The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Scouts in the Saddle, by Robert Shaler This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: The Boy Scouts in the Saddle Author: Robert Shaler Release Date: June 24, 2015 [EBook #49269] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE SADDLE *** Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Rick Morris and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net The Boy Scouts in the Saddle THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE SADDLE BY ROBERT SHALER AUTHOR OF “BOY SCOUTS OF THE SIGNAL CORPS,” “BOY SCOUTS OF PIONEER CAMP,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIFE SAVING CREW,” “BOY SCOUTS ON PICKET DUTY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FLYING SQUADRON,” “BOY SCOUTS AND THE PRIZE PENNANT,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE NAVAL RESERVE,” “BOY SCOUTS FOR CITY IMPROVEMENT.” NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS Sterling Boy Scout Books CHAPTER I. The Superior Boy II. Left on the Ledge III. Surrounded by Perils IV. Scouts to the Rescue V. Seeing Things in a New Light VI. Tracking from the Saddle VII. The Sunken Road VIII. At Raccoon Island Camp IX. Over the Ridge X. Lying in Ambush XI. When the Rat Scratched XII. What the Scouts Did 003 5 Bound in cloth Ten titles 1 Boy Scouts of the Signal Corps. 2 Boy Scouts of Pioneer Camp. 3 Boy Scouts of the Geological Survey. 4 Boy Scouts of the Life Saving Crew. 5 Boy Scouts on Picket Duty. 6 Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron. 7 Boy Scouts and the Prize Pennant. 8 Boy Scouts of the Naval Reserve. 9 Boy Scouts in the Saddle. 10 Boy Scouts for City Improvement. You can purchase any of the above books at the price you paid for this one, or the publishers will send any book, postpaid, upon receipt of 25c. HURST & CO., Publishers 432 Fourth Avenue, New York Copyright, 1914, by Hurst & Company. CONTENTS PAGE 5 17 30 43 56 69 82 95 108 121 137 148 The Boy Scouts in the Saddle. CHAPTER I. THE SUPERIOR BOY. “Hello! there, landlord, just put five gallons of gasoline in my tank, and charge it to dad, will you? I forgot to fill up before leaving our garage in town. I reckon there’d be a lot of trouble in the big granite quarry we own if Gusty Merrivale failed to show up to- day.” The speaker was a young fellow nattily attired, of about eighteen years of age. As he nimbly jumped out of the dusty runabout car, it 6 7 8 9 could be seen that he was inclined to be rather arrogant in his manner. Indeed, one glance at his dark, handsome face betrayed the fact that he was more or less proud, and domineering. Gustavus Merrivale was comparatively a newcomer in the pleasant town around which many of the adventures contained in this Scout Series happened. Somehow Gusty had not seemed to care to mix with the general run of boys, picking up only a few choice companions from among the “upper crust.” His father was said to be a very wealthy man, and among other properties, he owned a logging camp far up among the hills together with a valuable granite quarry where fully five score of toilers were employed throughout the entire summer. The landlord of the village tavern apparently knew his customer. Several times before young Merrivale had motored through the village, and always just two weeks apart. By putting two and two together, the tavern keeper could easily surmise the nature of the errand that took Gus Merrivale up into that wild country so often. Had he been in doubt before, these last words of the boy must have enlightened him fully. “Pay day in the quarry, hey?” he went on to say, as he unlocked the reservoir that doubtless contained the supply of gasoline which he sold to passing tourists and others. “Your pa’s got quite a plenty of men employed up there, I understand, Mr. Merrivale; and just as you say, they’d kick up high jinks if their pay didn’t show up on Monday twice a month.” “Why, hello! Where did that bunch of motorcycles come from, Mr. Tubbs?” demanded the rich man’s son, pointing, as he spoke, to three up-to-date twin-cylinder machines standing in a cluster in a safe corner of the inn yard. “Three young chaps from your town are sitting yonder on the porch awatchin’ of us right now,” returned the landlord, softly. “Mebbe you happen to know them, seeing as how they’re Boy Scouts, and that Hugh Hardin has made somethin’ of a name around this section, I’m told.” “Hugh Hardin, eh?” exclaimed young Merrivale with a swift glance toward the side piazza of the tavern, where he now discovered several sprawling figures occupying as many chairs, and evidently resting up while waiting for dinner to be announced. “Yes, and his shadow, that Worth fellow, is along with him, and also the chap they call Monkey Stallings, who came to town just a month after I did. He fell in with that common herd right away, and joined the troop, but none of that silly scout business for me! I can see myself taking orders from a patrol leader, nit. What are they doing away up here; and where did they get those expensive machines, I’d like to know?” “It happens that I’m able to supply the information, Mr. Merrivale,” remarked the landlord quickly. Like most of his class, he enjoyed a chance to gossip and disseminate news which he had picked up. “Then I wish you’d be so