They cast in toward the shore, of course, and near the spot where a creek sent its waters into the lake, each of them had a strike.

Paul succeeded in landing his fish, which proved to be a fair-sized specimen. Then Mr. Gordon tried again. In a short time he had a strike, and with a quick motion of the wrist succeeded in fastening the barb of the hook in the jaw of the fish.

"It's a dandy too, sir!" exclaimed Paul, as he saw a flash of rainbow colors, when the big trout jumped wildly into the air, trying to break loose by falling on the line; "keep a tight pull on him, sir, and if he drags too hard let him have just a little more line. Oh! but he's a beauty."

So coaching Mr. Gordon by degrees, he finally got the landing net ready; and after the prize had been played until almost exhausted it was lifted upon the raft with one swift and accurate movement.

After that the fishing seemed to slacken. Though the lake was undoubtedly just teeming with fish, still they had their times for feeding, and between these nothing could induce them to take hold.

Later in the day there were swimming tests started, and Mr. Gordon, who was at home in this sport, showed the boys many tricks whereby their prowess in the water might be doubled.

Paul had dressed, having cut his foot a trifle while walking on the rocks. He and the scoutmaster, were standing there talking, Mr. Gordon still had on his swimming trunks.

"I was just thinking, Paul," he remarked, "what a queer lake this is. Have you noticed that it seems to have no visible outlet? Possibly some of its waters manage to get to the Bushkill because there are several streams running in; but where does it flow out?"

"Why, yes," returned Paul, "I did notice that. I suppose there must be an outlet in the bottom of the lake somewhere."

"Just what I had concluded; and it would stand to reason that such a hole might be somewhere near here. I'm a little anxious, because I've had an experience myself with such a sucker-hole, and came near losing my life in one. I managed to get hold of rocks on the bottom, and clawed my way outside the terrible suction that was drawing me steadily in toward the centre."

"Why, I noticed a peculiar swirl down just below where the boys are swimming now. There, Andy Flinn has dived right into the spot! Oh! I hope nothing will happen to Andy, sir. Perhaps you'd better call them out, right away!"

Mr. Gordon uttered an exclamation of alarm. He turned his head and seemed to be looking for something. Then Paul saw him snatch up a rope that was coiled, and hanging from the stump of a tree close to the camp. Mr. Gordon had placed it there himself, and for a purpose.

"Come with me, Paul!" he called over his shoulder; but there was little need of his saying this, for the young patrol leader was already hurrying after him, his face white with sudden fear.



CHAPTER XXVI

THE SUCKER-HOLE

The swimmers were astonished to see Mr. Gordon coming on the run toward them, with Paul at his heels.

But by that time the two who had been actively playing conquer with Andy Flinn began to notice something queer.

"He don't come up at all, sir; Andy's got us all beat to a frazzle staying under!" one of them declared, as if surprised that the Irish lad could hold his breath so long.

The words thrilled Paul, for he realized that his worst fears were likely to be realized. And how glad he felt that there was some one else there now, capable of assuming the responsibility. Had the duty devolved on him, not knowing the terrible peril of a sucker-hole, he might have plunged straight in, to try and find Andy; when there would have been two victims, perhaps many more!

Mr. Gordon was quickly flinging one end of the rope toward Paul. He had slipped the noose over his own body, securing it under his arms.

"If you feel any quick jerks pull hard!" he shouted.

The next instant, he had leaped from the bank. They saw him take a graceful header into the agitated water, where the boys were gathering. Then he vanished from their sight.

Paul clutched the rope and gathered in the slack. His heart was pounding like mad with the anxiety, while he waited for results. If no signal came after a certain lapse of time he meant to pull in anyway; determined that Mr. Gordon must not be sacrificed too.

"Get a grip here, some of you fellows!" he called, fearing lest he might not be able to manage alone.

Willing hands seized hold, and half a dozen hung to the rope. Every eye was fastened on the surface of the water; but since the boys had trooped ashore it was no longer agitated. Paul could see that wide circle forming a distinct swirl. He shuddered as he looked at it. Never again would he ever watch a sweeping ring in the water without feeling a coldness in the region of his heart.

The terrible seconds passed. Some of the boys were as white as ghosts; and they shivered while standing there scantily clad.

"Oh! let's drag him back!" exclaimed William, who had hold next to Paul.

"Not yet. It isn't hardly half a minute, and Mr. Gordon can hold out longer than that," Paul replied, firmly; though himself anxiously counting the seconds, because he knew he could never trust to a haphazard guess.

"There! wasn't that a jerk?" asked Jud Elderkin; but the wish was father to the thought; and again Paul refused to be swerved from his plan of action.

Sighs were heard, and more than one groan. It required considerable firmness on the part of the patrol leader to refrain, when every nerve in his body seemed crying out in protest. But the time he had set as a limit had not yet expired.

Just as he was about to give in, he felt a sudden quick pull, followed by another.

"Now!" he called, in his excitement, and it was like the letting off steam from an overcharged boiler.

How those fellows did pull upon that line! Paul had to caution them to be careful, such was their eagerness to get the scoutmaster safely above water.

And when presently his figure arose, and they saw that he was carrying poor Andy in his arms, such a shout as went up! Two fellows who had been in camp all this while, resting in ignorance as to the thrilling event that was transpiring, came galloping along the shore to see what was up.

Mr. Gordon knew just how to get to work in order to revive Andy, providing he had not been under the water too long. His system was the same as that used by Paul; indeed, it had been the scoutmaster who had taught Paul much of what he knew in the science of life saving.

After half an hour of hard work, during which the boys were greatly depressed, success greeted their efforts. Andy was revived; but he had had even a closer call than Tom Betts. It was a very useful lesson to every boy in camp, and one that they could profit by in future years.

"What did it feel like, Andy?" asked Mr. Gordon, after the rescued boy had recovered enough to talk.

"Sure and I thought a great big giant had holt of me," Andy remarked, slowly and thoughtfully. "I tried me best to break away; but the harder I swum the tighter he grabbed me. I remimber trying to shout out for help, and swallowin' a quart of wather. Thin I didn't know anything at all till I opened me peepers right here, and saw yees all dancin' around me. But I don't go swimmin' in that old lake agin. It's enchanted, that's what it is."

When the secret of the unseen outlet of the lake was explained to Andy, he just smiled and shook his head. He had been down there, and ought to know if there was a giant waiting to make a meal of plump boys. Nor could they ever convince Andy to the contrary; and it was noticed that he did not go in bathing again during their stay.

After that, while swimming tests as well as those of diving, were expected to be indulged in every day during their stay in Camp Surprise, the boys would keep well away from the place where that steady swirl in the water told of the treacherous sucker-hole.

Mr. Gordon's chief forte lay in water athletics. He was like a duck himself, and never tired of teaching those boys who showed an inclination to learn. It was of vast importance to know just what ought to be done should a swimmer be suddenly seized with a cramp while in deep water, and with no one near to help him.

Then he took pains to show them just how it was possible to break the frenzied grip of a drowning person, that has so many times drawn a would-be rescuer down to a watery grave. Whether the grasp was upon the wrists, the neck, or around the body from the back, there was a simple method of shaking off the terrified one in order to clutch him unawares.

Talk or entreaty being impossible under such circumstances, immediate action is the only way of accomplishing results. In the wrist hold the swimmer must suddenly raise his arms and sink, eluding the other's clutch as he goes down. When clasped about the neck it is necessary to raise the knees and give a sudden and powerful thrust forward that forces the other away.

"That grip on the back has always been the most difficult to manage, for me at least," the instructor continued, while explaining the various methods by actual demonstration, in the water; "sometimes you can take hold of the wrists that are clasped around you, and by pushing with all your force backward, find a chance to slip out from the threatening embrace."

"But suppose that fails?" observed Jack, who, as a good swimmer, was eagerly listening to all that was said, and endeavoring to profit by the advice.

The scoutmaster shrugged his shoulders at this question.

"Well," he said gravely, "under such conditions there remains but one method. It sounds cruel, but remember that two lives are at stake. Heroic measures alone can save one, and give the other a chance. Throw back your head suddenly with considerable force. You will come in contact with his nose, and give him a shock that is likely to so unsettle him that you can break away, and turn around."

He even showed the boys how this could be done, without, of course, bringing into play the roughest part of the rescue act.

If every Boy Scout only learned these simple rules for rescuing a comrade without running much risk himself, dozens and scores of precious lives might be saved every Summer.

As evening came on, and preparations were being made to have a rousing supper, in order to celebrate the arrival of the scoutmaster, Mr. Gordon and Paul separated themselves from the rest of the campers to talk matters over.

