Part 32 (1/2)

It was the following day. The night had pa.s.sed 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 b.u.t.ton 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!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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.