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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 54536 ***</div>
<div id="cover" class="img">
<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Boy Scouts at Crater Lake" width="500" height="735" />
</div>
<div class="img">
<img id="insidecov" src="images/icover.jpg" alt="Boy Scouts at Crater Lake" width="500" height="723" />
</div>
<div class="img" id="pic1">
<img src="images/p03.jpg" alt="Pack Train Descending to Hunt’s Cove. Mount Jefferson in the Distance." width="926" height="600" />
<p class="caption">Pack Train Descending to Hunt’s Cove. Mount Jefferson in the Distance.</p>
</div>
<div class="box">
<h1>Boy Scouts at Crater Lake</h1>
<p class="center"><i>A STORY OF CRATER LAKE NATIONAL PARK AND THE HIGH CASCADES</i></p>
<p class="center">By
<br />WALTER PRICHARD EATON</p>
<p class="center small"><i>Illustrated with Photographs</i>
<br />FRED H. KISER</p>
<div class="img" id="p03a">
<img src="images/p03a.jpg" alt="W. A. Wilde Company" width="200" height="194" />
</div>
<p class="center small">W. A. WILDE COMPANY
<br /><span class="small">BOSTON</span> <span class="hst"><span class="small">CHICAGO</span></span></p>
</div>
<p class="csmaller"><i>Copyrighted, 1922</i>,
<br /><span class="sc">By W. A. Wilde Company</span>
<br /><i>All rights reserved</i>
<br />Made in U.S.A.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_7">7</div>
<h2>FOREWORD</h2>
<p class="center">(<i>For Parents and Similar People</i>)</p>
<p>It seems to be generally assumed that a story for boys
must be crowded full of adventures, and the assumption
is doubtless based on experience. This would
be all right if the adventures were also based on experience.
Unfortunately, however, such is not always
the case, and then the result is something that may
possibly satisfy an immediate craving of the boy for
excitement, but in the long run can only confuse his
sense of reality. It is probably more important, in a
boy’s development, to clarify his sense of reality than
it is to feed his imagination. His imagination, normally,
needs very little prodding to carry him away
from reality. That is why tales of actual adventure,
such as the records of explorers, hunters, and the like,
are so worth while for boys. They feed the imagination
while, at the same time, keeping touch with the
real. They have the lure of fiction, and the solidity
of fact.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_8">8</div>
<p>It has been my steady purpose, in the Boy Scout
series of stories which I have written, to bear this in
mind. I have not described places with which I was
unfamiliar, nor created adventures it was impossible
for boys to experience. In the volume preceding the
present one, “Boy Scouts in Glacier Park,” I endeavored
to give some adequate idea of that beautiful
National Park, and hence of a section of the Rocky
Mountain wilderness, and the actual adventures one
may now encounter therein. Our friend, Bill Hart, of
movie fame, may be relied on to supply the other sort
of Wild West adventure, without any need of help
from me. The response of my young readers was so
pleasantly encouraging that I am asking them, in this
book, to go still farther West, into another National
Park, Crater Lake, and into the Cascade wilderness of
Oregon. Whitman’s ride for Oregon was long ago,
and today they are building a macadam highway where
his horse left a solitary track.</p>
<p>The Cascade Mountains afford numerous opportunities
for snow climbing—and anyone who has practiced
this noble sport does not need to be told that it
supplies plenty of adventure. Snow mountains have
a way of withdrawing themselves many miles from
human habitation, and a pack train is scarcely to be
afforded save by those who have reached years of comparative
discretion, so I have no fear of sending
youngsters out alone to start up the Roosevelt Glacier.
If, however, I can inspire some few of them to persuade
their fathers to take them into the high places,
I know that both they and their fathers will ultimately
thank me.</p>
<p>But chiefly, in the end, I want young America to
know and to love and to preserve what is left of the
American wilderness.</p>
<p><span class="jr">W. P. E.</span></p>
<dl class="undent"><dt><i>Twin Fires,</i></dt>
<dt><i>Sheffield,</i></dt>
<dt><i>Massachusetts.</i></dt></dl>
<div class="pb" id="Page_9">9</div>
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
<dl class="toc">
<dt><span class="cn">I. </span><a href="#c1"><span class="sc">Bennie Visits the Public Library and Gives Spider a Surprise</span></a> 13</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">II. </span><a href="#c2"><span class="sc">Bennie Takes the Rope Up His First Cliff</span></a> 19</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">III. </span><a href="#c3"><span class="sc">How Bennie Earned a Trip to Oregon</span></a> 31</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">IV. </span><a href="#c4"><span class="sc">Bennie and Spider Cross the Continent</span></a> 39</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">V. </span><a href="#c5"><span class="sc">All Aboard for Crater Lake!—and Dumpling in the Other Car</span></a> 50</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">VI. </span><a href="#c6"><span class="sc">Bennie and Spider Have to Make After-dinner Speeches, and Bennie’s Knees Knock</span></a> 57</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">VII. </span><a href="#c7"><span class="sc">Held Up by the Snow, with the Thermometer at 86°</span></a> 68</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">VIII. </span><a href="#c8"><span class="sc">Up the Rim of Crater Lake at Last, Through the Snow-drifts</span></a> 75</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">IX. </span><a href="#c9"><span class="sc">The Mountain That Fell Into Itself</span></a> 83</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">X. </span><a href="#c10"><span class="sc">Down the Rim to the Lake—The Boys Ski on a Crater Snow-drift in July</span></a> 88</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XI. </span><a href="#c11"><span class="sc">Dumplin’ Tests the Strength of a Snow Cornice on Garfield Peak</span></a> 106</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XII. </span><a href="#c12"><span class="sc">Bennie Climbs the Mast of the Phantom Ship and Knows He Has Done Something</span></a> 113</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XIII. </span><a href="#c13"><span class="sc">The Scouts Are Driven Ashore by a Storm and Have to Climb Llao Rock—and They Learn a Lesson</span></a> 122</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XIV. </span><a href="#c14"><span class="sc">Bennie Takes a Day Off to Do a Good Turn—He Washes All the Dirty Clothes</span></a> 137</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XV. </span><a href="#c15"><span class="sc">The Long Hike—The Scouts Find Packing Grub and Blanket Rolls Up and Down Cliffs is Hard Work</span></a> 144</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XVI. </span><a href="#c16"><span class="sc">The Climb Up Scott Peak—Bennie Begins Work for a Merit Badge for Hiking</span></a> 154</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XVII. </span><a href="#c17"><span class="sc">Good-bye to Crater Lake, and a Motor Trip to Bend</span></a> 167</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XVIII. </span><a href="#c18"><span class="sc">The Boys Encounter “Pep,” Who Promises Them a Bear Hunt</span></a> 174</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XIX. </span><a href="#c19"><span class="sc">The Bear Hunt—In Which the Boys Discover that the Bear Doesn’t Do All the Hard Work</span></a> 178</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XX. </span><a href="#c20"><span class="sc">Bennie Achieves a Dog, and the Party Puts Out a Forest Fire</span></a> 206</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XXI. </span><a href="#c21"><span class="sc">The Pack Train Has to Toboggan Into Hunt’s Cove, and Bennie Puts “Action” Into It</span></a> 221</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XXII. </span><a href="#c22"><span class="sc">The First Attempt at Jefferson—Dumplin’ Almost Falls to Death—The Hardest Work the Boys Ever Did</span></a> 234</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XXIII. </span><a href="#c23"><span class="sc">The Summit is Conquered!</span></a> 262</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XXIV. </span><a href="#c24"><span class="sc">Back Over the Divide—A Horse Turns Three Somersaults Down the Snow Slope</span></a> 273</dt>
<dt><span class="cn">XXV. </span><a href="#c25"><span class="sc">Bennie Loses Jeff, but Brings Home Something Else to Last Him Many Years</span></a> 280</dt>
</dl>
<div class="pb" id="Page_11">11</div>
<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
<dl class="toc">
<dt class="jr"><span class="small">PAGE</span></dt>
<dt><a href="#pic1">Pack Train Descending to Hunt’s Cove. Mount Jefferson in the Distance. (<i>Frontispiece</i>)</a> 222</dt>
<dt><a href="#pic2">Crater Lake—Wizard Island, and Over it Llao Rock</a> 80</dt>
<dt><a href="#pic3">Campers at the Rim of Crater Lake. Mid-July Snow in Foreground</a> 88</dt>
<dt><a href="#pic4">The Boys Sliding Down Wizard Island Crater (Enlarged from a Movie)</a> 98</dt>
<dt><a href="#pic5">The Boys Walking on the Snow Cornice of Garfield Peak (Enlarged from a Movie)</a> 108</dt>
<dt><a href="#pic6">Looking Across Hunt’s Cove to Jefferson. Dotted Line Shows Route of Climb; Arrow Points to Place Where Dumplin’ Slipped</a> 252</dt>
<dt><a href="#pic7">Crossing the Divide Near Mount Jefferson, on July 25th. Three Fingered Jack in Distance</a> 274</dt>
<dt><a href="#pic8">Saint Peter’s Dome and Columbia River. Mount Adams in Far Distance</a> 286</dt>
</dl>
<div class="pb" id="Page_13">13</div>
<h1 title="">Boy Scouts at Crater Lake</h1>
<h2 id="c1">CHAPTER I
<br /><span class="sc">Bennie Visits the Public Library and Gives Spider a Surprise</span></h2>
<p>Bennie Capen was sitting in the public library
reading a book. Miss Lizzie Cox, the librarian,
was watching him with some suspicion. Bennie was
not what you might call one of her regular customers,
and she was surprised to see him come in, ask for a certain
book, and take it off to the reading table. She certainly
watched him as if she suspected a nigger in the
wood-pile somewhere. Bennie had a reputation in
Southmead, but it wasn’t exactly a reputation for
bookishness. Some people said he was a “bad boy,”
some people laughed and said he was “full o’ pep,” and
some people, including Mr. Rogers, the scout master
of Bennie’s troop, said the trouble with Bennie was
that his engine was too powerful for the chassis.
Anyway, Miss Lizzie Cox, behind the delivery desk,
frowned as she watched him through her gold-rimmed
glasses, as if she expected to see him throw the book
at little Bob Walters, across the table, or pull the hair
of Lucy Smith, who was consulting the encyclopædia
preparatory to writing a composition on “The Products
of the Philippine Islands.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_14">14</div>
<p>However, Bennie did none of these things. He read
steadily in his book, after first looking at all the pictures,
and emitting several low whistles, each one of
which brought a sharp, admonitory rap of her pencil
on the desk from Miss Cox, and a loud “Silence!”
Bennie grinned cheerfully each time, and went on reading
and looking at the pictures. His eyes were bright,
and every now and then he ran his fingers excitedly
through his brown hair, till it stood straight up on his
forehead.</p>
<p>By and by little Bob Walters returned the bound
volume of St. Nicholas and went out. Lucy Smith
exhausted the products of the Philippine Islands (or
her own patience), and took refuge in “Vogue.”
From the streets outside came the shouts of a snowball
fight. But Bennie kept on reading. Finally the
door opened, and another scout came in, a tall, slender
boy with two books under his arm. He saw Bennie
as he was walking up to the desk, and stopped, surprised.
Then he stole over on tiptoe, and looked over
Bennie’s shoulder at the book.</p>
<p>“Gosh all hemlock, Bennie,” he whispered, “plugging
to get a hundred per cent in physical geography?
You don’t care how much of a shock you give your
dear teacher, do you?”</p>
<p>Bennie looked up, with his usual grin. “’Lo,
Spider,” he said. “Say, this old book is some humdinger,
I’ll tell the world.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_15">15</div>
<p>“Don’t tell the world so loud, or Miss Cox’ll be out
over the desk,” Bob Chandler whispered back, catching
a sight of the librarian’s face out of a corner of
his eye. “What is the book?”</p>
<p>Bennie turned back to the title page, and Spider read,
“On British Crags and Alpine Heights.”</p>
<p>“Say, wait a minute—look at this picture,” said
Bennie, turning the pages to find it. “Here it is.
Look at that old cliff! And pipe where that guy is
climbing. Oh, boy! That’s only one, too. ’Most
every picture’s like that, or more exciting, and it tells
how somebody fell off most of ’em, and was killed,
and——”</p>
<p>“Silence!” from Miss Lizzie Cox.</p>
<p>“Old crab!” whispered Bennie. “Well, I gotter
finish this chapter ’fore closing time.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you take the book out? I’d like to
read it, too,” Spider whispered.</p>
<p>“Haven’t got a card,” Bennie confessed. “Guess
I don’t read as much as I ought to.”</p>
<p>“Guess you don’t,” said Spider. “Here, give it
to me. I’ll take it out for you.”</p>
<p>“How’d you ever know about it, anyhow?” he
asked, when they were outside the building, on the
snowy sidewalk. “Gave me some shock to see you
sitting in the library!”</p>
<p>“Mr. Rogers told me about it,” Bennie answered.