kind and condescending as to inform me right away, sir. I was just speaking about getting a motorcycle myself; and even now I’m expecting a bunch of catalogues from which to select a machine. Those things cost all of two hundred apiece, and I fancy few boys have got as indulgent a father as I happen to own. So please go on and give me the facts, Mr. Tubbs.” “Why, you see, the Stallings boy has money of his own, and the others have been laying aside dollars right along, most of them 10 11 12 13 earned by finding wild ginseng and golden rod roots in the woods. Besides, they say that Hardin boy did something not long ago that brought him in quite a fat reward, which he insisted on sharing with the chums who happened to be with him at the time. I kinder guess that Worth boy was along, and that helped him out. Anyhow, they’re taking their first long run, and have come something like seventy miles since breakfast at home. I’m getting a dinner for them, you know. Perhaps you’d like to stay over a bit and see what kind of a cook my wife is?” “What, me take pot luck with that crowd?” exclaimed Gus Merrivale with a curl of his upper lip. “Well, I hardly know them enough to speak to at home, and it isn’t likely that I’ll put myself out to improve the slight acquaintance. This scout business makes me sick. I don’t understand what the fellows see in it to strut around in their old khaki suits, and salute whenever they meet some one who happens to be higher up in line. Bah! catch me standing at attention and raising my hand when Hugh Hardin chances to pass by. If I could be an assistant scout master in the start, I might get a little fun out of the game; but to commence at the lowest rung of the ladder—well, excuse me, that’s all.” The landlord bent lower to hide the smile that flitted across his face. He knew just what type of high-strung boy young Merrivale was; and also had his own opinion as to how difficult it is to mix oil and water. From what he had observed, he understood how thoroughly those three lads lolling on his porch just then, were infatuated with the new life that had opened up to them since they threw in their fortunes with the scout movement. He had heard them talking, and found himself deeply interested in what they told of discoveries. There was enough of the woodsman in Uriah Tubbs to appreciate the sentiments they expressed. He, too, many a time had listened to the voice of Nature when alone in the wilds, and could understand how fascinating it must be to the right kind of boy to be able to unravel many of her secrets. Evidently young Merrivale would not bother investigating in order to find out what it was that lured these scouts on day after day. He saw only the surface indications, and resolutely refused to pry off the lid that hid the wonderful truth. The landlord did not attempt to enlighten him. There was something about young Merrivale that he did not exactly fancy—a curl of disdain to his upper lip, just as though he considered himself a superior person and above the herd. So Mr. Tubbs simply applied himself to the task of measuring out the necessary liquid fuel for which his customer had asked. When Gusty Merrivale chanced to look toward the porch, one of the three loungers waved a hand at him after the customary free- masonry of youth. The driver of the runabout made a careless motion as though meaning to acknowledge the friendly salute, yet not wishing to allow any undue familiarity. As the trio of scouts seemed to be very well satisfied with each other’s company, it was hardly likely that any one of them would go out of his way to scrape a closer acquaintance with so frigid and reserved a person. And yet, Hugh Hardin, the tall, agile chap who wore the badge of patrol leader and assistant scout master on his khaki coat, had told himself more than once that the new arrival in town might make a splendid addition to the ranks of the troop, if only he could drop that superior air, and meet others on a level. Several times had Hugh endeavored to become better acquainted with Gus Merrivale, only to be rebuffed, and made to feel as though he were thrusting himself in where he was not wanted; so, in time, he had given the idea up. 14 15 16 When the required amount of gasoline had been placed aboard, the young driver of the road car sprang into his seat. He knew that the three scouts on the porch were watching him closely, but not for worlds would he look that way, lest he be compelled to wave his hand again; and to his mind that would seem too much like saluting. His car did not need cranking, having a self-starter installed. “Good morning, Mr. Tubbs. I expect to pass back this way later on in the day. Those steep hills give my car quite a pull you know!” he sang out as he threw on the power and started out of the inn yard, presently to vanish amidst a cloud of dust up the road. For some little distance young Merrivale made good time. He liked to fairly fly along, being possessed of a rather nervous disposition. As the ascent became more pronounced, his pace slackened considerably. The country had changed also. Instead of farming land on either hand, he looked upon dense woods, and hills that seemed to be composed of almost solid rock, though trees managed to find lodgment in crevices, so that they hid the rough conformation of the