"One thing is sure, Paul," remarked Mr. Gordon, with a look of grim determination; "we must make certain that there is no repetition of last night's bombardment."

"You mean the Slavin crowd, sir, I take it?" observed the patrol leader.

"Yes," went on Mr. Gordon; "and I commend your plan for nipping such a thing in the bud. Of course it's a shame that we are not allowed to camp up here in peace. But those fellows need a good lesson before they'll call quits, and go back home. I've made up my mind just what ought to be done in the matter."

"You know," said Paul, "I suggested having several of our scouts located up on the side of the mountain, with plenty of ammunition handy; and when the first stone is thrown, they could send a volley right at the spot where they discover the others at work."

"A good idea, too," commented the scoutmaster, readily, "and one we will put into operation; but even that does not strike at the root of the matter. If we are disturbed to-night, or at any other time by those unruly boys, I shall organize an expedition on the very next morning, to search the side of the mountain back of us, in the hope of finding where they have their headquarters."

"We have made up our minds that it must be in a cave. I understand the mountain is fairly honeycombed with them in parts, Mr. Gordon."

"I have no doubt that will prove to be the case," continued the leader of the troop; "since you say they brought no tents along, and not very much to eat. And should we find out where they are located I am going to manage in some way to make them lose what few provisions they have. That is the quickest way in the world to subdue a hostile army; capture their base of supplies."

"You mean they will have to go back home, or stay hungry?" laughed Paul; "well, I never thought of that, and must say it is fine. I don't think you'll have any trouble about getting recruits for that expedition. The fact is, every fellow will want to be in the party."

"Then we'll choose those we want," said Mr. Gordon, "and make the rest guard the camp, which might be raided by the angry Slavin crowd, when they learned what was on the carpet. But Paul, that odor in the air smells very appetizing. I imagine our cooks must be doing themselves proud to-night. It will be hard to wait for the assembly call. Look at our William putting on airs with that chef's white cap cocked over his ears. Oh! this is certainly worth while coming for. What's that, Bobolink picking up his bugle? I really believe supper is ready. How glad I am to be here to-night. Come, Paul, and let us see what sort of fare the Stanhope troop can offer us."



CHAPTER XXVII

GATHERING CLOUDS

Pop! pop! pop!

"Listen to that, will you?" shouted William, as he jumped to his feet, and waved his arms above his head to attract attention.

It was the following day. The night had passed without any alarm, and the squad of scouts posted on the side of the mountain with instructions to shower stones on Ted and his allies should any attack be made on the camp, had their labor for their pains, since nothing happened out of the ordinary.

During the middle of the morning, while many of the scouts were at work developing plates, and printing pictures that had already been taken, suddenly there came on the breeze that quick pulsating sound, so unlike anything one might expect to hear up in this vast solitude.

"It's Ward's motorcycle!" cried Jud Elderkin, almost upsetting the daylight film-tank in his eagerness to gain his feet.

"Yes, and he's coming down the old road like fun," remarked another of the boys with a laugh; "reckon a wildcat or something is after him!"

"There he is!" called Philip Towne, pointing to an opening among the trees; and immediately adding, "no he's gone past. Look what's that chasing him?"

"Oh! that's the rest of the lot, whooping it up on their wheels," remarked William, himself interested, and ready to snap his camera at the procession as soon as it got within open range; "and they look like they've had a bad scare, as sure as you live. Oh! there goes Scissors head over heels in the bushes. What a cropper he took, and how his head will sing to-morrow."

"But he's up again, and mounted," broke in Jack. "As sure as you live, boys, they do look like they wanted to get back home in a hurry. What d'ye suppose has scared them?"

By this time Ward on his motorcycle was abreast of the camp. He was not putting up any great speed, for the road would not allow of it. On this account the fellows on ordinary bicycles were able to hang closely to his rear.

It was not in human nature to hold back that cheer which went up from the camp of the Boy Scouts. Possibly there was considerable of irony in it too, the kind that smarts with all lads. Those who were in full flight seemed to consider that they were being held up to derision, for they sent back answering cries of scorn, accompanied by not a few gestures.

"Hurrah, I've got the whole kit!" shouted William, as he lowered his camera, "Ward, Scissors, Bud Jones, Monkey Eggleston and Nat Green. We've got all the evidence we want, to show they were up here. But I missed that dandy header Scissors took! What wouldn't I give to get that?"

"I might spare you a copy, if my exposure turns out all right, William," remarked Jack, smiling; "for I just happened to be pressing the button when he showed us what an acrobat he had become."

"They're gone now," said Tom Betts, as the last of the group, being poor Scissors himself, with one hand trying to staunch the blood that flowed from his nose, wobbled among the stones that so plentifully strewed the unused road.

Paul and Jack exchanged glances as they approached each other.

"What do you suppose has happened to give them that bad scare?" asked the latter.

"I might give a guess, but perhaps we'll never know," replied Paul.

"I suppose," ventured his chum, "you're thinking of that man, the fellow who stole our ham, and who came up here in that light rig?"

"Yes," said the patrol leader, seriously, "but when I was out on the mountain this morning after breakfast I thought I'd take a chance to follow that trail further. What do you think I found only a few hundred feet away from our camp?"

"I really don't know, Paul."

"The tracks of two other men!" came the reply, in Paul's most impressive manner.

"Oh! then the thief wasn't alone; he has friends up here!" ejaculated Jack.

"That's a point I'm not decided on," Paul went on. "These tracks were not made at the same time as his. They always cut across the long footprint, marked by the patch on the shoe. That told me they were following the thief. Then I figured out that, as it was impossible to do this in the night, they must have come across his trail early this morning, and taken it up."

"H'm! That sounds as if they might want to meet the thief. Then they can't be very dear friends of his, Paul!" exclaimed Jack.

"My idea is that they want to find the man who made those footprints. Just as soon as they discovered his tracks they started following him. And that was so close to our camp they must have smelled the bacon frying, and the coffee."

Paul had evidently been thinking seriously over the matter, and had arrived at some conclusion.

"I guess they didn't want to see us very bad. Look here, Paul, do you think the man who drove along in that rig is one of these two men?" demanded Jack, suddenly.

"Now you're getting close to what I mapped out myself," smiled Paul.

"Perhaps Ted and his crowd had an ugly experience with those men?" suggested Jack, following up his train of thought.

"I can't imagine what else could have given them such a scare," returned the patrol leader. "When they came in sight they looked rattled for keeps. I noticed too, that Ted seemed to hold his left arm half dangling at his side, as if it had been hurt."

"Well, anyhow, if they've scared the Slavin crowd out of this region we'll have to take off our lids to the unknown gentlemen," laughed his chum.

The balance of that day passed off pleasantly. Many things occupied the attention of the campers; and all the while they were learning more about the secrets which a bountiful Nature hides in her solitudes away from the haunts of men.

"Thank goodness," declared Nuthin, as he rubbed his side with considerable feeling, "no more of that guard duty up on the side of the mountain after this. Since Ted and his bad lot have skipped out, there's no need of expecting a shower of rocks at any time during the night. I'll sleep like a brick to-night, boys, you bet!"

"But all the same we'll keep guard, and don't you forget it, Nuthin," declared William, who chanced to overhear the remark; "because you see, the same thief who grabbed our fine ham might take a notion to get his fingers on more grub, and first thing you know we'd have to cut and run for town just like those fellows on wheels did, starved out."

"Yes," interposed Bobolink, as he joined the group, and lowered his voice mysteriously; "I just heard Paul and Mr. Gordon talking about two more men that seem to be wandering at large up here. That makes three, you see, and none of 'em care to step into our dandy camp in the daytime. Boys, don't you see what an ugly look that has?"

The three scouts exchanged glances, and nodded their heads. Like all boys they loved a touch of excitement, and the fact that there was a mystery hanging about Rattlesnake Mountain just pleased them.

"Now, what d'ye think these prowlers might be?" asked Nuthin, in awed tones.

"Huh! Why d'ye suppose men'd hang out in such a place as this, and shun their fellows, if they ain't been doin' something against the law?" demanded William, with lofty scorn.

"My! then you mean they're escaped convicts, or something like that?" gasped the deeply absorbed Nuthin, his eyes round with wonder, and perhaps a touch of fear.

"I wouldn't be surprised," replied William, indifferently, as became a valiant scout; "and it's my opinion that the feller who passed us in that rig when we were resting on the road that day, looked like he was a bad egg. If ever I saw what my dad calls a hang-dog look on a man's face, he was all to the good. I hope I don't meet the same when I'm doing my lone stunt through the woods, that's all."

