CHAPTER THREE

A Midnight Visitor

At noon they stopped in a small clearing for a quick K-ration lunch. The boys were intrigued by the contents of the oblong, waxed-cardboard boxes.

Jerry announced the articles as he removed them. “Biscuits, fig bar, instant coffee, sugar, a can of cheese and bacon—say, who ever said the army eats bad!”

Russell Steele placed a pot of water on the Coleman stove. “Nobody ever said the army eats bad. Matter of fact, it eats darn good. There’s nothing wrong with K-rations, except that a steady diet of them can get monotonous.”

When they were finished eating, Sandy and Jerry scooped out a deep hole in the forest floor with their shovels and buried the garbage.

“Ordinarily, I’d prefer to burn it,” Russ told them, “but a fire is out of the question now.”

They resumed walking until about four-thirty, when Russ consulted the walk-o-meter strapped to his leg. “Well, we made fifteen miles today. That’s not bad,” he said. “Let’s call it a day.”

Quiz groaned as he dropped his pack to the ground. “I am so pooped, I could crawl into my bedroll right this minute.”

“Without supper?” Jerry asked incredulously.

“Frankly, yes.”

Russ frowned. “None of that, Quiz. You’ve got to eat, even if you have to force every mouthful down. If you don’t, you’ll be weak as a cat tomorrow.”

Sandy looked around at the tall trees towering over them like giants with their arms outstretched. A chill ran along his spine. “Have you ever noticed how nature seems to work against you when you’re out in the wilderness like this? It’s constantly playing tricks on you. Like Quiz being too tired to eat, or people falling asleep in the snow and freezing to death. All your instincts seem to be wrong. It’s scary, sort of.”

Russell Steele nodded soberly. “The Indians used to say that the wilderness spirits resented the intrusion of the white man because he came to destroy the forests and the wild beasts. They attributed all kinds of devilment to the spirits. Whenever a white man was lost in the woods, mauled by a bear, injured by a falling tree or struck by lightning, the tribal medicine men would nod their heads wisely.”

“Heathen superstition,” Quiz sniffed.

Jerry looked around nervously. “Not so loud, huh. Just in case.”

Sandy and his uncle laughed. “Okay,” Russ said. “That’s all the folklore for one day. Let’s eat.”

They camped in a small clearing on the bank of a stream, which Russ said had once been a raging torrent. Now, only a thin rivulet of water trickled through the rocky bed. Russ scooped out a hollow where the water flowed between two boulders, to form a small pool, so that they were able to wash up and fill their canteens.

Supper consisted of canned beans, bacon and pan-fried biscuits. Everyone ate heartily, with the exception of Prince, who turned up his nose at the conglomeration of food they piled up on a tin plate for him and stalked off into the woods.

“Probably off to catch himself a rabbit,” Russ said.

Jerry wrinkled up his nose distastefully. “And I thought he was a nice dog. That’s cruel.”

“Don’t be a dope,” Sandy said. “Is it any more cruel than slaughtering cows, pigs, sheep and little lambs to feed our faces?”

“Animals are nicer than people,” Quiz said. “They only kill each other for food. It’s the beautiful balance of nature. The fish and birds eat the insects; and they in turn provide food for the larger animals. Every living thing has its place and purpose.”

“Even snakes?” Jerry asked, suddenly scanning the ground suspiciously.

“Even the snakes,” Quiz said.

Sandy laughed. “Don’t look so worried, Jerry. They won’t bother you unless you bother them first. I read it in a book.”

“Yeah,” Jerry said. “But how do I know the snakes around here read the same book?” He grinned as the other two boys moaned and rocked back and forth with their heads in their hands. “It wasn’t _that_ bad, fellows.”

Russ put down his empty dish and began to fill his pipe. “I think a joke like that rates KP for another night, at least.”

Sandy and Quiz helped Jerry clear up the mess kits, forks and pans and carry them down to the pool.

“Hey,” Sandy remembered suddenly, “we didn’t bring any soap powder. How can he wash these greasy things in cold water without a strong soap?”

“We could boil some water,” Quiz suggested.

Russ got up from where he was relaxing against a tree and joined them. “What’s the matter with sand?” he asked.

“Sand!” the boys chorused together.

