At Whispering Pine Lodge - Lawrence J. Leslie
"What I wanted to ask you," concluded Max, "was whether you'd ever
happened to run across this same Roland Chase in the mountains. We heard
about a fellow answering his description who was seen in company with a
dissipated guide named Shanks. I thought perhaps you might help us out,
Obed."
Obed looked him straight in the face.
"So far as I knows on, Max," he went on to say, seriously, "I ain't
never met any feller like yuh say face to face. About that man Shanks, I
know he's said to be a tough un. I saw him some months back down at
Sawyer's Forks, and by hokey! now that you mention it, thar _was_ a
sickly lookin' young feller along with him then; but say, his name was
Bob Jenks, or somethin' like that, and not Roland Chase."
"Oh! well, so far as that goes," said Max, "he may have changed his
name. Some people think nothing of sailing under false colors; and if it
turns out that Roland has taken up with such a disreputable character as
this drunken guide seems to be, I don't wonder at him wanting to hide
his identity. So you think you must be going home, do you, Obed?"
"Yep," the other observed, gaining his feet. "And I wanter to thank all
o' ye for givin' me sech a pleasant evenin'. I ain't had sech a good
time this long while back. But then the Grimeses all are 'customed to
roughin' it. Granddad used to be away all by hisself for as much as two
years, trappin' up in Canada. It's in the blood, I reckon. Now, yuh mean
to drop in, and visit me, don't ye? I'll be expectin' yuh, and have
something to eat awarmin', though course I ain't a good cook like you
fellers, as has had so much experience. So long, boys!"
He waved them a cheerful goodbye, once more smiled at each in turn,
whirled on his heel, and was gone, seeming to vanish in the shadows of
the nearby woods like "a wisp of smoke when the wind strikes it," as
Steve remarked.
After the departure of their guest, it was only natural that he should
be the subject of conversation about the fire as the four chums lay
there taking things easy.
"Max, honest to goodness now," Bandy-legs remarked, "do you really take
any stock in that fairy story he told us about an imaginary fur farm? It
struck me Obed is givin to yarnin' just for the love of it. All that
stuff about his relatives may have been true, and again only nonsense.
It's my opinion there isn't any Granddad Grimes, or Uncle Hiram,
Nicodemus and so forth. He grinned like everything when he was reeling
those names off so slick. Yes, he was stringing us, I bet you."
"W-w-why," burst out Toby just then, "who wouldn't have to s-s-snicker
when he had a w-w-whole lot of relations with such f-f-funny names! It'd
make me grin from ear to ear every time I h-h-happened to think of 'em.
You're the greatest hand to s-s-suspect anybody I ever s-s-saw,
Bandy-legs. Now, I want you to k-k-know that I think Obed the
s-s-straight g-g-goods, and I'm taking a heap of s-s-stock in seeing
that bully f-f-fur f-f-farm of his tomorrow; ain't you, Max?"
"Certainly I am," replied the other, without a second's hesitation. "In
the first place, Bandy-legs, you must understand that nobody could talk
so interestingly on a subject unless he knew a lot about it. He told us
a dozen things about fur farming that I never heard before."
"Huh! and perhaps nobody else ever heard of them either, Max," grunted
the far from satisfied Bandy-legs.
"Nothing will ever satisfy him except he sees those kit foxes with his
own eyes," asserted Steve, almost indignantly, "handles them with his
own paws, and asks every little critter whether he really belongs to
Obed Grimes. Bandy-legs is the worst Doubting Thomas going, when the fit
comes on him."
Even this sort of talk did not convince the objector.
"Say what you will, fellows," Bandy-legs went on, stubbornly, "there's a
wheen of queer things connected with this same Obed Grimes, and I won't
take that back till he shows us his wonderful old farm, where he raises
black foxes for the fur market. Stop and think how mysteriously he
popped in on us, will you? Why, he as much as owned up that he had been
spying on us for a long time. If Toby here hadn't discovered him
peeking, and pointed that way, chances are he wouldn't have shown up at
all. Now, what made him snoop around our camp like that?"
"Say, didn't he explain all that just as straight as a die?" objected
Steve, who seemed to have conceived quite a fancy for Obed Grimes, the
woods boy. "He told us he had reason to fear some unscrupulous fellows
were hanging around this region and meaning to steal his pets when they
got half a chance. That was why he wanted to watch, and make sure we
didn't belong to the same crowd."
