"Just what I did," Phil assured them; "but hold on now, and save your breath for running; you'll need it all. We'll get there in ten minutes more, I think."

About that time had elapsed when Phil sighted the spot where he had left the wounded man. He knew it from the land marks he had impressed on his mind. And both going and coming the boy had maintained a constant watch, so as to make sure that he continued in the direct line he had laid out.

"There he is!" he suddenly exclaimed, as he saw a hand feebly waving from the covert of bushes.

"Oh! I'm glad you've gotten back again!" the wounded man told Phil. "It has seemed ages since you left; but I watched the sun, and knew that the hour had not passed that you said it might take. These are your friends, are they?"

"Yes, Ethan Allan and Raymond Tyson. We mean to get busy, and make some sort of a litter that will do to carry you on. Let's see, you begin and cut some poles, Ethan."

As the boy with the camp hatchet knew just what sort to select, he was soon busily engaged in chopping down small saplings. As these were trimmed of branches, and cut in proper lengths the other boys began to splice them together.

After all it was not a hard task. Although possibly none of them had ever built such a thing as a stretcher, they knew in a general way how it must be done in order to accommodate a wounded man. There were four handles by means of which it could be gripped and carried. These two main braces of course were extra strong, and made of hickory. Then the others were shorter and not so thick, so that the body of the stretcher might bend somewhat.

When the thing was completed the boys found some hemlock browse, with which they made as soft a bed as possible.

"Now, if you can stand for it to let us lift you, we'll soon be on our way," Phil went on to say to the injured man.

"I can stand anything but continued suspense," the other declared, bravely.

They could see that he had to shut his teeth tightly together in order to keep back his groans while they were lifting him as gently as they could. But despite his white face the man tried to smile at Phil when he saw the look of pity on the boy's face.

"Don't mind me—I'm all right—you're doing famously—I'll never, never forget it, either!" he said, between breaths.

Phil took one end, that nearer the patient's feet, while the other boys managed the second pair of handles between them. The stretcher had been made purposely narrow at the foot, so that one bearer could handle it.

"If you get tired, sing out, Phil, and we'll change all around," X-Ray remarked.

It was not hard work after all. The man happened to be of medium weight, and not unusually tall, so with only two short resting spells they carried their burden all the way to the shore of the lake.

How eagerly he leaned over one side of the stretcher, and strove to catch a first glimpse of his child, over whose fate he had been almost losing his mind while lying there, wounded so grievously in the pine woods.

Lub heard them coming. He stared almost stupidly at first, hardly understanding what it was they were carrying. Perhaps Lub even thought it might be that pugnacious half-grown bear cub, which had attacked Phil in the forest and suffered in consequence.

He quickly understood differently, however. There was a flutter near him, a swift patter of childish feet flying over the ground, a gasping cry, and then little Mazie was clasped in the eager arms of the man on the litter. Regardless of the pain his exertions were causing him the father pressed his darling to his heart, while a look of supreme joy came upon his white face.

Then Phil had to bend over and unwind the arms of Mazie from the neck of "daddy," for he suddenly discovered that what with his emotions and the agony of his broken limb the man had fainted dead away.



CHAPTER XIV

THE PUZZLE OF IT ALL

"What d'ye make out of it all, Phil?"

When Ethan asked this question two days had elapsed since they brought the wounded man to the cabin. Much had happened during this time. In the first place Phil had proven himself a splendid amateur surgeon, for he had set the broken bones, and attended to securing splices so that they would be kept in proper position while the mending process continued.

Of course this was somewhat old-fashioned, because a doctor would have set the limb in a plaster cast; but Phil's way promised to answer for all practical purposes.

The man had improved remarkably. He was even cheerful, though at times Phil had seen him shake his head, and could hear him sigh. This was always while he was watching Mazie; and it did not require much to tell the boy that whatever was upon the man's troubled conscience concerned his child.

"It's pretty hard to say, Ethan," he told the other; "I can't make up my mind that's he's any sort of a scamp. His actions tell us that, you know."

"And it's hard for me to believe that any man who loves a child as he does that one of his, can be a bad man," Ethan declared, emphatically.

"Yet you saw how he turned red in the face when I handed him the telegram, and explained how we found it caught under the bow seat of his birch-bark canoe," continued Phil, looking troubled.

"What was it he mumbled at the time; I didn't quite get it?" Ethan asked.

"He admitted," the other explained, "that the message had come to him. He also said that was not his real name, but one assumed for a purpose, of which he was now heartily ashamed."

"That sounds queer, don't you think, Phil?"