“Sure, it’s the best detergent there is. Mix up some of that fine sand on the bank with a little water and you’ll get these utensils as sparkling clean as your mothers’ best silverware.” He turned away, shaking his head. “Fine lot of woodsmen we’d be, going camping with a case of soap powder and steel wool.”

While Jerry was finishing up the dishes, Russell Steele showed Sandy and Quiz how to erect the pup tents. “Each of us has a shelter half in his bedroll,” he explained. “Half of a tent, to be exact, with enough wooden pegs to anchor it to the ground. We also have one ridgepole apiece. When we pair off, we have the makings for a complete tent; that’s how they do it in the army.”

From the creek, Jerry yelled, “What happens if there’s one guy left over?”

Russ laughed. “He stands first tour of guard duty.”

The sky was still light when they crawled into their bedrolls. Sandy and his uncle shared one tent, and Quiz and Jerry the other.

Jerry sighed contentedly as he lay back. “I must be tired. This old ground feels like a feather mattress to my weary bones.”

“Don’t forget,” Sandy called from the other tent, “you’re lying on a bed of duff and pine needles.”

“You guys are crazy,” Quiz grumbled. “It’s okay if you lie flat, I guess. But I can only sleep on my side. What are you supposed to do with your hips?”

“That’s what you get for being so fat,” Jerry chortled gleefully.

“Try scooping out a hole for your hip to fit into,” Russ suggested.

Quiz unzipped his sleeping bag and sat up. Working with his fingers, he shaped a small hollow in the soft duff, then settled down again. “Ahhh, that’s better,” he said with satisfaction.

“You see,” Jerry gloated, “there are some things you can’t learn in books.”

“Oh, shut up!” Quiz mumbled.

Before Sandy dropped off to sleep, he heard Prince return to camp. The big Doberman took a long drink from the creek and then settled down in front of the tent at Russell Steele’s feet. His presence there gave Sandy a feeling of warm comfort.

It seemed to Sandy that he had just closed his eyes when the noise of voices, barking and the pounding of his own heart jolted him out of a deep sleep. For a moment he lay there, paralyzed by terror. He opened his eyes, then shut them quickly as a blinding spot of light knifed painfully into his optic nerves. He had caught a fleeting glimpse of his uncle sitting up and clinging to Prince’s collar with one hand.

With the full return of consciousness, Sandy could make out a strange voice talking earnestly and urgently to Russell Steele.

“... they’ve been on your trail since noon, General Steele. The Forest Service has had every ranger in the district looking for you. I spotted your dog from my fire tower about eight o’clock and started to follow him. Of course, he lost me pretty quick, but I knew you had to be somewhere in the vicinity.”

“Like finding a needle in a haystack,” Russell Steele said. “You must know these woods, all right.”

“My fire tower is about five miles from here. I’ll take you there and we can radio headquarters. They’ll hook you up direct with Washington.”

Shading his eyes against the light, Sandy sat up. “What’s up, Uncle Russ?”

“Oh, Sandy, you’re awake. Good. We’ll have to break camp immediately. The Pentagon has been trying to get in touch with me. Very urgent. This is Dick Fellows, Sandy; he’s a U.S. Forest Ranger.”

“Hi,” Sandy said, squinting at the young man who was crouched in front of their tent.

The ranger touched two fingers to his stiff-brimmed hat and grinned. “Sorry to disturb your sleep. You guys must be plenty tired if this is your first day on the trail.” He stretched out one hand toward Prince, who was still growling suspiciously deep in his throat. “Your friend here doesn’t trust midnight visitors.”

Russ released his grip on the dog’s collar and gave him a light smack on the rump. “He’ll be all right, now that he knows you’re not an enemy. He wouldn’t have attacked you, in any case, unless you pulled a knife or a gun. Prince has been trained to hold his quarry at bay until help arrives.”

Sandy climbed out of his bedroll. “I’d better go wake up the rest of the gang.”

“The rest of the gang is already awake,” Jerry’s voice sang out from the darkness, “lying here quivering with our blankets pulled over our heads.”

Quiz Taylor crawled out of the tent on his hands and knees, fumbling in his breast pocket for his eyeglass case. “This moron got it into his thick head that we were being attacked by Indians from the reservation.”

Dick Fellows laughed. “He’s partly right at that, I guess. My grandpaw was a pure-blood Dakota.”

Russell Steele struggled into his boots. “Well, suppose you escort us back to your tepee, chief.”