CHAPTER I
"THE BAND" AND THE CAVE
BLACKINTON'S barn is exactly at the foot of Bob's Hill. Phillips's is,too, and so is our garden; but I am not telling about those now. Beyondthe barns are apple orchards, reaching halfway up the hill, as you know,if you have read about the doings of the Band.
When they built Blackinton's barn they cut into the hill, so that theroof of the stable slopes clear down to the ground, on the hill side inthe orchard. It makes a fine place for us boys to sit and talk aboutthings.
Mrs. Blackinton, who owns the barn, says that maybe climbing around on aroof isn't the best thing in the world for shingles but boys have got todo something and she is willing to take a chance; only to be as carefulas we can, and not to eat any more apples than are necessary to ourhappiness and well being.
Anyhow, seven of us Bob's Hill boys sat there one Saturday afternoon inMay, planning what to do in the long vacation. Every member of the Bandwas there, not counting Tom Chapin, except Skinny Miller; and we wereexpecting him every minute.
He was late then, and every little while one of us would stick his headaround the edge of the barn to see if he wasn't coming up the drivewayfrom Park Street. We might as well have sat still, for you never cantell which way he will come.
Pa says that Skinny is like the wind, which bloweth whither it listeth.I don't exactly know what he meant but that is what he said, orsomething like that.
It was quiet in the orchard. There was hardly a sound except the buzzingof insects in the sunshine, and somehow that only seemed to make it morequiet and dreamy.
Suddenly Bill Wilson stood up on the sloping shingles and gave such awarwhoop that it almost made the bark rattle on the trees. When Billturns his voice loose it is something awful.
We looked up to see what it all was about. He had grabbed Benny Wade bythe hair and, giving another yell louder than the first, was pretendingto scalp him. Bill always likes to play Indian.
Benny didn't want to be scalped. Although he is two years younger andnot nearly so big, he grabbed Bill around the legs and held on untilthey both slipped and went tumbling down the steep roof to the ground,where they sat, with the rest of us laughing down at them.
Just then we heard another warwhoop, sounding from up the hillsomewhere, beyond the orchard. Bill and Benny scrambled to their feet,and we all looked and listened.
We saw nothing for a minute or two. Then something darted through thegate, which leads into the orchard from the hill; dropped down out ofsight behind the fence, and commenced crawling backward toward thenearest apple tree. Every few seconds, it would raise up long enough topoint something, which looked like a gun, at the enemy.
"Great snakes!" whispered Bill. "What's that?"
But we could tell in a minute without asking, for when it reached thetree it stood up and peered around the trunk, aiming a stick andpretending to fire. We knew then that Skinny was on the way.
"It's Skinny!" shouted Benny, throwing a stick at him.
Skinny waved one arm for us to be quiet, then began to wriggle back tothe next tree. Making his way slowly from tree to tree, with a quickdash he finally reached the roof, where he felt safe.
"That was a close call, Skinny," said Bill. "I heard a bee buzzin'around out there in the orchard, a few minutes ago."
"Bee, nothin'!" Skinny told him, still pointing with his gun and lookingaround in every direction. "They pretty near had me surrounded."
That was the beginning of this history, which tells all about the doingsof the Band, that set all the people talking about us for miles around.
Perhaps you never heard about the Band; how we found a cave at Peck'sFalls, part way up the mountain, and had all kinds of fun playing thereand on Bob's Hill. There are eight of us in all. Skinny is captain. Hisfolks call him Gabriel but we don't like that name. Skinny is a goodname for him, he is so fat. He can run though, even if he is heavy, andyou would think that he could fight some if you had seen him once, whenthe Gingham Ground Gang got after us.
Benny Wade is the littlest fellow in the bunch but he feels just as bigas anybody and sometimes that is almost as good as being big. Besidesthese there are Harry, Wallie, Chuck, Bill Wilson, Hank Bates,--Oh, yes,I most forgot,--and myself.
My name is John Alexander Smith. The boys call me Pedro, and I have beensecretary ever since Tom Chapin found the cave. It's up to me to writethe doings of the Band and the minutes of the meetings.