ground. It had been somewhere in this neighborhood that members of the Boy Scout troop had come during the previous summer when deeply interested in geological study; and, indeed, they could hardly have found a place better fitted for the purpose of yielding up valuable information. Gus Merrivale, however, only considered his surroundings in a mercenary way. His father owned thousands of acres of such land, as well as the logging camp, located there when snow covered the country. Five score of husky Italians labored in the granite quarry all through eight months of open weather. By degrees his car began to climb steep grades. It had evidently been carefully selected with just this capacity for mounting hills in view; and steadily it kept pulling the lone occupant upward. Now and then he could catch splendid views of the lowlands, and from the eager way in which Gus looked out at such opportune moments, it seemed as though after all he had a touch of admiration for Nature. In the course of half an hour he had arrived close to a peculiar spot where the road ran along near a steep precipice. A stout railing had been erected, under the supervision of the township freeholders who had charge of bridges and roads, in order to lessen the chances of any vehicle toppling over from that dizzy height. From this point, as Gus well knew, he would be able to obtain a splendid view not only of the road far below but of the distant country where several villages and towns lay, with their church spires showing above the trees. For a short distance before arriving at this place, the road lay level, and here he naturally let out his car so as to make up for lost time. As he turned a bend, and leaned slightly forward with the intention of cutting down his rather reckless pace, he suddenly saw something that gave him a severe shock. This was nothing less than a fallen tree across the road, hardly more than a sapling in fact, but enough of an impediment to have thrown his car aside and brought about a wreck, had he not noticed it in time. And even as he wildly threw on the brake, he saw the figure of a man, bearing a massive shining tin star on the 17 18 19 left breast of his faded coat, spring out from the bushes waving his arms violently and shouting excitedly: “Hi! hold up there, mister! You’re exceeding the speed limit ahittin’ up a pace like that! I’m the Squeehonk constable, and I kinder guess I’ll have to run you in for breakin’ the law! This is an ortomobile trap, understand?” CHAPTER II. LEFT ON THE LEDGE. The runabout came to a standstill not five feet away from the sapling that had been thrown across the road in order to prevent him from slipping by. It was an angry boy who jumped out and faced the man, who seemed to enjoy his confusion, if the broad grin on his ugly face could be taken for any indication. “What do you mean, stopping me like this away up here in the wilderness, and then telling me I’m exceeding the speed limit?” Gus hotly demanded. “You say you’re a constable, but where is this village of Squeehonk, I’d like to know? I’ve been up here several times and never ran across so much as a cabin, let alone a village. Why, my father owns pretty near half of this country up this way, I’d like you to know. My name is Gustavus Merrivale, understand?” That was just like Gusty, inclined to brag of the great possessions of his family. Perhaps he was under the false impression that, at the mere mention of his name, the country clodhopper would exhibit great alarm, and begin to beg his pardon for having dared to spring his automobile trap as he had. Somehow the fellow failed to be dismayed at learning whom he had stopped on the public road. The grin even widened perceptibly, and on seeing this fact, the young driver of the roadster grew red in the face with increased anger. “Are you going to take that tree off the highway and allow me to go on; or will I have to report this brazen hold-up to my father, and get you punished?” he exclaimed hotly, pointing as he spoke to the obstruction. Then, as he happened to glance at the shining star that decorated the breast of the so-called constable, he discovered that it was made of tin, and very crudely fashioned in the bargain, as though some difficulty had been experienced in cutting out the insignia of office. This fact caused Gus to look at things in a new light. He even began to wonder whether the man who had stopped him might not be some escaped lunatic who fancied that his sole duty in life was to hold up speed cars and make the drivers recognize his authority. Now that the boy took the trouble to observe the fellow more closely, he discovered that he seemed to be rather a hard looking customer. There was a cruel gleam in his pale eyes that gave promise of merciless treatment, should he once become aroused and infuriated. “Go slow, younker,” advised the man, with a noticeable sneer. “Cool your engine off a mite while you have the chance. I’ll turn that sapling aside when I get good and ready, and not a minute before, even if you are in such a hurry. So, you say you’re Old 20 21 22 23 Merrivale’s boy, do you? And like as not right now you’re heading for the quarries up yonder with the payroll money along? How about it, younker?” His words gave Gusty a thrill. For the first time a suspicion flashed through his brain