CHAPTER II
CAMPING ON THE PISCATAQUI
A full week had passed since the departure of the Pony Rider Boysfrom Chillicothe. During that time they had leisurely made their waytoward their destination, having gone by way of New York and up LongIsland Sound on a boat. Eventually they had reached Bangor, on thePenobscot, whence they proceeded in a northwesterly direction toDover, a short distance from where they were now encamped on thebanks of the Piscataqui river.
At Dover they had been joined by the guide who was to accompany them.The latter was Cale Vaughn, a raw-boned, jolly-faced Yankee, muchmore talkative than had been most of the guides on their previouswanderings. Cale, it was said, was the best woodsman in the north,a man who simply could not be hopelessly lost in the woods.Professor Zepplin was asking the guide about this same thing as theylounged at their campfire after having eaten their breakfast on thiscool but glorious spring morning. The Professor wanted to know if itwere possible for a man to be so good a woodsman that he could notbe lost.
"If there is such a man I'd like to set eyes on him," answered theguide.
"Have you ever been lost in the big woods?" questioned Stacy, hopingto draw out some of Cale's experiences.
"More times than I've got hairs in my head."
"Then there isn't much hope for us after we reach the forest yonder,"declared Ned Rector, nodding toward the faint fringe of deep greenthat lay to the northwest of them.
"It's easy enough to keep track of yourself if you follow a fewsimple rules," answered Vaughn.
"And what are they?" asked Walter.
"Water always runs down hill," reminded the guide with a significantsmile.
"Eh? Of course it does," scoffed Stacy. "Did anyone ever see it runuphill?"
"I've known folks that thought it did," chuckled the guide.
"Why, I can show you watercourses where you'd be willing to stakeyour life the water was running in a certain direction, whereas it'sgoing the other way."
"Humph!" grunted Chunky. "They couldn't fool me that way."
"You think so?" laughed Cale.
"I know so," retorted Stacy.
"Well, now suppose we were standing beside a stream, say like theriver before us, only in a place where the direction of the currentdeceived you. I said the water was running that way, the way itdoes, and you declared it was moving in the other direction, howwould you prove whether you were right or wrong?"
Stacy puffed up with importance.
"That's easy."
"Well, answer Mr. Vaughn's question," commanded the Professor.
"Why, I'd throw Ned Rector's hat into the water. If it floated thatway, I'd win. If it floated the other way, Mr. Vaughn would win. Ineither case Ned would lose," answered the fat boy solemnly.
"You win," grinned the guide.
"He wouldn't win if he threw _my_ hat in the water," growled Rector."Don't let me catch you tossing my hat overboard."
"Oh, I'd see to it that you didn't catch me," jeered the fat boy.
"That's funny. Even Tad would have laughed at that," spoke upWalter.
"I am afraid Tad isn't laughing just now," said Ned.
"No, I'm laughing for him. Ha, ha, ha! Haw, haw!" brayed Stacy.
"You were speaking of getting lost," Professor Zepplin reminded theguide.
"Yes. Another important thing to keep in mind is that the sun risesin the east and sets in the west. By keeping these things in mindyou are likely to find your way."
"Provided you know where you are going in the first place," observedStacy. "I don't. I'm lost before I find myself when I get in thewoods."
"We will take a few lessons in woodcraft when we get into the spruceforest," promised Cale.
"By the way, we don't seem to be making much headway in thatdirection," answered Rector. "We have been loafing here for a wholeday. Why the delay?"
"We are waiting for Charlie John," replied the guide.
Charlie John, it may be explained here, was a half-breed Indian whomthe party was taking along to do the rough work, to bear the extraburdens, to help cut a path for them when they found themselves in athicket too dense to permit the passage of the ponies. None of them,except the guide, had seen Charlie, but Cale said the fellow was allright so far as behavior was concerned, though Charlie was notoverburdened with brains.
"We've got too much of that here already," replied Ned. "That'swhat's the trouble with our outfit."
Stacy strolled over to Rector, gravely snipped off the latter's hatand holding it top-up shook the hat vigorously.
"Nothing doing," said the fat boy, replacing the hat on the head ofits owner, while Ned's face flushed, and the others laughed.
"I decline to be disturbed by Chunky's antics," howled Ned. "Hethinks he's funny, but no one else does. When do you think thatlazy half-breed will be along, Mr. Vaughn?"
"He should be here some time today," answered Cale. "If you boys wantsomething to do why don't you go fishing? There's plenty of fish inthe river here."
"Let Chunky do the fishing," drawled Ned. "It needs a lazy man tomake a good fisherman."
"Oh!" cried Stacy, his face breaking out into a broad smile. "Now Iunderstand. Remember that fine mess of trout that Ned caught when wewere in the Rockies? I wish I could fish like that. I'd be willingto be called a lazy one."
"I know what you are going to get, young man," answered Rector,slowly getting to his feet.
"What am I going to get?"
"You're going to get the opportunity to prove whether you are lazy ornot, for I'm going to throw you into the river right now."
"You can't do it," retorted Stacy belligerently.
"I'll show you whether I can or not."
The Professor opened his mouth to reprove the two boys, then closedit again, a smile curling his lips, causing the bristling beard tobristle still more fiercely.
With arms about each other, struggling, red of face, perspiring, NedRector and Stacy Brown staggered down the sloping bank towards theriver, each striving with all his strength to get the upper hand ofthe other.