"Oh! yes, a likely story, too," continued Bandy-legs, with a sneer. "Why
should anybody want to rob a poor boy who was trying to earn his living
by farming, even if it was furs he raised instead of grain or hogs or
stock?"
"Why, you poor ninny, the reason is as plain as the nose on your face,
Bandy-legs, and that's not invisible by a big sight. When a black fox
pelt will fetch a thousand dollars, more or less, and can't well be
traced once it gets mixed with other pelts, it stands to reason that any
thief would want to steal it. As to your doubting that there are any
other people up in this section, you seem to forget, Bandy-legs, that
around noon today we sighted a plain smoke some miles away, which we
opined must have been made by some advance hunters, waiting for the law
to be off deer. Well, why couldn't it have been the people Obed says he
fears, who made that smoke? Now, for my part, I believe every word Obed
Grimes said. He's the straight goods every time, and you can see it in
his eye, for he looks you direct in the face."
Thereupon, Bandy-legs, as though realizing that he had raised a hornet's
nest about his ears, deemed it the part of discretion to shrug his
shoulders after the manner of one who, "convinced against his will is of
the same opinion still."
"We'll let the subject drop, Steve," he said, hastily. "It ain't worth
quarreling over. The proof of the pudding is in the eating of it; and
tomorrow we'll _know_ what's what. But remember, if it turns out that
we've been bamboozled, don't blame me, because I've warned you all."
"If we had a chill from every warning you've sprung on us, Bandy-legs,"
Steve told him, witheringly, "why, say, we'd have gone all to pieces
long before now. You're a regular old bad-weather prognosticator, that's
what you are."
"That's right, get to calling names. It's a habit with people who know
they are in the wrong," grumbled Bandy-legs; but, nevertheless, he "drew
within his shell," and said nothing further about Obed Grimes or his
suspicions concerning the same.
CHAPTER V
PACKING OVER THE "CARRY"
Later on the conversation began to lag. Steve was noticed drowsily
nodding his head in a suggestive way; and then after a sudden start he
would look around aggressively, as if to remark: "who said I was
sleepy?" but within three minutes he would be at it again.
In fact all of the boys were really tired out. The day's tramp had been
a difficult one, even for fellows accustomed to such things; and those
regular Adirondack packs, with a band crossing the forehead in the usual
way, had seemed doubly heavy before they decided to stop for the night.
Of course there were sounds to be heard all around them, but
"familiarity breeds contempt," and from Max down they were all
accustomed to hearing similar noises whenever they spent nights in the
open. The owl would whinny or hoot according to his species; the loon
send forth his agonizing and weird shriek from some distant lake; a fox
might bark sharply and fretfully, or two quarrelsome 'coons dispute over
a bit of food they had discovered--all this went with the camping
business, and indeed it would have seemed odd to those boys had the
usual accompaniment been missing.
"Well, what's the use of our staying up longer?" Max finally announced
in an authoritative fashion, after Steve had almost jerked his neck awry
for about the seventh time, with one of those spasmodic movements. "Our
blankets are calling to us, boys; let's turn in."
There was no negative vote recorded, for every one seemed ready to call
it a day, and quit. Max took it upon himself to look after the fire.
Plenty of wood had been gathered to last until morning, and then some;
for, as the night air was beginning to feel pretty sharp, it was
concluded to keep the fire going.
"I'll look out for that part," said Max. "I generally wake up just so
many times during the night when I'm in camp, and it's no trouble for me
to crawl out and toss another stick on the fire. So forget it, fellows,
will you?"
Apparently the others took him at his word, for not another sign of any
of them was seen while night lasted. Once they snuggled down in their
warm comfortable blankets, they must have become "dead to the world," as
Steve aptly termed it.
Several times while the night held sway a figure would crawl noiselessly
out of the crude brush shanty shelter, and place another lot of wood
upon the dwindling fire, thus keeping it going for another spell of
several hours. Of course this was Max, who really liked to take an
observation concerning the state of the weather, note the changed
positions of the heavenly bodies, so that he could figure on the
passage of time; and then once more creep into the folds of his blanket
to again fall into a deep sleep.
So the night passed.