"Why, no, I can't say that I do," Ethan was told. "Any of us might do something on the spur of the moment that we found reason to feel sorry for afterwards. Only the other day I bitterly repented of insulting that noble old bull moose by daring to snap my camera at him point-blank, didn't I? He made it pretty warm for me, I tell you."

"But this mysterious man must have done something dreadful, to have him say he was so repentant!" persisted Ethan.

"You're only jumping at conclusions," he was told, bluntly. "I heard him say at the time he was lying there in the pine woods and suffering, that he realized he had done somebody a great wrong, and that if he lived he meant to right it. Now, according to my notion, that was a fine thing for him to say."

"Mebbe so," remarked Ethan. "I've heard my father say that the best men are those who've been through the fire, done some wrong, and repented, so that they think they must spend the rest of their lives making good. And between us I kind of fancy Mazie's daddy. He seems to be a pretty nice man."

"Mazie evidently thinks there isn't another like him in the whole world," Phil told him; "look at her now as she sits there holding his hand. Why, Ethan, believe me, I can see what looks mighty like a tear running down his cheek. Yes, there, he wiped it away, and shook his head. That man's made up his mind to some big sacrifice, you mark my words."

"Then it must be in connection with Mazie," added Ethan, quickly; "because the sun rises and sets with her, in his opinion."

"I wonder now," began Phil, with lines on his forehead, as though a sudden idea had flashed into his mind that he hardly knew how to handle.

"What are you thinking about?" inquired Ethan, who knew the signs.

"But then there's no doubt he's her father, so that could hardly be," Phil went on to say, as though crushing the suspicion that had arisen.

"Well, what about it, Phil?"

"Oh! I just happened to wonder if he could have stolen the child from some one, and had now made up his mind that it was wicked, and she must be returned. But then, how could a father be tempted to steal his own child? I reckon that must have been a silly notion. Let's forget it."

"Like as not we'll never know," Ethan observed, a little provoked, it seemed, on account of not being able to solve the mystery that surrounded Mazie and her "daddy;" for Ethan above all things hated to give a puzzle up as beyond his power.

"Wait and see," the other advised him. "As it is now, he feels under some obligations to the lot of us, and may think we deserve to hear his story before we get him down to civilization again."

"Some obligation?" repeated Ethan. "Well, it's my honest opinion he owes you his life! If you hadn't found him when you did, he'd be dead right now. And then about that job of setting the bones in his leg, you did yourself proud there. It'd be a queer thing, and ungrateful in the bargain, if he said good-by, and never once opened up to explain things."

"It isn't going to bother me a bit," Phil told him.

"Now, is that a hint that I'm foolish to keep it on my mind?" asked Ethan.

"If the shoe fits, put it on," his chum told him. "But one thing sure, he'll never be able to walk on that leg by the time we expect to start home."

"Which I take it means we'll either have to carry him all the way down to the village on that stretcher, if it takes two days; or else one of us go after a team."

"Without any road up here," Phil explained, "it would be a hard job to get horses to the lake. And then the going would be so tough he'd suffer terribly. So as near as I can see it looks as if we'd have to work that stretcher again."

"Huh! I like that!" grunted Ethan, though he must have meant it in sarcasm, for his tone showed anything but enthusiasm. "We all congratulated ourselves on the way up here on the fact that we'd have it easy going out of the woods, because all that canned stuff and other grub would be devoured. And now by jinks! if we don't have to lug a man out. Whee!"

"But there's no other way, Ethan; and you'd be the last fellow to vote to leave him behind, if I know you," ventured Phil.

"Sure, I would, and don't you mind how I grumble every little while, Phil. My grandfather on my mother's side was a whaler, and I guess now I must have inherited his sailor way of growling. I try to cure myself of the habit, but she will break out once in a while. It's harmless, you know; it comes from the mouth but not from the heart."

Phil laughed softly.

"I haven't chummed with you as long as this not to know you like a book, old fellow," he said, affectionately, as he laid a hand on the other's shoulder. "We've had some pretty good times, together with X-Ray Tyson and jolly old Lub; and we hope to enjoy a lot more. Wait till we get down there on Currituck Sound this fall, when the ducks are arriving in flocks. You know I've got the finest little shooting-box located there you ever heard tell of. And, say, perhaps we won't have the grandest time going."

"I hope nothing will keep us from going along with you, that's all," said Ethan, drawing a long breath; for gunning was his one particular hobby, and the prospect of a week or two on those famous ducking-grounds appealed irresistibly to his hunter's heart.