that this hold-up might stand for something more serious than the mad whim of an escaped lunatic; or the silly design of a country constable to line his own pocket with graft money forced from the owners of passing cars, whom he might threaten to arrest for violating the speed limits. The mention of the payroll money reminded the boy of his charge. There were several thousand dollars in bills and silver in the stout bag that he had placed under the seat of the runabout, enough to tempt many a desperate man to take the chances of robbery. He had been given a revolver by his father to carry along with him whenever he had to take the semimonthly cash up to the quarries. Unfortunately, the weapon happened to be under the cushion of the seat. He wondered what the man would do if he started to try to get hold of this little gun, and if the fellow was desperate enough to strike him on the head with the stout stick he carried in his right hand. Another thing gave Gusty further cause for alarm. The bushes close by rustled, and a second fellow came into view. He was a shorter hobo than the one who had pretended to play the part of country constable; but if anything his face, rough with a week’s stubble beard, looked more villainous than that of his companion. Plainly, if anything was to be done, it was high time he started in to make a move before the others could join forces. At least Gusty Merrivale did not seem to be a coward, no matter if he did put on superior airs and imagine himself above the common run of boys who went to make up the rank and file of the scouts. His actions proved this fact, for without waiting to ask further questions, or figure on what the consequences might be, he made a quick whirl on his heel, and jumped toward the road car. Of course, his intention was simply to arm himself, so as to meet the others on something like a fair footing. There was no way of escaping while that tree blocked the road, and certainly these rascals would not dream of allowing him to turn around and retire the way he had come. Before the boy could throw back the cushion so as to seize upon the weapon that snuggled under it, a heavy figure came down full upon him. In vain did Gusty try to wriggle loose from the encircling arms that held him in a fierce hug resembling the clasp of a wrestling bear. Gusty was fully aroused and fought like a savage wildcat. All the while he was shouting out words that voiced his indignation, and carried wild threats as to what would happen to these scoundrels for daring to stop him on the road and rob him of his trust. Despite his furious exertions, the man held him until his companion reached the spot, and more than a few heavy blows were dealt because the flying fists of the excited boy happened to land in the fellow’s face. “Let up on that tomfoolery, younker,” snarled the second man, scowling blackly in the face of the prisoner, “or me an’ my pal’ll have to give yuh some medicine that mebbe yuh won’t like. Think as how we’d let yuh reach for a gun? Well, not any, I reckons. Pete, yuh started his nose tuh bleedin’ lively last time yuh touched him up. Hope yuh didn’t break it and spile his good looks for keeps. Now, stand still, I tells yuh, ’less yuh wants us tuh kick yuh 24 25 26 27 out o’ your senses. We figgered on gittin’ that bank roll, an’ there’s no way yuh kin save it, so let up and make the most o’ a bad bargain. Reckon as how yuh dad he’s got heaps more o’ this stuff whar it kim from. We needs it in our business, Pete an’ me. And this here kyar’ll jest suit us tuh ride away in, see?” Quivering with indignation, sore from his bruises, and almost out of breath after the furious struggle with his tall captor, young Merrivale realized that they intended to make a complete job of it. “Do you mean that you’ll steal my car as well as that bag of cash?” he demanded, aghast. “Sure thing,” replied the tall hobo yeggman, still holding him fast. “We’d be a nice pair of chumps now, wouldn’t we, to give you a chance to make hot time up to the quarry, and start all that crowd of wild Italians after us? I happen to know something about running a gas wagon, so I guess we c’n make out to keep clear of ditches and jump-offs. Bill, get that rope we had in the bushes.” “What are you going to do with a rope?” asked Gus, turning a trifle pale as he noticed that there was a straight limb growing out from the trunk of the nearest tree close by, which would offer a very fine chance for raising any one off the ground, did lawless persons feel inclined that way. “Just wait and see,” the tall hobo replied; “but we ain’t agoin’ to risk our precious necks adoing anything that’d call for capital punishment. We draw the line there, me’nd Bill. And hark to me, young Merrivale, all the kicking on earth won’t help you a mite, and’ll only cause us to bang you up some more. So if you’re half as sensible as I take you to be, you’ll just hold tight, and let us work our will. It’s all planned out, and nothing’ll make us change things the least bit. Let that soak in, and it’ll pay you lots better than trying to fight back when you ain’t got no chance at all. See?” Gus only gave a groan of despair. Yes, he realized that it would be the utmost folly for him to try and fight two strong men. He could not hope to escape, and in their anger they would be apt