“We got to talking about mountains, and climbing,
and he said to go ask for this book and see what real
climbing is like. Oh, boy! I wish we had something
like those old what d’you call ’ems—spitzes—around
these diggings.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_16">16</div>
<p>“A spitz being what?” Spider laughed.</p>
<p>“Here, give me the book—I’ll show you. It’s a
German word, I guess—means spire, maybe—I don’t
know. Never studied Dutch—probably wouldn’t
know if I had—but anyhow they’re tall, sharp rocky
peaks, pretty nearly straight up, in the Alps somewhere,
and you climb ’em with your teeth and your
toe-nails.”</p>
<p>The two scouts paused in the middle of the sidewalk,
while Bennie hunted out a picture of several
men, roped together, climbing the precipitous face of
one of the Dolomites, and their faces were over the
book, looking at the thrilling photograph—when, <i>blam</i>,
came a snowball, crashing into Bennie’s side.</p>
<p>He thrust the book into Spider’s hands for safe-keeping,
stooped for a handful of snow, and dashed
around the corner of the post-office after the vanishing
pair of heels.</p>
<p>When he came back he was grinning. “Fresh guy,
that Tenderfoot,” he said. “His ma won’t need to
wash his face for supper tonight. Come on, let’s go
to my house and look at those old pictures some
more.”</p>
<p>They were soon curled up on the couch in his
father’s library, with the book first on one lap and
then on the other. After they had looked twice at
every picture, they read aloud to each other parts of
the text, especially the most exciting parts they could
find, but skipping the descriptions of scenery and the
long foreign names. The Welsh names were worse
than the German.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div>
<p>What interested them most, however, were the pictures
that showed how the rope is used, both in climbing
and descending, and the passages about it.</p>
<p>“I wish we had a braided rope!” Spider exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Guess we could get some sort of a rope, all right,”
said Bennie. “But where are we going to get the—the
spitzes to use it on? Those old mountains make
ours look like pimples.”</p>
<p>“Oh, they’re not so bad—they’re <i>something</i>, anyway,”
Spider answered. “I bet you’d need a rope to
climb the cliffs on Monument Mountain, and maybe,
if the snow gets deep, we’d have to cut steps in it to
get up to those cliffs. Might try it.”</p>
<p>“Sure, we could try it. But you wouldn’t slide
far enough to hurt yourself if you did slip going up to
the cliffs, and I bet <i>nobody</i> could climb right up the
cliffs themselves.”</p>
<p>“I bet the man who wrote this book could,” said
Spider. “We never really tried it. What do you
say if we get a rope and have a go at ’em, next Saturday,
eh?”</p>
<p>“You’re on!” cried Bennie. “We’ll get the old
rope tomorrow, after school. Going to take the troop
along?”</p>
<p>“Not on your life! We’ll ask Mr. Rogers, though.
We don’t want too many. Those cliffs aren’t going
to be a picnic, I’ll tell the town.”</p>
<p>“You’ve said it,” Bennie assented. “Well, so long
till tomorrow. Don’t forget to bring some money
for that old rope.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_18">18</div>
<p>“And don’t you forget that book’s out on my card,”
Spider laughed. “Won’t do it any good if you throw
it at the cat.”</p>
<p>Bennie made as if to throw it at him, and he ducked
quickly out of the door.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div>
<h2 id="c2">CHAPTER II
<br /><span class="sc">Bennie Takes the Rope Up His First Cliff</span></h2>
<p>The next afternoon the two scouts emerged from
Seymour’s store with a hundred feet of brand
new half-inch rope, and ran directly into a group of
half a dozen of their fellow scouts.</p>
<p>“Hi! Get on to Spider and Bennie!” someone
cried. “What you goin’ to do, Bennie, rope a
steer?”</p>
<p>“Goin’ to hang yourselves?” somebody else demanded.</p>
<p>“Goin’ to tie up the cat?” came from a third.</p>
<p>“Going to have some spaghetti for supper?” said
a fourth.</p>
<p>“Goin’ to fish for minnows through the ice with
it?” asked still another.</p>
<p>“No, we’re goin’ to tie up a pound of candy for our
dear teacher,” Bennie replied. “Come on, Spider,
these guys are too bright for us.”</p>
<p>“Don’t trip over your skipping rope, dearie,”
taunted one of the scouts. Bennie hurled a snowball
at him and then he and Spider dodged away from a
shower of pursuing missiles.</p>
<p>“Well, they didn’t learn much that time,” Spider
laughed, as they entered Bennie’s back yard, went into
the barn, and threw an end of the rope over a rafter,
so that both ends dangled to the floor.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div>
<p>“Now we’ll try coming down the doubled rope,”
said Bennie.</p>
<p>He climbed out on the rafter, grasped both strands
of the rope, and slid down. Spider followed him.</p>
<p>At the bottom they surveyed their bare palms ruefully.</p>
<p>“Feels as if it was full of splinters,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“It’s too stiff—it’s like a piece o’ wood,” Spider
complained. “Guess it isn’t much like the braided
ropes Alpine climbers use. What are we going to do
about it?”</p>
<p>“Ask Mr. Rogers,” said Bennie. “We haven’t
told him about it yet, anyhow. Come on. Wait a
minute, though. No use getting any more questions
fired at us.”</p>
<p>He took one end of the rope and pulled the other
end down over the beam. Then, while Spider played
it out, he spun around and wound it around his body.
After that, he put on his mackinaw.</p>
<p>“You look ’s if you weighed about two hundred,”
Spider laughed.</p>
<p>“I feel like Houdini,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>They found the scout master at home, and told
him their plans, and about the rope. He laughed, and
grabbing the loose end, spun Bennie around like a top,
while he unwound it.</p>
<p>“The first thing to do is to wrap a piece of twine
around both ends, so it won’t unravel,” he said, “and
then boil it for a day in your mother’s wash boiler—if
she’ll let you.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_21">21</div>
<p>“Will you go with us Saturday?”</p>
<p>“Sure thing. But let’s take a couple more of the
troop along. Not a lot. It may be dangerous.
We’ll take Billy Vance and Tom Shields, eh? They
are strong and careful.”</p>
<p>“Well, not any more,” said Bennie. “Gee whiz,
we don’t want to let ’em all in on this right off the
bat.”</p>
<p>“What kind of a scout are you?” Mr. Rogers
asked. “Want to hog all the fun?”</p>
<p>Bennie reddened. “No, it isn’t that,” he said,
“but me and Spider sort of discovered this, and we
want to try it out first. A lot of ’em would only
laugh. I got it out of a book.”</p>
<p>“Ho, that’s it!” laughed the scout master. “You
don’t want to be caught reading a book! Well, I’ve
a good mind to assemble the whole troop, and tell
’em the glad news. Cheer up, though, I won’t. The
shock might be bad for ’em.”</p>
<p>“He’s got your number,” said Spider, as the two
scouts left.</p>
<p>Bennie grinned, but he looked a little sheepish.</p>
<p>It took a lot of explaining before Mrs. Capen would
let the boys have the wash boiler, but finally they persuaded
her, and slipped the coil of rope into the water,
leaving it there all night to boil.</p>
<p>The next day the water was a dark brown color,
but the rope, after they took it out and stretched it as
hard as they could from the barn around a tree and
back again, dried out much softer than it had been,
so that it could be easily handled. And, to complete
their happiness, that night it began to snow again
heavily.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div>
<p>“I hope it don’t stop till Saturday, and there’s six
feet on the level!” cried Bennie.</p>
<p>There weren’t six feet, but there were more than
two, badly drifted, when Saturday dawned bright and
clear. When Mr. Rogers and the four scouts set out
for the cliffs, two miles away, they were on snowshoes.
Bennie carried the rope, carefully coiled, over
his shoulder, and he had a scout hatchet in his belt, to
cut steps with. Each member of the party had an
alpenstock, also, some of them made by taking the
guard off old ski poles, some merely by sharpening a
five foot length of pole. The snow was deep, but it
was also fine and powdery, so that even on snowshoes
they sank well in, and had to take turns breaking
trail.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t look to me as if we’d have to cut many
steps,” said the scout master.</p>
<p>And it turned out that they didn’t, much to Bennie’s
disgust. To reach the base of the cliffs, it was
necessary to climb for 300 yards or more up a pile of
rocks, of all sizes and shapes, which in ages past had
been broken off from the precipice above, and now lay
in a vast heap at the base, making a kind of wild,
irregular stairway, and just about as steep as a flight
of steps. Bennie had hoped that these rocks would
be packed over hard with snow, so they would need
to cut steps up the slope. But, alas! it takes far deeper
snows, and snows that do not melt in spring, to form
such a slope.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_23">23</div>
<p>What they found, instead, was that the snow had
filled in between the rocks just enough so you couldn’t
tell whether your foot was going to sink six inches or
six feet, and blown off the top of the rocks, making
them slippery as glass. Of course, they had to leave
their snowshoes at the base. To get up the pile meant
nothing more than hard work and scraped shins. Billy
and Tom, the two other scouts who had come along,
began to complain.</p>
<p>“Say, is this your idea of fun?” said Tom. “You
don’t need a rope for this, you need shin guards.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, where’d you get this Alpine stuff, anyhow?”
said Billy, as one foot went down between two
hidden stones and he half disappeared from sight.</p>
<p>“You wait till we get to the old cliff up there!”
Bennie answered hopefully.</p>
<p>The party paused and took a look at the cliff wall,
now towering just above them. They had all climbed
the mountain many times by the path, but none of
them, not even Mr. Rogers, had ever tackled the cliff
face. It was 200 feet high, most of it a sheer precipice,
and nobody in town had ever dreamed of trying
to climb it.</p>
<p>“Gosh!” Tom exclaimed. “We can’t climb
<i>that</i>!”</p>
<p>“Well, we’re going to try,” Bennie replied. “It’s
not a patch on a lot in that book, is it, Spider?”</p>
<p>“You’ve said it,” Spider answered.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div>
<p>After a few minutes more of hard scrambling, they
stood directly under the face of the precipice. Being
straight up, it was quite bare of snow, except on a
few ledges here and there, and at this point nobody
could have climbed it. There was nothing to get even
a finger hold on.</p>
<p>“Well, go on up with your rope, and throw us down
an end,” Tom taunted.</p>
<p>“We’ll have to work around till we can find a
chimney, won’t we?” Bennie asked the scout master.</p>
<p>“Or a ladder,” Billy added.</p>
<p>They moved along under the beetling face of the
rock, going in up to their waists in the snow which had
drifted against the base, until they came to a sort of
gully which divided the main cliff from an out-thrown
spur like a bowsprit. This gully was very steep,
about sixty-five degrees, and was partly filled with
snow. A few laurel bushes grew in it here and there,
and it evidently led up to a ledge, because at the top a
little pine tree was growing, a hundred feet above
their heads.</p>
<p>“If we can get up anywhere, it’s here,” the scout
master announced.</p>
<p>Bennie uncoiled the rope and fastened one end
around his waist, so his hands would be free. Then
he started up the gully. There was no question of
cutting steps—the snow was too soft. All he could
do was to tread it down under his feet and trust to its
holding him without sliding down until he could reach
up to a laurel bush and pull himself a bit higher.
Twice he slid back. Once his mittens slipped on a
bush, and he came down ten feet before he could get
a hold on something. Then he took his mittens off,
and climbed bare handed. Those below heard him
give a yell of triumph just as the last of the rope was
apparently going up after him, and then they saw him
come out on the ledge and tie his end of the rope
around the pine tree.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_25">25</div>
<p>“Come on!” he called. “All fast! Wow, but my
hands are cold!”</p>
<p>The others came up easily enough, for they had the
rope to pull on, and soon they were all standing on the
tiny ledge, a hundred feet above the base of the cliff.</p>
<p>“Well, Tom, the old rope was some help, eh?”
Bennie demanded.</p>
<p>“Where do we go from here?” was Tom’s reply.</p>
<p>“Yes, where do we go?” the scout master laughed.</p>
<p>“Right over to the next ledge,” said Bennie, pointing
to another ledge, on the same level, about ten feet
away, with next to nothing but bare cliff between.</p>
<p>“Oh, do we!” said Billy.</p>
<p>“Sure,” Bennie replied. “This is a traverse.
That’s what you call ’em, isn’t it, Mr. Rogers?”</p>
<p>“Sure, it’s a traverse all right. I don’t like the
looks of it, either.”</p>
<p>“Same here,” said Tom. “Gosh, if you slipped
getting over there—good night!”</p>
<p>He looked down the sheer hundred foot drop, and
pulled back quickly.</p>
<p>But Bennie already had the rope pulled up, and one
end around his body, under his arms, again.</p>
<p>“Here, Mr. Rogers,” he said, giving the scout
master the coil. “You take a brace and play me out.
I’ll get the rope over to the other ledge, and tie one
end there, and then you can put it ’round the tree,
and throw me the other end. Then you’ll all have a
railing to cross with.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_26">26</div>
<p>Mr. Rogers looked worried. “Now, go slow and
watch your step, Bennie,” he cautioned. “Here,
Spider, take hold of this rope behind me, so two of
us’ll have a grip.”</p>
<p>Bennie took off his mittens again, and beat the snow
from the crevices of the rock ahead of him till he could
get a good grip with his fingers. Then he shoved his
feet out on the tiny ledge below, hardly six inches
wide, and slowly, cautiously, made his way toward
the other landing. He had only ten feet to go, but
in the cold, without gloves, and with the rocks slippery
from snow, it was painful work, and he wasn’t sure
if his fingers would stand it without letting go, they
soon pained him so. Mr. Rogers watched him anxiously,
as he played out the rope. The others held
their breaths.</p>
<p>But he got there, and a shout went up from everybody.
He blew on his fingers and then tied his end
of the rope around a tree on the new ledge, while the
scout master passed the other end around the first
tree, and then threw the end across. When that end,
too, was tied, a double rope stretched across the gap
between the ledges, and the rest could put it under
an armpit, hold it fast with one hand while they
grabbed the cracks of rock with the other, and come
over in perfect safety. Then they pulled the rope
over to them, and started on.</p>
<p>“Some traverse!” Bennie cried. “I thought once
I’d have to let go, though, my fingers got so cold.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div>
<p>“Summer’s the time for this sort of work,” said
the scout master.</p>
<p>Billy, who had said nothing for several minutes,
looked back at the traverse, and down into the drop
of space below.</p>
<p>“I was scared pink,” he said, “and I don’t care
who knows it.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t scared, ’cause I knew Mr. Rogers and
Spider would hold me,” said Bennie. “Still, I’d have
gone a ways at that, and kind of dangled.”</p>
<p>The new ledge led around a corner, and then upward
for twenty feet, and brought them to a pile of
jagged rocks which could be climbed without a rope,
by brushing off the snow, till they were only twenty
feet below the top of the cliff. Here there was only
one way up. By grabbing any little handholds they
could find, it was possible to climb up about a dozen
feet to a tiny ledge, one at a time, and get into a
narrow upright crack, about two feet wide. This
crack led right to the summit, and you could work
up it by pushing with your feet and hands on one side
and your back on the other. At least, that is what
Bennie declared.</p>
<p>“It’s a chimney!” he cried.</p>
<p>“Well, I wish there was a fire at the bottom of it,”
sighed Tom, hitting his hands together.</p>
<p>Bennie started to tie the rope under his arms, but
Spider grabbed it.</p>
<p>“Say, whose card did you take that book out on?”
he said. “My turn now.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_28">28</div>
<p>After considerable feeling around for toe-holds,
Spider got to the ledge, and into the chimney. When
he stood erect, the top was only a few feet over his
head, so he soon had his fingers above the rim, and
pulled himself out and vanished. A moment later
they heard his “All fast!” and with the rope to climb
with, the rest were speedily beside him on the snow-covered
summit of the mountain.</p>
<p>Everybody gave a shout as the prospect burst on
them—the 200 foot drop at their feet to the bottom
of the cliff, and then the long steep slope below, and
then the valley farms and roads, all lying under a
dazzling carpet of white, and the far-off village and
still farther away more blue mountains.</p>
<p>“I was never on a mountain in winter,” said
Spider. “Gee, it’s great!”</p>
<p>“You’ve said it!” cried Tom and Billy.</p>
<p>Bennie didn’t speak for a moment.</p>
<p>“Say, it sort of makes a feller feel queer,” he said,
finally. “I mean, all this bigness!”</p>
<p>“It’s the altitude, Bennie,” Tom remarked. “Goes
to people’s heads, sometimes.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Bennie retorted, good-naturedly.
