CHAPTER XV
SECRETS OF THE WOODS
"Wiggle around some! Get your blood in circulation, and you'll be warmenough!" ejaculated Billy Worth, rather forcibly.
His remark was aimed at Paul Jones, fussing and shaking, pretending tobe all in a shiver with the cold while he leaned half-dressed over thecampfire. "Might wiggle a little more wood up here. Can't afford to burnup the back-log, just getting breakfast!" Billy added.
Worth had been up and fully dressed a quarter of an hour or more. WithPhil's help he had the morning meal actively in course of preparation.It was but little later than sunrise. The air was still cool. Dave wasfinishing his hasty toilet in the tent and Jones half-heartedly wastrying to do the same while crouching as close to the fire as he verywell could do without falling in.
"Great Scott, Bill!" protested Paul in answer to Worth's call forfirewood. "Great Scott and also gee whiz! I'll bet I've totedtwenty-seven cords of wood into this camp already, and we've been herejust two days. I hope if ever you are married your wife will bedescended from four generations of railroad firemen and your coal housewill be half a mile from where you live! I just do, by ginger!"
And although Paul's words were decidedly softened by his tone ofpretended personal injury and suffering, Billy called, "Gangway!" in amanner far more peremptory than sympathetic in reply. Up he came rushingwith the coffee pot and, uncertain whether some of its cold contentsmight not be intended for his bare shoulders, Paul sprang quickly to oneside. Quite sprightly then, he completed his dressing in almost lesstime than it takes to say it, and until breakfast was announced gatheredand carried up firewood as if he had whole train-loads to collect andonly a day in which to do it.
On part of all the boys there was the liveliest activity this Mondaymorning. At last and at last, after all their months of planning, afterall the preparations and their long journey they were ready to explorethe secrets of the vast Ship woods. All talk of the automobile races,all thought of the Chosen Trio's pursuit, thus far so ridiculouslyfruitless, were forgotten. True, Mr. Gaines and his loving friends werein Queensville; and true, that small city lay almost twenty milesdistant. Still what do twenty miles count with an automobile at one'sdisposal? Yet even this thought did not more than once occur to the fourchums.
"Three stones piled one upon another to mark the place." Once more theAuto Boys found themselves repeating many times the words which had beenthe means of bringing them to the great woods. Once more they speculatedupon the probability of being able, in all this broad expanse oftimbered hills and dales, to find that one small spot where years beforethe marker of stones had been erected.
Their search, it had been decided long ago, should be pursuedsystematically. To roam through and through the woods, going at randomin this or that direction, would almost certainly result in a completefailure to locate the object of their trip. The danger of becominghopelessly lost, far in the forest's interior, was still anotherexcellent reason for keeping steadily within lines of march agreed uponbefore starting.
"Remember," said Billy Worth, "that the bark has the most moss on thenorth side of the trees. Remember--"
"Oh, fiddle, Billy! You remember that there'll be the hungriestquartette around here to-night that you ever had to cook for," broke inPaul Jones. "Nobody's going to get lost!"
"Well, you remember, young fellow, that you're to be back to camp intime to go for milk before supper," cried out Dave MacLester.
There were other parting sallies as Dave and Billy started out in onedirection and Phil and Paul another. A last admonition from Way, thatregardless of all else, and no matter what was or was not discovered,all four were to meet in camp again at six o'clock, marked theseparation of the two searching parties. Yet even these were not thelast words spoken. Dave MacLester just could not resist his customaryprediction of ill-luck.
"Bet a dollar, right now, nobody finds a thing!" he called loudly. Butby this time he and Worth were high up on the crest of the ridge risingabove the camp. Phil and Paul were some distance away, heading straightup the valley of the stream below.
Any one chancing to observe the boys as they thus set out would surelyhave found his curiosity aroused by their accouterment. Each partycarried an axe and spade. In the hollow of Phil Way's arm was also asmall rifle. Billy Worth carried in addition to his spade a ratherformidable looking revolver. Paul Jones carried a noonday lunch forhimself and Phil in a small box slung over his shoulder like aknap-sack. Similarly MacLester bore refreshment for himself and hispartner for the day.
"Pretty good fun if we _don't_ find anything," Dave found himselfadmitting almost before the echo of his prediction of failure had diedaway.
And was he right? The air was just pleasantly cool. The fragrance of theforest's tender new leaves was everywhere. No sound but the distantcawing of crows, and somewhere to the right the chirp of a squirrelbroke the silence save for the rustling leaves underfoot. The very hushof the woods was eloquent with sweet sentiments. The dogwood blossomsseen at intervals, and more frequently the wake-robins and adder'stongues, contributed their touch of beauty to enhance such gentlethoughts and feeling.
Buoyant and happy, the one eager with expectation, the other lessconfident but very willing to find himself a poor prophet, the two ladsmoved steadily, watchfully forward. Billy and Dave had been assigned toall that part of the forest lying to the north of Camp Golden andbetween the edge of the hillside above the creek and a long sinceabandoned logging road which penetrated deep into the woods a quarter ofa mile to the east. It would keep them very busy to cover the ground atall thoroughly before night.