Tom Chapin was our first captain and he meets with us now, whenever heis in town.
The village where we live is in a long, narrow valley, with littleHoosac River flowing north through the center of it, until it getsbeyond the mountain range. Then it turns west and hurries down into theHudson.
Bob's Hill stands just west of the village and looks down upon thehighest steeples. Over the brow of the hill and a little south arePlunkett's woods. West, straight back, a mile or more, begins thetimbered slope of old Greylock, which, everybody knows, is the highestmountain in Massachusetts. And in the edge of the first woods, a littleback from the road, is the prettiest place you ever sat eyes upon.Grown-up folks call it "the glen," but we boys just say "Peck's Falls."I don't know why, only there is a waterfall there, which begins in abrook, somewhere up on the mountainside, and plays and tumbles along,until finally it pours down from a high cliff into a pool a hundred feetbelow; then dashes off to join Hoosac River.
A queer-shaped rock, with a high back and narrow ledge, which we callthe "pulpit," bridges the ravine in front of the falls, fifty feet andmaybe more, above the rushing water. A little farther down the ravine,at the edge of the stream, is another rock. It will do no harm now tosay that our cave is under that rock, because folks have found out aboutit, although not many know about there being two entrances.
All these things that I have told about belong to us boys. Mr. Plunkettthinks that he owns Plunkett's woods and Bob's Hill. I mean the very topof it. And somebody has been cutting trees off from Greylock, until itlooks like a picked chicken in spots. But we call them all ours becausewe have more fun with them than anybody else does, and it seems to usthat things belong to those who get the most out of them.
We knew from the way Skinny was acting that he had something on hismind, so we sat down and waited for him to tell us.
"Fellers," said he, after a while, "we've been Injuns and we've beenbandits, and we have had fun, good and plenty. I ain't sayin' thatInjuns and bandits are not all right sometimes but----"
"Guess what!" broke in Benny. "We've been 'splorers, too. Don't youremember 'sploring out in Illinois last summer? About LaSalle and thatother guy and What's-her-name who fell over the cliff?"
"That was all right, too," said Skinny, "and I couldn't forget it in athousand years, but I tell you those things are back numbers. They areout of date."
"Never mind about the date," said Hank, "but hurry and get it out ofyour system. We've got to be something, haven't we? If we ain't Injunsand we ain't bandits, what are we?"
"We are Scouts," shouted Skinny, aiming with his gun and dodging soquickly that he almost slid down the roof.
We all looked at one another in surprise, wondering what he meant. Bennyspoke up first.
"What are those things, Skinny?" he asked.
"Why," said Skinny, "haven't you been readin' about 'em? Theyare--er--they are--er--they're just Scouts, that's all.--They scoutaround, you know, and do all kinds of stunts."
"Scoot around, you mean," I told him.
"Well, it's the same thing, ain't it?"
"Not for mine," said Bill, shaking his head. "Scouts may be all right,but Injuns and bandits are good enough for me."
"Here's the book, anyhow," said Skinny.
He pulled out of his pocket a little book, which told all about "The BoyScouts of America."
"That's what we are going to be, the Boy Scouts of America, or part ofthem. They have members all over the country. We'll call ourselves 'TheBoy Scouts of Bob's Hill,' when we have our meetings."
Sa
y, it looked good to the Band, except Bill, after Skinny had read thebook to us a little, sitting there on the roof. It was a good deal likewhat we had been doing, only more so. Even Bill said it was almost asgood as being Injuns and when Benny heard about the uniforms he hardlycould wait.
"How are we going to do it?" I asked, after we had talked until we weretired.
"That is what I came to tell you about," said Skinny. "Mr. Norton, whoteaches my class in Sunday school, is getting one up."
"One what, Skinny?" asked Benny, his eyes bulging out like saucers, hewas so interested.