Joe Clausin had been hovering near while they talked in this way. At first he had shown just the natural curiosity a boy might under the circumstances; but as William began to declare his belief in the rascality of the lone traveler, his face turned rosy red, and then pale. He walked quickly away, perhaps afraid that one of his companions might notice his confusion.

A guard was set that night as usual, and their supply of food was placed in such a position that none of it might be stolen by any clever method of using a fishhook and line.

Again morning came without any alarm. The scouts by this time had begun to hope that their troubles were over. During the day they penetrated further into the wilderness of rocks and trees that surrounded them, and Mr. Gordon was kept busy explaining the innumerable matters that caught the attention of the eager lads in every quarter.

The weather had grown much warmer. Indeed, several of the boys complained of the heat; and as clouds covered the heavens at nightfall, the scoutmaster warned them to be prepared for a storm before morning.

Once more tent pins were examined, and everything made as secure as possible. At the same time Paul surveyed the black sky with secret misgivings, wondering what they would have to do should a tornado sweep down upon them there on the side of the mountains, and demolish their tents.

The scouts turned in earlier than usual that night, for Mr. Gordon thought it well to get what sleep they could. He went the rounds last of all, to make sure the provisions could not be wholly ruined by water, no matter what befell.

By nine o'clock the camp was wrapped in silence, even the fire dying out. The moan of the wind through the pines further up the mountain helped to sing most of the scouts to sleep. Two hours later the guard was changed; and again silence fell upon the scene.

It must have been midnight and past when Paul was awakened by what he thought was the rush and roar of a railroad train. Alarmed he sat up to listen.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE GREAT STORM

"Oh! Listen to that, will you!" came a loud voice from a nearby tent, as one of the other sleepers, aroused by the racket, started up in wild alarm.

Shrill cries arose in every quarter. Not a single scout now but who was wide-awake, and endeavoring to pull on his clothes in haste. That former experience had at least taught them a lesson; and much confusion was avoided at the start.

Already were the tents wabbling furiously. Some of the more timid boys kept calling the name of Mr. Gordon, just as if the scoutmaster, however willing, could be of any avail against the aroused forces of Nature.

"Wow! look at that, will you!" shouted Nuthin, as the tent under which he and his three companions cowered, threatened to sail away before the increasing gale.

The storm was no ordinary one. Paul knew something of the signs, and even his stout heart quailed a bit as he heard the terrible sound of trees crashing to the earth somewhere near by. Perhaps this was to be a duplicate of the hurricane that had toppled over so many of the big forest monarchs years before!

Already were the boys outside, hanging on to the tents for dear life, regardless of the fact that they were being slowly but surely drenched.

"We can't seem to beat it out!" gasped William, almost out of breath with his tremendous exertions.

"She's going to carry off, fellows!" shrieked another scout.

"Don't anybody let go yet!" commanded Paul; equal to the occasion.

He darted into the wildly agitated tent, and with all his strength tore the central pole from its hold. The tent instantly collapsed, amid the howls of the upset boys, who really thought it was tearing away from their grasp.

"Now pile some rocks on top!" ordered Paul, as he crept out from under.

They seemed to grasp his idea, and immediately set about carrying it out. In this way the wind could not get at the tent; and the consequence was, that later on it would be found safely held under the press.

Paul darted to the next tent, where another lot of scared boys were holding on for dear life; while the thundering of the storm beat in their ears, and almost demoralized the entire troop.

It was his intention to assist them in the same way he had his immediate chums; but just as he reached the spot there arose a combined shout.

"Look out! there she goes!"

With a ripping sound the tent was torn from the grasp of the four scouts, and went sailing off into the pitchy darkness. Paul could only hope that it might become fast in some friendly tree, and be found again when daylight arrived.

Not satisfied with stopping there he darted to the next bunch who were apparently still able to hold to their canvas. They did not know what he meant to do, and when the tent suddenly collapsed loud were their cries of distress. But Paul was quickly among them, shouting orders in their ears similar to those he had given in the other case.

So he kept on. A third and a fourth tent he treated in the same way, and by now many of the scouts began themselves to grapple with the solution of the problem, so that he was able to call upon these for assistance.

When he made for the big round top that covered the provisions Paul was agreeably surprised to find that it was already down, and snugly gripped by half a dozen heavy stones, at the corners and elsewhere.

From this he knew that Mr. Gordon, who had spoken to him about this relief measure in case of sore necessity, must have been there.

All these things took place in really less time than it requires to tell them. Perhaps it seemed hours to some of the alarmed boys; but only a few minutes had actually passed between the arousing of the camp, and the final scene where the last tent was thrown down and secured.

So far as Paul knew only two had blown away. Considering the fearful violence of the wind that howled along the plateau, crossing the lake, and throwing the water high in the air, this was doing very well indeed.

And what a sight the camp presented when that moment arrived! Paul could hardly keep from laughing at the picture that he saw when the lightning flashed; even though his heart was still beating like a trip-hammer with excitement.

It certainly looked as though a cyclone had struck Camp Surprise. Ruin and desolation surrounded them on all sides. Trees had been blown down in many instances, and everywhere were signs of a tempest such as none of these lads had even known in all their lives.

Paul managed to find the scoutmaster after a bit.

"Looks like a bad job, sir!" he shouted in Mr. Gordon's ear.

"It certainly does, Paul," came the reply, also in a loud tone; "but bad as this seems I'm afraid from the signs that we'll get even worse before morning!"

"What ought we do then?" asked Paul, his anxiety aroused once more by these words.

"We ought to get out of this as soon as we can. Those trees up there look as if they might fall down on us any time," replied Mr. Gordon quickly.

"But where can we go, sir," cried Paul. "I've heard lots of trees go over, down the side of the mountain. Besides, there's no shelter there for us."

"We will have to make our way along the side of the mountain up here," answered Mr. Gordon, "and trust to luck to run across one of those caves you were speaking about. Shelter we must find as soon as possible. It would be hard on some of the boys to remain exposed to this wind and pouring rain all the night."

"Shall I try to get them together, sir?" asked the patrol leader.

"Yes, round them up near the mess tent, Paul."

They separated, and began to grope around, for it was fearfully dark, save when a flash of lightning came to show the terrors surrounding them. Paul, as soon as he came upon a cowering figure, shouted the directions of the scoutmaster in his ear, and then went on.

He was himself more awed than he would care to admit by the nature of this awful storm. Nothing in all his limited experience had ever approached it in violence.

"Oh! that lucky Slavin crowd, to get home before this came along!" shouted envious William, when Paul came upon him trying to crawl under a rock that offered a little shelter from the fury of the blast.

When he could find no more boys to summon, Paul himself made his way toward the fallen mess tent. Here he found about a score of excited boys clustered, trying to bolster up each others' spirits by making out that they were not a bit afraid.

"Are all here?" Mr. Gordon first of all demanded, in such a way that every fellow was able to hear what he said.

Paul started to count, pulling each scout behind him. A flash from above was of considerable assistance to him in carrying out his plan.

"Not one missing but Nuthin, sir!" he announced, presently.

"Who saw him last?" demanded Mr. Gordon.

"I did, sir," replied one of the scouts, promptly; "he was hangin' on to our tent when it blew away into the air!"

"Oh! then he must have been carried up into the tree, for the tent stuck there," announced another voice, with a thrill of horror in it.

"Come and show me which tree; Paul, I may want your help. The rest of you stay right here, and don't move under any circumstances," and so saying Mr. Gordon caught the boy who "knew" by the shoulder, and dragged him along.

Paul staggered after them. The wind was very strong, and it was impossible to walk in places without bending down almost to the earth. Besides, there seemed to be many branches torn from the trees flying through the air, so that it was perilous to life and limb to be abroad.

But the scoutmaster was one who could command, and he forced the tentmate of the missing Nuthin to find the spot where the canvas had stood at the time it was torn out of their hands.

"That's the tree, sir!" cried the boy, trying to point in the darkness.

"I can see something white up in the branches, sir; it must be the tent!" Paul himself shouted just then.

They made their way forward, and the lightning, happening just then to dart in zigzag lines across the inky heavens as if to assist them, they saw that sure enough the missing tent was caught in the tree, about fifteen feet from the ground.

"Can you see anything of him, Paul?" called Mr. Gordon, as the three of them cowered under the tree, that was bending and groaning before the blast.

"I didn't that time, sir; but wait for another flash; perhaps we'll have better luck," replied the patrol leader, eagerly.

It was a long time coming. Paul could feel the other scout shivering furiously as his hand touched him, probably more through fright than excessive cold; though the experience of being soaked to the skin was far from comforting.

Then came a dazzling flood of electric light that almost blinded them.