"This has been the hottest day we've struck since we came up here," said X-Ray Tyson just then, as he came sauntering up, wiping his forehead with his big red bandanna.

"Yes, and unless I'm a poor weather prophet," added Phil, taking a look aloft as he spoke, "we're just about due for a whacker of a storm. No leaving my camera out-of-doors this night, I tell you."

"We'll all be glad of a decent roof over our heads, if she comes on to blow and rain great guns," Ethan remarked.

"How about the pictures you were printing a while ago, Phil; turn out well?" asked the last comer.

"See for yourself," he was told, as Phil drew a little book out of his pocket, among the leaves of which he had a number of fresh prints.

"Well, that one of the moose poking his head between the little trees is a jim-dandy, let me tell you!" declared X-Ray Tyson. "Every wrinkle of his hide shows as plain as it could. And say, here's one showing Ethan and me carrying the litter, with Mazie's daddy on the same. I didn't know you snapped that off."

"You've had great luck so far in all your pictures, haven't you, Phil?" Ethan went on to say.

"No complaints from me," he was told; "and I do feel I've been in great luck, as you say. I've got on the track of a fox, and pretty soon I hope to have his smart phiz along with the rest."

"It'll be a prize collection yet, take that from me," X-Ray announced.

"The funny part of it," continued Ethan, "is the fact that while you'll have all these pictures, most of the originals you've never seen. That comes of fixing it so they press the button, and do the flashlight act themselves."

"Saves a heap of trouble," commented X-Ray, sensibly.

"Of course the main thing is," Phil went on to say, "that you couldn't get that class of Animated Nature picture in any other way. I'd hate to stick it out all night, waiting for Mr. 'Possum or Br'er Rabbit to breeze along, so I could flash him. Besides, the most wary of all, Br'er Fox, wouldn't come within a hundred feet of a human scent. They've got too keen noses for that. And yet I expect to show a fox picture soon."

"I wish I had one of that dandy black fox I trapped last winter, and the pelt of which brought me over a cool three hundred," remarked Ethan; and X-Ray was heard to take a quick breath as though given a little shock; at the same time winking aside toward Phil, who frowned, and shook his head threateningly.

They did not share that enthusiasm with the proud trapper, over that particular foxskin; simply because they knew it was a very poor specimen of its kind, and by rights not worth one-tenth the amount of the check which Ethan had received from the dealer in the distant city—Phil's uncle, though Ethan never dreamed of such a dreadful thing.

"Well, it strikes me you're a pretty clever weather man after all, Phil, because I certainly heard far-away thunder right then," and X-Ray as he said this pointed up at the heavens, which were heavily overcast with dark clouds.

"Let's get busy then, and see that everything is snug," Phil suggested.

"First of all we must get Mazie and her daddy housed," Ethan remarked. "By using the pair of rough crutches I made him, and with some help, he manages to get about after a fashion, though he'd be better keeping still some days yet. But he's such an active man it's hard to tie him down."

"He told me," Phil informed them, "he had that boat carried away up here on the back of a guide; and that another man brought his grub, blankets and outfit. You know we went and got all the duffle from the place he'd hidden it when he left here, a regular cave in the rocks; and everything looks like the party who bought the same had money to burn."

"Yes, he admitted that much to me," said Phil. "He also said those marks were on the table when they came. One of the guides told him a story about some men who were up two years ago, and arrested by government agents. He thinks they may have been bogus money-makers. When I showed him the fifty-cent piece X-Ray found he tried it every which way, and said it was probably counterfeit, though as clever an imitation as he had ever seen. But there's another grumble of thunder, boys, so let's get to work."

With the four of them hustling, things were speedily arranged. After the lame man and Mazie had been assisted under cover, the boys started to lay in plenty of fire-wood to last them a couple of days. There could be no telling how long the storm might linger—perhaps there would be only an hour of furious bombardment; and then again it was likely to rain heavily for days. Adirondack storms have a pretty bad name, as all will agree who have ever experienced their vigor and fury.

X-Ray even climbed up on the roof, and proceeded to patch one corner that he imagined needed repairs.

"I'm not like the backwoodsman who never seemed to get his leaky roof mended," X-Ray announced, from his elevated position; "and when they came to ask him the reason he says, says he: 'When it rains I carnt mend it; and when the weather's dry, what's the use?' The time to do it is when you hear the thunder warning you there's something great coming."

"It's getting closer all the while," commented Phil, as a louder burst came to their ears.

"And listen, what's that other sound we hear?" asked X-Ray Tyson, about ready to descend from his perch.

"Why, that's wind!" announced Ethan.