"Something he called a 'patrol.' You see, the Boy Scouts are almost likean army, with all kinds of officers, only they call them differentnames, and the different companies are called patrols. He is getting upa patrol in the Sunday school and wanted me in that, but when I told himabout the Band he said that we could have a patrol of our own, if wewanted to. There are eight of us, you know, and that is just enough. Idon't know much about it yet, but Mr. Norton wants me to bring the Bandup to his house Monday night and talk it over. He's going to have icecream; I heard him say so to Mrs. Norton."
When he said that last, he looked at Bill, because Bill liked ice cream,although he didn't seem to think much of the Scout business.
"Will you go?" asked Skinny. "I've got to tell him to-morrow, so he'llknow how much ice cream to make."
Benny looked at me and I could see by the way his eyes were shiningthat he wanted to go. But Bill never likes to change his mind.
"I think we ought to vote on it," he said, "and have Pedro put it in theminutes of the meetin'."
"Shall I put it down in invisible ink," I asked, "or in the kind thatshows?"
We always write our most secret doings in invisible ink, made of lemonjuice, so that nobody can read about them. We don't need to read itourselves, because we know all about it anyway. If we want to, byholding the writing up to a fire we can make the letters show.
"Write it with chalk," said Skinny, "and make the letters a foot high.This is something we want folks to know about."
"Uniforms wouldn't be so very much good," said Benny, "if folks couldn'tsee us with them on."
Skinny nodded his head; then took a piece of chalk out of his pocket,and commenced to mark on the clapboards, back of the sloping roof.
I thought at first that he was going to write the minutes of the meetingbefore it happened and was going to kick about it, being secretary.Instead of that, however, he made a big circle, and in the center ofthe circle he drew a picture of a tomahawk. Then, after looking at awatch which his folks gave him for Christmas, he put the figures 18above the tomahawk, and 16 below.
That was our Indian sign. The circle meant our cave at Peck's Falls,that being sort of round. The figures said for us to meet on theeighteenth day of the month, at the sixteenth hour, which would be atfour o'clock that very afternoon. We had half an hour in which to get tothe cave.
When we saw the Sign we all gave a yell, Bill Wilson louder thananybody, and were going to start for the cave on a jump, but Skinnyhissed like a snake and held up one hand for us to keep still.
"My braves," said he, after he had made up a lot of Indian words, whichwe couldn't understand, only they sounded fierce, "do you want to loseyour scalps? You don't know what is waitin' for us on yonder hill."
We didn't, either. If we had, maybe we shouldn't have gone.
WITH SKINNY LEADING, WE STARTED, DODGING FROM TREE TOTREE.]
"Follow me," said he. "Keep behind the trees until we get out of theforest, and mum's the word!"
So, with Skinny leading, we started, dodging from tree to tree on thehillside, until we came to the orchard fence. After that there were notrees except on the very top.
There is a sort of road leading out of the orchard and winding aroundthe hill, where the walking is easy, but on that side Bob's Hill itselfrises almost straight up from the orchards, and the slope is coveredwith slippery grass, with now and then a big stone sticking its nose outof the ground. To climb it you have to dig in with the sides and heelsof your shoes and work hard.
Skinny started straight up and we after him, except Bill, who can climbfaster than anybody. He soon was ahead.
As Bill neared the top, forgetting all about danger, Skinny gave awarning hiss. Bill looked back; then dropped to the ground and began tocrawl slowly up, pulling at the grass and stones to help him along. Therest of us waited to see what would happen to Bill.
In a few minutes we saw him stick his head up carefully above the browof the hill. Then he dodged down out of sight and slid back part waytoward us, motioning for us to come on and not to make any noise.
I didn't know what to think of it, for I hadn't really supposed anybodywould be there. Skinny is 'most always careful that way because, hesays, you never can tell what may happen.
"Gee!" said he, when Bill motioned. "Didn't I tell you they pretty nearhad me surrounded? Steady now, and mum's the word!"
Slowly we crawled up toward Bill. When we had come up even with him,without a word he crept toward the top of the hill, we crawling alongafter him, and my heart was pounding like a trip-hammer, partly from thework of climbing and partly because it was scary.
Pretty soon we began to hear voices. The eight of us put our heads up atabout the same time; then sank down again out of sight, and I heardSkinny whisper, "Jerusalem!" and Bill saying "Great snakes!" to himself.