“Just the same, I know now why men go bugs on
mountain climbing.”</p>
<p>The descent was more rapid, and even more exciting,
than the climb. They used the doubled rope, pulling
it down to them after they had made a fifty foot
descent (the rope was a hundred feet long), and
speedily reaching the traverse.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div>
<p>Here Bennie and Spider offered to let either Tom
or Billy carry the rope across to make the railing, but
both of them said, “Not on your life!” in one voice,
and most decidedly. So Spider took it across, and
when everybody was over, Bennie tied one end around
the tree, tossed the rope down the gully the full hundred
feet, and told the rest to slide down it.</p>
<p>“How you going to get down?” Tom asked.</p>
<p>“You’ll see.”</p>
<p>When the last man was down, Bennie doubled the
rope around the tree, and slid on the two strands till
he reached a laurel bush in the gully. There he hung
on, pulled his rope down, slipped it around the bush,
and came the rest of the way, in a shower of snow.</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes later they were down again at their
snowshoes, and as they put them on and tramped out
across the fields away from the mountain they looked
back up at the cliffs, rising sheer and naked toward the
blue sky.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t seem as if we could have got up there,
does it?” Bennie cried.</p>
<p>“Now it’s all over, seems as if it was great sport,”
Billy laughed. “But while you’re doing it—say, I
wasn’t thinking of much but keeping hold of that old
rope!”</p>
<p>“That’s a very good thing to think of, too,” said
the scout master. “Boys, I want you to promise me
one thing, on your honor as scouts. That’s dangerous
work, especially at this time of year. I want you to
promise me you won’t try to take any of the other,
smaller boys up there. We don’t want any nasty
accident in our troop. Will you?”</p>
<p>“We promise,” they all said, soberly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_30">30</div>
<p>“Wow! I’d like to go to the Alps!” Bennie burst
out, a moment later. “Say, Spider, let’s you an’ me
go climb one of those spitzes.”</p>
<p>“All right,” said Spider. “We’ll start tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Just the same,” Bennie added, seriously, “I’m
going to climb a <i>real</i> mountain some day, if it takes a
leg.”</p>
<p>“It’ll take two of ’em, not to mention two hands, a
strong back and a good head,” Mr. Rogers laughed.</p>
<p>“A good head, did you hear that, Bennie?” said
Tom.</p>
<p>Bennie answered with a handful of snow.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_31">31</div>
<h2 id="c3">CHAPTER III
<br /><span class="sc">How Bennie Earned a Trip To Oregon</span></h2>
<p>At dinner that night Bennie was so full of his
adventure on Monument that he described it to
his father and mother in minute detail.</p>
<p>“Good gracious, Bennie! don’t you ever <i>dare</i> to do
such a thing again!” his mother cried. “I don’t see
what Mr. Rogers is thinking of to take the scouts up
such a place,” she added to her husband.</p>
<p>“Guess Rogers knows his way around,” Mr. Capen
answered. “A boy’s got to have a certain amount of
excitement to keep him out of mischief.”</p>
<p>“Sure!” said Bennie. “You’ve said a mouthful!”</p>
<p>“Bennie!” his mother cut in sharply. “I won’t
have you talking that way at my table, and to your
own father.”</p>
<p>“Aw, Ma, it’s just slang—what’s the harm?”</p>
<p>“One harm is, that it doesn’t show proper respect
for your father,” she answered.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” said Bennie. “Gee, I respect Pa all
right. And say, Pa, can’t I go somewhere this summer
vacation where there are <i>real</i> mountains? Gee, I
want to climb a <i>real</i> mountain! Will you let me go
out to Oregon and see Uncle Bill?”</p>
<p>Mr. Capen didn’t answer for a moment. Finally he
laid down his knife and fork, looked sharply at his
son, and replied, “Why should I?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_32">32</div>
<p>“Well, why shouldn’t you?” was all Bennie could
think of at first. Then he added, “Uncle Bill said
he’d take me on a trip in Oregon some time, if we’d
come out there, and a feller ought to see his own
country. Everybody says that—see America first.
Guess it’s the best way there is to study geography and
history and—and things.”</p>
<p>“H’m,” said his father slowly. Then again, “H’m.
Well, young man, do you know what you are asking?
Do you know what it costs to get to Oregon and back?
It costs a lot of money, I can tell you, and if you went,
your mother and I would have to stay at home while
I earned it, so you’d have to travel alone.”</p>
<p>“Let him go across the continent alone?” exclaimed
Mrs. Capen. “I guess not!”</p>
<p>“Oh, gosh, you’d think I was a baby,” Bennie protested.</p>
<p>“No, we don’t think you are a baby,” his father
answered, “but we do think you are unreliable, and
that you don’t do your school work faithfully, and you
don’t do the things we ask you to do around the place.
How about that dead apple tree you were going to cut
up this week?”</p>
<p>“Oh, gee! I forgot it,” Bennie said.</p>
<p>“Exactly. You forgot it. You evidently forgot
to study your history and your Latin, this week, too, I
gather from what the principal told me to-day. Now,
when you act this way, all I say is, why should I let
you go to Oregon, or anywhere else? What have you
done to show me that you’ll make real use of your
opportunities? Your friend Bob Chandler, now, I’d
trust. He’d keep his eyes open and learn a lot, because
he learns every day at home.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_33">33</div>
<p>Bennie hung his head. Then he looked up at his
father.</p>
<p>“Say, Pa, if I get good marks all the rest of the
year, and if I come to the bank every Saturday morning
and help you, and if I prune all the apple trees,
may I go to Oregon?”</p>
<p>“How do you know your Uncle Billy wants you?”
his mother demanded.</p>
<p>“I bet I can fix <i>that</i> all right. Say, Pa, can I?”</p>
<p>“You get the good marks for a month, son, and
work on the apple trees, and come to the bank—and at
the end of the month we’ll see,” his father answered.</p>
<p>“Gee, that’s easy!” Bennie shouted.</p>
<p>After dinner he started to call up Spider and suggest
going to the movies. He got as far as the telephone,
in fact, and then hesitated. It was a hard fight
for a minute, but he won out. Slowly he turned away
from the ’phone, walked up to his own room, got out
his textbooks, and began to study.</p>
<p>His father was watching him, from the library.
When he had gone upstairs, Mr. Capen laughed.</p>
<p>“The boy’s gone to study,” he said to his wife. “It
took a mountain to make him!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_34">34</div>
<p>During the next month Bennie had more than one
battle with himself, and he didn’t always win out,
either. But, on the whole, he did better than his father
had ever dreamed he would. Spider helped him,
too. Bennie had told nobody but Spider the reason
for his reformation, and he had added a hope that
maybe his uncle would suggest that he bring Spider
along. Spider’s father owned the largest store in
town, and Spider thought that if he promised to work
in it spare hours that spring and the next winter, his
father would let him go.</p>
<p>“’Sides,” Bennie said, “if you should go, Ma and
Pa would let me, I bet, ’cause they think you’re what
they call ‘responsible.’ So you just <i>got</i> to help me
stick at these old books.”</p>
<p>Spider was a natural student. He liked to study,
and it came easy to him. So day after day he made
Bennie come over to his house after supper, and studied
with him. When Bennie tried to talk, he said, “Shut
up!” After a couple of weeks, Bennie began to make
the discovery that the only way to get a lesson learned,
or any job done, is to go right ahead and do it. He
set himself a regular hour every day to prune in the
apple orchard, and he studied hard in the school
periods, and in the evenings. At the end of the month,
his father called him into the library.</p>
<p>“Well, son,” he said, “you’ve certainly bucked up.
Your report card here doesn’t look natural. Neither
does the orchard.”</p>
<p>“Can I write to Uncle Bill now?” Bennie grinned.</p>
<p>“Not yet,” said his father. “You’re doing fine,
but this is only one month. I’ve got to see if you can
keep the habit. If you do as well next month, you
may write.”</p>
<p>“Easy,” said Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_35">35</div>
<p>He didn’t really mean that “easy,” but as a matter
of fact, it was much easier than it had been the first
month. He <i>was</i> getting the habit. Before the second
month was over, Tom had called him “teacher’s pet,”
and been knocked into a slushy snow-drift and had his
neck stuffed with snow.</p>
<p>“I’ll teacher’s pet you!” Bennie laughed, finally letting
him up.</p>
<p>At the end of the second month Mr. Capen told him
he could write to his uncle, and if his uncle would let
him come to Oregon and take him on one of his mountain
trips, Bennie could go—“providing, of course,
you pass all your examinations in June,” his father
added. “It’s up to you.”</p>
<p>“I’ll pass all right!” Bennie said, joyfully. “And
say, Pa, if Spider’s father’ll let him go, do you suppose
Uncle Bill would mind if he went with me? Gee, it
would be great to have old Spider along!”</p>
<p>“I’m sure Uncle Billy wouldn’t mind, and I know
your mother would feel a lot easier about your going,”
Mr. Capen said. “I’ll see Spider’s father today.”</p>
<p>“Golly, you’re some dad!” cried Bennie.</p>
<p>“Well, I feel I’ve got more of a son than I had two
months ago,” said Mr. Capen.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_36">36</div>
<p>Bennie hadn’t seen his Uncle Bill (a younger
brother of his mother’s) for three or four years. He
lived in Portland, Oregon, where he was a very successful
doctor, and every summer he took a vacation in
the mountains, to get himself fit for his winter grind.
Bennie remembered him as a tall, strong, good-natured
man, who always came to see Mrs. Capen on his rare
trips East, and always talked to Bennie about what fun
it would be to show him “a real country”—meaning
Oregon. Bennie liked him, but it was hard, at that, to
sit down in cold blood and invite yourself for a visit,
and, still worse, to invite somebody else to go with
you! Bennie began, and tore up, two or three letters
before he got one that he thought would do. This is
what he sent:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><span class="sc">Dear Uncle Bill</span>:</p>
<p>The last time you were East you pulled a lot
of talk about showing me “a real country.” I guess
you never thought I could get that far to see it, so you
were safe. But I’ve been plugging hard this winter
and got such high marks that Pa thought I was sick
and Ma sent for the doctor, and he says I need a
change or I’ll know too much. So I’m all ready to be
shown that country of yours. And there’s a chum of
mine here, an awful good scout, Bob Chandler (Spider,
we call him), who doesn’t believe Oregon is so much,
either, and he’d go along, too, if you asked him real
polite. Besides, if he came, Ma would let me come.
Ma thinks if I go alone a Pullman porter will think
I’m a dress suitcase and pull me off the train at
Omaha, or something. And I guess it’s kind of fresh
my suggesting this about Spider’s going, but he’s an
awful good scout, and he and I have been climbing
Monument Mountain on a rope. Shall I bring my
rope? It is 100 feet long, and we boiled it on the
stove so it is soft. If we do come what clothes shall
we bring?</p>
<p><span class="center">Your loving nephew,</span>
<span class="jr"><span class="sc">Bennie</span>.</span></p>
<p>P.S.—Mother and Father are both well and send
their love.</p>
<p><span class="jr">B.</span></p>
</blockquote>
<div class="pb" id="Page_37">37</div>
<p>The chances are that before this letter was sent,
Bennie’s mother had written to her brother. But if
she did, Bennie didn’t know it. He mailed his letter,
and counted the days it would take to reach Portland.
In twice that time he ought to have an answer. At the
end of the week he and Spider were haunting the post-office.</p>
<p>Then, one day, the answer came. Bennie tore it
open, and this is what he read:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><span class="sc">Dear Bennie</span>:</p>
<p>I start for Crater Lake and the Sky Line Trail
on July 1st, leaving Portland by motor. I am a plain,
rough man, but I might be improved by your learned
society, and our scenery would be honored by your inspection.
By all means bring Spider. Spiders are
very useful in camp, to cook the bacon in. You’d better
come two or three days ahead of the start, so I can
look over your outfit. Bring your scout axes, canteens,
flannel shirts, khaki breeches, leggings, and
things like that. Boots are the most important item—very
heavy, and water-proof. You can get good ones
here. Bring snow goggles if you have them. Save
your rope. I have one, though it isn’t boiled like
yours. I always fry my ropes. I’ll write to you later
about trains, and more about your equipment. Tell
your mother that she is going to have a nice, quiet
summer.</p>
<p><span class="center">Your humble uncle,</span>
<span class="jr"><span class="sc">William Warren</span>.</span></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Bennie read this letter aloud to Spider, and they
both emitted a whoop of joy.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_38">38</div>
<p>“Some bird, old Uncle Bill!” cried Bennie. “Always
fries his ropes! I bet he’s got a real Alpine rope—braided
and everything. Gee, I’ll bet we climb a
real humdinger of a mountain. Maybe Mount Hood!
Oh, boy!”</p>
<p>“Say, I’d work every afternoon in the store for the
rest of my life, to climb old Hood!” said Spider.
“Come on, let’s go look up how high Mount Hood is.”</p>
<p>“I’ve looked it up—it’s 11,225 feet,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“And Monument is 1,600,” Spider reflected.
