CHAPTER IX

DIRK HEARS OF THE LONG TRAIL

Six masked figures sat with their heads together in the starlight of the deserted Council Ring. It was late. Two hours gone, Camp Lenape had retired to a rest welcome and well-earned. But here in this lonely spot, their presence unknown to their fellows and councilors, the mysterious six plotted mischief. In the shadow of the tall stone seat of the Chief, on the north side of the ring, they crouched, listening to the graveyard tones of their undersized leader.

“Brother Revengers, we will now have a report from the Stealthy Stabber. He’s goin’ to tell us all about the Ryan Curse affair, see? Speak up, Stabber!”

“He walloped me!” spoke up a shrill voice, more whimpering than bloodthirsty, and the little fellow rubbed himself tenderly at the painful memory.

“And served you right, too!” put in a third Revenger. “I didn’t know you were going as far as you did. I think it was a bunch of cowardly tricks—soaping up his tooth-paste and trying to soak his blankets with a pail of water—and if I had known, I wouldn’t have let it happen!”

“Aw, say, Iron Gauntlet, old fellow,” whined the leader; “you ain’t goin’ to back out like that, are you? Why, Stabber and Red Rover and the rest of us only did all this stuff to help you out!”

“I don’t need that sort of help, thank you,” replied Iron Gauntlet, settling back in his place. “It was mean, and from now on I want to tell you that I——”

“What’s that?” cried a small lad to his right, starting up in his place and listening fearfully. The leader laughed sneeringly.

“Don’t get scared, kid. Ain’t the Headless Green Dragon here to protect you? That was only an owl hootin’. Gee, you guys are sure a bunch of babies. A fine gang of Revengers you turned out to be!”

“But it sounded pretty terrible, Dumb,” muttered the lad, shivering. “I don’t like it here in the woods—it’s too spooky! Suppose a bear or something came after us!”

Dumb Blum laughed again. “No bears around here. And even if there was, I guess they wouldn’t bother me! Now, we got to figure what to do next. If Iron Gauntlet here thinks we ought to lay off Brick Ryan for a while, why, there’s lot of other varlets around camp we could torture—— Ooh! Look there!”

The bold master of the dread secret society pointed a shaking hand. His small followers fell back, several of them squealing with terror.

Dirk Van Horn looked in the direction at which Blum was fearfully pointing. Above the stone dais of the Chief before them rose a horrible shapeless form, gleaming with unearthly fire. Slowly, as they watched, rooted to the spot, the monster stirred, the folds of its skin glowing with a pale green luminescence, and uttered at the horrified boys a sepulchral bellow!

“It’s—it’s the Green Dragon!” babbled the Stealthy Stabber, with chattering teeth.

Even as he spoke, the gaping mouth of the creature yawned open. A fizzing spurt of yellow sparks darted from the cavity. With a blinding flash, a ball of crimson fire shot out at them, throwing a bloody glow over the scene. The horror was coming after them, belching flame and smoke!

Another ball of fire, this time a deathlike blue in color, burst in their midst. Without a further glance, the terrified youngsters took to their heels and ran through the underbrush, stumbling, falling, crying out as they fled from that ghastly spot. Far in the van was the doughty Blum, almost out of his head with fear, racing as though that glowing green devil was right at his heels!

Dirk Van Horn had risen to his feet, and had backed away from the oncoming monster. He could flee no further; his legs were weak with fright; his back was braced against the towering totem-pole of the Lenape tribe; and his teeth were clenched to keep himself from crying out. Straight toward him shambled the glowing shape, showering many-colored sparks as it came!

He stared petrified. The dragon paused in the center of the ring, shot forth a final rain of sparks, and collapsed to the ground, its phosphorescent hide thrown back. From within its folds rose a high-pitched, mocking laugh that was harder for Dirk to bear than the blood-curdling groans it had formerly given forth.

That laugh! Dirk drew out his forgotten flashlight, and snapped the button. A ray of light shot out, and revealed Brick Ryan, rolling on the ground in a tempest of mirth, clutching in one hand a smoking thick tube of paper. At his side lay the cast-off skin of the “dragon” that had put to rout the brave band of Red Revengers.

Always Brick Ryan! Dirk sank limply to a seat, and put his head in his hands. The shock had been greater than he thought.

Brick, still chuckling, rose and came toward him. “Gollies! Did you see those bold lads run for it! They won’t stop until they’re safe in bed with the covers pulled over their heads! And nothin’ after them but F. X. A. Ryan wrapped up in an old piece of canvas rubbed with phosphorus!”