to do him more bodily injury. The mention made of a broken nose rather tamed his aggressive spirit because Gus was very vain of his good looks, and would almost as soon die as be maimed in such a way as to render him hideous in the eyes of others. Bill quickly reappeared from the bushes. He was carrying a stout rope that might have been twenty feet or so in length, and which these rogues had doubtless stolen from some person’s backyard where it had served as a clothes line. Perhaps it had originally been their design to make use of the rope in order to stop the pay car. The discovery of an overturned sapling however had suggested an easier method of proceeding. Bill hastened to arrange a loop at one end of the rope. This he passed over the head of the boy, and the touch of the noose on his face sent a cold chill all through the body of the helpless prisoner. “Fix it just under his arms, Bill,” commanded the tall man. “I warn you to keep still, younker, if you know what’s best for you. No matter what you say, or try to do, you can’t change our plans. We mean to keep you here, so as to hold back the alarm as long as we can, which’ll give us a chance to cover many miles, if your dinky old car holds out. Now, walk over here with us, and you’ll grip on what the scheme is.” With one on either side Gusty was compelled to advance, and he noted with considerable trepidation that it was directly toward the precipice that they led him. 28 29 30 31 “You wouldn’t hang me over there like this, would you?” he ejaculated, as a terrible thought flashed into his mind. “Why, before long this rope would cut into me so I’d be crazy with pain. Tie me to a tree if you want, so I can’t get away, but don’t put me over there, please!” It would have to be something beyond the common that could make a proud boy like Gusty Merrivale plead with anyone; but for the time being he forgot his haughty spirit, nor was it to be wondered at, considering the peril he faced. “No use wastin’ yer breath, kid,” snarled the shorter hobo. “We laid out our plans an’ we means tuh kerry the same through, don’t we, Pete?” “It ain’t quite as bad as you thinks, younker,” added the other man, who seemed to have just a grain of pity in his nature. “’Bout twelve or fifteen feet down the face of the precipice there’s a ledge that runs along a little ways. No goat could ever get up or down from that same place. We’re meaning to land you there, drop the short rope, and leave you till somebody happens to come along, which might be in one hour, and mebbe not till night sets in. The rope is ten times too short for you to use it in lowering yourself down, so you’ve just got to hold the fort. Now, lay back, and no kicking remember, because you might make us let go, and that’d mean a tumble on the rocks two hundred feet below here. Steady now, Bill, wait till I give the word, and lower away slow like. Make the best of a bad bargain, younker. Remember, we might a done worse by you.” Afraid to struggle, and holding his very breath with dreadful suspense, the boy felt himself being lowered through empty space. He could look far down toward the winding road, and a wave of horror chilled him to the core as he contemplated his fate should the men let the rope slip through their hands, or should some weak spot in the line develop that would cause it to part. Foot by foot he was lowered, until he felt his feet strike the rock. He had reached the ledge spoken of, and eagerly he endeavored to secure a firm footing there, even sinking to his hands and knees and holding on. The rope fell beside him, proving that the men had done as they had said they intended to. A minute or two later, the wretched youth heard the rapid working of the runabout’s exhaust, telling him that the robbers had started off. CHAPTER III. SURROUNDED BY PERILS. “This is a pretty kettle of fish, I must say!” Gus muttered as he heard the last low grumble of the runabout die away up the ascent, proving that the hoboes had indeed abandoned him there to his fate. He started in to examine his surroundings more carefully than before; but he found very little encouragement. The sheer wall arose for possibly a dozen feet above his head, with not the slightest sign of any projection that might serve him in an endeavor to reach the mountain road where the protecting railing lay. It is a sudden emergency like this that shows what a fellow is made 32 33 34 of. Young Merrivale had certain qualities about him that might be deemed objectionable in the eyes of boys who are ready to give and take. He wanted to be a leader, or not play. In the past, indeed, he had been more or less domineering in his treatment of those with whom he condescended to associate. He was no coward, and while still burning with indignation toward the pair of rascals who had taken not only the pay money of the quarrymen but his runabout as well, his one thought was to get out of this scrape some way or other, and then follow them. He gritted his teeth as he thought of the glory that would be his could he only overtake the wretches and bring back the stolen property. If not above, perhaps he might find safety below. It was, of course, a long way down to the bottom of the declivity. He had climbed steeps before, however, where the valuable granite had been blasted from the face of the