The Camp Fire Boys at Log Cabin Bend: Four Chums Afoot in the Tall Timber

“How far have we hiked, Elmer, would you say?”

“About twelve miles, at a rough guess, Perk.”

“Huh! then we ought to be close to the ford, where this old river road crosses to the east shore of the Beaverkill, eh, Elmer?”

“If you listen carefully, Perk, you’ll hear the gurgle of the water among the stepping stones that lie at the upper edge of Galloway’s Ford.”

“That’s a fact; and say, I might have noticed it before now, only I was so busy watching some honey-bees working in the wild flowers alongside the road, and wondering if we’d be lucky enough to run across their hive, away up in the top of some hollow tree. Wow! the very idea makes my mouth water.”

“Well, once across the river and we’ll have about four miles more to tramp before we can pitch camp; is that O.K., Elmer?”

“A close guess for you, Wee Willie; but over a rough trail instead of this fairly decent road. Above the ford on this side there’s just a tote-road leading up to Si. Keck’s deserted lumber camp that lies, you remember, on the edge of Muskrat Swamp. This road crosses to the other side, and runs to Crawford Notch, ten miles away.”

“Huh!”

The chap who uttered this last exclamation half belligerently was what you might call a “horrible example” of the folly often displayed by boys when clapping a “nick-name” on some unsuspecting comrade.

Really “Wee Willie” was a full head taller than any one of his three chums, having possibly “shot up” overnight when about fourteen, as often happens—he was three years past that age now.

Perhaps at one time young Winkleman may have seemed puny and undersized, so that he really merited the queer sobriquet his mates had fastened upon him. But nowadays it seemed absolutely ridiculous, and few ever used it save when accompanied by a whimsical grin that must have become exceedingly annoying to the tall, angular, sandy-haired and freckled youth; more especially since he had of late been taking girls to country barn-dances.

The boy named “Perk,” really Aloysius Green Perkins, a rosy-faced, genial-looking, and altogether wholesome chap, whom everybody liked, once more spoke up. He was wheezing, being a bit stout of build, and frequently mopped his face with a suspiciously dingy-looking red bandanna; for the summer day had been rather warm, and each fellow carried quite a weighty pack on his back.

“I’m more than sorry I kept you waiting for me, because I wanted to see my dad when his train came in; but I had an important message for him, you know. So I guess it’s my fault if we have to make the last lap of our big hike after night sets in.”

“We should worry a whole lot about that!” disdainfully chortled the tall tramper. “Here’s Elmer got his fine pocket flashlight along; and besides, if we feel like it we can hold up a bit, and wait for the old moon to come along. She’s due shortly after dark sets in, you remember, fellows, being just past the full stage.”

“You’ve said it, Wee Willie,” remarked Elmer; “and we ought to be good for a few more miles.”

“Huh!” grunted the tall chap, just as before, as though the mention of that name grated on his nerves.

“Sure thing,” assented Perk, sturdily, though at the time it is possible his plump lower limbs were feeling more or less “wobbly” under him.

“Here’s the ford, and now to cross over,” remarked the fourth member of the party, Amos Codling by name, who was rather a newcomer in Chester; though ever since his advent, some six months previous, he and Elmer Kitching had been fast friends after a sort of David and Jonathan fashion.

The Beaverkill was not at a high stage, owing to summer droughts, but made up for this by being unusually noisy at the point where its waters ran past the “stepping stones,” forming eddies, and pools of foam-crested water.

The four chums proceeded to cross over. As a rule they were nimblefooted, and found little trouble in springing from rock to rock. Once, however, fat Perk came near slipping into the “drink,” when he made a little miscalculation. However, it happened that wise Elmer had been “keeping tabs” on the movements of the other, and managed to throw out a helping hand just in the nick of time.

So at last they reached the other shore. Perk was heard to draw a long breath as of real relief; for he believed he had just had a narrow escape from taking an involuntary bath, in which his pack must have been thoroughly soaked as well as himself.

“Now we leave the Crawford Notch road, and take to the trail that leads to Log Cabin Bend above here,” announced Elmer, who seemed to be looked upon as a leader among his mates.

“I reckon now this might be your old trail,” mentioned Wee Willie, as he pointed indifferently down at his feet.

Elmer agreed with him, for the “signs” were all there. And so without wasting any time in argument they started off in single file, with Perk fetching up the rear.

Already the sun was low down, and night could not be far distant. The trees up in this region were unusually tall, for the lumberman had not as yet attacked the eastern side of the Beaverkill.

“Say, let me tell you, it’s going to be some gloomy around here pretty soon,” observed the tall boy, after they had been tramping in this fashion for at least fifteen minutes, keeping up quite a lively pace.

Amos sighed, as though he might be carrying a little more than his share of boyish troubles himself; at which Elmer half turned his head to glance uneasily at his chum; doubtless wondering what it could be that of late was making the other seem so heavy-hearted.