"There he is, sir, hanging onto the tent! I think he must be twisted up in one of the ropes. Shall I go up and find out?" called Paul.

"I think you'll have to, my boy," answered the scoutmaster; and if ever he felt pride in one of his troop it must have been then, when Paul, forgetting what chances there were of that tree falling, offered to climb into the branches, in order to rescue a comrade in peril.

Without losing a second the patrol leader sought the lowest limb, and drew himself up. He could feel the trunk of the bending tree straining as it was twisted by the violence of each terrible blast; but undaunted by this impending calamity Paul's only desire was to reach the side of poor Nuthin before worse things happened to him than being carried away with the balloon-like tent.



CHAPTER XXIX

A PANIC-STRICKEN CROWD

"Oh! Help! help!"

The cry reached Paul's ears between blasts of the howling wind; but he never could have caught it had he not been so close to the wretched boy who gave utterance to the appeal.

With every nerve strained to the utmost, the young patrol leader continued to climb upward. He could see the tent flattened out like a great pancake against the branches of the tree. It had opened as it swept along, and the force of the gale had for the time being turned it into a sort of balloon. This accounted for the carrying away of Nuthin, who was a slender lad at best.

Paul found more or less difficulty in reaching a point where he could come in contact with his comrade. Branches were in the way, and swayed back and forth in a furious fashion as fresh gusts of wind caught them.

"I'm coming, Albert; hold out a little!" Paul shouted as he strained; and it was perhaps strange that in such a period of excitement he unconsciously used the real name of Cypher, something few people save his parents and teachers did, when A. Cypher stood so handsomely for Nuthin.

One more desperate effort, and Paul, by stretching out his hand, found he could touch the other. Doubtless the contact sent a thrill of hope through the hanging scout.

"How are you caught?" Paul called, as he managed to force himself still nearer by hanging on to the branches with his other hand, and twisting both legs around the same.

"I think a piece of rope is wrapped around my body. Anyway it hurts like fun, and my arms seem all numb," he heard Nuthin reply.

This sort of an explanation just fitted in with what Paul had conjectured. He had found it hard to believe that Nuthin would be so frightened as to cling desperately to the flying tent, when he knew that it was being carried off by the gale. He must have been an involuntary passenger of the airship that quickly ended its short flight in a neighboring tree.

Fortunately Paul had his stout pocket knife with him. He never went without it; and furthermore, it was his habit to keep all of the blades very sharp. If a knife is going to be worth a grain of salt it should be sharp. Many a fellow has realized this with dismay when some situation has confronted him calling for a keen blade, and has found his knife almost worthless to solve the difficulty.

Perhaps had he been asked later just how he managed to get that knife out of his pocket, and the largest blade opened, Paul might have some trouble in telling.

The first thing he knew, he was again pushing himself inch by inch closer to the boy who was hung up in the tree, and feeling for the rope that held Nuthin fast.

When, after a little, he had found it, Paul prepared to press the edge of his knife against the same.

"Oh! please hurry, Paul; I'm awfully afraid the tree will go down!" he heard Nuthin cry.

But Paul had another problem to face. If he cut suddenly there would be nothing to support the other, and Nuthin might have an ugly fall through small branches that would scratch his face still more than it had been already cut.

"Can you feel anything under your feet?" he asked, almost in the other's ear.

"Yes, I've been standing on a small limb; but sometimes I slip off when that wind swings the tree so. I'm deathly sick, Paul, and dizzy. But one of my hands is loose now. Tell me what to do, please," came back instantly, as loud as Nuthin could speak.

"That's good," declared Paul. "Feel around just above you. Can't you get hold of a branch or two, and hang on when I cut the rope? I want to keep you from falling when the support goes."

"Why, yes, I've got hold of one, Paul," answered Nuthin, who seemed to catch a trifle of the other's coolness; "and my feet are on the one below, now."

Paul dared not wait another second. He pressed the blade against the rope, and with a determined movement severed the strands.

Then, dropping his handy knife, he immediately threw his arm around the body of Nuthin. Possibly the other might have managed to keep from falling; but still he was in a state of panic, and his muscles were weakened by their recent confinement.

"It's all right!" Paul shouted, when Nuthin gave utterance to a shriek: "I've got you safe! Now, try to work your way over here. Take it easy, and you'll make it, never fear."

And Nuthin did. By degrees he seemed to gather courage, and was able to help himself. In times of stress there is nothing like confidence. It carries nearly everything before it, and brings victory where otherwise defeat must have won the day.

Presently Nuthin had reached the body of the tree, and was descending. There was really no need to urge him to haste, for he could not get down to the ground a second too soon to satisfy his anxiety.

They found the others awaiting them below, and Mr. Gordon caught Nuthin in his arms as if to express delight at his almost marvelous escape. What if no one had noticed the absence of Albert, and they had hurried away from the ruined camp, leaving him fast in the tree? He would have been in for a terrible experience, and in the end it might have resulted seriously for the boy.

"Are you badly injured, Albert?" asked the instructor, as he drew the other on toward the point where the balance of the disrupted troop crouched, trying to get out of the way of those furious bursts of wind.

"Pretty sore, sir, but nothing serious, I reckon," came the reassuring answer, which proved that Nuthin did, after all, possess a fair amount of pluck.

When they arrived in the vicinity of the spot where the mess tent had stood, the rest of the troop greeted their coming with a faint cheer. It takes a good deal to utterly discourage a bunch of healthy boys; and while things looked pretty bleak, still they made out to consider the adventure in the light of a joke. No one wished his companions to know just how badly frightened he really was.

"Now we must get out of this," said Mr. Gordon, "and as we make our way along, try and keep together as much as you can. Pair off, and hold on, each to his mate. Ready?"

In this manner, leaving Dobbin, the horse to his fate, they deserted the late joyous camp, now lying a seeming wreck. Yet things were not as bad as they might have been, thanks to their wisdom in cutting down the tents before more of them blew away.

The crash of falling trees could still be heard with every renewed furious blast. But just as Mr. Gordon had said, these sounds proceeded almost wholly from the lower region. That was the reason he declined to seek safety in that quarter, preferring to push in the teeth of the blow, because the rocky shelters were to be found there.

They made but slow progress, but as time passed on they managed to gain some distance from the open space of the late camp, where the little hurricane had so free a sweep.

As yet they had not been successful in discovering any sort of a refuge worthy of the name. The rocks were piled up all around them, and they had to do a great deal of clambering over obstacles in order to get along; but so far as a cave went none had been found.

Mr. Gordon knew that some of his charges must be perilously near the point of exhaustion. All the boys were not as robust and hardy as Paul and several others. He was becoming genuinely alarmed concerning them, knowing that unless shelter were quickly found they would be apt to fall.

"We must change our tactics," he called out, finally; "and instead of going on in a trailing line, spread out and cover more ground. If any one finds a cave let him give the scout's shout of discovery!"

After that they advanced more slowly, since it was really every one for himself. Paul saw that the scoutmaster must have been right when he declared that they had not yet experienced the worst of the terrible Summer storm. It seemed to be getting slowly but surely more violent, and he wondered what amount of damage it would carry along the farms of the Bushkill, and the various towns and villages bordering its banks.

Stumbling blindly at times, it was no wonder the boys had many a tumble. Hands were bruised and scratched, yet in the excitement little attention was paid to such trifling things.

Several times Paul fancied that one of his mates had called out, and hope began to surge afresh through his heart. In every case, however, it proved to be a mistake, since no succeeding calls announced the glad fact that shelter had been discovered. He was forced to believe that the sounds he heard were only new exultant shrieks of the wind, as it swept along the side of old Rattlesnake Mountain.

Jack was close at the side of his chum, and when the darkness prevented them from actually seeing each other, they frequently caught hands, so that they might not be separated.

Whenever a little lull came in the storm the cheery voice of the scoutmaster was heard, encouraging his followers to hold out "just a little longer." In this time of gloom Mr. Gordon endeared himself to the hearts of those soaked boys as he had never before done while the sun was shining, and all seemed well.

Paul realized that they were now plodding along over ground that was totally unfamiliar to him. It gave him new hope that shortly one of the extended line might discover what they sought.

And it was just when he was bolstering up his courage in this fashion that he heard a sudden sharp cry from his chum. The lightning flashed out at that second and Paul looked eagerly toward the spot where he knew Jack had been but a brief interval before. To his astonishment his chum had utterly disappeared from view, as though the rocks had opened and swallowed him!



CHAPTER XXX

THE UNDERGROUND REFUGE

"Jack! oh! Jack!" called the patrol leader, filled with dismay over the mysterious disappearance of his best friend.

"Hello! Paul!"

