Home > Authors Index > H. Irving Hancock > High School Boys in Summer Camp > This page
The High School Boys in Summer Camp, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
||
Chapter 3. The Human Mystery Of The Woods |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER III. THE HUMAN MYSTERY OF THE WOODS "Now, get to work!" shouted Dick Prescott. "Destruction to all shirkers!" "Please may I beg off for five minutes?" begged Danny Grin, raising one hand. "Why?" queried Prescott sharply. "I want to take that much time to convince myself that it's all true," replied Danny. "You'll know that it's all true when you wake up to-morrow morning," laughed Dick. "But it won't look half as real if any fellow shirks any part of his work now. All ready, fellows?" "Ready!" came the chorus. "Tom Reade will make the best foreman, won't he?" appealed Prescott. "Tom has a knack for just such jobs as this, and it's going to be a tough one." The boys stood in the middle of a half acre clearing in the deep woods, five miles past the town of Porter. Here the woods extended for miles in every direction. As these young campers glanced about them it seemed as though they possessed a wealth of camping material---far more than they had ever dreamed of owning. The tent, twelve feet by twenty, and eleven feet high at the ridgepole, with six-foot walls, was their greatest single treasure. It had cost thirty-five dollars, and had been bought from the nearest large city. "We'll get the tent up first," called Reade. "Of course," smiled Dave. "That's all you're boss of anyway, Tom." "Come on, then, and spread the canvas out," Tom ordered. "Bring it over this way. We want it under the trees at the edge of the clearing. Dan, you bring the longest poles." Under Tom's further direction the canvas was spread just where he wanted it. Then the ridge-pole was secured in place across the tops of the highest two standing poles. "Run it in under the canvas," Tom directed. "We'll get the metal tips of the poles through the proper roof holes in the canvas. There, that's right. Dick, you and Greg stand by that long pole; Dave, you and Dan by the other. Now, then---raise her!" Up off the ground went the two uprights and the ridge-pole, the canvas hanging shapelessly from the ridge-pole. "Bring that wooden sledge over here, Harry," was Foreman Reade's next order. "Now, drive in this stake while I hold it. Remember to hit the stake, not my hands." The stake being soon driven into place Reade slipped the loop of a guy-rope around it, partly tightening the rope. Then he slipped to the next corner, where the process was repeated. "Hurrah!" burst from Danny Grin, as the fourth corner stake was driven, and now the tent began to take shape. "You fellows holding the poles may let go of them now," called Tom. "Come and help with the other stakes and guy-ropes." As soon as the ropes along a given side of the tent had been made fast the side wall poles were stepped into place. At last the task of tent-raising was completed, save for the final tightening of all the ropes. Now Dick and Dave, under their foreman's orders, began to drive the shorter stakes that held the bottoms of the tent walls in place. "Hurrah!" went up from several throats, as the boys stood back to take in the full dimensions of their big, new tent. "My but she's a whopper!" exclaimed Danny Grin, pushing back the door flaps and peering inside. "We won't find the tent any too large for a crowd of our size," Dick declared. "You all remember how crowded we were in the tent that we used last summer. You'll find we can fill this tent up when we get it furnished." "Dick," called Tom, "take all of my gang except Harry. He and I will lay the floor." Reade and Hazelton thereupon began to carry in two-by-four timbers and lay them where they wanted them on the ground inside the tent. Next they nailed boards across. They had bought all of this timber in Gridley secondhand at a bargain. "Dave, you and Dan can start the furnace, while Greg and I unpack supplies," suggested Prescott. Thereupon Darrin and Danny Grin started in to move a small pile of bricks. Next a tub of mixed mortar was carried to the level spot decided upon as the place whereon to erect the "furnace." It was not much of a stove that Dave and Dan built, yet it was fitted and destined for the preparing of many a meal in record time. First of all, Dave marked off the space to be used. Four parallel lines of bricks, each line five bricks long, were laid on the ground. Dave, with a two-foot rule, measured a distance of sixteen inches between each row. Then began some amateur brick-laying. It was not perfectly done, by any means, yet these four parallel walls of brick that were presently up afforded three "stoves" lying side by side. As soon as the mortar was reasonably dried---and fire would help---grates and pieces of sheet iron could be laid across the tops of the walls over the three fires. It was one of the simplest and most effective cooking devices that such a camp could have. There was even a gas-stove oven, an old one, furnished by Dick's mother. "It makes me hungry to look at the stove," declared Danny Grin. "It's four o'clock now, so you'll have two hours more to wait," smiled Dick, as he glanced at his watch. Out of packing cases and some odds and ends of lumber Dick and Greg had constructed some very fair cupboards, with doors. "Oh, if we only had ice for use in this hot weather!" sighed Greg. "But we haven't," returned Dick, "so what's the use of thinking of it." In the tent Tom and Harry were putting in some of the last taps of the hammer. They had made a very creditable job of the flooring. It was now five o'clock. Dick & Co. had worked so briskly that they were now somewhat tired. It had been an exciting day. They had left Gridley in the forenoon, journeying for an hour and a half on the train. Arriving at Porter the boys had eaten luncheons brought along with them. Then they had hunted up a farmer, had bargained with him to haul their stuff and then had tramped out to their camping place. But the camp looked as though bound to prove a success. It was their camp, anyway, and they were happy. "I'm glad enough of one thing," murmured Dick as he rested, mopping his brow. "I'm glad of several things I can think of," rejoined Darry. "The thing I refer to," chuckled Prescott, "is Fred Ripley." "It never occurred to me to feel glad about Ripley," muttered Tom dryly. "I mean, I'm glad that he has gone to Canada with his father this summer," Dick