"Whew! it must be a hurricane then, for I thought that was a freight train. I'm glad we haven't any big tree hanging over us that'd be in danger of falling. And I'm also pleased to know our Lodge is so well protected by evergreens and birches. They'll serve as a wind-break."

"There's the rain; and as the wind is pretty fierce, we'd better adjourn to the cabin," and Phil led the way, with the others at his heels.

Hardly had they entered than there was a vivid flash without, followed by a crash that shook the humble cabin. Then with a shriek the wind swooped down, the rain began to fall in sheets and the storm was on.

They had seen ordinary storms many times, but one and all were decidedly of the opinion that this was something beyond the common. When X-Ray called it a hurricane he was not far out of the way.

Every little while they could hear a crash somewhere near by that sounded like a big tree falling; and in fact they understood that this was what was taking place; all of which made them doubly glad they had so good a shelter.



CHAPTER XV

AFTER THE STORM

"Such a night I've passed; never slept a wink!" groaned Lub, as he dangled his feet over the side of an upper bunk, and held a heavy head between his hands.

"Well, all I can say is that you made so much noise snoring I couldn't hear the wind blow at times; so explain that away if you can. Jump down there, and stop shutting off what little light there is from me."

That was X-Ray Tyson talking. As Ethan had insisted on making himself a sleeping place on the floor alongside Phil, X-Ray had pre-empted his bunk, giving his own to the wounded man, while little Mazie had the second upper one.

It had indeed been a terrible night.

With little cessation the storm had held forth. At times Phil, lying awake because it was impossible to get the clamor out of his mind, wondered if there would be any decent-sized trees left in the North Woods by the time things settled down quiet again.

He and Ethan were up and busily engaged getting some breakfast ready. It was as much as they could do to see, so dim was the light; and they did not dare use the lantern, because their supply of kerosene was limited.

"How'd you like to have been caught out in that whooper, eh, Lub?" asked Ethan, as the other continued to yawn, and rub his reddened eyes, though still occupying his position there on the edge of his berth, X-Ray having crawled out below.

"Please excuse me from answering that question," the other replied. "I never'd have survived it, I reckon. Bad enough to be in a dinky little twelve by twelve cabin, let alone a hollow tree, or a make-shift under a shelving rock."

"Now, none of your making fun of Birch Bark Lodge," warned X-Ray; "it's been a hunky-dory refuge, all right, don't forget it. And say, not a drop leaked in on us through that bad part in the roof. Shows what a little common-sense can do for things, don't it?"

"All I can say," remarked Phil, from over the fire, "is that I'm sorry for any one who might be unlucky enough as to get caught in that howler. If they missed being struck by lightning, they ran a big chance of getting crushed under a falling tree."

"Yes," added Ethan, "and at the best they'd be soaked through and through. It's no fun to feel that way all night. You start to shivering, and then like as not your teeth rattle together like you've heard the minstrel end-man shake his bones when he sings. I've had a little experience, and I know what I'm talking about."

The man in the lower bunk had been listening to all this conversation. Phil noticed he seemed to have an additional line across his forehead. Perhaps the storm had also kept him awake. Possibly he had often thought of how uncomfortable it would be for any one he happened to know, who might have been caught in the open woods by the howling gale.

They were eating breakfast some time later, when the man from his bunk, since he preferred to lie there while so many were around the small cabin, called out to Phil. He had long since recognized the patent fact that the Bradley boy was a leader of his set; and that the other three only too gladly looked up to Phil, not on account of his being independent with regard to means, but because he had the attributes of leadership in his person.

"Do you think the storm has slackened for good, Phil, or will it come back again for another siege? It seems to me the wind has changed, and is blowing much more evenly."

"When I took that look out just a bit ago," Phil told him, "I noticed several pretty good signs that seemed to tell we had got to the wind-up. It wouldn't surprise me, because these hard storms are not the ones that last for days. We could go out now, if we didn't mind getting wet from the dripping of the trees."

The man had something on his mind, Phil saw. During the night he must have been thinking deeply. Perhaps conscience was gripping him more than ever, and the coming of that fearful storm had been the "last straw on the camel's back."

"I hate to ask any further favors of you, Phil," he finally said, with an effort, "but a great fear has taken hold of me during the night. With every fresh howl of the wind I seemed to hear a cry for help! It almost set me wild. If I had not been such a cripple I believe I must have dashed out of the cabin, and spent the remainder of the night wandering around, searching the woods."