That was surely Jack answering him, but where could he be? The sound seemed to come from underground, which fact gave Paul a suspicion regarding the truth.

"Where are you?" he shouted, as he flattened himself out close to the ground.

"Down in a hole! Look out, or you'll come in too. Tell Mr. Gordon I've found a cave!" came back to his ears.

So, after all, it was Paul who sent forth the signal agreed on, announcing the welcome fact that a refuge had been discovered. The rest of the boys came crawling to the spot by twos, eager and curious.

"Take care!" Paul cried out, as he heard them arriving on either side, "Jack fell down a hole right about here. We must find where it is, or else some more of us may follow suit!"

Paul believed that his chum could not have been seriously injured by his sudden and unexpected descent. Had this been the case he would not have called quite so cheerily as he did.

Searching in the quarter where he last remembered seeing Jack, he presently discovered that the trailing vines hid the mouth of a cave. It was not more than four feet across, but would answer their purpose, no doubt.

And even as he looked he saw a match flame out below, and caught sight of Jack on his knees, peering eagerly upward. Luckily he, as well as every other scout, had learned to always carry matches in a waterproof case while in camp, since there could be no telling when they might need such valuable little articles.

Paul quickly found a way to clamber down the side of the opening, and join his chum.

"Well, this is something like," he observed, relieved to find that he could now speak without shouting, as the sound of the gale was deadened underground. "Were you hurt by that tumble, Jack?"

"Oh! not worth mentioning," replied the one addressed, as he rubbed his knee, and then struck another match, so that the others might see how to get down.

Some were fortunate enough to make the descent safely. A few came sprawling, and sat there rubbing their bruises and grunting. Presently Mr. Gordon, counting noses, announced that the entire troop had been safely housed.

Wallace being one of the first to arrive, had busied himself looking around while the balance of his comrades were making the descent.

Finding some bits of dry wood handy he started a little blaze. This served two purposes, for while it dissipated the dense darkness that surrounded them, at the same time it seemed to give the drenched and shivering lads a trifle of new courage.

"See if you can find more wood, fellows," Wallace observed, knowing that if thus employed the scouts were less apt to grow despondent over their discouraging condition.

As the boy scouts began to feel more comfortable, their spirits commenced to go upward again, just as the mercury in a thermometer rises with the coming of heat.

"We're a lucky lot, I tell you, fellows, to stumble on such a fine snug hole in the nick of time!" declared Tom Betts, as he rubbed his hands together, before giving his place in the front rank to another scout less favored, and still shivering.

Some of the scouts were so utterly exhausted that presently, when they began to feel more comfortable, as their clothes dried in a measure, they gave evidence of drowsiness.

Mr. Gordon made these fellows lie down in a heap, and try to sleep. They would secure a certain degree of warmth by contact with their mates.

But there were others of just a contrary mind, who had never been more wideawake in their lives than just then. Sleep was the last thing they thought about.

"I wonder where this cave leads to?" remarked Bobolink, after more than an hour had elapsed.

Paul was interested, of course. Anything that bordered on mystery at all, always had a peculiar fascination for him. And Jack was pretty much of the same mind.

"If we could only get a few torches together," the former observed in answer to Bobolink's remark, "I'd just like to take a little trip around, and see what lies back there. Some of us have gone fifty feet and more, looking for more wood; and there was no back wall to the place. Perhaps it might have another entrance; and I'd just like to know whether any other fellows ever did camp in here. If we found the ashes of a fire we'd know for certain."

"Let's go!" suggested Bobolink, ready for any lark.

"But how about the torches?" continued the cautious Jack; "I wouldn't like to get lost in such a twisting hole in the ground. That might turn out to be worse than lying out there in the storm."

"Oh! we can get enough wood to keep us going," replied Bobolink; "and besides, it seems to be lying all along the passage, as if some feller had dropped pieces every time he went in with a load. Come on, say yes, Paul."

"All right, then," said the patrol leader, ready to give way to argument; "but we must be careful. I've got a scheme boys, to keep from getting lost in this place."

"Tell us how, then!" demanded both the others; and Joe Clausin, who had been hovering near by, came closer to catch what was being said.

"I've got a piece of red chalk in my pocket; and we can mark the way as we go," Paul continued; "and when we get tired of prowling around so that we want to come back here, all we have to do is to follow the red marks of the arrows."

"That's what I call a bully scheme, Paul. Now come along," cried Bobolink.

"Count me in too, fellows," said a voice just then.

"Why, hello! Joe, is that you?" exclaimed Paul, turning to look into the eager face of the Clausin boy. "Why sure, if you want to go along, and feel able to keep on your feet. Start up one of your torches, Bobolink; and every one keep his eyes on the lookout for more tinder as we go along."

Paul could not help noticing that Joe had an unusually eager look on his face at the time he asked to accompany them. He could read between the lines, and guessed what was in the other's mind. Perhaps Joe allowed himself to imagine, or even hope, that luck might enable them to run across the man who had passed up into this region, and who looked so like some one he believed must be at the other side of the world.

Paul took the lead as the four boys moved away. Mr. Gordon looked after them; but having the utmost confidence in the young patrol leader, he did not ask them what their intentions were. And none of them imagined they would be gone any great length of time.

Presently they had passed the line that marked the boundary of any former search for fuel. And Paul noticed as he walked on, holding the rude torch above his head, that the winding passage seemed to be constantly getting larger. This gave him the idea that they must have fallen into one of its extreme branches; and that perhaps, after all, their exploration might reveal wonders of which none of them had so much as dreamed.



CHAPTER XXXI

THE BOY SCOUTS AS EXPLORERS

"Oh! Shucks! there she goes again!" exclaimed Bobolink, when the torch suddenly whiffed out, to leave them in the dark.

Bobolink sometimes carried the light when the splinter of wood Paul had held burned to its finish. He was not as careful as he might be, and consequently twice already had they been compelled to stop and use a precious match in order to renew the illumination.

"You want to be more careful, Bobolink," remarked Paul, as he applied a match to the still smouldering torch his companion carried.

"I was trying to keep from trouble," grumbled the one who had been at fault; "but something just seemed to snuff it out. Did anybody hear a sound like a dog growling right then?"

"Oh! my, what do you mean, Bobolink?" asked Joe; "you're just trying to scare us, and you know it. 'Taint fair either. I felt a draught of air, and that was what puffed your light out. There ain't any wild animals in here, are there, Paul?"

"I don't think so," replied Paul, smiling at Joe's alarm; "because you can nearly always smell the den of a fox or a wildcat. Now, what are you staring at, Bobolink?"

"Look there, what d'ye call that, fellows?" demanded the torchbearer, pointing ahead to where the little light just managed to win out against the gloom.

"Been a fire in here, that's sure," observed Jack, eagerly advancing.

In another minute all of them were bending over a flattened heap of ashes, undoubtedly the remains of some fire made by unknown people who had occupied the cave.

"Wonder whether they were tramps, or thieves?" Bobolink was saying.

"Perhaps neither," remarked Paul, who was looking closely about him, with the intention of allowing nothing of moment to escape his gaze.

"Huh! then you think perhaps that Ted Slavin and his crowd might have made this fire; is that it, Paul?" asked Bobolink, quite satisfied to have another do his thinking for him.

"Well, hardly, because these ashes have been here a long time, perhaps several years, for all we know," remarked Paul.

"Go back a little further, Paul, and say the mound builders left 'em," chuckled the doubting Bobolink, who always had to be shown.

"Look for yourselves. You know what fresh ashes are like. These have settled down a long time. If it was outdoors now, the rains would have washed them away; but sheltered in this cave they've just blown about by the current of air. And see here why I know no boy sat beside this fire," and while speaking Paul walked over to pick up several things his quick eye had discovered.

"An old shoe, and a big one at that!" said Jack, nodding his head, as if agreeing with his chum's version.

"And a tomato can with the top cut away," broke in Bobolink, as he looked, "and a stick in the hole of the cover. Say, Paul, I guess you're right, because I've seen tramps heating coffee in that style. It wasn't Ted and his crowd after all; and I guess the old mound builders didn't have tomato cans to use."

"Or coffee to put in them," laughed Paul, turning the can upside down, and allowing some dark grains to fall on his palm; at which Bobolink sniffed, and then threw up both hands as though giving in.

"Shall we go on further?" asked Paul. "I'm ready to leave it to the rest."

"Sure," declared Jack, without hesitation.

"Count me in on that, Paul," came from Joe, stoutly.

"I'm all to the good," remarked Bobolink; "because, you see, we want to know what sort of a joint we've got here; and if there's any front door to the same. We just sort of fell in at the back entrance; which I take it was hardly the proper thing for decent fellers to do. Skidoo, Paul; we're on your track!"

