CHAPTER III.

BACKED BY SCOUT COMRADES.

Gus staggered over to a rude chair made from hickory branches, and threw himself down, covering his agitated face with both hands. Arthur looked ruefully at Hugh as though hardly knowing what to make of these strange actions on the part of the boy whose rich father owned this deserted lumber camp.

The coming of Billy, loaded down with traps, broke in upon the dead silence that seemed to grip them.

“‘Everybody works but father!’” sang out the stout boy, cheerfully, as he cast his burden on the puncheon floor, it consisting for the most part of camping blankets of gray material, and which had seen considerable service in times gone by.

“Well, we don’t expect you to do it all, Billy,” remarked Arthur, as he hurried outside once more.

Hugh, too, busied himself, knowing that in all probability Gus would explain what his queer words meant, in his own good time. The boy was beginning to master his feelings when the others came in again, each loaded with packages of food, clothes-bags, and such things as a camera, a shotgun, an ax, and the cooking utensils they knew so well.

Gus offered to assist them, but Hugh declared they were more than half done, and that another trip would finish the job.

“When you come back again,” said Gus, evidently determined to explain things at the start, “I’ve got something I want to tell you all.”

A short time later, everything having been carried under shelter, Hugh and the other pair gathered close around Gus, who was now smiling bravely, though still laboring under considerable excitement bordering on keen disappointment.

“Don’t bother telling us a thing unless you really want to, Gus,” said Hugh in his kindly fashion, but the other nodded his head as he went on to say:

“Oh, I meant all along that you should know,” he said. “Fact is, I couldn’t have gotten along even a little bit without explaining why I was urged to come up here by my mother, and without father knowing a thing about it.”

He sighed again, and then went on bravely. Hugh saw by the way he compressed his lips that it hurt Gus keenly to say what he meant to, but that even this would not keep him silent. After a moment he started to say, grimly:

“Perhaps you’ll remember that once upon a time I had an older brother by the name of Sam. Most people believe Sam went out West to live with an uncle who had a ranch there; but the truth of the matter is he had a terrible quarrel with father, and was turned out of the house! That’s been the skeleton in the Merrivale closet ever since, and Sam’s name has never been mentioned to my father by any of the rest of us.”

Gus swallowed hard to master his emotion, and then proceeded with his story.

“Sam was a lovable fellow, only weak, and he fell in with a bad lot who dragged him down. From the day he disappeared, now some four years back, none of us have ever set eyes on him. I’ve got a suspicion that my mother tried to keep in touch with him, for once I saw her get a letter that had a Chicago post-mark on it; but that was three years ago. Since then I don’t believe even she has known whether poor Sam was alive or dead.

“Then a short time ago she learned something that has caused her plenty of sleepless nights, let me tell you. I don’t know just how the news traveled, but it was to the effect that Sam had come back to his old haunts, accompanied by another tramp; he had fallen as low as that, and was believed to be lying sick up here at the old lumber camp.

“My father is an awfully stern man, you must remember, and mother is afraid of his terrible temper, so she didn’t dare speak to him about it. Finally, she took me into her confidence, and begged me to fix it so I could go off on a camping trip, running up here to see if there was any truth in the rumor she had heard, and if so to do what I could for my brother Sam. But you can see he isn’t here, and I’m afraid it was a false alarm. Oh, I’m sorry for my poor mother, that’s all!”

Gus looked as though about to break down again, seeing which Hugh hastened to say something.

“But hold on there, Gus,” was what he remarked, hastily and cheerfully; “remember that a scout doesn’t give in so easily as all that. It’s true your wandering Brother Sam doesn’t seem to be here now, but that’s no reason he hasn’t occupied this bunk-house of late.”

“Hello, that sounds like you have seen signs, Hugh!” exclaimed Arthur.

“Well, I have,” came the answer. “Let’s look around a bit before we decide that there was nothing back of the story. Here you can see there’s been a fire lately on this broad hearth where the cooking is done. Like as not the last time the loggers were here was many months ago, and the rain coming down the broad chimney would have leveled the ashes, which you see isn’t the case right now.”

The scout master bent down and placed his hand on the heap of ashes. He quickly drew it back again, and turned a smiling face toward the other boys.

“Try the test and see for yourselves,” he urged, which every one of the others hastened to do, also receiving a surprise in turn.

“Why, what d’ye think of that, it’s actually _warm_!” exclaimed Billy, as he started to wring his fingers as though he had burned them.

Gus stared hard at Hugh. The pallor was leaving his face, while a sparkle as of revived expectation and hope could be seen in his tear-dimmed eyes.

“What does that mean, Hugh? Oh, please tell me, because it seems as if I couldn’t collect my wits enough to reason it out!” he begged, laying a quivering hand on the khaki sleeve of his chum.

“Well, there’s certainly been some person or persons holding forth here not so long ago,” said the other, with the positiveness of conviction. “You can see signs where they’ve done some primitive sort of cooking. Here’s the head of a rabbit which no doubt they snared or shot; and over there are scales showing that they found some way of getting fish out of the stream.”