continued. "We shan't have a lot of things happening all the time, as we did last summer. Rip was a hoodoo to us last summer. This year we know that he's too far away to be troublesome." "It will seem a bit strange, at first," assented Reade, "to return to our camp and not discover that, while we were away, Rip had been along and slashed the tent to ribbons, or committed some other atrocious act." "Let's not crow until we're out of the woods," suggested Darrin. "Rip might come back from Canada, you know." "He's sure to, if the Canadians find out the kind of a chap that he is," Danny Grin declared solemnly. "Come here, you fellows," summoned Dick, "and hold a council of war over the supplies, to decide what we'll have for supper." "I thought the steak was to be the main item," Tom rejoined. "With no ice it won't keep until morning." "What do you want to eat with the steak?" asked Dick briskly. The council---of six---quickly decided on the items of the meal. Harry, catching up two buckets, started to the nearest spring for water. Dave, with the coffee-mill between his knees, started to grind. Dick, with an old knife, began to cut the steak up into suitably sized pieces. Greg started a fire in one of the stove spaces, Dan bringing more firewood. A task was at hand for each of them. When the first fire was ready an old grate was placed over it. On this the pieces of steak were arranged. Dave was boiling coffee on another grate over the second fire. "Wood is mighty scarce around here," complained Harry. Dick glanced about him. No one was immediately busy. "All scatter!" called Prescott. "Go in different directions. Each fellow bring back an armful of dry wood. Hustle!" Dick himself was the first to return, about three minutes later. He came in fast, for he expected that the steak would be ready to remove from the grate. Long before he reached the stoves, however, Dick dropped his wood and his lower jaw simultaneously. "Hurry up, fellows!" he called hoarsely. "Hurry and see what has happened!" That note of real distress in his voice caused the others to come running. "Well, if you haven't an appetite!" gasped Tom. "To go and eat all the steak yourself!" "I didn't eat any of it," Dick retorted grimly. "From the looks of things none of the rest of us will eat any of it, either." "A dog got it, or some wild animal!" guessed Greg. "No one animal could carry off four pieces of steak in his mouth at a time," Prescott answered, thinking fast. "And the tin plate I left here has gone with the meat. Animals don't lug off tin plates." "Dick and I will stay behind to watch and take account of stock," Tom called. "The rest of you scatter through the woods and try to come up with the thief. If any fellow comes upon him, give a whoop, and the rest of us will hurry along." The four scouts went off on the run. "Anything else missing?" asked Reade, as Dick looked among the supplies. "Yes," Prescott raged; "one of the bottles of Worcestshire sauce and two of the tins of corn. Oh, it's a two-legged thief that has spoiled our supper!" "Perhaps you were too sure about Rip being off in Canada," grinned Reade. "Fred Ripley would hardly steal food," Prescott retorted. "Rip is seldom really hungry. Tom, I'd give a dollar to know just who was hanging around this camp." "I'd give two dollars to know," snapped Reade, "but I'd take the money from the camp treasury." "Queer that the fellow didn't take the potatoes, too," mused Dick, turning back to the stove. "The potatoes weren't done," suggested Reade wisely, "and probably our visitor didn't think it wise to wait until they were. The hulled corn will serve his purpose very well, though." "It was a mean trick to play on us," quivered Dick. "Of course it was---unless the thief were really very hungry," answered Tom. "In that case, I don't believe I'd blame the fellow so much," Dick admitted. "But now, what are we going to have for supper?" "I've an inspiration," Tom declared, as he thrust a fork into some of the potatoes in the pot. "These potatoes will be done in two or three minutes more. Open three tins of the corned beef." "Tinned corned beef isn't so much of an inspiration, as inspirations go," laughed Dick. "Open the three tins," Tom insisted. "Here are the onions. I'll peel a few---and do the weeping for the whole camp." Tom was busy at once. Dick, after watching his friend start, caught something of the spirit of quick work. "Dump the meat into this chopping bowl," Tom continued, as he hastily dropped peeled onion after onion into the wooden bowl. "Now, get the potatoes off the fire, and we'll drain and peel 'em." This work was quickly under way. "Do you see what the poem is to be?" grinned Reade. "Looks like corned beef hash," smiled Dick. "It will taste like it, too," predicted Reade. "Come on, now!" Potatoes were quickly made ready. Tom began to chop the mixture, while Prescott got out one of the frying pans. "Get out the lard," urged Tom. "Let's have some of this stuff cooking by the time that the fellows come in. It will console them a bit." "It begins to smell good," murmured Dick presently, as he stirred the cooking mixture. Tom busied himself with setting the table. "All ready, when the fellows come in," announced Dick, as he removed the coffee pot and began to cut bread. "Better call 'em." Placing his hands over his mouth, megaphone shape, Tom sent several loud halloos echoing through the woods. Dan was the first one in. Greg arrived next, Harry third. "Where can Dave be?" asked Tom, after several more halloos. "We'll go and find him, if he doesn't show up," suggested Harry. "But first of all, let's stow some of this supper inside of us." "We'll wait for Dave before we eat," Dick retorted quickly. "Hello, Dave, hello!" roared Reade and Prescott in concert "Supper is ready! Hurry up." "Queer there's no answer," said Greg, after a minute's wait. "Something must have happened to Dave," suggested Danny Grin anxiously. "What could happen to him?" demanded Hazelton scornfully. "Darry can take care of himself. He'll be in presently." "Let's call him again!" urged Dan. They called in concert, their voices echoing through the woods. "Did you hear that?" asked Dick eagerly, after a pause of listening. "There it goes again." "It's Dave, answering us," Harry declared. The hail sounded distant. "Come on!" cried Dick, leaping forward. "That yell was one of trouble, or I'm a bad guesser. Dan, you and Hazelton stand by the camp. Tom and Greg come along. If Dave is in trouble he'll be sure to need some of us!" _ |
||