“More’n 9,000 feet taller than Monument! Wow!”</p>
<p>“It’s going to be a long time till June,” said Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_39">39</div>
<h2 id="c4">CHAPTER IV
<br /><span class="sc">Bennie and Spider Cross the Continent</span></h2>
<p>It certainly did seem a long while to both the scouts
between the time of getting Uncle Bill’s letter and
the closing of school in June. But it was a pretty busy
time, too. Bennie had to keep on studying, so he
could make sure of passing his examinations, and
Spider had to put in an hour or two every day in his
father’s store. Beside that, they had to have another
go at the Monument Mountain cliffs as soon as the
snow was gone in the spring, and at about every other
rock, big or little, within tramping radius of home.
They took the rest of the scouts along on these expeditions,
but as nobody but Bennie and Spider were going
to Oregon, the others didn’t get so excited about climbing
as they did, and soon everybody was playing baseball,
leaving Bennie and Spider to practice rock scaling
alone.</p>
<p>June came at last, and so did examinations. Bennie
passed them easily, for the first time in his life—just
because he had got his work from day to day. Then
the time came to buy their railroad tickets and get their
berths reserved. Before they knew it, their trunks
were packed, and they were ready to start on the long
journey.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_40">40</div>
<p>Bennie noticed that his mother didn’t say very much
the night before, but just sat and looked at him, while
he was going over the tickets with his father, and folding
them into a new pocketbook, with $100 in new
bills, which Mr. Capen had brought home from the
bank. Bennie put the purse into an inside pocket, and
went over to his mother.</p>
<p>“Gee, Ma,” he said, “you’d think I was going to the
North Pole or somewhere, instead of just to visit
Uncle Bill. Nobody’s going to speak cross to your
little Bennie, or make him take any wooden money, or
hit him over the bean. Don’t you worry. I guess
me ’n’ Spider can take a railroad trip without anybody
needing to worry.”</p>
<p>But though he spoke with a laugh, Bennie didn’t feel
very much like laughing, because when his mother
looked at him, and tried to smile, he saw the tears behind
her eyes, and he knew, somehow, that it wasn’t
because she was afraid for him, but because he was
going to be away from her so long. He couldn’t quite
understand this, but he loved his mother tremendously,
and it made him want to weep, too. In about one
minute he was weeping, and so was his mother, with
an arm about his shoulder.</p>
<p>Mr. Capen looked up in surprise.</p>
<p>“Hello!” he said. “Hello! So you don’t want to
go, eh?”</p>
<p>Bennie straightened up, and gulped hard, trying to
swallow his sob in a grin.</p>
<p>“Where—where do you get that stuff?” he demanded.</p>
<p>“Well, you don’t seem very <i>cheerful</i> about going.”</p>
<p>“It was ’cause Ma wasn’t cheerful,” said Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_41">41</div>
<p>“I’m cheerful, dear,” said his mother, smiling at
him. “I wasn’t crying because I was sad, but just because—because—well,
you won’t understand, but because
you’re so big and grown up now, and can go
away by yourself.”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t see’s that’s anything to cry about, for
a fact,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“Bennie,” his father remarked, “you have never
been a mother.”</p>
<p>“You said a mouth——”</p>
<p>“Bennie! slang, to your father!” said his mother.</p>
<p>“You have uttered a truthful remark, sir,” grinned
Bennie.</p>
<p>The next day Mr. and Mrs. Capen and Spider’s father
and mother came down to the depot with the two
scouts. Half a dozen of their troop were there, too,
and the last thing they heard as they waved from the
car window, was the scout yell. The last thing Bennie
saw was his mother’s face. She was smiling bravely
at him, and keeping the tears back.</p>
<p>In about an hour the boys had to change to a
through train, which took them to Chicago. At Chicago
they would have to spend the afternoon and early
evening, and then take the Northwest Limited on the
Union Pacific, which took them right to Portland, Oregon.
They had their tickets in their pockets, and their
berth checks, and about once in fifteen minutes they
felt of themselves, to see if the precious pocketbooks
were still there.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_42">42</div>
<p>Neither Bennie nor Spider had ever been West before,
and as long as daylight lasted they sat close to the
window. But it was dark all too soon. When the
train entered Syracuse, and traveled, apparently, right
down the main street, the two scouts looked right into
the lighted shop-windows, but out in the country they
saw nothing. So they went to bed, each with his precious
pocketbook under his pillow.</p>
<p>They were up at daylight, and dressed long before
the other passengers began to come into the washroom.
Now they saw the Great Lakes beside the track, like
the ocean, and rolled through the smoke of Gary,
where the great steel mills are, and saw Lake Michigan,
and almost before they knew it, were in Chicago.</p>
<p>The boys had careful directions what they were to
do in Chicago. They were to get right aboard the
transfer ’bus and ride over to the Northwestern station,
checking their suitcases there. Then they could
walk around the city, if they liked. It is a queer sensation
to arrive in a great city which you have never
seen before. Bennie and Spider, after the ’bus had
rolled them quickly across the bridge to the other station,
and they had checked their bags, walked out into
the street, without any idea where they were, and
turned east to see the town. They recrossed the
bridge, walked a few blocks, and were suddenly in the
Loop. The streets were none too wide. The elevated
railroad roared and thundered overhead. The great
buildings towered into the air. Trolleys, motors, thousands
of people crowded the way from wall to wall.</p>
<p>“Some burg!” Bennie exclaimed. “Little old
New York hasn’t got much on this village. I didn’t
know Chicago was so big.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_43">43</div>
<p>“Guess we haven’t got everything in the East,”
Spider answered.</p>
<p>They walked on till they reached Michigan Boulevard,
that splendid great avenue which sweeps down
by the lake shore, and they wondered how Chicago
stands for the smoke of the trains between the Boulevard
and the beach.</p>
<p>“Why don’t they <i>make</i> the old railroad electrify itself?”
Spider asked. “Gee, it’s turned all the marble
sooty black.”</p>
<p>It was a hot day, and getting hotter, so they finally
went out on a pier and sat in the breeze till it was time
to hunt up a place for supper.</p>
<p>After supper they walked around the Loop, which
was now filled with theatre crowds, and then back to
the station, got their bags, and hunted out the track
their train was to go on. The rear observation platform
had an illuminated red sign hung out behind,
with the name of the train—“Northwest Limited.”
It gave them a thrill to see those words! And that
train for three days would be their home. As soon as
the gates were open, they got aboard and hunted out
their berths.</p>
<p>The next morning, when they woke, the train was
rushing through Iowa. Mile after mile after mile of
rolling country, dotted with farmhouses, great red
barns, little wood lots close beside them, and endless
acres of sprouting corn, and tall wheat, as far as the
eye could see. Mile after mile, and never a town, but
always the fields of corn and wheat, the herds of cattle,
the great red barns.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_44">44</div>
<p>“Golly!” Bennie exclaimed. “We don’t know
what a farm is, do we?”</p>
<p>“I never saw so much corn in my life—I didn’t
know there <i>was</i> so much,” Spider answered.</p>
<p>That day they passed through Omaha, and were
still bowling along through the endless oceans of corn
in Nebraska when night came. It was terribly hot
now, and dusty and dirty. Spider wiped his face, and
when he looked at his handkerchief, it was black!
Bennie said he felt as if somebody had poured cinders
down his back.</p>
<p>“Wait till you wake up tomorrow,” said the
brakeman, who overheard them, “and you’ll see
snow.”</p>
<p>“You look sort of honest,” Bennie laughed, “but I
don’t believe you.”</p>
<p>“All right,” said the brakeman. “Want to bet?”</p>
<p>“Can’t,” said Bennie. “All my money’s in hundred
dollar bills.”</p>
<p>“We cross the height of land in Wyoming before
you’re awake,” the trainman went on. “We’re up
7,000 feet or more there—in Wyoming.”</p>
<p>“You mean the Rocky Mountains? Do we cross
’em at night?” cried Spider. “Gee, what tough
luck.”</p>
<p>“Not much mountains where we cross. But you’ll
see mountains, all right, if you don’t sleep all the morning—and
snow, too.”</p>
<p>“Bring me some now, I want to take it to bed with
me,” said Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_45">45</div>
<p>Spider, whose turn it was to sleep in the lower berth
that night, pulled up the curtain as soon as it was daylight,
and looked out. He gave a jump, reached up
and poked Bennie awake, and began to dress. In ten
minutes the boys were out on the observation platform,
staring hard. The train was in Wyoming now, on a
vast, high plateau, a country that didn’t look like anything
they had ever seen. It rolled away to the horizon
in every direction, like a tossing, oily gray sea,
without a tree on it, apparently without any grass on it
worth mentioning, but covered with pale green sage
bushes in clumps here and there. It was a naked, desolate
looking land, and yet they saw great droves of
cattle wandering over it, and now and then a white
strip of road, and finally, all of a sudden as the train
rounded a bend, seemingly right beside the track a
couple of miles away, a huge blue mountain covered
completely on top with a cap of white snow, and
streaked with snow all down the ravines on its northern
side.</p>
<p>The scouts gave a yell of joy at the sight. “A snow
mountain!” they cried.</p>
<p>“Do I win or not?” said the brakeman, appearing
behind them. “That’s the mountain. Pretty soon,
off south, you’ll see some higher ones, down in Utah.”</p>
<p>“How far is it to that mountain—about five
miles?” Bennie asked.</p>
<p>It looked two, but he thought he’d add a few.</p>
<p>The trainman grinned. “I wouldn’t try to walk it
before breakfast,” said he. “It’s about twenty or
thirty, I reckon.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_46">46</div>
<p>That day they rolled along through endless miles of
the naked cattle country, that in the East would have
seemed like a desert. No New England cow could
have lived on it, Spider declared. Then they began to
get into the Idaho mountains, on the branch line, and
turned and twisted down cañons with the naked red
hills folding up in front of and behind the train. They
went to sleep in Idaho and woke up in Oregon—woke
up to see more mountains, and more snow—long
ranges of mountains to left and right with snow on
the summits, though it was now almost July first, and
hot as Tophet in the train.</p>
<p>The train presently began to climb an endless grade,
up and up and up, getting over the pass of the Blue
Mountains, and into heavily timbered country—real
woods at last, after the long ride through the prairie
and the sage brush. On and on went the train, till at
last it reached the Columbia River, and the excited
boys, braving the cinders that swirled in on the observation
platform, sat out there and saw at last below
them the great green river rushing swiftly along, cutting
its way through the high, rocky banks.</p>
<p>These banks began to get higher and steeper. They
were entering the gorge of the Columbia, where it cuts
through the Cascade range. Soon the banks were real
precipices, 1,000, 2,000 feet high. At The Dalles, they
picked up the Columbia Highway, the most wonderful
motor road in America, and could see where it was cut
right out of the sides of the cliffs in places. When the
train stopped at Hood River, a lot of people got off to
stretch, the boys with them, and a man took them
down the platform and said, “Look!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_47">47</div>
<p>They looked to the south, and there it was! Shooting
up apparently right behind the depot, shaped like a
cone, dazzling white, tall, stately, beautiful against the
sky—Mount Hood! These were the eternal snows!
There was a real climb!</p>
<p>Bennie just gasped for a second. Then he found
his tongue. “It—it’s just as big as I thought it
would be!” he said.</p>
<p>“It’s the finest thing in the world,” said the man.
“I live in Portland, and every clear day I look at it,
sixty miles away, and it’s like a friend.”</p>
<p>“Is it hard to climb?” Spider asked.</p>
<p>“No,” said the man. “It’s a cinch. If you’re looking
for a climb, go down and tackle Jefferson.”</p>
<p>“Never even heard of it,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“There are a lot of things out here you eastern
folks never heard of,” the man answered.</p>
<p>The boys wanted to ask him more, but just then the
conductor called “All aboard,” and they lost him in the
rush.</p>
<p>For the next hour they were busy looking at the
scenery, at the great river on one side, and the great
cliff walls on the other, with thousand-foot waterfalls
leaping down almost on the train, and the Columbia
Highway running alongside of the track in places, in
other places disappearing and coming into sight again
far up on top of some headland.</p>
<p>“Gee, I wish we were in a motor!” Spider sighed.</p>
<p>“Maybe Uncle Bill will take us this way in his,”
said Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_48">48</div>
<p>Now the cliffs grew lower. The river was through
the gorge. Presently the river disappeared, and the
train ran through level land a little way, and the houses
began to get thicker and thicker. They crossed another
river on a drawbridge, and saw tramp ships lying
up to the docks, and on the other side rolled into the
Portland depot.</p>
<p>At the train gate, looming up above the crowd, Bennie
spied the head of his uncle, and in another minute
he had him by the hand, and was introducing Spider,
and Uncle Billy was putting the dress suitcases into his
car, and then they were off through the streets of
Portland, with the lights coming on, the darkness falling.</p>
<p>“I guess you boys are pretty hot and tired, eh?”
said Uncle Bill. “Of course, you never have any hot
weather in the East.”</p>
<p>“It’s about like this Christmas time at home,” Bennie
answered. “I was just wishing I had an overcoat.”</p>
<p>“You’ll wish you had a couple before I get through
with you,” said Uncle Bill. “I heard to-day there are
seven feet of snow yet on the rim of Crater Lake.
We’ve got to camp up there. It’ll be pretty slippery,
too, getting down to the water. Guess we’ll have to
fry a couple of ropes.”</p>
<p>“Boil mine—about four minutes,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>His uncle laughed as he put the car up a steep grade
out of the business section to the heights overlooking
the city. The residences look right out over the town,
and now they could see the checkerboard squares of the
streets, marked out with electric lights. They stopped
at the doctor’s house, and he showed them in, his
housekeeper meeting them.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_49">49</div>
<p>“Now beat it and get a bath,” he said, “and then
grub! Hurry up, for I’m all ready to eat, and if you
keep me waiting, I’ll have to begin on one of those
ropes.”</p>
<p>“Say, he’s a regular scout,” said Spider, as they
were cleaning up.</p>
<p>“Boy, I got a hunch we’re going to have some good
time!” answered Bennie from the tub.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_50">50</div>
<h2 id="c5">CHAPTER V
<br /><span class="sc">All Aboard for Crater Lake!—and Dumpling in the Other Car</span></h2>
<p>When the boys came downstairs, Uncle Billy,
who was a bachelor, led the way at once into
the dining-room, and they began to eat.</p>
<p>“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, as he carved
the meat. “How’d you boys like to be movie actors?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you Charlie Chaplin!” Bennie grinned.
