
the stuff he had been gathering to the spot where Max had already
commenced to erect the sides of the squatty shelter by driving stakes
into the ground, "is that I hope we haven't come all the way up here on
a reg'lar fool's errand. It'd cost Mrs. Hopewell a pretty good sum, and
be a real disappointment to her, if after all we didn't find that
good-for-nothing nephew of hers, Roland Chase. Honest to goodness now,
I'm a little inclined to believe he'll be leading us a wild-goose Chase,
if you want my opinion."
"Oh! l-l-let up, c-c-can't you, Bandy-legs!" spluttered the indignant
Toby, pausing for a minute to wipe the beads of perspiration from his
brow, and regain his breath in the bargain. "You're g-g-getting to be a
regular old g-g-granny, that's what, with all your d-d-dismal
p-p-prophesies. Tell me, d-d-did we _ever_ f-f-fail yet in anything we
undertook? C-c-course we haven't. Right in the start we found all those
b-b-bully p-p-pearls in those mussels we g-g-gathered in the Big
Sunflower River, and laid away a n-n-nice n-n-nest-egg in bank for the
crowd. Sure we'll f-f-find Roland Chase; we've just g-g-got to, that's
all."
"All I want to say about it, boys," observed Max, "is that I admire the
grit of the boy. They told us he was something of a dude, didn't they,
and that his rich uncle was afraid he'd never amount to much anyhow; so
what did he do but make a most _extraordinary_ will; at least, everybody
who's heard about that proviso says so. I heard Judge Perkins say though
he guessed the old man knew boys better than most folks, and had taken
a wise course to prove whether this Roland had any snap in him or not."
"Well, he was left just two thousand dollars cash down," said
Bandy-legs, in a thoughtful manner, as though reviewing the singular
circumstance, "and if at the end of two years he could show that he had
doubled that amount, besides earning his own living, why he was to come
into two-thirds of his uncle's fortune. Some of our Carson people who
know folks over in Sagamore where the uncle lived tell whopping big
stories about the size of that fortune. I heard one man say he reckoned
it was as much as two hundred thousand dollars, in all."
"The funny part of it is," resumed Max, shaking his head in a way rather
odd for him, "that immediately after Roland received his two thousand in
cash he disappeared from the scene. That was almost two years ago; and
from that day nobody in Sagamore has ever had a peep at him. The fact is
he might almost be dead. Once his other aunt, Mrs. Hopewell, who lives
now in Carson, had a few lines from Roland. He simply said he was alive
and well, and that he had hopes of seeing her again one of these fine
days."
"Yes, that's r-r-right," burst out Toby, in a disgusted tone, "but not a
p-peep did he give about what he was d-d-doing, or if he meant to show
up and c-c-claim his f-f-fine f-f-fortune. And all she could make out
was that the p-p-postmark on the l-l-letter was Piedmont, N.Y., which
on looking up we f-f-found was away up here in the h-h-heart of the old
Adirondacks."
"Well," said Max, still working industriously away, "Mrs. Hopewell is
getting very much concerned about Roland. Somehow she seemed to fancy
the boy, though no one else thought he'd ever amount to anything,
because he used to like to wander around in the woods all the while, or
go fishing, instead of studying. But I guess those people hadn't ever
been boys themselves; and all of us can appreciate this liking for the
open that Roland showed."
"And so," pursued Bandy-legs after the fashion of a story-teller who
had-reached a crisis in his tale, "she asked Max here if he wouldn't be
willing to undertake a trip to the mountains with several of his good
chums, meaning us, fellows, to try and locate the missing Roland, and
bring back some encouraging news; for the good old soul is in great fear
that the second year will soon be finished, and unless Roland is able to
show four thousand dollars in cash, most of the estate will go to his
older cousin, Frederick. Mrs. Hopewell dislikes this chap very much,
because she says he is a bad man, who drinks, and gambles, and does all
sorts of things old ladies detest. Well, we took her up in a jiffy as
soon as we heard the glorious news about school being closed for two
weeks; and as she foots all the bills, we're bound to have a jolly time
of it, even if we don't run across Roland; and I think that is like
looking for a needle in a haystack."
That was a pretty long speech for even Bandy-legs to make, and yet it
covered considerable of the ground, and explained just how it came that
Max and his three comrades chanced to be so far away from the home town.
The boys were just about to turn their attention once more to the work
that had been undertaken when all of them suddenly stopped and listened.
"That was Steve yelling then, I reckon," snapped the owner of the bowed
legs, "but honest Injun, I didn't make out what he said. Mebbe now he
struck a whopper of a trout, and was giving one of his whoops. You all
know how excited Steve does get if anything out of the way happens."
"L-l-listen!" cried Toby Jncklin, jumping to his feet. "D-d-didn't it
sound like he was yelpin' help?"
"Just what it seemed like to me!" exclaimed Max. "Something may have
happened to Steve, because he's always getting himself in trouble. Come
along, fellows, and we'll soon find out. There, he's whooping it up
again."