mountain, leaving great gaps and towering cliffs where even a nimble-footed goat would find it difficult to discover safe footing. So Gus crawled to the edge of the ledge and looked over. “Whew! it would take a steeple-jack to make that drop without breaking every bone in his body!” he told himself when he saw how far below lay the rocky base of the precipice, and marked the lack of friendly crevices and protuberances. With his teeth still firmly pressed together, he forced himself to examine every foot of the surface of the hard rock as far as it could be seen from his aerie. “If my rope were only two or three times as long as it is, I could see where I might make the riffle,” he went on to say, disconsolately, “but with only ten or twelve feet to depend on, it looks mighty slim.” Crawling along the ledge, he tried to discover more hopeful signs from other vantage points, but with little success. A weak boy would have given it up then and there, and crouching on the shelf waited for some one whose attention he could attract, to come along the road far below. Apparently, young Merrivale was not built that way. The stubborn streak was in evidence as shown by his continued activity. He was positively determined to take great chances, if only he could discover the spot where a promising start might be made. “I’ve got to be careful,” he told himself several times, “because once I break away from up here there’s no coming back again. And it strikes me I’d feel like a fly on a window pane if I was flattened out against that rock down there, and no chance to go up or down. Ugh! this ledge is better than nothing at all. And if I made a miss, there’d be a heap of work for old Doctor Kane of Oakvale. So perhaps I ought to go slow, and not jump from the frying pan into the fire.” After all, it was the thought of those two grinning men riding away in his hill-climbing car that jarred him most of all. Every time he pictured them sitting there in his seat and enjoying themselves so hugely, Gus would make a wry face and say something under his breath. Accustomed to having his own way pretty much all of the time, he chafed under the restraint much more than most boys would have done. “I’ll follow them if I get out of this scrape—yes, to the end of the world, to get that car back again, and the money, too, if they haven’t spent it. I’ll never give it up, any more than they say the hungry wolf does once he strikes the trail of a stag in the snow. But somehow, I hate to climb over the edge of this little shelf and take the count. If only somebody would show up down there on 35 36 37 the road, and give me a helping hand.” He sat and looked as far as he could see the road between the trees and bushes that encompassed its borders, but there did not seem to be as much as a rabbit or a hedgehog moving down there. A shadow flitted past and caused Gus to raise his eyes. “Hello! that’s an eagle, and a whipping big one at that!” he remarked as he saw a large bird swooping past, and heard a hoarse scream at the same time. “Oh! how easy he cuts through the air with those powerful wings of his. What wouldn’t I give right now to be able to fly like that! Why, I’d be out of this nasty scrape in a jiffy! And say, wouldn’t I overtake those fellows in a hustle, though?” Just the bare thought gave him some satisfaction, and he smiled. It was the first time he had done anything but frown since the man beckoned to him to pull up at the fallen sapling laid across the narrow road. His examination of the precipice had convinced Gus that, if he attempted anything at all, it would have to be through making use of his short rope to lower himself to the first crevice below. Here, if he could only manage to secure a slender hold for his feet, he might drag the doubled rope down and try again. The question was could this be done? If the task proved harder than he expected, his condition instead of improving would have become precarious. He drew a long breath and tried to make up his mind. It was a struggle between his urgent desire for action, and the good sense that told him he would be foolish to undertake so terrible a risk. Twice he started to let the rope trail over the edge of the rocky shelf; and then slowly he drew it up again as he found that it would not reach the first crevice unless let out at full length. And if he fastened it above in any way, it would be impossible to count on the rope for further work, so that he dared not venture to burn his bridges behind him. As the minutes passed, he racked his brain trying to think up some clever method of overcoming the mountainous difficulties that stood in his way. The winding road looked further off than ever, in the simmering heat of the early afternoon. Never in all his life had Gus Merrivale wished for anything so much as that some one might show up down there, some one to whom he could make signals for help. Minute followed minute, without a break in the monotony. “Seems like I’ve just got to choose between one of two things,” he finally declared with a ring of resolution in his voice. “It’s plain that I must stay on the ledge and wait and wait ever so long, or else climb over and try to skip down, hanging by my fingers and toes. I wish I could see ahead a little. It makes me dizzy to look down there and see what a pile of rocks I’d land on if I lost my hold. But I haven’t gone as far along the shelf over to the right as I might. Perhaps there’s a chance for me in that direction. Anyhow I’m going to crawl along and find out how things lie yonder.” On hands and knees, the boy made slow progress, for the ledge kept getting narrower the further he proceeded. He knew that he must not continue until it would be a difficult job for him to turn around when he wished to retreat. Yet there was always the spur of hope goading him to keep creeping just a little further. He fancied that the surface of the precipice was not quite as smooth over this way, and had almost made up his mind that if he did attempt the risky descent it must be in this quarter. 