The rest of the boys stared at him. Perhaps it may have occurred to one or more of them that Mazie's father was losing his mind. But Phil knew there was something back of it all. He had been trying to study the man, figure out what ailed him, and why he had been hiding himself and the child away up in this solitude.

"Were you expecting some one to come up here looking for you, sir?" he asked, boldly, remembering what the contents of that telegraph message had been.

"Yes, that's what has been worrying me," admitted the man, acting as though he knew the time had come when he must explain away at least a part of the mystery that surrounded him, if he expected these friendly lads to assist him further.

"An enemy, most likely?" continued Phil, seeing the other hesitate.

At that there was a heavy intaking of the breath, and then the man went on to say:

"No, hardly that. I would not like to give it so harsh a term. Say a friend from whom I have been estranged, and who I believed had wronged me; though of late my eyes have been opened to my own faults, and I have repented of many things done in the heat of temper."

"And you believe then that this friend may have engaged a guide—that it is at least possible they were not far away from here when the storm broke. You fear they may have been caught and made to suffer; is that it, sir?"

Phil was handling the affair wonderfully well, his chums thought, as they listened to all that was being said.

"That is what I have cause to fear," the other went on to say, quickly. "Through the livelong night of tempest I have fancied I heard their cries for help, and oh! how they crucified me! It would be a terrible punishment on my head if some tragedy had taken place in the pine woods last night; and Mazie—" his voice failed him in his emotion, and he did not finish his sentence.

"Do you want us to go out and see if there are any signs of strangers on the trail leading up here, the one we followed all the way from the village many miles off?" Phil asked; and his manner was so reassuring that the wounded man immediately nodded his head in the affirmative.

"It would be a fitting climax to all you and your fine chums have done for me and mine," he told them, with tears in his eyes.

"Shucks! that wouldn't be such a great job," Lub hastened to say, before any one else could talk; "and I volunteer to be one of the party right now."

"But you'd get all wet, Lub, you know," expostulated Ethan.

"What of that?" came the indignant response; "am I made of salt, or sugar? Haven't I been soaked before? If I could stand jumping into the lake with my clothes on, when the hornets tackled me, I ought to be able to take a little sprinkling, hadn't I?"

"We'll all go, so as to spread out considerable," suggested X-Ray Tyson, who, truth to tell, was a little afraid of being left to look after things at the lodge. "I'm needed because I've got the sharpest eyes; Ethan might have a chance to bring some of his woodcraft into play; Phil is the one to run things; and Lub, well, he spoke first, and ought to have a show."

"Knowing what we'll be up against," said Phil, "we can arrange accordingly, so when we get back we'll have something dry to put on. Before we start we'll get Mr.—Mr. Newton out, and fixed before the fire, so he can feed it as often as he pleases."

The man had flushed when Phil purposely hesitated about calling the name that had been given in that message.

"Call me Alwyn Merriwell from now on," he hastily told them. "That is my real name. The time has passed for all deceit and assumed names. I have made up my mind to do what is right for—for the other party, no matter what pain and suffering it brings to me."

A short time later the boys began to prepare to start out. Phil saw that their injured guest was really working himself up into a fever over the anxiety he was enduring. His thoughts during the night had had a strong effect upon him. He may even have dreamed something dreadful had really happened, and it haunted him.

Acting on Phil's advice the others dressed lightly. This would allow of leaving certain parts of their clothing behind, to be resumed on their return.

"We will be moving all the time, and can keep warm enough, even while wet to the skin," he told them, as they started forth, after saying good-by to Mazie, who was content to sit alongside her "daddy," holding his hand, and prattling constantly as was her pretty way.

Phil had managed to cover his little camera, so that he could take it along.

"Like as not we'll run across some effects of the hurricane that we'd like to remember," he explained, when X-Ray looked questioningly at the camera. "There must be places where trees have been thrown down in all sorts of twisted shapes; and those sort of things always make the boss pictures, you know."

They followed the trail. It was very faint in many places; but then Ethan could be depended on to find it whenever a cry arose that it was lost. Phil, too, had his bearings pretty well in hand, though as a rule he allowed Ethan to swing things, for he saw that it was giving him no end of pleasure to thus exercise his knowledge of woodcraft.

For a full hour they pushed on. The sun peeped out every little while, showing that Phil had guessed rightly when he said the storm was a thing of the past. The leaves still dripped, though not so copiously as at first. Lub even boasted that he seemed to be drying off faster than he got wet. That fact apparently occupied more of his attention than other matters.

"How far ought we go, do you think, Phil?" inquired X-Ray Tyson; "not that I'm getting tired at all; but I just asked for information."