“That’s so, every word of it!” said Billy Worth, who would, however, have unhesitatingly believed Hugh, no matter what sort of theory the other advanced.

“Now, let’s look around a little further, and perhaps we can find out something else,” continued the energetic scout master. “For instance, this bunk has been occupied lately, I should say from the looks of it—and the next one ditto.”

“Then that would mean just two men had been in here, wouldn’t it?” asked Gus, feverishly. “The report mother received stated that Sam had one pal along with him.”

“And over by the fireplace,” remarked Arthur, “I saw a couple of old tomato cans that had been used for cooking coffee in, some time or other; which I happen to know is a favorite trick among hobo—er—traveling men of the railway ties.”

Gus smiled faintly at hearing Arthur so hastily change his words.

“Oh! don’t worry about hurting my feelings when you call my brother a tramp,” he went on to say. “He’s done enough to nearly break his poor mother’s heart, but you know a mother will keep right along loving a fellow no matter how wicked he’s been. So she sent me up here on this wild-goose chase, hoping I might talk with Sam, and find out if he didn’t want to make one last try to be decent again.”

“Well, we’ve got a whole week to find him in,” remarked Hugh, encouragingly.

“But why do you suppose they cleared out of here in such a big hurry?” asked Billy, seeking enlightenment from the source that seldom failed him.

“That’s a question that might have a good many answers,” Hugh told him. “It may be that, well, the hobo who is with Sam has reason to be afraid of the officers of the law on account of something or other he’s done. I kind of think he must have sighted our car coming along the logging trail several miles off, for you know it took us quite some time to get here from the main road. So he hurried Sam away with him, taking along what little they had.”

Gus bent his head to hide the tears that came unbidden into his eyes. He knew Hugh was saying that partly to shield Sam, for there was nothing to tell them it was not the latter who had good reason to shun the officers of the law.

“Well, we’ll try and unravel all this conundrum a little later,” Billy remarked just then. “Let’s get settled first, and after that look around some. If Sam is sick I shouldn’t think he’d be able to get very far away from here. We’ll find him yet, see if we don’t, Gus! In fact, I feel sure we will!”

“It’s mighty good of you all to stand by me the way you do,” whimpered Gus, as he shook hands first with Billy, and then the others in turn.

“Shucks!” snorted Billy, himself winking pretty hard it must be confessed, for the stout boy had a very tender and sympathetic heart. “What’re scouts good for if they can’t back each other up when trouble swoops down, tell me? I wouldn’t give five cents for a fellow who wore the khaki and turned a cold shoulder to a chum in time of need.”

“It’ll all come out right, Gus, you can depend on that,” said Arthur, stoutly.

How could any boy give way to despondency when surrounded by such loyal comrades? Gus soon mastered his feelings, and even assisted the others get the various bundles unfastened. There is always something fascinating about this game of preparation, especially to boys who know the delights of camping out; and in good time Gus had apparently decided in his mind that the sky did not look quite so gloomy and forbidding.

Soon they were all working enthusiastically. A lot of things had to be attended to, such as chopping firewood, making up the bunks, undoing the food supplies, a task no one but Billy dared undertake, and all sorts of other duties too numerous to mention.

Then they decided to have a warm lunch before looking around outside. Gus had so fixed the car that it could not be stolen; at the same time the top was left raised in order to protect the interior in case of a heavy storm.

The time passed away as the afternoon advanced. Hugh had a dozen things he wanted to do, but for the time being he allowed them to take a back seat. There would very likely be an abundance of time to accomplish them all later on; first in order was this heart service of Gus Merrivale’s.

Hugh—yes, and both Billy and Arthur as well—could easily picture the intense anxiety of that poor mother waiting at home to learn about the fate of the wanderer for whom she still yearned. Yes, and what must make it doubly hard was the fact that she stood in such awe of her husband, and dared not even hint at the fact that the long-absent one was again near his old home from which he had been so summarily thrust.

“I’ve got in touch with the trail they left when they went away,” Hugh announced late that afternoon, coming back to the bunk-house after an absence of half an hour. “I followed it some little distance by means of the holes made by a cane one of the two men was using to help him walk. Then I struck some stony ground where I lost the tracks. But the first thing in the morning I’ll lead you to the spot, and we’ll see whether scout-craft is worth its salt or not.”

Gus beamed on the speaker. It could easily be seen that the boy’s heart was in the task that had been committed to his hands by the one he loved so dearly. Hugh only hoped circumstances would be such that Gus could go back home bearing some good news for the suffering mother of Sam Merrivale.

“It’s a good thing we’ve got this comfortable camp, let me tell you, boys,” Billy was saying later on, as he listened to the rising wind sighing around the corners of the log bunk-house. “Unless all signs fail, there’s going to be something of a storm coming this way before another sunset.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Billy,” agreed Arthur, “because it’s warm for the time of year. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a regular whooper out of that quarter, with the trees going down all around us like they did two years ago.”