38 39 40 41 Then that shadow flickered past him again. Of course, it was the eagle winging its way through space. Gus fancied that the great bird must have become curious about his presence there. Perhaps it had a nest back of some crag not far away, and might take a notion that this cliff climber was a venturesome egg hunter trying to rob its mate of the contents of his retreat. This thought caused Gus to bring his forward progress to a sudden halt. He even turned his head to see what the eagle might be up to, and counted himself fortunate in so doing, for it gave him a chance to drop flat on his face, and thus escape being struck by the swooping bird. “Here, get out, hang you!” shouted the now alarmed boy as he realized that in some way his actions were extremely objectionable to the eagle, which had started to make war upon him. “Don’t be a fool! I’m not after your nest this trip. Why, I wouldn’t give a snap for all the eagle’s eggs this side—whew! there he comes at me again. Seems like my troubles have only begun. And this ledge is mighty narrow over here!” Again he flattened himself out, and only in time to miss connection with the passing bird. He could feel the wind made by those broad pinions as they swept through space just above him, and he shuddered to imagine what was likely to happen should he be struck fairly and squarely by such a heavy object. The boy no longer thought of pushing on. His one desire now was to crawl back and reach a spot where the ledge, being wider, offered him better opportunities for defending himself, should the angry eagle persist in his attack. Three other times did he have to duck and narrowly escape disaster before he arrived at the spot where his rope lay. An idea had come into his head, of which he hastened to avail himself. Quickly clutching the rope, he passed it around his body and then managed to slip a fold over a friendly knob of stone that projected from the hard face of the wall back of him. In this way he fancied that he had insured himself against a sudden shove into space, should the eagle manage to strike him with its wing in swooping past. He also picked up a loose rock which he meant to use as a means of defense. If, by some lucky blow, he could disable that great bird, it would be to his advantage. The next time an attack came, the boy struck out, for the first time taking the aggressive. He felt a shock that almost knocked all the breath from his body; but it gave him a keen sense of satisfaction to know that he had returned the blow of the eagle after a fashion, though his shoulder where that powerful pinion had struck home ached as though it had been broken. How long could he hold out against the furious bird that was rapidly losing all sense of caution? Gus must have been a sight to have made his mother almost faint, could she have seen him. His nose had stopped bleeding, but there were gory marks in evidence all over his face. His cheek was more or less puffed up as the result of a glancing blow from the wing of the eagle at the time its full force descended upon his shoulder. Still, he was game to the core. With teeth tightly clenched and eyes blazing with excitement, he crouched there awaiting the next move of the attacking bird of prey. “I got the hang of things that time,” he said to himself, though even the sound of his own voice gave him a little encouragement, “and I know how to hit out better after this. Just come on and try it again, you crazy thing, and see what you get, that’s all! Two can play at 42 43 44 45 the give and take game, you’ll find. Here’s a bigger rock I’m going to use, and look out for yourself, old fellow!” Despite his brave words, the cowering lad watched the evolutions of the monarch of the air with a sense of deep anxiety. He inwardly hoped and prayed that the eagle might determine it had had enough of the fight, and fly away. In fact, Gus was more than willing to call it a draw, so that he might be let alone to grapple with his other troubles. “I sure believe he’s going to swing in at me again!” muttered the lad, noticing the suggestive actions of the great bird. He was not kept in doubt long for the eagle once more headed straight toward the spot where Gus crouched awaiting the attack. Gus drew in a full breath, and with every nerve strained to the utmost tension, raised the hand that gripped the rock, striving thus to protect his head against the stroke of that terrible pinion. CHAPTER IV. SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE. When the collision came, the boy uttered a shout that was a curious commingling of pain and exultation. His