“But that terrible fire—those lights——” murmured Dirk. “Why—how——”

Brick burst into another peal of laughter. “Just a little old Roman candle left over from the Fourth of July! And in case you want to know how I found out what was up, I discovered a bit of a note under your pillow this afternoon, tellin’ all about your fine meetin’ and how you were goin’ to fix Ryan for keeps. But when Ryan came himself to see these brave laddies, they scooted like the pack of rabbits they are! Revengers! Huh! Dumb Blum and his gang of babies may be all right for sneakin’ around and messin’ up a fellow’s things, but they sure aren’t very happy out here in the woods at night!”

Dirk lifted his head wearily. “I wanted to speak to you about that, Ryan. I didn’t know they were going to fill your shoes with water and steal your things, or I wouldn’t have stood for it. Those were coward’s tricks; and I want you to know I’m sorry.”

“Bein’ sorry won’t help you much. Maybe I believe you, and maybe I don’t; but anyways, you were out here with that bunch, cookin’ up trouble, and you sure looked pretty cheap. Blum was tryin’ to get you to do his dirty work, and he’s such a coward himself he has to pull this secret society stuff and make little kids that don’t know any better follow him around like he was somebody, the nasty little brat. So that’s the kind of a friend you pick, huh?”

Dirk sighed. “I said I was in the wrong, Ryan, and I apologized. I’m sorry I got mixed up in this affair. What else can I say?”

“You’ve said enough, as far as I’m concerned. Now, unless we both get back to Tent One pretty quick, you and I will be spendin’ tomorrow on the wood-pile. Those scared kids have probably wakened up the whole camp.”

Dirk nodded, rising to his feet. “But before we go, Ryan, tell me just one thing. I—I guess I’m not the right sort of chap to get along here at Lenape. I try to do the right thing, but I always seem to end up in trouble. Tell me, what is the matter with me?”

Brick, taken aback at the other’s frankness, looked at the ground. “I’m no preacher,” he mumbled slowly. “When—when I first came to Lenape, I guess I was just as bad as you, and a lot worse. And maybe my trouble was the same as yours. I was always thinkin’ first of Brick Ryan, and never stoppin’ to wonder how it struck the other fellow. Then one of the leaders got me to see that I could get most fun out of campin’ by doin’ things for Lenape instead of bein’ selfish and tryin’ to show how smart a guy F. X. A. Ryan was. I—I guess that’s what they mean when they talk of camp spirit,” he ended lamely; “thinkin’ about the good of the crowd instead of just showin’ off for your own benefit. Now, let’s get along!”

“You mean—— Say!” cried Dirk with glowing eyes, “I’d like to do something for the camp! No, I don’t mean asking my father for some money and buying stuff for everybody to use. I mean, well—if we won that baseball game Wednesday, I guess it would be a thing to be proud of! Ryan, I’m going to play as I never played before—for the honor of the camp!”

“That would be a starter,” Brick admitted. “Now, for gosh sakes, let’s get out of here!”

The two made their way back to their bunks without mishap, and turned in to take a much-needed sleep. However, before he shut his eyes for good, Dirk pondered over the events of the night; and he decided that he would not forget the advice that his red-haired tent-mate had offered him in the Council Ring.

Next morning, as Dirk was racing down to Indian Dip in the sparkling lake along with the rest of the newly-risen campers, he found Dumb Blum at his side.

“Say, what happened last night, anyway?” asked the erstwhile leader of the Revengers. “Did that thing catch you, or what? What was it, Van?” he asked with Wide eyes.

“It was Brick Ryan,” Dirk replied; and ignoring the other’s cry of amazement, went on: “He made me realize what a silly thing we were doing, having a secret society and all that foolishness. Listen, Blum; I think you’re a coward, and if I find out that you and your friends are having any more meetings of your absurd R.H.R., I promise I’ll make you regret it.”

He clenched his fist, and Blum, his jaw dropping, backed off hastily.

“I won’t have anything to do with it!” he promised. “Don’t hit me, Van Horn!” He fell back, and Dirk, unmindful, trotted down to the dock, leaving the despised Blum far in the rear.