“Sure, I’d like it. Spider, though, ain’t beautiful
enough.”</p>
<p>“Of course, he hasn’t your classic Greek features,”
said Uncle Billy, looking hard at Bennie’s snub nose.
“But maybe he can ride a horse. Can you ride a
horse, Bennie?”</p>
<p>“Sure—I guess so. I never tried.”</p>
<p>“Can you, Spider?”</p>
<p>“Not very well, sir. I have ridden our old delivery
horse a good bit, though, but mostly bareback.”</p>
<p>“You see, Bennie,” the doctor laughed, “he’s going
to be a better actor than you are, after all, in spite of
your fatal beauty.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean, actors, anyhow?” Bennie demanded.
“What’s the big idea?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_51">51</div>
<p>“Well,” the doctor explained, “we’re not going
alone on this trip. I have a friend, a business man
here in Portland, who is a fine amateur photographer.
He’s got a new movie camera now, that he wants to
experiment with. He wants to take a sort of scenic
picture of the Oregon mountains, so he’s coming along,
in his car, with his son, Lester. You and Spider and
Lester and I have got to be the troupe. Whenever he
sees a nice precipice he wants to shoot, we’ll have to do
a Douglas Fairbanks up the side of it, or make a Pearl
White jump down a thousand-foot waterfall. How
does that strike you?”</p>
<p>“Uncle Billy,” Bennie said, very solemnly, “you
have come to exactly the right people. Spider and me—I—are
the original human flies. We walk up precipices
before breakfast every day at home.”</p>
<p>“With a boiled rope?” his uncle laughed. “Well,
I’m glad you’re trained for the job. Wait till you see
Lester Stone, though. He’s the real athlete! Slender,
wiry, hard as nails!”</p>
<p>“How old is he?” the scouts asked, instantly alert
and a little bit jealous. They’d show him eastern
boys could be hard and athletic, too!</p>
<p>“Just about your age,” the doctor answered carelessly.
“He and his father will be over to meet you
after dinner.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t long after dinner before the door-bell rang,
and the scouts heard Uncle Billy greeting somebody in
the hall. A moment later he ushered in a big six-footer
of a man, and a boy who was just about as wide
as he was high.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_52">52</div>
<p>“My nephew, Bennie Capen, and his old college
chum, Spider Chandler,” said Uncle Billy. “Boys,
this is <i>my</i> college chum, Dick Stone. And this is
Dick’s willowy and athletic little son, Lester. I’m trying
to get some flesh on his bones, because the poor
little thing has been puny since childhood.”</p>
<p>Mr. Stone shook hands so hard that Bennie winced,
and then they shook hands with Lester, who had a
round, pink face like a cherub and eyes that danced
merrily.</p>
<p>Bennie and Spider couldn’t help bursting out laughing.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?” Uncle Billy asked solemnly.
“Did somebody make a joke? I never can see a
joke!”</p>
<p>“You can make one, all right,” Bennie laughed.
“Gee, you said Lester was wiry and hard.”</p>
<p>“What’s the joke in that?” the doctor demanded,
looking very stern. “He is! Only the wires are insulated.
You poke his arm and see if he isn’t hard.”</p>
<p>Lester doubled his fist, and tightened the muscles of
his arm, and Bennie and Spider hit him above the
elbow. To their amazement, he <i>was</i> hard—at that
point, anyway. They looked at him with new respect.</p>
<p>“Just the same,” Bennie said, “I hope you fried
that rope good and plenty.”</p>
<p>(“He looks just like an apple dumpling,” Spider
whispered to Bennie, a minute later.)</p>
<p>(“Sure, let’s call him Dumpling,” Bennie whispered
back.)</p>
<p>(“Guess we’d better not begin right now,” Spider
suggested. “That guy’d make a great guard on our
football team.”)</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_53">53</div>
<p>(“If he fell on the ball, it would explode,” laughed
Spider.)</p>
<p>The rest of the evening was spent in going over the
maps of Oregon, to lay out their trip, and in planning
equipment. They were to be gone six weeks or more,
and expected to camp all the time. As they were going
to get from place to place in only two motor cars,
which between them had to carry five passengers and
all the equipment, it took close figuring. The scouts,
of course, didn’t have much to say about all this.
They just sat and listened, because they were guests,
and, besides, they had never been off on such an expedition.</p>
<p>But what fun it was only to listen! Have you ever
been off on a camping trip? Of course you have. So
you know the joy of getting together a day or two before
the start, each person with a list of things he
thinks ought to be taken, and then going over the
lists, checking them off to see that nothing is being
taken that is not needed, and nothing is forgotten
that <i>is</i> needed. It’s almost as much fun as the trip
itself.</p>
<p>The scouts soon discovered that Mr. Stone was as
jolly as Uncle Billy, and that “Dumpling” was even
fuller of fun than his father. Before an hour had
passed, the scouts were calling him Dumpling to his
face, and then his father and the doctor took it up; but
Dumpling himself only grinned the broader and said,
“Ho, I don’t care what you call me, so long’s you call
me to dinner.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_54">54</div>
<p>The next morning the boys were up early, and out
of the house, to get a glimpse across the city of the
white pyramid of Mount Hood against the eastern sky.
They spent that day hard at work with the doctor getting
the equipment out and sorted and packed into the
car.</p>
<p>They had never seen an automobile rigged like
Uncle Billy’s. It was a powerful five-passenger car,
with extra braces on the running-boards. First the
doctor screwed a kind of iron fence on one running-board
which came up as high as the tops of the doors.
Then, on the other, he set two boxes, also as high as
the doors, and as deep as the running-board. These
boxes opened not at the top, but at the front, with
hinged doors. Inside of them were shelves. On the
shelves of one he stood the provisions—the canned
fruits, the condensed milk, and all the other things they
were going to take at the start. The other was filled
with camp dishes. When the boxes were full, the
doors were shut and locked, and the boxes strapped
firmly to the car.</p>
<p>Then, on the other side, in the space between the
fence and the side of the car, went the heavy canvas
bags containing the tent and the three sleeping bags.
These bags were wonderful things. They rolled up
and went into canvas sacks. But when you unrolled
them, you found inside a tire pump, and you pumped
them up with air, making a nice pneumatic mattress to
sleep on. Inside the canvas flap which strapped over
this mattress were several warm blankets.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_55">55</div>
<p>“Say, boy!” cried Bennie. “This beats sleeping
on old hemlock boughs, the way we have to at home,
eh, Spider? Remember the way the boughs used to
get all full of sticks about one <span class="sc">A. M.</span> last summer?”</p>
<p>“I’ll say so. We’re going to sleep so well on these
we’ll forget to wake up.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no you won’t! Not with me in camp,” the
doctor smiled.</p>
<p>After the running-boards were loaded, Uncle Billy
got out a wonderful camp stove, which collapsed into
three pieces, with the funnel also shutting up, and put
the whole thing into a canvas sack, which lay on the
floor of the car. Then he put in three folding camp
stools and a folding table. Finally he handed each
boy a stout khaki dunnage bag.</p>
<p>“Now,” said he, “get all your stuff into those two
bags! No suitcases allowed on this trip! Your two
bags and mine, and the canteens and our cameras and
the alpenstocks and the fried rope, and overcoats and
one of you boys and anything else we’ve forgotten
have all got to go on the rear seat.”</p>
<p>“Think I’ll sit in front with you,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“Think I’ll ride with the Stones,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“Not with Dumpling in the car, you won’t!”
Bennie laughed—“unless he travels in a trailer on behind.”</p>
<p>The doctor prescribed early bed that evening, because
they were to get an early start.</p>
<p>“What do you call early, seven o’clock?” asked
Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_56">56</div>
<p>Uncle Billy looked pained. “Seven o’clock!” he
sniffed. “My esteemed nephew, at seven o’clock on
this trip we will usually have traveled at least fifty
miles, and you’ll be asking about lunch. I’ll wake you
up at five.”</p>
<p>“And I thought I was going to have a nice summer!”
said Bennie, pretending to be very gloomy.</p>
<p>At five o’clock the next morning, he and Spider were
sleeping soundly when a voice boomed into their
dreams, “All aboard for Crater Lake! Last call!”</p>
<p>They were out of bed and rushing to get first into
the tub before they half knew what had happened.</p>
<p>But it was really long after seven before they got
started. The dunnage bags had to be packed with the
clothes they were going to need, breakfast eaten, everything
gone over again to make sure nothing was forgotten,
and then followed a wait of an hour before the
Stones’ car arrived, loaded down like theirs, with the
tripod of the movie camera in a case on top of the
luggage in the rear, and Dumpling and his father sitting
in front.</p>
<p>“All aboard!” shouted the doctor.</p>
<p>“Well, how do you get aboard?” said Bennie.
“You can’t open a single door.”</p>
<p>“If you can’t get into a car over the top of the door
you’ll never get up Mount Jefferson,” said his uncle.</p>
<p>Bennie was in the front seat with exactly two motions.
Spider dove into the rear, and found a hole to
sit in amid the luggage. The doctor and Mr. Stone
tooted their horns, the housekeeper waved from the
door—and they were off!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_57">57</div>
<h2 id="c6">CHAPTER VI
<br /><span class="sc">Bennie and Spider Have to Make After-dinner Speeches, and Bennie’s Knees Knock</span></h2>
<p>The day before had been cloudy and cold, though
the boys had been too busy with their packing to
notice it much. Now, however, that they were off at
last, and wanted to see every bit of country there was
to be seen, they were acutely conscious that it was a
heavy day, without a single glimpse of Mount Hood
through the vapor, and the threat of rain at any minute.</p>
<p>“Nice weather you’ve handed us for a start off,”
said Bennie to his uncle.</p>
<p>“Oh, this won’t last long,” Uncle Billy assured him.
“We have the finest climate in Oregon of anywhere in
the world. It’s never very cold in winter, and it’s
never very hot in summer, and our tent probably won’t
get wet on this entire trip.”</p>
<p>“Is that so?” said Bennie. “Some smart tent, I’ll
say. Look at your wind-shield.”</p>
<p>Indeed, as he spoke, the first drops of the rain began
to splash on the glass.</p>
<p>“You wait!” Uncle Billy smiled.</p>
<p>On the edge of Portland they stopped for gas, and
the Stones’ car pulled in behind them. A big, smiling
man, covered with axle grease, came out to fill them
up.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_58">58</div>
<p>“Hello, Doc,” he said. “Off for a trip? Got a
fine day to start. As far as I can see, it rains for
twelve months of the year in Portland, and it ain’t
very pleasant the rest of the time.”</p>
<p>Bennie and Spider shouted with joy at this, and the
garage man looked a little surprised.</p>
<p>“Well, that went big!” he said.</p>
<p>“Uncle Bill didn’t tip you the wink in time,” Bennie
answered. “He’s just been telling us it never rains in
Oregon.”</p>
<p>“Sorry I crabbed your game, Doc,” the man
laughed. “Didn’t know these scouts weren’t native
web-feet.”</p>
<p>“They’ll not see any more rain till they get back to
Portland,” the doctor said, quite seriously.</p>
<p>The garage man winked solemnly at Bennie, who
grinned back.</p>
<p>“Well, Uncle Bill, we sure have got one on you
now,” Bennie laughed, as they drove on. “Eh,
Spider?”</p>
<p>“Kind of looks so,” Spider had to admit.</p>
<p>“The sun will be coming out at Salem, and this is
the last rain you’ll see, except maybe a thunder shower
or two,” Uncle Billy persisted. “And now, just for
that, I’ll tell you something else. We’ll get to Salem—that’s
the State capital—in time for lunch. The
Boy Scouts of Salem are going to give us the luncheon,
not on your account, but because you are with me.
You two boys will have to make speeches. Good, long
speeches, too, not just ‘Glad to be here.’ Got one on
me, have you? Take that!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_59">59</div>
<p>“Aw, quit your kiddin’,” Bennie cried. “Not
really, Uncle Bill?”</p>
<p>“Gosh, I never made a speech in my life!” Spider
groaned from the rear seat. “I’d just go right down
through the floor.”</p>
<p>“Our floors are made of good old Douglas fir—not
a chance,” the doctor grinned. “You’ll have to stand
right up and show ’em how good Massachusetts is.”</p>
<p>“Poor old Massachusetts,” said Bennie. “She’s
got a bum chance to make a hit with us representing
her. Oh, golly, what’ll I do?”</p>
<p>“I guess you’d better be thinking of something to
say as we go along. I was going to stop so we could
pick some real Oregon cherries on the way, but maybe
I’d better not. You’ll need to keep your alleged minds
on your speeches.”</p>
<p>Bennie and Spider looked at each other and groaned.</p>
<p>“Honest, Uncle Billy, I think this is a real nice climate,”
said Bennie.</p>
<p>“Ha! nothing doing! You can’t get around me
that way. Besides, they are probably cooking the
luncheon already. The invitations are all out.”</p>
<p>“Has old Dumplin’ got to make a speech, too?”</p>
<p>“Oh, no,” said the doctor. “He’s a native, not a
distinguished visitor from the East.”</p>
<p>“We’ll be extinguished visitors by the time it’s
over,” Spider said.</p>
<p>“Hi, that’s good! Remember it, and put it in your
speech,” Bennie cried. “Wish I could think of something
funny. Gosh, you never can when you want
to.” He looked woebegone.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_60">60</div>
<p>“You get up with a face like that, and you’ll make
a hit like Charlie Chaplin,” Spider assured him.</p>
<p>The boys cheered up a bit, however, as the rain
ceased and the car sped on up a good road, through the
rich fields of the Willamette valley, mile after mile of
prune orchards and cherry orchards and hop plantations
and Loganberry fields where the canes, tied in
rows to wires, stretched for hundreds of yards on
either side of the road.</p>
<p>Presently they came to a “ranch” (as everybody
out there calls his farm or orchard), where the cherries
were being picked, and the doctor stopped the car.
