CHAPTER XL

_Tom's Journey_

Tom had not gone far on his journey before he discovered that the new Camp Venture was in fact situated very nearly at the base of the mountain. The headquarters of the railroad people lay a mile or so to the west, and perhaps two hundred feet or so lower. But along the foot of the hill was accumulated all the debris that had come tumbling down the steep for ages--great and small fragments of rock split off the cliffs above by the frosts of a multitude of winters and now piled haphazard wherever they could find a resting place.

In the midst of such a mass of rocky debris, now thickly overgrown with forest trees, Tom at first despaired of finding a practicable wagon path. But he toiled diligently at the task, retracing his steps many times and little by little tracing out a way, which he marked as he went by cutting branches of trees and setting them up as landmarks to show him the way when he should return with a wagon load of supplies.

All this occupied so much time that Tom did not reach his destination that night, but slept by a little fire on the mountain side.

In the morning there was a drenching, discouraging spring rain falling with pitiless persistence, and Tom's clothing and blanket were soaked through, and his limbs were stiff with cold. Fortunately his fire had not been entirely extinguished by the rain, and when he had replenished it with seasoned branches, and steamed himself in its glow for a time, his energy returned, and he cooked and ate a scant but refreshing breakfast which included the two drumsticks of the Doctor's turkey. These had been roasted the night before, but Tom threw them on the coals to broil a little. "I prefer a hot breakfast," he said, "particularly on a morning like this. How I wish I had a cup of coffee!"

Then gathering up the few things that he carried, he left his camp fire and continued his task of picking out a way by which a wagon might be dragged up and along the rocky hill. It was high noon when he reached the little railroad station where Dr. Latrobe's father had established his headquarters as a contractor. Tom was enthusiastically received by that gentleman, who was naturally pleased to hear news of his son's thoroughly restored health. There was a little tavern already established near the station and there Tom was made to dry and warm himself. Having assured Mr. Latrobe that he could conduct a loaded wagon up the hill to the new Camp Venture, Tom speedily left his occupation of warming himself and joined the older gentleman in choosing the materials that were to constitute the load. Mr. Latrobe had assigned for the purpose a heavy, stoutly built wagon, capable of enduring rough road service, and to Tom he said: "I've sent a little way down the line for four of the stoutest mules we have, to draw it, and for a driver who is used to mountain work. They will be here this evening and in the meantime we'll get the wagon loaded, so that you can make an early start in the morning." This suited Tom's plans exactly, and he set himself at work at once selecting from the contractor's stores, the things most desirable for his purpose.

There were ten large sides of bacon; half a barrel of sugar; half a barrel of molasses; half a barrel of corned beef; several hundred pounds of corn meal and a like quantity of flour in bags; a bushel or two of salt, and a good supply of potatoes, turnips, cabbages, canned vegetables and fruits with which to break the long monotony of the camp diet. Mr. Latrobe insisted upon adding some prunes, dried peaches, dried apples, and some other things that he thought the boys would enjoy. Finally a large box of coffee already ground and put up in damp-proof packages, was placed in the wagon, together with ten pounds of tea.

"You see I've done a great deal of camping, my boy," said the genial gentleman, "and I know how much of comfort there is in tea and coffee when you're rain soaked."

All these things were packed into the wagon by some of Mr. Latrobe's men, and securely lashed into immovability with stout hemp ropes. Over them a tarpaulin was spread to protect them from the rain and on top of that the picks and shovels were lashed into place.

The wagon was ready and that night Tom slept in a real bed for the first time in nearly half a year. But he was up at daybreak and off on his journey before the sun's appointed time for rising. Whether or not that luminary left his couch when he should, Tom had no means of finding out, for it was still heavily raining.

It was a toilsome journey that lay before him and Tom foresaw that it could not be accomplished much before nightfall, even should no delaying mishap occur, and therefore he disregarded the rain and insisted upon the earliest possible start.

It was Tom's function to walk ahead of the wagon, look out for the landmarks he had set up, and point the way to the driver who, armed with a long black snake whip, rode upon the "near," or left hand, wheel mule. But the driver was his own sufficient adviser as to how to overcome such obstacles as were met, and Tom was greatly interested to observe the skill and good judgment with which the man did this.

"There is science," he said, "in everything, even in driving a wagon over a rough mountain where there is no road."

But Tom got no response from the driver, who seemed a taciturn fellow, and who in fact never once spoke during the journey except to scold his mules with shocking profanity. Even when he decided to halt about noon to feed the animals, he said not one word to Tom, but simply stopped the wagon, unhitched the mules and gave them their food, hitching them up again when he thought it proper to do so and resuming his journey.

"Obviously," thought Tom, "that fellow has been used to driving alone. I wonder if he has forgotten how to talk? Or is it that he never thinks? Even the weather doesn't inspire him to make a remark, for he hasn't once asked my attention to the fact that the rain has ceased and that the sun is breaking through the clouds. He certainly can't be classified as a companionable personage, but at any rate he knows how to manage mules and get a wagon over difficulties, and after all that's what he is employed to do. He gets on wonderfully, too, considering the difficulties of the road. I suppose it is like the case of the man who tied his cravats so beautifully because, as he said, he 'gave his whole mind to it.'"

So, silently they proceeded on their way and just before sunset the wagon was stopped on the outskirts of the new Camp Venture.

The boys all rushed out to greet Tom and compliment him on his skill and success in bringing the supplies over so difficult a route. Tom greeted them all in turn, and then said:

"Try your hands, boys, and see if any of you can extract a single unnecessary word from that driver. I haven't been able to get anything out of him except vituperation for his mules."

The driver meanwhile was stripping his mules of their harness and arranging to give them the oats and fodder that he had brought with him for their use.

The Doctor filled a tin cup with coffee--for the boys had heard Tom coming and made supper ready against his arrival--and carried the steaming liquid out to the driver whose clothes were still sopping wet, and offered it to him, saying:

"You are very wet and it must have been a hard struggle to get your wagon up here. Drink this to warm you and when you get your mules fed, come to our fire and have some supper. You must be hungry."

The man took the cup, drank its contents, handed it back to the Doctor and muttered the single abbreviated word, "'Bleeged," by which the Doctor understood that he meant, "I am obliged to you."

Finally the man having disposed of his mules for the night, came to the camp fire for his supper. He received it in silence and proceeded to devour it like the hungry man that he was. Still he uttered not a word. At last Jim Chenowith tried his hand at drawing him into conversation.

"It must have been pretty tough work to get a wagon up here," he said, tentatively. The man said not a word in reply. This exasperated Jim and presently he stood up before the wagoner and angrily demanded:

"What's the matter with you? Why don't you answer a civil question?"

To this the man answered, "Hey?" at the same time putting his hand to his ear in a futile effort to understand.

"The man is almost stone deaf," said the Doctor. "That is the explanation of his silence."

Tom laughed at himself for not having made this discovery, and then crept into the bunk prepared for him in the new camp house.