For some little time after that they found nothing of interest. The passage kept winding in and out, in a way that was "some confusing," as Bobolink said. And since there were other passages branching off the main stem Paul thought it wise to bring his red chalk into play.

Accordingly, he marked an arrow that always pointed along the right channel, and was calculated to lead them back to where the balance of the troop was quartered.

"That's a cinch!" was the way Bobolink greeted this action; and indeed it seemed that no one could possibly miss the route with such a guide at hand.

But they had forgotten that light was absolutely necessary in order to tell the way these arrows pointed. Pretty soon Jack awoke to the fact that they no longer seemed able to pick up small pieces of wood which could be used as torches.

"And our supply has nearly run out, too," he added, holding up only one more piece.

"That looks serious," said Paul; "and perhaps after all our smartness we're going to get lost in the dark. How many matches in the crowd?"

A hasty search revealed the act that all told they could only muster nine; for they had been using quite a number.

"That isn't much to count on, if we have to depend on them till we get back to where we can find wood again," remarked Paul, thoughtfully. "What shall we do, boys?"

"I'm willing to leave it to you," replied Jack; who suspected that his chum had an idea of some sort, which he was ready to spring on them.

Both the others agreed with Jack; for they knew that Paul was better able to grapple with such an emergency than either of them claimed to be. And besides, it is so nice to have another fellow do all the thinking at such times.

"Then listen," said the patrol leader; "the fact that we can feel a draught of air plainly here tells me there must be another opening to the cave not very far off. If that is the case perhaps we could reach it easier than go back over all the ground we've covered. What say, fellows?"

Every boy declared himself in favor of pushing on into the unknown region that lay before, rather than to take chances trying to retrace their steps. Perhaps the spirit of adventure lured them on more or less, for it appeals to almost every lad with red blood in his veins.

"That settles it, then; and we'd better get off at once," remarked Paul, satisfied that it was all for the best.

The last torch was speedily used. Then they crept along in the dark for a time, after which one of the matches was struck very carefully, in order that they might see their surroundings.

"Wow!" exclaimed Bobolink as he found himself looking into what seemed to be a very deep and black hole; "wasn't it lucky we got the glim going when we did? I guess I'd dropped into that pit if we'd held off any longer. My good little angel must have warned me to light up."

After that they were even more careful. None of them felt like taking a header into such a gulf, since a fall might break limbs, or do even worse.

"That was my last match!" announced Bobolink, after a while.

"I've got just one more," said Jack, dolefully.

Paul had another, and Joe was completely out. Still there did not seem to be any end to the passage; and Paul, for the first time, began to suspect that they had made a serious mistake in deciding to go ahead, instead of retreating.

"I'm just getting played out, and that's no yarn," announced Bobolink, who had been limping for some little time, and grunting, as he would himself have said, "to beat the band."

"Suppose then, you three wait here for me," proposed Paul; "I'll make my way along further, and try to find out if there is any hope of finding an opening. I promise to keep one hand on the wall here, so I can get back again."

They were loth to have him go; but Joe was almost "all in" too, and Jack thought he ought to stay with the cripples. So Paul crawled away, with but one match in his possession, and feeling in anything but a cheerful mood, although he would not discourage his chums by saying a word that would add to the gloom.

He moved cautiously as he advanced, remembering how ugly that pit had looked when Bobolink struck his match; and not wishing to find himself tumbling into such a sink. Just how long he was creeping along in this way after leaving his chums Paul hardly knew, but he must have covered quite some distance. And thus far the current of air did not seem to warrant a belief that an opening was very close by.

He was feeling discouraged, and on the point of giving it up as a bad job when he tripped over some object that, of course, he had not seen in the pitch dark. In trying to save himself from falling he upset something that made quite a clatter as it struck the rocks; when to Paul's amazement he heard a voice call out:

"Who's that?" and accompanying the words came the scratching of a match.



CHAPTER XXXII

THE TIN BOX AGAIN

Paul stared, and well he might; as the match flamed up he found himself confronting a man who had evidently been sleeping on the floor of the cavern, for he had just thrown a blanket aside.

And Paul recognized him instantly as the party who had passed them on that noon, in the rig which he imagined must have been stolen—the man he had reason to believe Joe suspected to be connected with the robbery of his father.

Feeling that he would be apt to receive a hostile reception here, Paul turned to run. He hoped that, as the match went out, the other would not know just where to look for him, and thus he might escape.

But to his surprise, as he turned he found that another man faced him, who must have been located at a point he had passed while creeping along close to the wall.

Before Paul could dodge, this fellow had clasped his arms about him. The other was hastily lighting some sort of lantern, with which he seemed to be provided.

Although Paul struggled sturdily he was hardly a match for a full grown man.

"Keep still, you!" the fellow growled in his ear; "or I'll give yer somethin' you won't like. Bring the light here, Hank. Let's see what sort o' a critter we've bagged, anyhow."

Of course they knew the instant they saw Paul's suit of khaki, discolored even though it was from the rain and dirt.

"Huh! another o' them boy scouts you was tellin' me about, eh, Hank?" grumbled the man who held Paul in his embrace. "What under the sun d'ye suppose he's doin' in here? Come to look us up, d'ye s'pose, pardner?"

Paul had already seen that the second fellow was even worse looking than the man named Hank, which he took to be a corruption of Henry. In fact, if ever there was a tramp who might be sentenced on his looks alone, this fellow could fill the bill.

"I don't know," remarked Hank, slowly, and scowling at Paul; "it doesn't hardly seem possible, though if I thought so, I'd be tempted to choke the young cub. Look here, what brought you up here, and who are you?"

"Yes," roared the second man, shaking Paul vigorously, "pipe up and tell us that, 'less you want us to do somethin' you wouldn't like. What d'ye want with us? How'd you ever git in here; and who's along with you? Say, Hank, didn't I tell you I seen that chief of police down on the road that comes up here from Tatum? I bet he sneaked around, thinkin' we'd try to cut out that way, 'stead of in the direction of Stanhope. Reckon you don't ever wanter go there agin, eh?"

"Shut up, Pim!" snapped the taller man, cutting the other short, much to Paul's regret; for somehow he just felt that the conversation was reaching an interesting point, and that if the tramp kept on he might have mentioned something worth while.

Thinking that he had better be frank with his captors Paul started in to tell of the terrible storm, and the destruction of the camp, followed by the flight of the Banner Boy Scouts along the mountainside in search of a safe refuge in the shape of a cave. When he told of how they had found such a place through mere accident the two men exchanged looks as though they believed Paul were inventing his yarn as he went along.

"What you say may be true, and again perhaps it ain't," declared the tall man called Hank; "and I reckon we'll just have to tie you neck and crop, so's to keep you from going back, and bringing a bunch of your tribe down on us. We're in possession here, and we don't want any more unwelcome guests. Pim, get a cord, and do him up!"

"Oh! please don't. What I told you was the truth, every word. I only wanted to find out if there was another opening to this cave. Don't make me a prisoner, mister! Please let me go!"

Paul shouted these words, and for a purpose. He wished to let his friends know of his predicament, believing that Jack would lead a rescue party instantly; and when three boys start to shouting in such a confined space as a cavern they can make enough racket to cause one to believe a whole army is coming.

The two men were still struggling with their prisoner, and using more or less violence in forcing their wishes upon him, when there broke out a sudden series of whoops that rang through the place.

Half a dozen wildcats engaged in a mix-up could hardly have created more of a racket than did those three lads as they hurried toward the spot where the lighted lantern showed them their chum in the hands of two hard looking customers.

Hank took the alarm immediately. He seemed to be more timid than his companion, who showed signs of being willing to turn and face the advancing enemy until he noted that he had been left in the lurch. Then, growling, and showing signs of temper, he waddled after Hank, who bore the lantern.

"Paul!" called Jack, as they drew near.

"Here!" came the answer; and then the last match that Jack possessed was sacrificed in order that he might find his chum.

The first thing that Paul noticed was another lantern on the floor of the cavern.

"Here, light this, Jack, with that precious match!" he cried, after shaking the lantern to find out whether it contained any oil.

"What under the sun does it all mean?" gasped the breathless Bobolink.

Joe seemed to be just as anxious as either of the others to know, although he did not say a single word.

"I happened on two men who were sleeping here," said Paul. "Notice the blankets and the things for cooking, will you? They must have had a hold-out here. Perhaps they chased Ted and his crowd out of the cave, because, if you look, you can see that aluminum frying pan Ward Kenwood used to carry around with him, and which he must have forgotten in his hurry to leave."