The Stones, who were right behind, stopped too, and
everybody got out.</p>
<p>“Sell us some cherries?” asked the doctor.</p>
<p>“Got anything to pick ’em in?” asked the owner of
the orchard.</p>
<p>“Sure—the radiator pails.”</p>
<p>“All right, you can pick all you want in that first
tree, for fifty cents. Hold on, though. Not that cute
little feller there. I don’t want my tree busted down.”</p>
<p>“I’ll stand below and you can throw ’em into my
mouth,” Dumpling laughed.</p>
<p>They got the collapsible canvas pails which were carried
in the cars to fill the radiators with, and began to
pick. The cherries were huge things, of a deep, wonderful,
winey red, and almost melted in your mouth.
Bennie and Spider had never seen nor tasted such
cherries, and they ate two for every one they picked.
The pails were full in five minutes, at that, and still the
tree hardly seemed touched.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_61">61</div>
<p>“What’s the name of these babies?” Bennie asked.</p>
<p>“Bing,” said the doctor.</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t ask you to play soldier. I asked you
what’s the name of these cherries?”</p>
<p>“Bing, I tell you. Bing, B-i-n-g.”</p>
<p>“Well, it sounds like Bing,” Bennie laughed.
“That’s a silly name for a cherry, but, oh, boy, some
fruit!”</p>
<p>“You won’t be in any condition to eat that lunch
when we get to Salem,” the doctor laughed.</p>
<p>“Soon’s I get there, and think about that old speech
again, I won’t want any lunch, anyhow,” Bennie answered.
“Might ’s well fill up now.”</p>
<p>The two cars rolled into Salem at noon. Salem is a
small city, built around a large central park in which
the State Capitol building stands. This park was now
filled with roses, the bushes even growing in long rows
between the sidewalks and the street. The doctor ran
the car around this park, and then hunted up the camp
where they were to be entertained by the Salem Boy
Scouts. This was in a grove, just outside the town,
and about fifty scouts were already there, with three or
four fires going. As the two cars came up, the scout
master gave a sharp command, the troops fell into formation,
at attention, and there was a loud cheer of
welcome as Bennie and Spider tried to climb out over
the luggage gracefully. Poor Dumpling had a hard
time getting out of his car, but not one of the Salem
scouts laughed. In a few minutes, the scout master
had presented the guests all around, and preparations
for the luncheon began in earnest.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_62">62</div>
<p>It was a good lesson in scouting, all right. Different
boys had definite jobs, and they went at them
quickly and efficiently. Sawhorses and boards were
produced from a wagon, and made into rough tables.
More boards, on boxes, made the seats. Paper plates,
knives, forks, and spoons, and tin cups were put in
place. The scouts who could cook best were busy at
the fires. There was the smell of coffee, of broiling
steak, of frying potatoes, and of flapjacks. Three or
four of the scouts meanwhile were putting great dishes
of fruit—berries and cherries—on the tables. In spite
of all the cherries they had eaten, the smells made
Spider and Bennie hungry again. They tried, of
course, to help with the preparations, but the Salem
scouts wouldn’t let them.</p>
<p>“No, you’re guests,” the scout master said.</p>
<p>Finally the scout master clapped his hands, and
called in a loud voice, “Come and get it!” This was
the first time Spider and Bennie had heard the western
camp call to grub. But they didn’t need to be told
what it meant.</p>
<p>As soon as the food was eaten, the scout master rose
in his place, and announced that troop leader Tom
Robinson would welcome their guests to Oregon.
Tom Robinson, a tall, powerful boy of sixteen, got up
looking extremely scared, and everybody shouted and
applauded, whereupon he looked scareder still. But
he made a nice little speech, in spite of his nervousness,
telling Spider and Bennie how glad the Salem scouts
were that they had come so far to see Oregon, which,
he said, had the finest climate in the world, and hoping
they’d have a good time, and inviting them to come
and visit the Salem scouts in their camp up in the
mountains in August.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_63">63</div>
<p>Everybody applauded again, and then looked at
Spider and Bennie, yelling, “Speech, speech!”</p>
<p>“You do it,” whispered Bennie to Spider.</p>
<p>“Go on—you got to do it,” Spider retorted.</p>
<p>“You’ve both got to do it,” the scout master
laughed.</p>
<p>So Bennie got up. He felt queer in his knees, which
didn’t seem to half hold him up, and his mouth felt
dry. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strange
to him, as if it belonged to somebody else.</p>
<p>“We’re awfully glad to be here,” he said, “and you
scouts are sure good to us to give us this grand feed.
I ate so many Bing cherries this morning I thought all
I could do would be to make a noise like a robin, but I
sure got away with my share of the grub. It’s pretty
fine to come 4,000 miles, all across the U. S. A., and
find a bunch of scouts out here just the same as at
home. Some organization, the Boy Scouts! ’Course,
we came to see the wilderness, and about all the wilderness
we’ve seen so far is a big city like Portland, and
Salem, and about ten million fruit trees, and sixteen
million automobiles. And we heard it was a good
climate out here, too, but my uncle’s garage man says
it rains twelve months in the year and isn’t very pleasant
the rest of the time. But we sure like Oregon, and
you fellows are a great bunch of scouts, and—and I
guess that’s all I got to say.”</p>
<p>Bennie sat down abruptly, amid much applause.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_64">64</div>
<p>“Some speech!” Spider whispered.</p>
<p>It was now Spider’s turn.</p>
<p>“Everything Bennie said goes for me,” he began,
“except this knock on the climate. It was raining
when we left Portland, but Dr. Warren told us it
would be clear when we got to Salem, and here’s the
old sun coming out now. I want to say the Salem climate’s
all right—like the Salem scouts. And Bennie
forgot something, too. He’s always forgetting things.
Once he forgot it was vacation, and tried to get into
the schoolhouse. Now he’s forgotten to say to you
fellows that when any of you come East, you just show
up in Southmead, where we live, and we’ll try to be
half as decent to you as you’ve been to us. And we
hope you’ll all come.”</p>
<p>Loud cheers greeted this speech, and Bennie applauded
harder than anybody.</p>
<p>“That last part goes, you bet,” he shouted. “I
didn’t really forget it, though. I just got rattled.”</p>
<p>The meeting broke up with a scout cheer, and the
boys heard the shouts and good-byes even after the
cars had started down the road.</p>
<p>“Some swell feed!” said Bennie. “Pretty nice of
’em, eh, Spider? I guess they must like you pretty
well, Uncle Bill, or they wouldn’t have done this for
us.”</p>
<p>“I ran into them in their camp last summer, and got
to know ’em,” the doctor answered. “Well, how do
you like being an after-dinner orator?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_65">65</div>
<p>Bennie looked sober. “Tell you one thing,” he replied.
“Next year in school I’m going in for debating,
the way Spider does. I’m not going to feel such
a boob on my feet again. Gee, I was scared pink.”</p>
<p>“I won’t let you forget that, Bennie,” said Spider.
“We’ll make a Demosthenes of you yet.”</p>
<p>The cars were now racing southward up the Willamette
valley, and traveling on the fine Pacific Highway,
which stretches all the way from Portland to the California
boundary.</p>
<p>“I want to make Eugene tonight,” said Uncle Billy.
“That’s why I’m stepping on her. Eugene is the
town where the State University is—the college that
Harvard came west to play football with a few years
ago. We’ll find a good camp site just south of Eugene,
and spend the night there. Tomorrow we’ll
push on as far as we can toward Medford.”</p>
<p>“When do we get to Crater Lake?” the boys
asked.</p>
<p>“Well, I doubt if we make Medford tomorrow.
It’ll take another day. Then we’ll stock up with provisions,
and try to make the lake the next day, which
will be the Fourth of July. That’s the day the Park
is due to open.”</p>
<p>“Can we get some firecrackers in Medford?”</p>
<p>“Sure!” the doctor laughed.</p>
<p>The valley grew narrower as they ran on southward,
and the hills on either side seemed higher. But still
the boys saw no mountains, and none of the great forest
trees they’d heard about in Oregon. They reached
Eugene late in the day—a lively little town, with the
big, handsome buildings of the University dominating
it. Still they saw no mountains.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_66">66</div>
<p>“Well, I suppose there <i>are</i> some, but you got to
show me,” Bennie declared.</p>
<p>Beyond the town, they ran the cars up a side road to
a patch of woods by a stream, and hurried to make
camp and get supper before it was dark.</p>
<p>“Let’s see how good scouts you really are,” Mr.
Stone said to the boys. “One of you set up the stove
and make a fire, and two of you get up the tents and
blow up the sleeping bags. Uncle Bill and I will get
the grub ready.”</p>
<p>Dumplin’ took the stove as his job, because he knew
how it worked. As soon as it was set up, he hustled
around for dead wood. Meanwhile Bennie and Spider
strung the ropes between trees for the tents, cut pegs,
and got the tents up. Then they tackled the sleeping
bags. It was warm that evening, and before they had
gone far they were hot.</p>
<p>“Say, how much air do these things hold?” Bennie
called. “I been pumping an hour.”</p>
<p>“Well, sleep on it flat if you’re tired. But I want
mine blown up,” his uncle answered.</p>
<p>At last they had all five bags blown up and laid in
the tents. By this time the fire was roaring in the
stove, and Dumplin’ had a neat little wood-pile beside
it, the two men had set up a folding table and chairs,
and food and coffee were cooking on the stove. Pretty
soon Mr. Stone called out, “Come and get it!” and
with a lantern hanging from a limb over the table, they
all sat down.</p>
<p>“Well, this sure beats a hotel!” said Uncle Bill.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_67">67</div>
<p>“Beats a couple of hotels,” said Dumplin’, wiping
his perspiring forehead. “You don’t have to wear a
coat here.”</p>
<p>“Wait till you get to the lake, and you’ll be hollering
for a coat,” his father smiled.</p>
<p>After supper, the boys drew lots to see who would
wash the dishes. Bennie lost, and the rest built a little
camp fire between the two tents while he was clearing
up. They lay around the fire talking for an hour, and
then Uncle Billy ordered “Bed!”</p>
<p>“Early start tomorrow,” he said. “Everybody out
at five.”</p>
<p>The boys undressed and crawled into their sleeping
bags. Then they bounced up and down to feel how
comfortable they were.</p>
<p>“Mine’s too hard,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“So’s mine,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“You’ve got so much air in mine I’ll have a blowout,”
said Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>“Gee, think of all that work for nothing!” Bennie
groaned.</p>
<p>If anybody had been outside the tent, he would have
heard three little hisses as they let some air out of their
beds. Then, three minutes later, he would have heard
three people breathing in sound slumber.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_68">68</div>
<h2 id="c7">CHAPTER VII
<br /><span class="sc">Held Up by the Snow, With the Thermometer at 86°</span></h2>
<p>The next day, sure enough Uncle Billy routed
everybody out at five o’clock. They had pancakes
and syrup, and bacon and coffee and toast for
breakfast, and then camp had to be struck and the cars
packed again. The sleeping bags had to be deflated
and rolled up by the three boys, and put in their canvas
cases. The tents had to be rolled up and also put in
cases. The dunnage bags had to be repacked, the
dishes washed and put into the boxes on Uncle Billy’s
car. It was long after seven before they got away.</p>
<p>On this day, at last, they began to get a taste of wild
Oregon—but just a taste, the doctor told them. They
finally came to the head of the Willamette valley, and
climbed up a long grade, beside a wild, tumbling
stream, amid huge old fir trees, and then down a long,
wooded cañon on the farther side. They rolled
through more valleys full of fruit orchards, and they
passed through several towns. In one of them, where
they stopped to get an ice cream soda—or rather ice
cream sodas, for both the scouts had two apiece and
Dumplin’ had three—a big banner was stretched across
the street, with the words on it in letters two feet high:</p>
<p class="center">IT’S THE CLIMATE.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_69">69</div>
<p>“Golly, you wouldn’t think they had any climate
anywhere else,” said Bennie. “Out here, you’ve only
got one kind. In little old Massachusetts we have
every kind.”</p>
<p>“Sure, and on the same day, too,” Uncle Billy
laughed.</p>
<p>All that afternoon they climbed up endless grades,
where the highway was cut out of the sides of the
cañons, and the great trees shadowed the road, and
down again, and up again.</p>
<p>“Are we in the Cascade Mountains now?” the boys
asked.</p>
<p>“No, these are just hills,” said the doctor. “You
won’t see any mountains till we get almost into Medford.
Cheer up, they’ll be there tomorrow.”</p>
<p>The grades were so numerous, and so long and hard,
that it was impossible to make as many miles in a day
here as it is in the East. As the sun began to sink, the
doctor began watching for camp sites, and presently he
pulled into a field beside the road where a brook came
down from a hill, and they camped for a second night
on the road.</p>
<p>An early start again was ordered, and now the
grades grew less severe again, and after a few hours
the cars ran out into a wide plain, and suddenly the
boys gave a yell.</p>
<p>“The mountains!” they cried.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_70">70</div>
<p>Sure enough, there they were. To the east lay the
blue rampart of the Cascade range, and right in the
centre, covered white with snow, shot up the peaked
pyramid of Mount McLaughlin. To the south and
west, shutting the valley in, rose more mountains, some
of them still showing snow on their summits. Across
the head of the valley ran a tumbling green stream, the
Rogue River.</p>
<p>“That river comes down from close to Crater
Lake,” said Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>“Gee, I’d like to get into it right now,” Bennie remarked.</p>
<p>A dozen miles more, and they were in Medford, a
neat, clean little city (it would be called a town in the
East), surrounded by flourishing fruit orchards and
grain fields. The boys scouted around for some
crackers and fireworks, while the men restocked the
cars with provisions, got gas and oil, and inquired
about the road to the lake.</p>
<p>“Well,” said the doctor, as they met at the cars
again, “we don’t get to Crater Lake tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Aw, gee, why not?” Bennie demanded.</p>
<p>“Road’s not open yet to the rim. Can’t get much
beyond Government Camp.”</p>
<p>“What’s the trouble—snow?” asked Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>The doctor nodded.</p>
<p>“Snow!” said Spider, wiping his hot forehead.