Nothing occurred to disturb its serenity. The little four-footed woods
folks doubtless prowled all around the boys' camp, eyeing the glimmering
fire with wonder and distrust, for it could not be a familiar sight to
any of them, since mankind seldom visited this inaccessible region so
far removed from the track of ordinary travel. Some of the more daring
among them, venturesome 'coons or 'possums perhaps, may even have
invaded the precincts of the charmed circle, searching with their keen
little noses for traces of castaway food; but, if so, their presence did
not disturb the sleepers within that shelter.
So morning came on apace, and presently from the brush shanty one after
another of the fellows came creeping forth, to stretch and yawn and
finally hasten their dressing, for the frosty air nipped fingers and
toes quite lustily.
They were in no particular hurry, and breakfast therefore was undertaken
in the best of humor, with plenty of time given to its preparation.
Everybody seemed to be in the best of humors, and his good sleep must
have smoothed even the spirit of the fretful Bandy-legs, for he no
longer grumbled or found fault. Perhaps, as so frequently happened, he
was secretly ashamed of having shown such a suspicious and
argumentative disposition on the preceding evening, and meant to make
amends for it by an unusually cheery manner.
It was determined to "break camp" soon after the matin meal had been
comfortably dispatched. This did not promise to be an extraordinary
feat, since they were trying to go light-handed on this expedition, and
did not have many of their ordinary "traps" along, from a tent down to
certain cooking utensils that had been deemed too heavy for "toting"
mile after mile into the wilderness.
It makes a whole lot of difference just how fellows mean to go, when
laying out the impedimenta for a trip. If a wagon or a boat is
available, all sorts of things may as well be taken along, so as to
insure the maximum of comfort; but when it is known in the beginning
that all they are meaning to use must be packed every mile of the way on
the back of the campers, then it is high time to cut down the list to
the last fraction, so far as weight and bulk are concerned.
Max and his chums had reduced this down to a real science. For instance,
having a comfortable balance at the bank, thanks to their thrift in the
past,[2] money did not enter into their calculations at all.
Consequently, they had purchased a complete little outfit of aluminum
cooking vessels that nested within each other and weighed next to
nothing, while offering all the advantages of ordinary granite ware.
Other campers' comforts, too, had been secured, so that they even
carried a certain amount of condensed food in the shape of milk powder;
evaporated eggs that could be used to make excellent omelets in case of
necessity; and even soup in double cans, with a layer of unslacked lime
between, which, by the addition of a little water to the lime could be
heated up beautifully without the aid of a fire.
[2] "In camp on the Big Sunflower."
When all of them started in to get busy, things quickly assumed a
concentrated condition. Each article had its regular place where it
would take up the least possible space. Why, by now every fellow had
found out just how to do up his pack so that no sharp and uncomfortable
edges would cut into his back; and when this condition has been reached,
it means that the last word in packing has been learned.
Max himself saw to it that the fire was effectually "killed" before they
quitted the scene of their night encampment. This he did by throwing
water on the hissing embers until it was quite dead. If every party that
spends a night in the wilderness took the same pains to put out their
fire on leaving, many a magnificent stretch of timber would be spared
from the ravages of a forest fire, that leaves only blackened tree
trunks behind, and ruins thousands of acres of wooded land every year.
Although a fire may die down, and seem to have little life in it, there
is no absolute surety unless water be used, that a rising wind may not
fan the embers into renewed activity, until a dangerous spark is carried
into some nest of dead leaves near by, and so the fire starts that
man-power can seldom control.
"Three miles, he said, up this stream," observed Bandy-legs, as they
started gaily forth, Max in the lead, and Toby bringing up the rear.
"And as no doubt the said stream meanders considerably in its course,
that might mean only half the distance as the crow flies," remarked the
leader, turning once more to look back toward the deserted camp, after
the fashion of a carpenter who considers it wise to measure his post
_once again_ before applying the saw, because after the deed is done the
parts can never be put together again; but everything seemed still, and
not the faintest whisp of smoke crept lazily upward from the late
camp-fire.
They walked along for a short distance, and then upon crossing a little
rise, in order to skirt a bad section of marshy ground, it was
discovered that they had a good chance to look backward. A rather pretty
view rewarded their efforts, and as all the boys appreciated Nature in
her fall dress, they stood for a minute drinking this in.
"You can follow the course of the stream for quite a distance, notice?"
remarked Bandy-legs. "And I even see the place where we yanked Steve
here out of that sand."