That afternoon the promised game with the councilors kept the Lenape team on the jump to defend their positions against prime competition. With Lieutenant Eames on the mound for the leaders, and Chief himself, in mask and chest-protector, behind the plate, the camper squad were hard put to it to score. However, Soapy Mullins got home on a two-bagger made by Lefty Reardon, and in the fifth inning, which was by agreement the last, Blackie Thorne surprised himself as much as the others by hitting a long fly that landed among the rocks of the stone fence, and was not found until he had completed a tour of the bases for the second tally. But when the leaders came up for the last time, they began a merry procession that ended only with Swim Call, leaving the final score 5-2 in favor of the councilors.

“You had us going for a while, Captain,” the Chief called to Lefty as the game ended. “If your team plays as well on Wednesday, Shawnee will have to use ten men to beat you!”

“Thanks, Chief,” responded the pitcher, with a grin. “But it won’t be a cinch by any means. They have the toughest outfit this year they’ve ever had, and I’m sure going into the box with my pockets full of four-leaf clovers!”

Although the game had not been a victory for the camper team, it had ended happily for Dirk Van Horn. Inspired by his resolve of the previous night, he had never played a better game in all his days at prep school. He had fielded like a veteran, and once he scooped in a pop fly in such quick time that he had slammed it down to Brick Ryan on first for a double play against the unprepared Mr. Lane, who was caught trying to regain first base. At the finish, when Lefty told him that his position in left field would be confirmed for the Shawnee game, he glowed with the most pleasant feeling he had enjoyed since he first put foot on the Lenape campus.

He strolled back to Tent One with Lefty, chatting eagerly of their prospects. When the pair reached the tent, they found Sax McNulty and the rest of their comrades gathered in an excited group around Brick Ryan, who was grinning broadly and trying modestly to conceal his pride.

“What’s up, men?” challenged Lefty. “Why all the celebration?”

“We just got the news that our gang will be represented on the Long Trail this year!” answered the councilor. “Congrats again, Brick! He’s going to help plant the Lenape pennant on old Mount Kinnecut. Stand up, you red-headed riot, and bow to the ladies and gentlemen!”

Brick blushed beneath his freckles. “Aw, it’s not so much to talk about.” He choked as his friend Lefty Reardon pounded him on the back heartily.

“You’re wrong there, old scout!” Lefty shouted. “I went last year, and it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Talk about fun! And we had some exciting adventures, too. Boy, when you’re tenting by Lake Moosehorn and catching a mess of bass for your supper, think of poor Lefty back at Lenape, wishing he was along again this season!”

Sax McNulty stared into the distance. “I scaled Kinnecut five—no, six—years ago, it was,” he said softly. “I’ll never have such a great time if I live to be a hundred and fifty! Tiny Krouse, my canoe-mate, was chased two miles by a mama-bear who thought he was trying to kidnap her cubs! And the view from the Lookout! Why——”

“Tell us about it, Sax!” begged Nig Jackson.

Dirk, who had been looking from one to another of the eager boys, now broke in. “Yes, but first tell me what all this is about! What is Brick going to do, anyway? Where is the Long Trail?”

“Tell him, Lefty,” nodded McNulty.

“Well, Van, it’s this way. The Long Trail is an old Lenape custom that was started by six fellows the first year the camp began. They went for a sixty-mile trip from here to Mount Kinnecut, up the river by canoes and over the ponds to Lake Moosehorn, then hiking through the big timber and climbing the mountain. Since then, every year, six boys under a leader make the same trip, and now there are nine Camp Lenape pennants nailed to the tallest tree on the very top of old Kinnecut, to show that the chosen campers can come through a long endurance test with flying colors. It’s not an easy trail, and so only the fellows who are best fitted for it can go. Once you’ve made the trip, you can’t go again—only Mr. Carrigan, who is in command, has been over it before. I want to tell you youngsters that it’s the one big thing at Lenape that you can never forget! Brick, I say it again, you’re a lucky bum!”

Dirk was still puzzled. “How do they pick the fellows to go?”

“Well, they have to be in first-class shape all around—healthy, full of pep and camp spirit, and they have to know their way around on the water and in the woods,” said McNulty. “And Wise-Tongue Carrigan has made a good choice this year, if you ask me. Besides Brick, he’s picked Steve Link, Wild Willie Sanders, Spaghetti Megaro, Cowboy Platt, and Ugly Brown. Ugly is younger than the rest, but he’s a fine little woodsman and can handle a canoe like an Indian. I tell you, Van Horn, if you make the most of your chances this summer, I wouldn’t be surprised to see you leading the list of Long Trailers next season!”

Dirk stared at the friendly face of the leader, and at Brick Ryan’s happy grin. It must be the most wonderful adventure in the world, the Long Trail. But next season—that was a long time to wait!