And this time every one of the trio of running boys could plainly detect
something approaching agony in the thrilling cry of "Help, oh! hurry up,
fellows! Help!"
CHAPTER II
GRIPPED BY A GIANT'S UNSEEN HANDS
That Max, Bandy-legs and Toby all kept their wits about them was
manifest. Their actions had made this clear enough, for each of the trio
before starting "on the jump," as Bandy-legs described it, had made sure
to pick up something that, according to his mind, was apt to be needed.
Max, for instance, had snatched a rope that hung from a broken branch of
the tree, and which one of the boys had fetched along simply because "a
rope often comes in mighty handy for lots of things besides a hanging
bee." On his part Toby had stooped down and possessed himself of the
camp hatchet; if it proved that Steve was being attacked by a bobcat he
fancied he could make pretty good use of such a tool in an emergency.
Bandy-legs, true to his hunter instinct, made out to secure the only gun
which had been brought with them on the trip.
As they ran wildly in the direction from whence those appeals for
assistance still came, louder than ever, every fellow was straining his
vision to be the first to discover what it could be that was causing
Steve to let out such alarming whoops.
They did not have very far to go before suddenly all of them discovered
the object of their solicitude. He seemed to be standing nearly
waist-deep in the stream, and still holding on to his tough little steel
rod.
"Oh! shucks!" gasped Bandy-legs, almost out of breath from his violent
exertions, "he's only struck a mud turtle, or something like that, and
wants us to come and see. It's a burning shame to give us all such a
scare over a measly turtle."
"B-b-bet you it's a w-w-woppin' b-b-big fish!" ejaculated Toby.
"Keep on running!" snapped Max. "He needs help, and in a hurry, too!"
This sort of talk amazed both the others. So far as they could see Steve
stood there quite alone. They looked again but could see no savage
animal attacking their comrade; nor was there any vast disturbance in
the water, as though some marine monster might be trying to drag him
down; besides, such things as alligators or sharks were utterly unknown
up here in the Adirondacks.
"But, Max, he's all right, as far as I can see," expostulated
Bandy-legs, in reality unwilling to keep up that violent exertion just
to please some silly whim on the part of the fisherman, who, like as
not, would give them the laugh after they came up puffing and blowing
like porpoises.
"Look again," snapped Max. "Don't you see how deep he's in? Pretty
nearly up to his waist, isn't he?"
"That's all right," said Bandy-legs, "but if the silly has gone and
waded deeper than he meant to, why don't he just turn around and walk
out again?"
"Because he can't!" Max told him, still running.
"Hey! w-w-what's hindering him!" stammered Toby, thrilled by this new
mystery that had so suddenly dawned upon them.
"The sand's got too tight a grip on him," cried Max, "and he's sinking
deeper all the time!"
"Oh! thunder, it's quicksand, then!" exploded Bandy-legs.
Having now the key to the enigma explaining Steve's strange action, as
well as his queer antics while floundering about out there in the little
stream, both boys could easily see that May evidently spoke the truth.
So those envious Spanish courtiers found it easy to balance an egg on
end, after Columbus showed them how to do the trick.
In another half minute they arrived on the shore of the little stream.
Steve out there, with the shallow water coming now up almost to his
waist, greeted their arrival with a sickly grin.
"Sorry to bother you, boys," he said, "but seems like I've gone and got
into a nasty pickle. Please yank me out of this, won't you?"
Impetuous Bandy-legs was about to instantly start forward when Max
gripped him by the arm.
"Don't be foolish, Bandy-legs," he told the other, severely. "You'd only
get yourself in the same boat, if you stood there and tried to drag
Steve out; and two would be harder to take care of than one."
"But say, don't be _too_ slow about starting something, will you?"
urged Steve, once again looking nervous. "Why, I'm sinking right along,
I tell you. Every time I try to get one foot up t' other goes down three
inches further, because I have to bear all my weight on it. This is no
laughing matter, boys. I'll be swallowed up before your eyes soon if you
don't get busy. Max, you ought to know how to extricate a fellow from
the quicksand!"
"There are lots of ways in which it can be done," the other told him,
meanwhile measuring distances with his eye, as though he already had a
plan in mind. "If when you first discovered that you were sinking you
had thrown yourself sideways, and started to crawl or roll, regardless
of how wet you got, you might have made it, for in that way you'd have
presented more of your body to the action of the sand. Then a mattress
could be made from branches, weeds or any old thing, that would bear the
weight of one or two of us. But I've got even a better scheme than that
to work."
"Please hurry!" pleaded the imprisoned boy.
"Keep cool, Steve," advised Max, "because there's positively no danger,
now that we're on deck."
"But tell me what you mean to do, Max?" continued Steve.
"Make use of this rope, which you see I just happened to fetch along,"
explained the other, holding up the article in question. "It's going to
save time, too, because one of us would have had to run back to camp,
and that must mean delay. You're deep enough in as it is, I guess."