"No, this ain't the great woods, though! Oh, I guess it's hardly anywoods at all! Very poor woods! Oh, yes! Very poor day, too!" With thisand other similar declarations, equally dignified and polished, PaulJones expressed the delighted state of his mind at about the same timeDave was mentioning his own pleasure to Worth.
Phil Way acquiesced in all of Paul's words, paradoxical as it mayappear, for he really denied them. "There never was a grander day; andisn't it a dandy, big woods!" he said. "Just makes a man feel likesoaring, though never before so conscious of his littleness anddownright insignificance. Why! the creek! these old trees! They were allhere and ages old long before we were on earth! They'll be here longafter we are gone, too, Paul. But oh! it is fine to be with them--toenjoy them!"
The course Way and Jones were taking was to the north through thevalley. Between the east bank of the creek and the foot of the hill laya strip of woods ranging from one hundred to three hundred yards inwidth. This was to be the field of their searching as they progressed tothe extreme northern limits of the forest. Returning, they wouldtraverse carefully the broad, sloping hillside, broken here and there byprecipitous ledges. So would they reach camp again, and the more openvalley near it.
"'Three stones piled one on top of another!' It will be along the hill,I'm thinking, that we'll finally find them," observed Paul thoughtfullyto himself. Then, impressed by what he considered the importance of thisconclusion, he called out the substance of it to Phil, for the two werekeeping some distance apart in order that the least possible bit ofground should escape their scrutiny.
"Well, don't forget there's something more than three stones to lookfor," Way answered. "If you find anything that looks interesting, singout. I'll do the same."
It was a valley of romantic interest the two boys were exploring. Herethe creek foamed and bubbled into "suds" over and around obstructingrocks or driftwood. Again it rested in deep, narrow pools. Beyond, ingentle ripples the water gained speed again to go tumbling on and on inminiature falls of a thousand different shapes and sizes, where itscourse was rough and broken.
Years and years ago the Indian knew this valley and its adjacent woodedhills and low plateaus as a favored hunting place. Later white huntersand trappers here sought and found wild game,--the deer, the bear, thepanther, the wolf, and even the beaver.
Pioneer settlers followed in their turn. For the latter, however, t
hecountry was too broken by rocky ledges and hills. The more level andfertile lands offered greater attractions for their husbandry, so theycarried their work of clearing, ploughing and planting elsewhere.
For years after the country all about had been quite opened up, wildgame continued to be found in the rough region now known as the Shipwoods. It continued thus to be a hunting place. Men traveled many milesto try their skill as sportsmen there, finding pigeons, wild turkeys andsmaller game for a great while after the last deer and the last bearwere gone.
At noon Phil and Paul came together beside a considerable waterfall ofthe creek. Seated on a great beech tree, partially uprooted by theundermining of the stream and now lying across it, the two ate theirlunch. No reward for their searching had yet come to them. Through thescreen of leaves and low bushes they could see in the distance afarmhouse. It meant that the road bounding the Ship woods on the northwas very near.
"Humph! Didn't think we _would_ find anything right off," observed Paul,philosophically. "But it wouldn't surprise me if we'd have some luckthis afternoon." And a minute later, as if fortifying himself againstdisappointment,--a really wise thing for anyone to do where the elementof chance is a factor--"Then again," said he, "it wouldn't _surprise_ meif we _didn't_."
But although Paul had thus plainly stated that he was not to besurprised at any event, the fact remains that he gave a most joyful yella couple of hours later, in answer to Phil's loud signal,--"Guess we'vefound something!"
"Not the three stones, but something pretty good, though!" Way calledagain, easily, as Jones bounded forward. "It's slippery elm! Twentytrees if there's one!"
"Good enough!" Paul cried enthusiastically. "Wish it had been the otherthing but anyhow we wanted slippery elm, too! We haven't failedentirely, have we, Phil?"
Delighted as could be, Jones frisked about like a colt while with hisaxe Way trimmed from a tree before him a long strip of bark. Then againand again he pulled off shreds of the inner fiber and tasted them.
"Let me see!" Paul demanded. He sank his teeth into the interior surfaceof a piece of the bark. It was soft and moist and had a peculiarlysweetish taste. In one's mouth it seemed to be melting away and in asmooth, oily manner like butter.
"Gee! It's slippery, all right!" ejaculated Paul, seriously, his lipsscrewed up like the mouth of a jug, his nose all wrinkled.
"No doubt at all about it being slippery elm," replied Phil confidently."Only trouble is, it's not the best season for gathering it. Ought to betaken in spring when the sap is flowing. The inside of the bark is justthe slipperiest thing then you ever saw."
"Twenty-six cents a pound. I remember the quotation we saw in the paperas if it were only yesterday," observed Jones delightedly. "S'pose theremust be just hundreds of pounds in the trees right around here, Phil.Won't weigh so much when it's dry though!" he added, his spirits fallingslightly.
"Only the inner bark is good, but even at that," Phil returned withsatisfaction, "even at that, we could gather a perfect stack of it inalmost no time. Won't Billy and Dave be glad?"