"Another half-hour, and then we'll call it off," he was told. "By that time we'll have covered a number of miles. If this—er—friend of Mr. Merriwell's is anywhere around, and able to make us hear, we'll come on the party."

"Beats me to understand what it all means," grumbled Lub. "And d'ye know, I've got a good suspicion that you've tumbled to the game, Phil."

"I've been told no more than the rest of you," the other replied; "and my guess may be wide of the mark; so just now I'm not going to say anything more. But you can see from the way he keeps looking at Mazie she's got something to do with it all. When he talks about having to make a terrible sacrifice it means giving her up."

"Gee whiz! I never once thought of that!" burst out Lub; "now I bet you the little tot's got a grandfather who's been left the child by her mother when she died. Is that the answer, Phil?"

"I refuse to say, Lub. Ethan and I have been talking it over, and we've come to a certain conclusion; but wait a little, and we'll explain. We may find the person he seems to be expecting. Perhaps he received a later message, and which warned him his presence up here was known."

Lub relapsed into silence. It could be seen, however, that he was pondering over matters, for that serious look on his usually placid face betrayed the fact.

They continued to push forward, and kept up a constant watch for any sign that would indicate the presence of strangers. This might be the smoke of a fire, or the sound of an ax.

"How would it do to let out a whoop every little while, Phil?" suggested X-Ray Tyson; "for all we know they might have lost the trail in the storm, and be somewhere to one side. It'd be a mean thing if we passed 'em by without knowing it."

"That isn't a bad idea," Phil told him; "so start in right away with a yodel."

This was all the other was waiting for, and he accordingly lifted up his voice in a loud shout. Any camper hearing it would understand that the call was meant for a friendly one, and must hasten to reply.

"There, wasn't that an answer; or do they have echoes as wonderful as that up here in the North Woods?" demanded X-Ray, excitedly.

"It was a shout, all right," Ethan told him, positively.

"And came from over on our right," added Phil, pleased at least that all their labor had not been for nothing.

"Let's mark the trail so we can be sure to find her again," Ethan continued; always cautious about letting a good thing slip him.

This being done by means of a certain tree that all of them felt sure they must easily recognize, even at some distance, the four Mountain Boys turned toward the spot where that faint "hallo" had come from.

Presently keen-eyed X-Ray Tyson told them he saw smoke.

"That's right," admitted Ethan, when he had followed the extended finger of the other chum; "and of course it means they've got a camp fire burning; though after all that rain it'd take a good woodsman to know where to find dry wood, except in the heart of some stump. Let's hurry up and get there."

He kept watching as he went on. It would grieve Ethan sorely should he find at any time they were actually lost, and after he had taken so many precautions in the bargain.

"I can see somebody moving around there," announced X-Ray, soon afterwards; "and it's a man, too. Seems to be a guide, if his looks count for anything."

They kept heading straight toward the small cheerless camp in the drenched woods. All the while Phil was expecting to hear his chums, saving possibly Ethan, give utterance to low cries of surprise.

"There's somebody lying down on the other side of the fire, boys," continued the one with the hawk eyes. "That smoke keeps shifting around so much I don't seem to be able to glimpse as well as—say, what d'ye think, fellows, I declare if it ain't a woman!"



CHAPTER XVI

PEACE AFTER STRIFE—CONCLUSION

Lub uttered a gurgle to indicate his consternation. Ethan and Phil exchanged knowing looks, as though to say it was coming out just as they had figured.

The guide was a dark-faced native. He had evidently been having a hard time of it during that terrible storm, with possibly an hysterical woman on his hands, and no proper shelter. He waved his hand at the boys, and looked pleased to see them coming to their relief.

As they entered the camp they saw that the woman was sitting up. She looked as though she could not have stood much more. In spite of all the Adirondack guide may have done in trying to shield her from the torrents of rain, she had been wet through and through. Even sitting close to the fire for a long time had not caused her to stop shivering.

"We've come down here to see if we could help you any," Phil said the first thing, when he and his chums reached the fire.

"How'd ye know we was around these diggin's?" asked the guide, as though puzzled.

"We've got a gentleman in camp with a badly broken leg, and he asked us to come," Phil went on to say, narrowly watching the eager face of the woman, who he could see was by breeding a lady, and a very handsome one too no doubt, though just at that time she looked woe-begone, with her long hair hanging down her back to dry, and her khaki outing skirts bedraggled. "He's been worrying all the night, and nearly crazy because he was afraid some one would be caught in the storm, some one he expected was coming to find him."

Waves of color passed over her face as she heard how the gentleman had been so deeply concerned.