Splash!
The two boys disappeared in the water.
"Can they swim?" asked the guide, glancing a bit anxiously at theProfessor.
"Like fish," answered Professor Zepplin tersely.
About that time two bobbing heads appeared above the water, only todisappear again, leaving some froth and a sea of bubbles on thesurface. When next they appeared they were a long way from shore,but were swimming toward the bank, each with a hand on the other'scoat collar, swimming with one hand.
"Look at the twin fish," howled Walter.
The swimmers did not answer him. They were too busy looking afterthemselves. Ned started to get to his feet as they reached shallowwater, but Stacy was ahead of him. The fat boy butted Ned in thestomach, whereupon Stacy very calmly sat down on his companion'shead, which was under water.
"Let him up!" cried Walter.
"Get off! He'll drown!" shouted the guide.
"Don't get excited. It will do him a lot of good to drown a fewtimes. I've always observed that drowned persons are extremely wellbehaved persons."
The guide gripped Stacy by the collar and dragged him from hisvictim, while Walter was helping Ned up. Ned was purple in the face.He had been under water about as long as was good for him, though notquite long enough to suit the fat boy. A few seconds more, however,and Rector would have thrown Chunky, whereupon it would have been thefat boy's turn to swallow some water.
"I--I slipped," explained Ned between chokes.
"So I observed," replied Stacy solemnly.
"That was very rough and ungentlemanly, Stacy," rebuked theProfessor.
"Rough on Ned, yes, sir. You would have thought so if I'd beensitting on your head under water."
"Never mind, Prof--Professor. I'll take--take care of him," coughedRector.
"You tried to a little while ago. Mr. Vaughn, who won that bout?"
"You win on points," laughe
d the guide.
"If I had been a fish I'd have won in every other way. I'll tell youwhat, Ned. You said I was the lazy man and I ought to do the fishing.I'll do it and give you a chance to show how active you are. I willfix up a hook and line, then you jump in the water and swim aroundthe bait just like a trout. You can make a grab for the hook once ina while it you want to. If I catch you by the upper lip I'm a goodfisherman. If I don't, you are a good fish. What do you say?"
The others did the saying before Rector had a chance to speak.Chunky's proposition was too much even for the gravity of ProfessorZepplin, whose body shook with laughter.
"Think I'm a trout?" growled Ned.
"No, you're a clam."
Ned started for Stacy, really angry now, but he was halted by thestern voice of the Professor.
"Young gentlemen, this thing has gone far enough. You will lose yourtempers, then there will be trouble."
"Lose our tempers?" demanded Stacy. "Why, I'm so mad now that I'mspeechless. Look out for me. Somebody hold me!"
"We miss Tad Butler. He was the one who held you in check, as I seethe matter now," nodded the Professor.
"I wasn't aware, Professor, that Chunky had ever been in check,"smiled Walter.
"That's what I say," agreed Ned. "It is high time something were doneto curb him. There is no telling what he may not do now that Tadisn't here. I wish he were."
Stacy did not answer for the moment. He was gazing off over therugged landscape with wondering eyes. Finally he turned, thrustingboth hands in his trousers pockets, his chest swelling withimportance.
"You win," he said.
"Win what?" demanded Ned sullenly.
"Your wish."
"I haven't made any wish. What did I wish?"
"You wished Tad Butler were here."
"Huh! I wish my wish might come true."
"I told you it had."
"What do you mean, Chunky?" questioned Walter suddenly.
"Why, Tad's here now. You fellows don't use your eyes. You can'tany of you see beyond the ends of your noses."
The eyes of Professor Zepplin were twinkling. Cale Vaughn wasregarding the lads quizzically. All at once Walter Perkins uttereda wild yell and bounding to his feet started off at a lively sprint.Ned rubbed his eyes, scarcely believing what they saw.
A horseman was galloping toward them at a fast gait. The figure ofthe horseman was slight, clad in khaki, a broad-brimmed sombrerowaving in one hand.
"Whoo-oo-pee!" yelled the horseman, his voice coming to them faintly.
"It _is_ Tad!" howled Ned, then he too started off at a run.
"They are a lively crowd, sir," observed the guide, turning to theProfessor.
"You will think so before you get through with this job," answeredthe Professor grimly. "I have had several seasons of it, and I'mthankful to be able to say that I am still able to be about, thoughI have been on the verge of nervous prostration more than once."
The horseman, Tad Butler in reality, was now rapidly bearing down onthe camp. Walter was far ahead of the pursuing Ned, but Chunky madeno attempt to run out to meet his companion. He was still standingwith hands in trousers pockets solemnly regarding the scene.
Walter and Tad were nearing each other, when the former stumbled andfell.
Tad raised a hand and Walter, understanding, lifted one hand also,whereupon Tad charged him at a gallop. The horseman swerved at thesecond when it seemed as if he must run down the kneeling boy, thenthe palms of the two lads met with a smack, Tad having leaned fromthe saddle. To the amazement of Cal Vaughn, who was not much of ahorseman, the slender form of Walter Perkins seemed to rise right upinto the air without effort on his part.
Walt landed astride of the pony just behind the rider, and at touchof spur the little pony straightened out and reached for the camp ata full run, nearly bowling over Ned Rector, who barely got out of theway in time to save himself from being run down.
"Well, what do you think of that?" exclaimed the guide. "I never sawanything like that outside of a circus."