“Don’t sound possible.”</p>
<p>“It’s the climate,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>Everybody laughed, and Dumplin’ announced he
was going to get another ice cream soda while the
leaders decided what to do.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_71">71</div>
<p>When he came back, the doctor and Mr. Stone had
decided to go back up the road and then up the Rogue
River for a few miles, on the way to Crater Lake, and
camp there over the Fourth and the day following.
By the third day it was probable, the doctor said, that
the government rangers would have the snow blasted
out of the road.</p>
<p>“<i>Blasted</i> out?” said Spider.</p>
<p>“Sure; they use TNT. It would take forever to
shovel those drifts.”</p>
<p>“Oh, let’s go up and watch ’em!” Bennie pleaded.</p>
<p>“And get the cars mired? No, thank you! We’ll
camp by the Rogue River and wait. You can swim
and Spider can study birds, and Dumplin’ can wish he
was nearer a soda fountain. Come on.”</p>
<p>They turned off the highway at the Rogue River
bridge, and the minute they were off the macadam the
dust began to fly. Spider looked back into the cloud.</p>
<p>“Glad I’m not in the Stones’ car,” he said. “What
makes it so dusty?”</p>
<p>“This soil is all volcanic ash or pumice,” said the
doctor, “and it hasn’t rained here, probably, for a
month, and won’t for five or six more.”</p>
<p>“It’s the climate,” chuckled Bennie.</p>
<p>Two or three miles up this dusty road, and close to a
small, dilapidated looking house, made of boards and
huge, hand-hewn shingles or “shakes,” the doctor put
the car off the road and into a field which was baked as
hard as a brick, with the grass dried up and brown.
At the edge of this field was a grove of trees with
shiny copper-colored bark and glossy green leaves,
called laurel trees, and beyond them the bank plunged
sharp down for fifty feet to the rushing green river.</p>
<p>“Camp,” said Uncle Billy, stopping the car.
“Here’s where we live for two days at least.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_72">72</div>
<p>As soon as camp was made, and wood cut, the entire
party ran down the bank to a gravelly beach by the
river’s edge, stripped, and plunged into the water.
Five yells immediately rose in the stillness, and five
bodies came splashing back to shore.</p>
<p>“That water comes down from the snow-fields, all
right,” said Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“That’s why it’s so green,” said the doctor.</p>
<p>“And why Dumplin’s so pink,” laughed Bennie,
pointing at Lester, who certainly looked like a very
plump boiled lobster.</p>
<p>That night they sang and joked around the camp
fire till nine o’clock, because there was no early start in
the morning. When Bennie woke up, however, he
saw that Spider’s bed was empty. Going down to the
river in his pyjamas, for a plunge, he found Spider, all
dressed, with a note-book in his hand, watching birds.</p>
<p>“Gee, this is a great place to see birds,” Spider
called. “I’ve got nine kinds already, most of ’em that
I never saw before. And you want to watch for the
funny little lizards on the ground.”</p>
<p>Bennie almost immediately heard a rustle in the dead
leaves beside him, and looking down saw a small lizard-like
creature scurry up on to a flat stone. He
reached down to pick it up—and the lizard wasn’t
there! He was on a stone two feet away.</p>
<p>“Say!” he called, “this is the quickest thing I ever
saw. Beats a weasel.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Stone says they call ’em swifts,” Spider answered.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_73">73</div>
<p>Among the new birds that Spider saw, and added to
his bird list, he later learned from Mr. Stone and the
doctor, were ravens, western tanagers (a beautiful,
bright yellow bird), valley quail, camp robbers, water
ousels, which live always by the water and build their
nests behind the waterfalls, the western catbird, which
is much like the eastern, only brownish, and blue jays
of a much darker color than in the East. These jays
fought and squawked around the camp all day long.
Then there were crows and other birds he already
knew.</p>
<p>“Well, never mind your old birds now,” Bennie said
after breakfast. “This is the Glorious Fourth. Let’s
fire off some crackers and do something to celebrate.”</p>
<p>“We might run down to Medford and see the parade,”
the doctor suggested.</p>
<p>This was hailed with delight, so they unpacked the
cars, and started off for the day. Medford was full of
people. There was a parade and a ball game and a
lively time generally.</p>
<p>“Well, this is what I call wild life in Oregon,” Bennie
laughed. “We came 4,000 miles to get into the
wilderness, and here we are with about ten thousand
other people watching a parade in a city. Some wilderness!”</p>
<p>“You wait,” his uncle cautioned. “In about a
week, you’ll have so much wilderness you’ll be crying
for home and mother.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_74">74</div>
<p>That night, back in camp, they set off their own fireworks,
shooting the rockets from an improvised chute
out over the water, and the next day they spent in exploring
two or three old gold diggings they found by
the bank—shafts which some prospector had laboriously
dug far into the earth, but without getting much
gold, apparently, for the diggings had all been abandoned.
Bennie and Spider spent two or three hours
searching everywhere for nuggets, but they found
nothing. It was hot and sultry, too, and everybody
was getting impatient.</p>
<p>“I’m going to start tomorrow for the lake,” the
doctor said that night. “We’ll camp below the rim if
we can’t get up. It’s too hot here.”</p>
<p>“It’s the climate,” said Bennie—and the doctor and
Dumplin’ fell upon him and rolled him on the hard
ground till he howled for mercy.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_75">75</div>
<h2 id="c8">CHAPTER VIII
<br /><span class="sc">Up to the Rim of Crater Lake at Last, Through the Snow-drifts</span></h2>
<p>Everybody was out at 4:30 the next morning.
The hot weather still held. In fact, it was hotter
than the day before. Bennie waited till he was on
the extreme edge of camp, with a clear field to run in,
and then remarked, “It’s the climate.”</p>
<p>But everybody was too busy packing to chase him.</p>
<p>At seven o’clock the cars were ready, and the start
was at last made on the last lap for Crater Lake.</p>
<p>“It’s only eighty miles—even a bit less from here, I
guess. But it’s up-hill all the way, and of course we
don’t know what kind of roads we’re going to get
into.”</p>
<p>For many miles they ran along past scattered
ranches where the irrigation ditches paralleled the road,
and the alfalfa scented the air. Then the country began
to get rougher, the road began to climb, the tumbling,
foaming green river dropped farther and farther
below them into a wild ravine, while they climbed
along the side.</p>
<p>“This is something like!” Bennie shouted. “Bring
on some more of your old wilderness!”</p>
<p>“You’ll get some more pretty soon now.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_76">76</div>
<p>They passed a little settlement, where both cars
stopped for gas and to let the engines cool, and then
the road ran into a forest, and traveled straight as an
arrow, making a long aisle as far as the eye could
see.</p>
<p>“Government forest,” the doctor said. “This is a
government road. Well, boys, what do you think of
these trees?”</p>
<p>The boys looked on either side of the dusty white
road, into stands of Douglas fir that almost took their
breath away—great giants six and eight feet through,
and rising without any branches for a hundred feet or
more, straight as masts, and after the first branches
going on up another fifty or a hundred feet.</p>
<p>“Some shrubs,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“You’ll see a lot of bigger ones before we get back
to Portland,” said the doctor.</p>
<p>After running for ten miles or so through the forest,
while the car and their faces became covered with
the white pumice dust, they came suddenly on a beautiful,
cold little stream, and beside this stream an open
camp ground, maintained by the government for anybody
who wanted to use it. Here they stopped for
early lunch, under the cool shadows of the great trees.</p>
<p>There were at least a dozen other cars there, and
half as many tents were pitched in the woods. Fires
were going. Some campers had wash hung out to
dry. The camp was clean and well cared for.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_77">77</div>
<p>“Well,” said Spider, looking around, “all I can say
is that Massachusetts has got something to learn from
Oregon. If you tried to camp anywhere at home,
you’d get chased off. And when the State does get
any land for a forest, it doesn’t make any provisions
for camping. They won’t let you build a fire. Can’t
camp without a fire.”</p>
<p>“Here’s something for you scouts to think about,”
Mr. Stone said. “Why don’t you talk up State forests
and camp sites when you go home? The Boy
Scouts could do a lot if they all got together.”</p>
<p>“You bet we’ll think about it,” Spider said. “Why,
there’s a State reservation right near Southmead, and
a nice park on it, and the State hasn’t even made a path
around the pond so you can get to the water.”</p>
<p>“People in the East haven’t learned how to camp
yet, anyway,” the doctor said. “They think they’ve
got to have a hotel every fifty miles.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” said Bennie. “Ma’s idea of roughing it is
to have hot and cold water and steam heat.”</p>
<p>After lunch they pushed on, and soon began to climb
again, up and up, while the radiators boiled in the heat,
till they came to the entrance of the Crater Lake National
Park, where they stopped to pay the tolls on the
cars, and have a tag pasted on the wind-shield. While
this was being done, the boys crossed the road and
looked down into a tremendous gorge cut by Castle
Creek into the lava rock. It was their first real taste
of what was ahead. Soon after this, as the road kept
on climbing, they began to get glimpses through the
trees of mountain tops, covered with snow, and before
long the road began to get muddy in places, as if the
snow had but recently melted from it.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_78">78</div>
<p>At last they reached Government Camp, where the
Park superintendent and the rangers live, at the foot
of the last slope to the rim. Here there were great
patches of snow all about in the woods, and trickles of
water beside the road.</p>
<p>“Can we get up to the rim?” the doctor called to
someone in a doorway.</p>
<p>“Half a dozen cars have gone up, and haven’t come
back,” a voice answered.</p>
<p>“Maybe they can’t get back,” the doctor laughed.</p>
<p>“Maybe,” said the other man. “But I reckon they
got through. Better put on your chains, though.”</p>
<p>After the chains were put on both cars, they started
out once more, on the last pull to the lake.</p>
<p>“Only three or four miles now,” said Uncle Billy,
“and a thousand feet to climb.”</p>
<p>The road was muddy, but well graded, as it wound
up the ravine, through heavy timber, with great drifts
of snow on either side. Before long they came to
places where the drifts had been shoveled out to let the
road through, and in these places the road was so soft
that everybody but the drivers got out and walked.
The boys made snowballs and pelted each other. Once
or twice the cars stuck, and they had to get boughs to
put under the wheels. But there was no serious delay
till they were almost at the top of the climb. Here
they found several cars stalled ahead of them. Going
forward, they found that one big drift was still in the
way. Part of it was cut through, but the last end was
still ten feet of solid snow. The rangers were even
now laying a train of TNT through it, and connecting
the fuses. The boys rushed back for their cameras.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_79">79</div>
<p>When the dozen charges were ready, everybody ran
out of the way. A ranger connected the wires, and
went back behind a tree to the battery. A moment
later there was a terrific explosion, and a huge geyser
of black smoke and black water rose from the drift,
the blackened water settling down in a fine, dirty mist
on the snow to leeward.</p>
<p>“Gosh, I hope I snapped that at the right time!”
said Bennie. “Made me jump so, I couldn’t tell.”</p>
<p>Mr. Stone, who was working with a graflex, said he
thought he got a good one, anyway. Then they went
forward and found the twelve charges had blasted out
a deep ditch in the snow right through the drift. Men
sprang in with shovels, and in fifteen minutes the cars
could plough through. From there on the snow was
melted from the road, and flowers were already coming
up through the soft brown pumice soil.</p>
<p>Right ahead of them the boys saw the hotel, and in
front of the hotel the land seemed to disappear. It
didn’t look at all like a mountain here. The road was
now quite level, and there were woods all about. Only
to the right there was a mountain peak, close by, covered
with a great cap of snow. It looked more as if
they were coming to the edge of some cañon.</p>
<p>“Where’s the lake?” they demanded.</p>
<p>“Can you stand it for two minutes more?” the doctor
asked.</p>
<p>Now the car was close to the hotel. The boys
jumped out and ran ahead, up a little grade. And
then they stopped stone dead, and drew in a long
breath of astonishment.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_80">80</div>
<p>Right under their feet the land fell away at so sharp
an angle that it was practically a precipice, for more
than a thousand feet. This great precipice stretched
out to right and left, rising here and there into crags
and cliffs a thousand feet above them, and swung
around in a vast circle six miles in diameter, thus
making what looked like a gigantic hole in the earth.
At the bottom of this hole lay the lake; but it was not
an ordinary lake. It was not just water. In fact, it
didn’t look like water. It was a wonderful, a vivid, an
unbelievable blue. It was bluer than the sky.</p>
<p>“It’s the bluest thing I ever saw!” cried Bennie.
“Wow! how do you get down to it?”</p>
<p>“There’s just one trail down here,” his uncle answered,
“and one around on the east side. Those are
the only two ways down to the water.”</p>
<p>“And what’s that little peaked island out there?”
Spider asked, pointing to what looked like a pile of
cinders at one side of the lake, cinders covered with
green weeds.</p>
<p>“That’s Wizard Island. After this old volcano collapsed
into the crater, and before it filled with water,
she started up again to build a new volcano. That
island is the result. It’s a little volcano all by itself,
with a crater in the top. That island is 800 feet above
the water line, and the green you see on it is made by
big trees.”</p>
<p>“Gosh!” said Bennie. “It looks about eight feet
high, instead of 800. Can we get to it?”</p>
<p>“We’ll get to it, all right. But we’ve got to make
camp before we do anything.”</p>
<div class="img" id="pic2">
<img src="images/p04.jpg" alt="Crater Lake—Wizard Island, and over it Llao Rock" width="935" height="600" />
<p class="caption">Crater Lake—Wizard Island, and over it Llao Rock</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_81">81</div>
<p>“Will you tell us after supper all about this lake,
how it got made and everything?” Spider asked.
“Gee, I wish I’d studied geology.”</p>
<p>“You’ve come to the right place to begin,” said the
doctor. “But now for a camp site. Come on with
me.”</p>
<p>Leaving the cars, they walked westward along the rim,
looking for a chance to get the cars through the drifts.