"Did you know them, Paul?" asked Jack.

Paul turned so that he could watch Joe while he replied.

"I never saw the fellow called Pim before. He was a tough customer, too; either a regular tramp or a yeggman; and I guess from his looks he must have been ready for any game, from robbing a bank to stealing a farmer's chickens."

"How about the other?" Jack kept on.

"Well," said Paul, slowly, "you remember the man who drove past when we were at the side of the road that day, and whose wheel marks we saw all the way up here? That was the fellow. I had a good look at him. His companion called him Hank!"

"Oh! my, then it is really true!" ejaculated Joe Clausin, apparently taken quite off his guard by this declaration on the part of the patrol leader.

Paul turned upon him then and there, and looked serious.

"Joe," he said, firmly yet kindly, "once you refused to tell me what you knew or suspected about this man. I hope you won't try to bluff us off again, now that you know he's here, and everything looks as if he might be the one who took your father's valuable papers."

As he spoke Paul stooped and picked something up that had attracted his eye. It had been lying among quite a quantity of clothing and other things. Probably these had been secured in various raids on clotheslines, where the good people of the farming community were airing Winter garments before putting them away in camphor in the chest.

"Look here, Joe, what do you call this?" Paul went on.

Joe could hardly speak, he was so excited.

"It's the tin box that my dad used to keep those papers in! Oh! Paul look inside and see if they're there!" he exclaimed, trembling with eagerness as he laid a hand on the arm of the patrol leader.

But Paul believed that his friend was doomed to disappointment, even before he opened the strange little tin box, which had been stolen from the store of the feed keeper in Stanhope.

"It's empty, you see, Joe," he said, turning it upside-down. "Look at it again, so as to make sure it's really the box."

"Oh! I'd know it anywhere, Paul," declared Joe, warmly; "and see, here's where father scratched his initials on it. I remember seeing him do that one day, while he was talking to me. Yes, this is the box. But where can the papers be?"

"In the pocket of that fellow, beyond a doubt. Who is he, Joe?"

When Paul put the question straight to him, Joe could hold out no longer. Besides, a wild hope had probably sprung up in his heart to the effect that this comrade, whom nothing seemed to daunt, might perhaps be able in some wonderful way to help him get the papers back again.

"I just guess I'll have to speak up, fellows," he said; "but please don't say anything to the others 'less my dad tells you to. You see, we've always held our heads up in Stanhope, and some people might look down on us if they knew one of the Clausin family was a convict!"

"Oh! that is the man who was at the other side of the world. What relation is he to you, Joe, and where was he in prison?" asked Jack.

"He's my Uncle Henry," answered Joe, reluctantly, "a younger brother of my dad's. Last we heard from him he was nabbed away out in Australia, for doing some bank sneaking, I think. Anyhow, he was sent to prison. Father told us not to mention his name again; and we never have all the time we've lived in Stanhope."

"Oh! well," advised Paul, "I wouldn't feel so bad about it, Joe. I suppose he's changed his name now. So that if he gets into a scrape in this country nobody need know he belongs to the Clausin family. But Joe, how did he know about the value of the papers your father kept in that tin box?"

"Well, I can tell you that, Paul. I've often thought it over; and the only thing that strikes me is this. Uncle Henry, being in this country after escaping from prison, was coming to see his brother, perhaps to ask him for help. He may have happened in just when dad fainted, with one of his attacks; and found the tin box on the floor. Perhaps he did strike dad on the head. No matter, he examined what was in that box, and must have counted it valuable, for he grabbed the whole thing, and lit out for the mountain till the chase blew over. Now you know as much as I do. But don't I hope we c'n get them papers back again."



CHAPTER XXXIII

WHAT PAUL FOUND—CONCLUSION

"What if those men should come back again, and take us prisoners?" suggested Bobolink, anxiously.

"Oh! I don't think they'll do that," replied Paul. "But it might pay us to look around, and see what they have here."

With the lantern to give them light, the boy scouts began an examination of the piles of material which the tramp called Pim, and his companion had accumulated in their snug retreat. Food was found, also some bottles of liquor, which latter Paul took great pleasure in immediately smashing.

"Say, look what I've found!" called Bobolink.

It was a dangerous looking revolver, of the short-nosed, bulldog pattern. Perhaps it belonged to Pim, for it lay close to where he had been sleeping. And while he did not exactly like the looks of it, Paul felt that they would be safer from attack while they had possession of this weapon.

"Here's a bottle of kerosene for the lanterns!" announced Joe, presently; he had been searching feverishly around, possibly in hopes of finding the papers; though Paul felt sure they were snugly reposing in the pocket of Hank at that moment, wherever he might be.

It was finally decided to stay there for the balance of the night. They could of course have gone back, now that they possessed means for lighting their way; but somehow Paul did not feel anxious to leave the spot.

Paul remembered what Pim had said about having seen Chief Billings on the road between Rattlesnake Mountain and the village of Tatum. Could it be possible that Mr. Morris, the lawyer friend of Joe's father, had influenced that official to start out in search of the papers? Had Mr. Clausin found something on the floor of his feed store that told him his wicked brother must have been there?

These were things which gave Paul much concern as he lay there resting, and making good use of one of the blankets that had been found. He did not mean to sleep at all, for the responsibility of the entire little expedition rested on his shoulders, and he could not take chances.

Lying thus, Paul tried to go over all that had happened since the camp lights went out at the sound of taps. Step by steps he advanced until the thrilling moment came when he made that stumble, and immediately heard the voice of Hank calling out to ask who it was.

He could see just as plainly as though he were living the whole thing over again, how the man sat up, having thrown his blanket from him. Why, it was the very blanket that Paul had over and under him now, and which felt so comfortable.

Then, with the match showing Hank a strange boy so close at hand, he had jumped to his feet. Paul could see him, as he lay there in the darkness; even to the soiled white shirt he wore.

"Oh!"

If Hank had been minus his coat at the time he jumped to his feet, he certainly had found no time to snatch it up when he ran away in such haste at the coming of the others. Why, possibly this was the very coat which Paul had doubled up, to serve him as a rude pillow.

Investigation revealed the fact that it was a coat. And when he pawed it over to find the inside pocket, he was thrilled to hear the unmistakable rustle of papers somewhere! Yes, wonderful as it might seem, there was a good-sized bunch of folded documents in the pocket. Could these be the lost papers that had been the cause of so much distress to Mr. Clausin?

Even while Paul was thinking whether or not he should wait until morning to mention his discovery to the anxious Joe, because he did not wish to arouse any false hopes, he thought he heard a slight sound near by.

What if Hank were returning to search for his coat, remembering how he had left it so carelessly when he fled, and what things of value it held? Paul was glad now that he had that revolver. He might not like to make use of it; but believed it would prove very valuable as a gentle persuader.

They had found a box of matches among other stores the two men had collected in this retreat; so that there was now no scarcity of such things.

Something touched him on the arm and sent a quiver through his frame, for he was worked up to a point where he felt as though he could just shout. Then he heard the lowest kind of a whisper close to his ear.

"Paul!"

It was of course his chum, who must also have been awake, and heard the same suspicious sound that came to his ears.

Paul drew Jack's head close to his lips as he whispered:

"I think it is Hank, coming back for his coat. I've been sleeping on it, and just discovered that there are papers in the pocket!"

"Oh, what can we do?" asked Jack, also in that low tone, inaudible five feet away.

"Get a match ready, Jack," said Paul, once more in his chum's ear; "and when I nudge you, light the lantern as fast as you can."

"All ready!" came back, a short time later.

Paul waited until he fancied that the unseen prowler must be groping in the dark very close to them. Then he thrust his elbow into Jack's side, causing him to grunt. But at the same instant a match flamed up, for Jack had been ready.

"Don't you dare move a foot!" called out Paul, instantly covering a crouching figure with the weapon he had in his hand.

Snap! Down went the lantern globe, and the cavern was brightly illuminated. It was Hank Clausin, just as Paul had suspected, and in his shirt sleeves too. He had come back for his coat, and walked into a trap.

The other three boys were now on their feet, and acting under Paul's directions they tied the man's hands. Poor Joe did not take any part in this ceremony. His heart was too sore, though he also rejoiced because Paul told him he had the precious papers on his person.

Hank pretended to be indignant at first, and claimed that he had done nothing wrong. Then he changed his tactics, and threatened the boys. Finding that this had no effect he turned to Joe, and pleaded with him. But Joe only shook his head, after looking beseechingly at Paul, and turned away.

None of the party obtained any more sleep that night, for they feared that the other man might return to see what had happened to Hank. And so all of them sat around, talking in low tones, with the lantern burning, Paul keeping the pistol in evidence.