Carefully noting all surroundings,--the distance from the creek, thebare knob or point on the hill yonder and various other landmarks,--thatthey might easily find the place again, the two boys in due timecontinued on. With them they carried extensive samples of theirdiscovery and both watched eagerly for more trees of the same kind whilepushing forward. But they did not forget they had other things for whichto search. They cautioned each other they must be as painstaking as tothis as they had been before.
How Worth and MacLester had been faring meanwhile may be told morebriefly, though they were even more fortunate. That part of the woodspenetrated by them lay quite dry and high. There was less underbrushthan on the lower levels. The saws and axes of the logging crews hadscarcely touched this portion of the forest. All was in quite the samewild state as it had been a hundred years before.
Dave and Billy came upon a shack of brush piled over some supportingpoles late in the afternoon. Some hunter had erected the shelter thepreceding winter, perhaps. In any event, with its bed of leaves andabundant shade, it offered a good place to have lunch and to rest.Leaving their tools here, then, the boys descended into a valley beyondto find water. There was a small brook there but its bed was quite dry.
"Good thing we have that bottle of cold coffee," observed Billy. "It'lldo for now. We'll get water sometime, or--"
His sentence was never finished. Suddenly his eyes had fallen upon alow, broad-leafed plant. He gazed steadfastly for a few seconds. ThenDave saw what it was that had so unexpectedly arrested Worth's attentionand--
"Ginseng!" he exclaimed. "Sure it's ginseng! I've seen the cultivatedkind!"
"I just happened to catch sight of it! Wasn't watching out for anythingjust then at all!" said Billy excitedly.
"And here's some more!" cried MacLester in similar tones.
"Here, too,--a lot more! Six dollars a pound for it! Hurrah for us!" AndBilly ran for a spade. He wanted to make sure the plants had the forkedroots usually characteristic of ginseng.
"Now, Bill Worth, don't you go to counting any chickens before they'rehatched!" answered Dave. "There'll be some drawback, somewhere."
It was quite like young Mr. MacLester to make just such a prediction.
Yes, David MacLester, some drawbacks to be sure, yet without this bed ofginseng never would the joys experienced in "_The Auto Boys' Race_" havebeen your happy lot.
THE END.
* * * * *
Rider Agents WANTED
Boys and young men everywhere are making good money taking orders for"Ranger" bicycles and bicycle tires. You are privileged to select theparticular style of Ranger bicycle you prefer: Motorbike model,"Arch-Frame," "Superbe," "Scout," "Special," "Racer," etc. While youride and enjoy it in your spare time hours--after school or work,evenings and holidays--your admiring friends can be easily induced toplace their orders through you.
Factory to Rider
Every purchaser of a Ranger bicycle (on our factory-direct-to-the-ridersales plan) gets a high-grade fully guaranteed model direct from thefactory at wholesale prices, and is privileged to ride it for 30 daysbefore final acceptance. If not satisfied it may be returned at ourexpense and no charge is made for the use of machine during trial.
Choice of 44 Styles Colors and Sizes In the Ranger line]
Delivered to You FREE
We prepay the delivery charges on every Ranger from our factory inChicago to your town and pay the return charges to Chicago if you decidenot to keep it.
Easy Payments if desired, at a small advance over our specialFactory-to-Rider cash prices.
Parts For All Bicycles
In the Ranger catalog you will find illustrated bicycle cranks, cups,cones, sprockets and a complete Universal Repair Hanger and Repair FrontForks designed to fit any and every bicycle ever manufactured inAmerica. Complete instructions are given so that any boy canintelligently order the parts wanted. You will also find repair partsfor all the standard makes of hubs and coaster-brakes and all the latestequipment and novelties.
Tires at Factory Prices Share with us our savings in Trainload TireContracts and the Samson, Record and Hedgethorn Tires get the best Tirevalues in America at Wholesale Factory Prices.
Send No Money
But write us TODAY for the Big Ranger Book and particulars of our 30 DayFree Trial Plan, wholesale prices and terms.
MEAD CYCLE COMPANY CHICAGO USA
* * * * *
SUMMER SNOW AND OTHER FAIRY PLAYS
By GRACE RICHARDSON
Finding there is a wide demand for plays which commend themselves toamateurs and to casts comprised largely of children, Miss Richardson,already well and widely known, has here given four plays which areunusually clever and fill this need. They call for but little stagesetting, and that of the simplest kind, are suited to presentation theyear around, and can be effectively produced by amateurs withoutdifficulty.
PUCK IN PETTICOATS
By GRACE RICHARDSON
Five plays about children, for children to play--Hansel and Gretel, TheWishing Well, The Ring of Salt, The Moon Dream, and Puck in Petticoats.Each is accompanied by stage directions, property plots and otherhelpful suggestions for acting. Some of the plays take but twentyminutes, others as long as an hour to produce, and every one of the fiveare clever.
HANDY BOOK OF PLAYS FOR GIRLS
By DOROTHY CLEATHER
Not one of the six sparkling plays between these covers calls for a malecharacter, being designed for the use of casts of girls only. They areeasily, effectively staged--just the sort that girls like to play andthat enthusiastic audiences heartily enjoy.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends