CHAPTER XI.

A MOUNTAIN ADVENTURE.

Early one morning in the following week, Hugh and Alec, moved by a spirit of newly cemented friendship, asked that they, attended by Indian Joe and accompanied by Billy Worth and Sam Winter, be permitted to make a trip on foot through the wilderness, to a mountain about five miles east of old Stormberg.

This request Lieutenant Denmead readily granted, after giving each of the four young “mountaineers,” as he called them, a physical examination, testing heart, lungs, muscle, etc. “It ought to be a rule in all camps,” said he, “that no boy whose heart is not first examined should attempt a mountain climb over a thousand feet, or a long march,—that is, no boy in his teens. You fellows, with the exception of Alec, are ‘sound in wind and limb.’”

“What’s the matter with me, sir?” queried Alec.

“How about that ankle of yours, my boy?”

“Oh, that’s all right, Chief! It’s quite strong again. I had forgotten all about it.”

“All right, then. But be careful. By the way, I think I’ll ask Rawson to go with you.”

“Fine!” “Great!” “Wish he would come!” the boys responded enthusiastically.

Accordingly, George Rawson joined the expedition that set forth bright and early next morning. Each member carried a haversack filled with provisions, in addition to the regular equipment for camping-out in fine weather.

The peak which they intended to climb was locally known as the Pinnacle. Higher than old Stormberg, it rose in the heart of the forest, and was approached from camp, first by a long-disused logging road that skirted the lower end of Pioneer Lake, then by trails and bridle-paths, and finally by a single trail that wound up its rocky sides. Though not remote from camp, it was nearly nightfall when the little party arrived at a farmer’s barn nestling at the foot of the mountain, and, as a reward for helping him with the last of the day’s “chores,” were allowed to sleep in his hayloft. Much as they preferred to sleep in the open, a heavy rain—which had begun suddenly during the last two hours of their march—forced them to seek the shelter of the barn.

The morrow dawned in a heavy fog, and the Scouts were astir early in anticipation of clear weather. After a breakfast of oatmeal cakes, hard-boiled eggs, and cereal coffee, Hugh and Billy approached Joe, who was packing the cooking outfit, and said, “Rawson says we can go ahead a little if you will show us the trail, Joe. He has climbed the Pinnacle before, and will follow later.”

Joe gave a grunt of assent, and the three strapped on their haversacks once more, left the barnyard, and struck out into the woods.

As they began to ascend the mountain the wreaths of fog floated higher and higher above them, until the sun came forth in full splendor and all the moist, dripping woods were bathed again in light. In a few minutes Hugh realized, with a thrill of excitement, that the slopes of the magic peak were actually under his feet! He stumbled frequently over the broken rocks, helping himself up with the aid of trees, saplings, and undergrowth. Billy, less lithe and agile than Hugh, found it more difficult to keep in Joe’s wake; and further, he was encumbered with a camera, which he had insisted on taking with him on this trip. How he managed to carry the thing along without smashing it, he could never afterward explain; but in the course of that day he got some remarkable photographs, and thereby added several points to the credit score of the Wolf Patrol.

Occasionally they were obliged to swing by their arms, like apes, from roots or branches projecting over the edge of some miniature precipice. Their faces were scratched by brambles, their hands cut by the sharp edges of rocks, and their clothing torn by the jagged limbs of broken pines and hemlocks.

It was after ten o’clock before they reached a broad ledge, where they paused to rest and wait for the others. And it was twilight again before the reunited party reached the summit.

Stunted evergreen trees covered the top of the mountain, but the weary Scouts found a comparatively open space in an angle of rocks on one side, a few yards down, and there they made a bed of pine twigs. Then, collecting a heap of dead branches, they soon had a roaring fire. On all sides lay the wilderness, a great dark gulf beneath them. From among the trees came the nocturnal cries of wild animals, the hoot of a great horned owl, and the soughing of the fitful wind in the pines. In an hour the moon rose and shed a faint illumination over the weird scene.

In the morning the wilderness was like a green ocean surrounding that island peak, even the sharp, spiky tops of trees blending softly in a light haze. After disposing of breakfast, the party started to descend the mountain on another side, attracted by a lake that they had noticed shining in the light of the moon. But unwittingly they chose the worst possible place for descent, and that, in spite of Joe’s general knowledge of the locality. In about an hour they found themselves involved in perpendicular cliffs and headlong pitches of the mountainside, which seemed to their inexperience truly frightful. At last they came out upon the dizzy brow of a precipice which was too smooth to afford any foothold.

The cliffs towering behind them seemed to forbid return, and they searched anxiously for a place where they dared attempt to descend.

“Look!” exclaimed Joe, at last, pointing to a dead pine which had fallen against the face of the precipice and remained leaning there. “We got to climb down that tree. Come.”

He crawled forward until half of his body was over the smooth ledge, then reaching down, he grasped the topmost branch of the leaning pine and swung himself over, landing on the trunk of the tree. After that it was easy to crawl along the trunk to its roots, which rested upon more level ground. The feat was not without peril, but it was the only way out of the difficulty. Each member of the party in turn followed Joe’s example, crawling, clinging, scrambling to safety. Then they looked back at the sheer cliff and rejoiced that they had had even this chance of escape.

Another danger, however, soon became evident. They had lost their way! Wandering in the intricacies of a “windfall,” they struggled desperately with a tangled mass of broken branches and uptorn roots. After spending the greater part of the forenoon in advancing perhaps half a mile, Sam climbed a tree, gave a searching look around, and announced that he had his bearings.

The half-breed climbed up, also, and surveyed the landscape with his keen black eyes.

“Right!” he grunted positively. “Sam guess right. Joe know Pioneer Lake.”

Nevertheless, when by slow stages they approached the lake, they found they still had to traverse broad swamps. At last, they came upon the backwoods trail which had grown familiar in many stalking games and signaling tests, and all their difficulties blended into the single one of tramping for an hour or two without food on a path that was wearisomely long, though it led out of the wilderness. Presently they emerged into the open, breaking into a cheer at the welcome sight of the council-fire of Pioneer Camp.

The “mountaineers” were quickly surrounded by a mob of curious boys and bombarded with eager questions. Rawson, however, demanded water and food for the hungry travelers first of all, and not until their exhausted comrades were amply refreshed did the other Scouts beg again to hear their experiences. Then Hugh and Alec, supplemented by Billy and Sam and endorsed by Rawson, told the story of their mountain climb. When it was finished, the council-fire had crumbled into ashes, and the last sparks had died out in the light of the stars.

Another day of camp-life was ended. As the boys fell asleep, they smiled with content at their lot, and wondered what new happenings awaited them in the Land of Tomorrow, at dawn to become another Today!

That there _were_ new and strangely unforeseen experiences before them, proof now exists, for the record may be found in “The Boy Scouts of Pioneer Camp.”

Transcriber’s Notes

--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.

--Silently corrected palpable typos (including once exchanging the order of two entire lines); left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.

--Retained the probable typo “stertorious” for its portmanteau-word potential.

--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)