Of course they could only tell when morning came by Paul's watch.

Both Bobolink and Joe declared they were fully rested by then, and so the return march was taken up. Perhaps Paul was a little reckless, or it may have been he did not care very much. But it was suddenly discovered that the prisoner was gone! Paul did not say anything, but he could guess that Joe, for the honor of the family, had taken advantage of their being a little ahead, to set him free.

"And boys," Joe said later, when confessing what he had done, "please don't tell anybody that he was my uncle. Just say he was a bad man, and that he got away. You see, we've got dad's papers, and that is all he wanted. I hope I never meet Uncle Henry again."

And he never has to this day, for Hank and his evil companion, Pim, made haste to leave that vicinity, which was growing a bit too warm for their operations.

Mr. Gordon was loud in his praises when he heard the story, though even he was not taken into Joe's secret. He declared that the storm had passed over, leaving a track of ruin in its wake, and that they could now leave the cave to return to Camp Surprise.

This the Banner Boy Scouts did that morning. After all, the damage to their belongings did not turn out to be very serious, thanks to their ready wit in cutting down the tents; and before nightfall they were almost as comfortably fixed as before the blow.

Joe wanted to go home because of the papers; but who should turn up while they were eating supper but his father, accompanied by Mr. Norris and Chief Billings, proving that the hobo had not made a mistake when he said he felt sure he had seen the latter on the way to the mountain by another route.

Of course there was great rejoicing when Mr. Clausin found his papers returned. Joe took him aside and doubtless told him the full particulars; for the gentleman looked very grave, and when he returned, he went around, silently squeezing the hands of Paul, Jack and Bobolink. They knew he was thanking them for their promise not to say a word about his brother even to their home folks.

With the neighborhood clear of all troublesome characters, it can easily be understood that the Stanhope Troop of Boy Scouts began really to enjoy their outing.

Each day saw new pleasures and competitions. Boys who were backward in any of the various branches of work connected with the useful things a true scout should know, were tutored by Mr. Gordon, or in many cases by Paul and Wallace. Bad cooks were taught how to succeed by simple processes; and the secrets of the wilderness became as an open book to those who wanted to learn.

Old Dobbin had managed to survive the storm, and when the troop started on the homeward route he pulled the wagon that carried their tents and other things. Needless to say, that as it was pretty much all down-hill, and the tremendous amount of food had vanished, the ancient horse found the going much easier than on his previous trip.

So successful had their first tour proven that the Stanhope Boy Scouts began to talk of other outings which might be arranged later on; and which will be treated of in the next volume of this series, to be called "The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat; or, the Secret of Cedar Island."

After all their adventures none of them came back feeling any the worse for the experience, and most of the boys declared they had had the time of their lives.

To this day they have never really learned just what it was frightened Ted and his cronies out of the neighborhood. Still, the fact that Pim and Hank had possession of Ward's fine aluminum frying pan caused Paul to believe the boys must have run across the two men, and been chased away.

Before the camp was finally broken up Paul discovered an old hunchback trying to steal more of the food. He was caught in the act, and it only needed a look at the patch on the sole of his boot to tell that he was the guilty one who had carried off their ham. He proved to be the fellow the boys had heard about, who made a living catching rattlesnakes; but as these were now scarce he was in poor circumstances. Paul forgave him, and when camp life came to an end they left him all the food that remained, proving their right to the name of Boy Scouts.

THE END



* * * * * *



Transcriber's note:

Several typographical errors in the original edition have been corrected. The following paragraphs are as they originally appeared, with corrections noted in brackets.

Chapter IV

["]'Hold on. Don't forget you are a scout, and that you've got to look for the good that is in every fellow, they say," laughed his companion.

Chapter VI

"Oh! no, it isn't that bad a case," laughed Paul, amused. "We ought to be able to handle things without going to such extremes. Besides, you know, I carried a number of those stout sticks into the gym the other day, and William amused himself fastening a lot of cloth around them, so that they look like the stuffed club we used in the ministrel [minstrel] show last Winter. William is just itching to use one on some poor wretch. Perhaps he might get the chance to-night. So-long, Jack."

"I'm afraid so," returned his comrade, slowly; "and just as like as not they expect to give us trouble while we're in camp. Well," and his voice took on a vein of determination that told how he was aroused at the thought of what might happen; ["]there must be a limit to even the forbearance of a scout, you know; and if they push us too far, we will have to teach them a lesson!"

"Where's Bobolink?" demanded the leader,[.]

According [Accordingly] he now took a little piece of wood out of his pocket, also a steel nail, and with the latter tapped several times upon the bit of veneering. Immediately they saw the sitting boy begin to fumble, as thought [though] he might be getting something out of his pocket. Then came an answering series of staccato taps, soft yet clear.

"I'm your candy!'["] came the reply, as the figure stood up at attention.

Chapter VII

"What's the matter in there? Why don't you open up?["] called Ted, again rapping his knuckles on the wooden barrier.

Bud Jones was in the most terrible predicament of his whole life. Beset by innumerable fierce foes as he believed within, there was that big bully outside, only waiting for a chance to give him a thrashing he would never forget. And the mysterious voice that sounded exactly like his own, startled him; for, not being a friend of Bobolink's he probably never heard him give those strange imitations when making his voice appear to come from some other preson [person].

Chapter XI

Paul pushed to the front just them [then].

Chapter XIII

"Two ought to be enough. Yes, bring a glim along; we may need it, for that moon isn't very bright to-night, and the trees make considearble [considerable] shadow."

Chapter XV

"He's gone, Ted!" whooped a voice; but it was not that of Monkey Egleston [Eggleston]; for that worthy was hardly in possession of enough breath to more than whisper.

Chapter XVII

"Sure I would, Paul. Please dont [don't] think I'm not wantin' to trust you, because I hold back. I want to think it all over by myself to-night. Perhaps in the mornin' I might tell you about it."

Chapter XX

"That," said Paul, "is one of our beliefs, sure enough. A scout must always be on the alert, or else he may miss many things that would give him valuable information. William, suppose you go on and spin your yarn in your own way. I saw what you did; but I'm glad I didn't cut in. Strike up, now, and then we'll move on again, for Dobbin is coming yonder.["]

Chapter XXII

"Say, that is mighty funny, "observed [funny," observed] Jack, after he had listened to the whole story.

Chapter XXIV

"Oh! rats!" exposulated [expostulated] his fellow scout. "Come off your perch, Jack, and talk sense. You make me think of an old Polly, just able to repeat things over and over. But to see us all down on our knees staring at that trail made me remember the alarm of poor old Robinson Crusoe when he found the footprint of the cannibal on his island."

Chapter XXVII

"Yes," interposed Bobolink, as he joined the group, and lowered his voice mysteriously; ["]I just heard Paul and Mr. Gordon talking about two more men that seem to be wandering at large up here. That makes three, you see, and none of 'em care to step into our dandy camp in the daytime. Boys, don't you see what an ugly look that has?"

Chapter XXVIII

Paul staggered after them. The wind was very strong, and it was impossible to walk in places without bending down almost to the earth. Besides, there seemed to be many braches [branches] torn from the trees flying through the air, so that it was perilous to life and limb to be abroad.

Chapter XXIX

This sort of an explanation just fitted in with what Paul had conjectured. He had found it hard to believe that Nuthin would be so frightened as to cling deperately [desperately] to the flying tent, when he knew that it was being carried off by the gale. He must have been an involuntary passenger of the airship that quickly ended its short flight in a neighboring tree.

"That's good," declared Paul." "Feel [Paul. "Feel] around just above you. Can't you get hold of a branch or two, and hang on when I cut the rope? I want to keep you from falling when the support goes."

The crash of falling trese [trees] could still be heard with every renewed furious blast. But just as Mr. Gordon had said, these sounds proceeded almost wholly from the lower region. That was the reason he declined to seek safety in that quarter, prefering [preferring] to push in the teeth of the blow, because the rocky shelters were to be found there.

Chapter XXXI

"Who's that?["] and accompanying the words came the scratching of a match.

Chapter XXXII

"Yes," roared the second man, shaking Paul vigorously, "pipe up and tell us that, 'less you want us to do somethin' you wouldn't like. What d'ye want with us? How'd you ever git in here; and who's along with you? Say, Hank, didn't I tell you I seen that chief of police down on the road that comes up here from Tatum? I bet he sneaked around, thinkin' we'd try to cut out that way, 'stead of in the direction of Stanhope. Reckon you don't ever wanter go there agin, eh?'["]

"Here, light this, Jack, with that precious match!'["] he cried, after shaking the lantern to find out whether it contained any oil.

THE END