"A whole lot deeper than is pleasant, I tell you," Steve instantly
added. "Why, at the rate it's sucking me down I guess in less'n a
quarter of an hour the water would be up to my chin. And then, oh!
fellows, just imagine how I'd feel when it began to cover my mouth.
You're not going away, I hope, Max?"
This last almost frantic cry was caused by a movement on the part of the
one on whom poor Steve's hopes most depended.
"I'm going to shin up this big tree that sends a limb out right over
your head, don't you see, Steve?" Max told him, reassuringly. "Once I
get above you and we'll make good use of this rope of mine. The limb
will act as a lever, and when the boys get to pulling at the other end
of the rope you've just _got_ to come out, that's all there is about
it."
"Hurrah! that's the ticket!" shouted Bandy-legs, seeing the game now for
the first time. "Steve, you're as good as landed. Bless that old rope,
it's already proved worth its weight in gold." Steve watched operations
anxiously. Despite the positive assurance conveyed in these words from
his chums, the terrible grip of that clinging sand made him cold with
apprehension. He imagined all sorts of things, from the rope breaking
under the sudden and terrible strain, to his arms being drawn from their
sockets in the battle between the tenacious sand and the muscular
ability of the two boys ashore.
When Max managed to reach a point directly above the one in peril,
straddling the friendly limb as only a nimble boy could do, he quickly
fashioned a slip-noose at one end of the rope. This he lowered until
Steve could snatch it, which he did with all the eagerness shown by the
drowning man who clutches at a straw.
"Fix the noose under your arms, Steve," directed the master of
ceremonies, calmly enough, though possibly Max was more excited than he
chose to let the other see, "and get the knot around so it will be
exactly in front. Then, when I give the word for the boys to commence
heaving, you work both legs as hard as ever you can. It's going to help,
more or less, you know. I can't do much up here, in the way of pulling,
for I'd lose my balance; but make up your mind we're meaning to yank you
out of that in a jiffy, Steve."
"Oh! I hope so, Max, I surely hope so!"
Everything was soon ready. Steve had complied with the directions, and
now awaited the issue with all the fortitude he could command.
Afterwards perhaps Steve might sometime or other even laugh, as he
remembered how scared he was; but just then, with the difficulty still
unadjusted, it was not at all humorous.
"Ready, everybody?" called out Max.
Receiving an affirmative reply from three pairs of lips, he went on to
say:
"Then get busy, pulling! Make it a steady haul, and no jerks, or you'll
hurt Steve more than is necessary. Steady there, Bandy-legs, no hurry,
remember--just a regular increasing pull! Good enough, boys!"
Steve had obeyed instructions, and by the way he worked both feet as
soon as he felt the strain one might think he was practicing swimming
lessons. It must have given him more or less physical pain to feel the
terrible drag of the rope under his arms, but he shut his teeth hard
together, and kept back a groan.
"Now rest a bit, Toby and Bandy-legs!" called out Max. "How about it,
Steve--you moved some, didn't you?"
"Yes yes, quite a little, Max!" cried the other. "Please get busy again
right away. I'm sick of staying in this old quicksand!"
He still clung tenaciously to his steel fishing rod, as though he meant
that it should share his fate. Once more the team ashore started in. Now
their task seemed lighter, as though, having succeeded in dragging their
chum up several inches, with his whole weight now suspended by the rope,
the job was going to be finished in short order.
Soon Steve, crowing joyously, was drawn completely out of the water. He
gave this a last suggestive kick and then dangled there in midair,
spinning around like a teetotum.
"Hand me your rod, Steve," commanded Max. "Then use your arms and pull
yourself up on the limb. After that you can easily hunch along like I
do, and get to the main trunk. It's all over but the shouting, Steve;
and you can consider yourself pretty lucky to get off as easily as you
do, with a pair of wet trousers."
"I'm thankful enough, Max, you can make sure of that," said the other,
carrying out the suggestion, and thus freeing both hands for the task of
mounting to the friendly limb.
Before long he had reached the ground, where his three chums each
gravely shook hands with him. Steve was already getting back his nerve,
that had been under a severe strain.
"But anyway I did have bully good luck pulling out fat trout, boys," he
told them. "You can pick up a dozen along this side of the stream. Fact
is, it was such splendid fun that I just stood too long in one place,
catching them and tossing the beauties ashore; and so when I tried to
move, why, I couldn't to save my life. It felt like a giant had gripped
both feet, and was holding me down. The more I tried the worse it got.
Whee! I would have been pretty badly scared if no one was near by, I own
up to that."
Perhaps the others mentally considered that as it was, Steve had looked
a "good deal concerned" at the time of their arrival; but not wishing to
harrow his feelings any further just then they kept this to themselves;
though Bandy-legs did give Toby a suggestive wink, to which the other
replied in like kind.
It was found upon gathering the trophies of Steve's skill as an angler
that they had quite enough for a meal; consequently Steve announced that
he guessed he needn't start in again with rod and hook and grub.