"Would you mind telling me his name?" she asked Phil; and somehow the boy was reminded of Mazie when he looked more closely at her.

"He has been calling himself John Newton all along," he remarked; "but just this morning he admitted that his real name was Merriwell—Alwyn Merriwell."

She drew a long breath. Her eyes were as bright as stars as she hurriedly went on to ask another question; and both Phil and Ethan knew exactly what this would be before she had uttered a single word.

"Is there a little girl with—Mr. Merriwell? Oh! please tell me instantly, for I am crazy to hear!"

"Yes, and her name is Mazie!" Phil immediately replied. "We found her lost in the woods, and took her to our camp. Then later on we ran across him. He had broken his leg while searching for her, and tried to crawl miles, thinking to get help from us so as to find her. He came near dying, too."

She dropped her head in her hands, and they could see that she was crying very hard. Whether it was through sheer thankfulness because of what she had heard concerning the presence of the child, or from some other reason, Phil could not quite understand. But he believed it was all going to turn out splendidly.

Presently she looked up, and smiled bravely through her tears. Phil could see that a new happiness had come upon her; and he guessed the cause.

"I am Mazie's own mother," she said, to the astonishment of Lub, who up to then had not been able to figure things out correctly; "there was a terrible misunderstanding between my husband and myself. The court gave me charge of our child. His love for Mazie was an absorbing passion, even greater than my own. One day she disappeared, and we had reason to suspect that he had taken her away, so that she could be with him. Ever since I have sought far and wide to find them, but until lately without avail."

She stopped speaking, and seemed to be thinking for a minute; then went on, for of course none of the boys had ventured to say a single word:

"Of late I have learned through the death of a wicked person that I had wronged my husband dreadfully. I am only waiting to see him to ask his forgiveness; and unless he has lost all his love for me we may undo the wretched past, and start all over again, with Mazie the bond between us."

She had said quite enough for them to understand. Phil was wondering whether they might not have to construct another litter in order to carry the lady all the way to the distant camp.

"Oh! have no fears for me," she hastened to tell him, when he started to speak of such a thing. "I feel as though I could walk from now to sunset, and not grow weary, knowing that Mazie, and Alwyn, are at the end of the trail. We cannot start too soon to satisfy my yearning heart. I could almost fly as though I had wings."

And, indeed, there was no difficulty in her keeping up with them. The new hope of happiness, after all these dreary months of wretchedness, buoyed her heart up as possibly nothing else could have done.

Before noon had arrived they drew near the cabin under the hemlocks and birches. The sky had cleared, and the sun shone warmly. All nature looked bright again after the storm.

"Listen!" cried the lady, suddenly.

It was the sweet childish voice of Mazie they heard, singing one of her little songs, which the boys had never tired of hearing. Imagine how it affected the mother, separated from her darling so long.

She could not be longer restrained, but rushing ahead passed inside the cabin. The boys purposely loitered. When finally they ventured to enter it was to find the lady on her knees, with the arms of the child tightly clasped about her neck. She had one of the wounded man's hands in hers; and apparently the breach between them had been healed, for he was looking upon mother and child with a love light in his eyes.

This influx of guests was getting serious, X-Ray and Lub had a regular argument as to which one should surrender his bunk to Mazie's mother. She would not hear of any such thing, however, and insisted that there was plenty of room for both Mazie and herself in the one bunk.

And after she had recovered from her exposure Mrs. Merriwell insisted on making herself useful, both in the way of a nurse, and in helping with the cooking. As for Mazie's "daddy," he no longer looked the unhappy man the boys had considered him; since he was not going to be called upon to make that terrible sacrifice which he had considered was his duty.

This new arrangement left the boys more opportunity to prosecute their various pleasures. Lub had begun to show a decided interest in certain things connected with woodcraft, so that Ethan only too gladly accepted every chance to explain how to follow a trail, what certain signs stood for, what was the best way to make a fire in a storm, and dozens of other things equally as interesting.

Of course Phil was more than ever engaged with his flashlight photography. He had secured a startling picture of the red fox whose tracks he had discovered; and this spurred him on to greater things. Often Ethan kept him company, and showed that he had really started to take a deep interest in this newer method of hunting without a gun.

Mr. Merriwell steadily grew better. He hopped around by the aid of his crutches, and hoped to be able to walk some by the time the Mountain Boys thought of leaving the North Woods for their home town, which was further south, though still in the uplands.

Josh Maxfield, the guide, stayed with them. He made himself useful, and Ethan managed to pick up quite a fund of information from the experienced native, who had been born and bred in the pine woods.