Steve frowned as he looked, and Max could see that he had gone a little
white. The memory of his harrowed feelings on that occasion would stay
with Steve for quite some time, and produce an unpleasant sensation
every time it came before his mental vision.
Max also saw him shut his teeth very hard together, and was close enough
to even catch a word or two the boy muttered savagely to himself.
"Never again!"
From that Max could judge the lesson had been impressed on Steve's mind
indelibly; and that as long as he lived he would be careful how he
entered an unknown stream when fishing; and especially how he became so
engrossed in his sport as to stand a length of time in one spot, without
working his feet up and down so as to make sure they were free from
clinging sand.
They chatted from time to time as they proceeded, and of course all
sorts of subjects cropped up to be discussed. Sometimes there was a
little good-natured dispute concerning something or other, for boys have
different minds, and are apt to view things from various angles; but as
time passed they made such good progress that Max presently announced
his belief they must presently glimpse the seven birch trees mentioned
by Obed Grimes, as marking the place where they were to quit the bank of
the stream.
At the time they stopped to look backward Max had scanned the country
behind them, looking for some trace of another camp smoke, but seeing
fond of "working his way," and often slipped out of things when he
could manage it--some fellows always do get hold of the smaller end of
the log that is being carried, as if by instinct; though it would be
hardly fair to call them shirkers.
They rested for something like ten minutes. Then Max started up.
"Here's the trail Obed told us about," he observed, pointing down at his
feet as though he had been looking about him while recuperating after
that three mile carry. "And I guess we might as well be going on. For
one I'm beginning to feel quite curious to see that lodge of his under
the pines and hemlocks, as well as learn what he is doing with his fox
farm."
Bandy-legs opened his mouth, and then considered it better not to voice
the question he had on the tip of his tongue, for he shut his jaws tight
together again, and did not speak; Max noticing this, it caused him to
smile in quiet satisfaction. That was a very disagreeable habit of
Bandy-legs, always questioning things, and wanting double proof before
he would put the stamp of his approval on them; and Max kept hoping that
in the process of time it could be broken up.
It was not difficult to follow the trail, even though at times this
proved to be rather faint and undecided; at least it turned out to be an
easy task with the four chums, simply because they were accustomed to
such things. A greenhorn might have lost the track many times, and made
a none. He had in mind the story told by Obed concerning the presence
in the vicinity of another party, and his suspicions concerning their
base intentions. Apparently Max must have believed what the woods boy
said, even though he could see no sign of a camp that morning.
"I've got an idea the seven birches are just over yonder, boys!"
announced Steve, who possessed good eyesight. "Twice now I've glimpsed
something white among the thickets of undergrowth; and you can see that
the creek is beginning to swing around so as to lead us in that
direction."
"G-g-guess you're about r-r-right, Steve!" declared Toby Jucklin,
instantly; "to t-t-tell you the t-t-truth, I've been squinting that same
p-p-patch of white myself q-q-quite some little time now."
It turned out to be just as Steve had prophesied. They soon discovered a
bunch of birches growing from the stump of a larger tree that had long
ago fallen under the ax of a woodsman.
"There are seven, all right--count 'em!" announced Steve with a vein of
exultation in his voice, just as though by right of discovery those
birches really belonged to him.
"Let's call a little rest before we tackle the last round," begged
Bandy-legs, as they arrived alongside the landmark mentioned by Obed;
and without waiting for the others to assent he dropped his pack, and
threw himself down on an especially inviting bit of moss, heaving a
great sigh of relief; for be it known, Bandy-legs was not especially
"mountain out of a mole-hill," as Steve aptly put it, when referring to
the matter.
Soon they were casting eager glances ahead, under the impression that
they must certainly be drawing near the object of their search. Even
Bandy-legs had by now apparently arrived at the belief that Obed was
"straight," and that he really did have some sort of home in this
secluded region. The directions had turned out to be exact, from the
three-mile tramp along the stream and the "seven birches, count 'em"; to
the winding trail that led from that point deeper into the woods.
"Looky there, isn't that some sort of high wire fence?" demanded Steve,
suddenly.
"And, say, I got a plain whiff of sweet hickory wood smoke then, believe
me," added Bandy-legs, in some excitement, and evidently forgetting that
not long before he had been skeptical regarding the existence of any
lodge or fox farm.