arm and hand felt as though they had been given a severe galvanic shock, but he was conscious of the pleasing fact that he must have struck the eagle a hard blow with the rock, which had been knocked from his grasp and gone over the edge of the shelf, rattling down along the face of the precipice. “Where did he go to?” stammered the boy, beginning to recover from the concussion, and casting about for another weapon in the shape of a fragment of granite. “Oh! there he is perched on that spur down below. And see how his wing hangs, will you? Perhaps it’s broken, for it struck my stone like a pile driver. Don’t I hope that’s a fact, though! I warned him he’d get the worst of the bargain if he kept on fooling with me. Serves the old pirate right. But now I’m worse off than ever, because with this lame shoulder I wouldn’t dare take the risk of hanging to a rope and flattening out against the face of the precipice.” He kept rubbing his lame shoulder while talking. The immediate future did not look very promising. How much time had elapsed while he had been there in his predicament, Gus could not say, but no doubt it seemed many times longer in his mind than was actually the case. Not being a scout, he had never learned how to tell time from the position of the sun, moon or stars, so that he could only give a rough guess as to how much of the summer afternoon had slipped away. And now, new sources of dread began to assail him. The sun had crept around so that its scorching rays fell full upon the face of the cliff above, and this aroused Gus to the fact that he was beginning to get exceedingly thirsty. Once he allowed himself to think of this, he imagined that his tongue was trying to cling to the roof of his mouth for lack of a drink. Yes, and he even remembered reading a short time before of the terrible sufferings a boat load of shipwrecked people endured while adrift on the heaving ocean. Supposing that no one appeared on the road below during the 46 47 48 whole afternoon, how was he going to pass the coming night? He would not dare go to sleep for fear that he might roll from his insecure lodgment, unless he took the precaution to fasten himself with the friendly rope, which he was beginning to look upon as his most valued possession. More time elapsed, during which Gus was recovering in some degree from the fatigue following his desperate battle with the eagle. He could still see the big bird perched on that lower crag, and he noticed, not without more or less savage satisfaction, that it seemed to be preening its feathers, paying particular attention to the drooping wing which had come in contact with the rock. “For two cents, I’d start bombarding you, and see if you could fly,” he told the bird, as he shook his fist in that quarter, “but I suppose that would be a silly move, because if it turned out that the wing wasn’t broken after all, you might take a notion to start at me again. So I guess I’ll call it off, and try to forget all I owe you, old chap. Hello! what’s that I hear? Sounds as if a machine of some kind might be coming away off yonder!” He strained his ear to better catch the sounds. As the fickle breeze came and went, he managed to make out that the queer rattle kept getting distincter each moment. This would indicate that whatever was giving vent to the sounds must be approaching, and not going the other way. The boy prisoner on the rocky ledge began to thrill with excitement. “But really, I never heard a car act like that,” he muttered as he heard the peculiar throbbing again welling up from below. “It might be the exhaust of a motorboat or of a motorcycle, only—oh! there were three of them at the inn. Yes, it must be those scouts heading up this way!” At first, the very thought of possibly owing his rescue to Hugh Hardin and his two chums of the saddle, gave Gus a feeling of chagrin. If he had his choice, very naturally he would have much preferred that some stranger pull him up from the predicament in which a cruel fortune had thrust him. But then, after all he had gone through, the boy’s pride had been sadly battered, and he did not feel like looking a gift horse in the mouth. So long as he escaped from this miserable trap, he felt that he would be foolish to draw distinctions. Besides, somehow he did not seem to feel quite the same way toward the scouts as before. When worn by those who were in a position to do him a great favor, those jeered-at khaki uniforms might look even friendly. And so, Gus Merrivale kept tabs on the dusty road far below, eagerly waiting to catch the first glimpse of the coming party. As he looked, he suddenly saw a swiftly moving object appear around a bend in the road, the sun’s rays glinting from polished steel and nickeled parts. It was one of the trio of scouts on his motorcycle, and heading directly toward the base of the cliff! Filled with excitement, Gus made a megaphone out of both hands by cupping them, and shouted at the top of his lusty voice. “Hello! hello! Help! help!” He was pleased to see that the rider of the flashing wheel must have heard his loud call by the way he turned his head upward. Gus immediately started waving his handkerchief, somewhat after the fashion he remembered seeing a scout do with his signal flag, and which, at the time, he had only thought was a silly procedure.