We lay there for a moment, looking at each other and not knowing what todo. Then Benny spoke up.
"Come on, fellers," said he. "Who's afraid of them? It's only a lot ofgirls."
That's what it was. About twelve high-school girls were sitting thereunder a tree, with lunch baskets around, looking at Greylock and waitingfor it to be time to eat. There was no way for us to pass without beingseen except to go back and around through Plunkett's woods, and wedidn't want to do that.
"Let's scare 'em," said Skinny at last. "We'll yell the way we did onGreylock that time we scared the wild cat."
"It's all right to scare 'em," said Hank, "for they haven't any businesson our hill. But a girl ain't a wild cat or anything like it, and younever can tell what she will do. They may not scare worth a cent."
"I'll tell you what," I said. "If we all yell, they'll know that itmust be the Band. So let's have only one yell. Give Bill a chance andthere will be something doing."
We left Bill and crawled up to where we could see them and they couldn'tsee us. Then he commenced.
Say, I've heard Bill Wilson a lot of times, but I never heard anythinglike that. Although I knew what was doing it, shivers chased up and downmy back, until I 'most forgot about the girls.
He started with a moan like he was in pain. Then for a minute it soundedas if a whole menagerie had been turned loose, with a dog fight in themiddle. From the midst of the dog fight came a blood-curdling screechwhich died away again in a moan and sob, and then all was still whileBill was getting his breath for another.
It was awful to hear, and the girls didn't wait for another, or even forthe sob part. At the first moan they started to their feet, lookingaround with scared faces, and when the menagerie turned loose away theywent on a run.
"Charge, my braves!" cried Skinny, as soon as he could stop laughinglong enough to speak. "Let's surround 'em."
With a yell, we charged across the top of the hill, down the slopebeyond and into a field which rose gently up to Plunkett's woods.
Just before the girls reached the woods one of them looked back, saw us,and told the others. I thought they would run harder than ever when theysaw us coming, but it was just as Hank said about not knowing what theywould do. They turned and stood there, the whole twelve of them, lookingso mad that we stopped running and waited to see what would happen.
"We know who you are, Skinny Miller," said the one who had seen usfirst, "and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. We'll fix you forthis."
She said something to the others, which we couldn't hear, and pointedtoward us. Then they stooped and each one
grabbed a stick from the edgeof the woods.
"Great snakes!" said Bill. "I wish I hadn't come."
"Fellers," said Skinny, looking at his watch. "It's 'most four o'clock.We'll have to run like sixty if we get to the cave in time for themeetin'."
There are a lot of boys who never saw a mountain, and the Band, even,never saw the Rockies and big mountains like those. But Greylock is bigenough for us. On a summer day, with fleecy clouds chasing over his headlike great, white butterflies; sunshine resting on the pine trees, andthe mountain smiling down on us with arms outstretched, as if he wouldgather in all of Massachusetts and a part of Vermont, and the cawing ofcrows in the Bellows Pipe, and no school to call us back--say, that'sliving; that is!
Soon we came to the woods and followed along a path until we could hearthe rushing and roaring of Peck's Falls in front of us, sounding as ifold Greylock himself was talking.
We stopped at Pulpit Rock a minute to see the falls and the foaming poolbelow; then followed Skinny down the side of the steep ravine to ourcave at the edge of the stream.
"The meetin' will come to order," said Skinny, after we had crawled inand were sitting on the floor. "Are we all here?"
"I am," said Benny, "and I," "and I," "and I," said the others, fasterthan I could count them.
"All the fellers that want to go to Mr. Norton's," said Skinny, as soonas he had found that everybody was there, "to see about this Scoutbusiness--and eat ice cream," he added, looking at Bill when he said it,"mark a cross on the floor of the cave with your knives."
Everybody marked except Bill. He didn't have his knife with him.
"It's all right," said he. "I'll go, anyhow, knife or no knife. I'drather be an Injun than a Scout any day in the week, but there ain't anyuse letting that ice cream go to waste."
"'Tis well," said Skinny. "We have spoken."