"Well, there's the answer right before you," laughed Max; and as they
stared in the direction their leader was pointing, the balance of the
little party saw what seemed to be the "cutest" little cabin fashioned
from sawn logs, and nestling in a happy fashion directly under the
clustering pines and hemlocks, that hung over it most protectingly, as
though with the intention of keeping the winter snows from weighing down
the sloping roof.
At one end was a chimney made of slabs of wood, with the chinks filled
in with mud that, in the process of time, aided by the heat of the fire,
had become as hard as cement or adamant; and from this there curled
wreaths of lazily ascending blue smoke, the source of that delightful
odor that had drifted to Bandy-legs's nostrils.
CHAPTER VI
THE LODGE OF MANY WONDERS
"There's Obed right now, waving at us from the doorway of his cabin,"
announced Steve, even as they looked at the picture made by the little
log structure nestling so cozily under the dark foliage of the resinous
trees that never lost their green look, even when snow covered the
mountains to the depth of several feet.
They hurried forward to join the owner of the woods lodge, who had
evidently expected them to put in an appearance about this time of day,
figuring just when they would break camp, and how long it would take
them to make the "carry."
He shook hands with each of his new-found friends in turn, and warmly,
too. Even Bandy-legs seemed to feel that his unworthy suspicions of the
other could have no foundation, to judge from the hearty way in which he
greeted Obed.
Max was quick to see that Obed looked pleased at their coming. He also
wondered why the other seemed to raise his eyebrows now and then, and
smile as though certain thoughts he entertained were quite amusing. But,
then, seeing what a lonely life the young fur farmer must be leading, so
far away from his kind, and wrapped up in his singular calling, after
all, it was not so queer that he should act in this way, upon having
visitors, and boys of his own age, in the bargain.
They were ushered inside the lodge, and here another surprise greeted
them. Max in particular was astonished to find that the small building
contained so much in the way of comforts. If he had thought of the
matter at all, he probably expected to find just an ordinary shack, such
as nine boys in ten would be contented with building, and that Obed was
putting up with all sorts of discomforts.
The contrary proved to be the truth, for there were numerous things in
sight to cause a visitor to express surprise. Why, Obed even used
_aluminum cooking utensils_ equal to theirs, though not meant for
camping particularly; there were several rocking chairs, and one big
fireside chair that looked mighty inviting indeed, as it flanked the
broad hearth where Obed had a blaze going.
The kitchen lay at the back, and actually had a wood stove in it,
capable of baking bread or biscuits on occasion. Water, too, had been
piped to the cabin from some spring farther up the rise; though, in the
dead of winter a supply must of necessity be obtained from some other
source since this would be frozen up.
These things, and many others along the same line, caused Max to survey
Obed with a new source of wonder. Who was this remarkable boy, and how
on earth did he come to possess such a magical lodge up here in the
unpeopled wilderness? Why, a rich man could hardly have surrounded
himself with more in the way of comforts; and yet, according to his
language, and his account of himself, Obed was only an ordinary child of
the woods, one of the very numerous Grimes tribe, many of whom doubtless
gained their living by serving as guides in season.
Max, after staring around him in due wonder and admiration, turned again
to Obed. He could see that the other was observing them with that merry
twinkle in his eyes? and evidently expecting his guests to express
amazement at finding so wonderful a habitation where they had
anticipated so little.
"Its just splendid, that's the only word I can find to express my
feelings, Obed," Max hastened to say, at which the other laughed aloud.
"Course, now, you-all are awonderin' jest how a poor woods boy like me
'd ever git hold o' such a clever cabin," he went on to say; "but
shucks! that's an easy one to explain. Yuh see, it was built by a man
who had plenty o' money and poor health. He thought he could get well by
stayin' here, and so he fixed her up to beat the band. That big chair he
loved to sit in when the fire was agoin'. But jest as he got fixed so
nice his wife sent for him to come back home; and, say, he had to go.
So, havin' no use for his place here, he turned it over tuh me for a
song, I c'n show yuh the bill o' sale. Yuh see, I got to know Mr. Coombs
right well, for he was interested in my ijee o' startin' a fur farm.
Well, he's dead now. I often think when I'm sittin' here enjoyin' what
he built that somehow his spirit must be a hoverin' around, cause he
certainly _did_ love this place a heap."