Many were the cheery evenings they all spent, in front of the cabin if it happened to be warm, or before the fire if the night air was chilly, as often turned out to be the case. Josh had plenty of interesting stories to tell. Mazie in particular was keenly interested in his accounts of how the black bear outwitted the honey bees that had made their hive in an old hollow tree; so that he usually secured a sweet treat as long as he could reach in with his paw, and tear the heavily laden combs out.

All too soon did the days pass, until finally it was decided that they must be starting back over the old trail.

Every one would be sorry indeed to say farewell to Birch Bark Lodge. The Merriwells made Phil promise to send them a set of all his pictures, and in particular the one that showed the dear old cabin.

"It stands for our new life," said the gentleman, as he sat there one arm around his wife, and the other about Mazie; "and every time we look at it our vows will be renewed. Besides, all the happy things that have happened here must rush over our memories. Yes, it will be our standard cure for the blues."

Although the lame man was getting around pretty well, Phil knew he would never be able to stand such a long and arduous journey as the one they had ahead of them. Accordingly they made over the stretcher, with the help of Josh, and meant to carry it along. Of course once they managed to reach the village, where there would be a road leading out of the wilderness, and possibly some sort of vehicle to hire, things would be much easier.

"One thing sure," said Phil, as they got ready to clear out one bright morning, "I've had glorious good luck in taking all the pictures I did. Why, I've beaten my highest expectations three times over. The collection will fill a new album; and right in front I'll have stamped in letters of gold: 'Memories of Birch Bark Lodge.'"

"Yes, we'll never forget what a grand good time we've all had up here," affirmed Lub, who seemed to feel the breaking away even more than any of his chums; "and often when I'm snuggled down between common every-day sheets at home I'll dream of my fine bunk, and the way my blanket kept me warm."

"And what came down the chimney one night," added X-Ray Tyson; "not to mention what tried to come down the next day. Oh! we'll all enjoy remembering things. And I don't believe we could ever have such a magnificent time together again."

"Don't be too sure of that," Phil told him. "I can see some other outings ahead that may even turn out to be jollier than this one, though it seems hard to think it now. Let's give the old cabin a last salute, boys. Three cheers and a tiger for Birch Bark Lodge!"

They were given with a will. Even little Mazie added her childish treble to the volume of sound that went up.

So they pulled out, and left the old cabin tenantless. The gray squirrels could run over the roof with impunity now; Br'er 'Coon might wander along his trail down to the water's edge to do a little fishing, without having a sudden blinding flash startle him out of his seven senses; while Br'er Fox need not skulk in the dense covert for fear of meeting roving boys.

But the bear that had fallen down the chimney, and the lordly moose had better make themselves scarce in that particular neighborhood; because ere many moons had waxed and waned Josh intended coming back again to look them up; and the law would no longer protect the shy inmates of the North Woods against the "sticks that spat out fire and stinging missiles" whenever they were pointed straight.

The man with the broken leg soon gave out, and had to take to the stretcher. The sturdy woods guide carried one end and the boys took turns helping out, so they got along very well.

Mazie and her mother walked alongside, though from time to time the little sprite would insist on taking Phil's hand; or it might be that of stout Lub. She had made him promise he would send her his picture when he got home; and Lub always grinned when X-Ray Tyson or Ethan tried to joke him about his "new girl."

They arrived at the mountain village, and a vehicle was obtained by means of which all of them could get out of the region, and in touch with civilization. When it came to saying good-by to the Merriwells the boys found it very hard. The gentleman declared they would see them all again as soon as he found himself perfectly well; for he wanted to know their families; and doubtless meant to inform these good people as to the extent of the debt of gratitude he owed Phil Bradley and his Mountain Boys.

That still more thrilling happenings were in store for the boys whose fortunes we have been following in the pages of this volume the reader will learn upon securing the next story of the Series, now published under the title of "Phil Bradley at the Wheel; or, The Mountain Boys' Mad Auto Chase."

THE END

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The Mountain Boys Series

1. PHIL BRADLEY'S MOUNTAIN BOYS 2. PHIL BRADLEY AT THE WHEEL 3. PHIL BRADLEY'S SHOOTING BOX 4. PHIL BRADLEY'S SNOW-SHOE TRAIL

These books describe with interesting detail the experiences of a party of boys among the mountain pines.

They teach the young reader how to protect himself against the elements, what to do and what to avoid, and above all to become self-reliant and manly.

12mo. Cloth. 40 cents per volume; postpaid

The New York Book Company 201 East 12th Street—New York

THE END