They could manage, they found, to run them a few
hundred feet west of the hotel, along what looked like
a road. There was a considerable open space between
the edge of the rim and the timber, however, and to get
back from the rim to the trees they had to get the
camp spades out of the cars and dig a ditch through
two feet of snow. At last the cars were through, and
a comparatively dry spot found under some big fir
trees. Here the tents were put up, with the stove between
them, the cars unpacked, the beds inflated, and
Dumplin’ and Bennie went after wood while Spider
took the pails and went back over the snow toward the
hotel for water. All the water has to be pumped up
to the hotel and the camp grounds from a spring back
down the road. When he returned, he reported that
already a dozen more cars had arrived, several tents
were going up, and there were a lot of people at the
hotel.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Bennie and Dumplin’ had discovered that
past campers had cleaned out so much of the dead
wood that it was hard to find enough for a fire, especially
as the woods were still full of snow and the
fallen branches buried or else soaking wet. However,
they rustled up enough for that night and breakfast,
and preparations for supper began.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_82">82</div>
<p>As the sun got lower and lower, the water of the
lake seemed to turn a darker and darker blue, and the
snow cap on Garfield, the peak just to the east, turned
a lovely rose red—and Bennie put on his coat.</p>
<p>“What you putting that on for?” his uncle asked.</p>
<p>“It’s the climate,” said Bennie, with a grin.</p>
<p>“Well, suppose you and Dump go drain the radiators
before we forget it,” the doctor laughed.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, drain the radiators? Are you
kidding?” the boys demanded.</p>
<p>“Kidding? Not on your life. Go do as I tell you.”</p>
<p>“But, gee whiz, they were <i>boiling</i> about three hours
ago,” Dumplin’ said.</p>
<p>“That was three hours ago, and 2,000 feet lower.
Go do as I tell you.”</p>
<p>“Some climate, I’ll say!” Bennie laughed. But he
was still skeptical, it was plain to see. He thought his
uncle was trying to play a joke on him. However,
he and Dumplin’ drained the cars.</p>
<p>A few minutes later they heard the welcome call
from the camp, “Come and get it!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_83">83</div>
<h2 id="c9">CHAPTER IX
<br /><span class="sc">The Mountain That Fell Into Itself</span></h2>
<p>It was still twilight when dinner was over, and the
doctor said, “First class in geology will now be
held on Victory Rock. Do you scouts have merit
badges in geology, by the way?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“That’s funny. Seems to me you ought to,” Mr.
Stone declared. “Scouts are hiking around the country
all the time, and it’s a mighty good chance to see
how the earth was made.”</p>
<p>Victory Rock, the boys found, is a kind of bowsprit
of lava thrust out from the rim, so that when you
stand on it you can see almost all the circle of the lake,
and the water appears to be directly under you.</p>
<p>“Now, take a good look,” Uncle Billy said, “and
then try to imagine what this place was like before the
big explosion. The rim here is 7,000 feet above sea
level. In other words, we’ve climbed up, to get here,
about half the height of the original mountain. We
are about at snow line.”</p>
<p>“About!” Bennie laughed. “About is good!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_84">84</div>
<p>“Now just imagine the line of ascent we took from
Government Camp carried right on up, all around the
lake. When the slopes met, over the middle, in the
peak of the original mountain, geologists reckon that
peak was from 14,000 to 15,000 feet high. This was
one of the highest mountains, if not the highest, in
the United States proper. It was an active volcano,
of course. If you’ll look over there to the northwest,
you’ll see a big, steep precipice with a rounded top.
That’s called Llao Rock. Do you see how the bottom
of it curves up at either end? Well, that curve shows
you where the bottom of a ravine was on the original
mountain. In some eruption, ages ago, a great stream
of lava flowed down that ravine, filled it up to overflowing,
and hardened into rock. If you travel around
the lake, you can pick out where each ravine was by
the laval cliffs.”</p>
<p>“How high is that Llao Rock?” asked Spider.</p>
<p>“About 2,000 feet from the water.”</p>
<p>“Gee, then that lava stream was more’n a thousand
feet deep!”</p>
<p>“It was,” said the doctor. “Much more.”</p>
<p>“And then what happened?” Bennie asked.</p>
<p>“Well, I wasn’t here at the time,” said Uncle Billy,
“but as near as the scientists can figure it out, there
must have been a tremendous eruption, scattering
pumice all over Oregon and making a lot of our rich
soil, and then, at the level where we are now, probably
a lot of vent holes blew out, making the whole
top of the mountain, which was only a shell around
the great crater hole, so insecure that it just toppled
inward of its own weight. About seven or eight thousand
feet of the mountain just collapsed into the
crater.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_85">85</div>
<p>“Say, I’d like to have been here with the old kodak!”
Bennie cried. “And then what happened?”</p>
<p>“Well, then the bottom of the crater evidently
started to spit again, and build up a new mountain. It
built up a perfect cone, just the shape of the old mountain,
almost to the level of the rim. That’s Wizard
Island out there. Wizard Island is a later kind of
lava and volcanic stuff than what you find in the rim
walls. But the old mountain got tired about then, and
decided to call it a day, and it’s been resting ever
since.”</p>
<p>“But how did the water get here?” Dumplin’ asked.</p>
<p>“Out of the sky. There are no springs, so far as
anybody knows, in the crater. That water has just
come from the snow and rain—mostly snow, which
has been falling into the hole for untold ages. Over
on the east side of the lake, it is 2,000 feet deep.”</p>
<p>“Say, you could almost dive there without hitting
your head on bottom, couldn’t you?” Bennie laughed.
“What makes it so blue?”</p>
<p>“Nobody seems to know that. Some people think
there must be some chemical or mineral gets into it.
Anyway, there’s no other lake in the world which has
its color.”</p>
<p>“I’ll bet there isn’t!” Spider declared. “My, it’s
a beautiful thing. When are we going down to it?
Are there boats on it? How do they get the boats
down there?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_86">86</div>
<p>“One at a time!” Mr. Stone laughed. “We’ll go
down as soon as the trail is opened. They get the
boats down the trail on wheels, by man power, and
keep ’em winters over on Wizard Island. You could
see the boat-house if it wasn’t so dark.”</p>
<p>“Let’s go over to the hotel and find out if the trail
is open yet!” the boys cried, and led the way without
waiting for an answer.</p>
<p>No, the trail wasn’t open, the hotel manager told
them. But the boatmen had been down and got some
rowboats out, and two men had gone down fishing
that afternoon.</p>
<p>“But it’s not a safe trip,” the manager added. “We
don’t advise anybody to try it. The government is
going to begin shoveling the snow out of the trail tomorrow
morning. You’d better wait a day or two.”</p>
<p>They thanked him, bought some souvenir post-cards
to send home, and went back to camp.</p>
<p>“Have we got to wait?” the boys demanded.</p>
<p>The two men only smiled.</p>
<p>“Better be up early,” they said. “We might have
a try at it. Can’t tell. Bennie seems to want a bit of
real wild stuff. Maybe we can give it to him.”</p>
<p>There was not wood enough in camp to make a
camp fire, and no chance to get any more till daylight.
Everybody had put on his sweater, and the air was
getting colder and colder.</p>
<p>“Nothing for it but to go to bed,” Mr. Stone declared.
“And be thankful you have those blankets
you didn’t need at Rogue River.”</p>
<p>“It’s the climate!” said Bennie, as he shivered in
his pyjamas and wriggled hastily in between all the
blankets he could stuff into his sleeping bag. “Oh,
you blankets!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_87">87</div>
<p>“And down in Medford, eighty miles away, they’re
probably kicking off the sheets,” laughed Uncle Billy.
“What do you think of Crater Lake now, eh?”</p>
<p>But Bennie only grunted. He was already half
asleep.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_88">88</div>
<h2 id="c10">CHAPTER X
<br /><span class="sc">Down the Rim to the Lake—The Boys Ski on a Crater Snow-drift in July</span></h2>
<p>The two scouts were first awake the next morning.
They took no more time getting dressed
than the law allowed, for it was shivery cold, and
then went outside the tent to wash. The sun was just
coming up, and the night mists still hung around the
sides of the rim and over the water of the lake, which
was so still that it was exactly like a huge bright blue
mirror, six miles wide, in which everything hung upside
down. The water in the pails at the side of the tent
had a skim of ice over it!</p>
<p>Bennie broke the ice and poured some water in a
basin, dousing it on his face and spluttering with the
cold. They went over the snow-drifts to the tap to
get more water, and the snow was crusted and held
them up so that their hobnailed boots crunched and
squeaked on it.</p>
<p>“And this is July 7th!” said Spider. “Well, you
thought your uncle was joshing about the radiator last
night, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“I sure did,” Bennie answered. “Didn’t realize
what a difference altitude makes.”</p>
<div class="img" id="pic3">
<img src="images/p05.jpg" alt="Campers at the Rim of Crater Lake. Mid-July Snow in Foreground" width="924" height="600" />
<p class="caption">Campers at the Rim of Crater Lake. Mid-July Snow in Foreground</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_89">89</div>
<p>After they had brought the water, and made a fire
in the stove, the scouts went off after a wood supply,
while the rest were dressing. They wandered a long
way back down the slope, through the forest, and
tried to imagine, as they looked back, that instead of
being cut off at the rim the mountain went on up
another 8,000 feet.</p>
<p>“I guess if it did, we’d be on a glacier here, instead
of just snow,” said Spider. “Look, Bennie, at those
flowers coming up within a foot of this drift! I’m
going to collect a lot of flowers on this trip, and get
a merit badge in botany, too. Why don’t you get
after some merit badges?”</p>
<p>“Aw, gee, what good am I at botany and stuff like
that?”</p>
<p>“Well, you could go after one in forestry. We’ll
be seeing a lot of real forests. And there’s hiking,
and camping. Oh, lots of ’em.”</p>
<p>“Got your manual with you?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Well, let’s look ’em up later, and see what chance
a dub like me has,” Bennie answered. “But this ain’t
getting us much fire wood.”</p>
<p>They were so far from the camp ground now that
dead wood was plentiful, and they returned to camp
over the drifts and the bare clearings where the wild
flowers were just sprouting—spring in July—dragging
dead limbs enough to last two or three days. The
smell of coffee and bacon greeted them as they came
up the last slope to the camp.</p>
<p>“By the way,” Spider asked at breakfast, “what
was the name of this mountain before it fell into itself?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_90">90</div>
<p>“Who was there to name it, you poor fish?”
laughed Bennie.</p>
<p>“I never thought of that!”</p>
<p>“It has a posthumous name, though,” said Mr.
Stone.</p>
<p>“Come again—come again!” Bennie said. “What
kind of a name?”</p>
<p>“Ho, I know what that means!” put in Dumplin’,
his mouth full of wheat cakes.</p>
<p>“What <i>what</i> means?” the rest demanded.</p>
<p>“P-p”—he swallowed hard, and then got it out—“posthumous.”</p>
<p>“Well, what does it mean?”</p>
<p>“It means something that comes after you’re dead.
If a man writes a book that ain’t printed till he’s dead,
it’s a posthumous book.”</p>
<p>“My son,” said Mr. Stone, “I am proud of
you.”</p>
<p>“Not to say surprised at him,” the doctor laughed.</p>
<p>Dumplin’ grinned triumphantly, and reached out for
more cakes.</p>
<p>“Well, what was its p-p-posthumous name?” Bennie
demanded.</p>
<p>“They call the mountain Mount Mazama. You see,
there’s a famous club of mountaineers in Portland,
who are called the Mazamas, and that’s why the name
was given to this vanished peak.”</p>
<p>“Mazama—sounds sort of Indian.”</p>
<p>“It is—it’s the Indian word for a mountain goat.”</p>
<p>“That’s us,” said Bennie. “When do we leap
lightly down the rim to the water?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_91">91</div>
<p>“As soon as you’ve washed the dishes,” said his
uncle.</p>
<p>The sun was well up when they started, and the
chill had gone from the air. You could hardly believe
water had frozen two hours before. Mr. Stone
carried his movie camera, which weighed fifty pounds,
on his back in a knapsack made for it, Dumplin’ carried
the tripod, also in a sack, Bennie and Spider carried
their canteens filled with spring water, their
cameras, and the lunch in knapsacks. The doctor had
two canteens and the coil of 125 feet of soft alpine
braided rope. Everybody had an alpenstock. As the
little procession passed the hotel, the people there
looked at them curiously.</p>
<p>“You evidently mean business,” somebody said.</p>
<p>“We’re going down to the lake,” said the doctor.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t try it, if I were you,” the other man
replied. “Two chaps went down yesterday, and they
had a pretty bad time. They say it’s extremely dangerous.”</p>
<p>“We’ll take a chance,” said Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>The trail starts down just east of the hotel. It is a
wide footpath cut in the soft lava and the powdery
pumice and conglomerate of the slope, switchbacking
down a sharp ravine. But this ravine was now almost
filled with snow, so that the path was buried, and
the descent had to be made over the bare snow slope,
at an angle of fifty degrees. If you once started slipping,
there was nothing to stop you for a thousand
feet. The park gang of a dozen men or more, with
shovels, were just attacking the snow at the top, shoveling
out the path and tossing the snow chunks on to the
slope, down which they slid and bounded like a bombardment.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_92">92</div>
<p>The doctor led the way past the shovelers, so they
would be out of the range of the falling lumps, uncoiled
the rope, tied one end around his waist, flung
the other end down the slope, drove his alpenstock
deep and firm, braced his feet, and said:</p>
<p>“Now, you all go down to the end, one at a time.
Keep a firm hold on the rope. Don’t ever let go with
more than one hand. When you get to the bottom,
brace your stocks, and Stone, you take up the slack
on me as I come down.”</p>
<p>One by one the boys and Mr. Stone faced half sideways
to the slope, kept hold of the rope with the right
hand, and went down the 125 feet step by step. As
Bennie started down, he saw that just above them on
the rim were a dozen people, come from the hotel to
watch.</p>
<p>“Gee, this is the life!” he shouted.</p>
<p>The boys watched Uncle Billy come down when
everybody else was at the rope’s end. He had no rope
to help him, of course, but he used his alpenstock with
one hand, and drove his boots firmly into the snow
with a sideways motion which made a little step for
him.</p>
<p>“Guess old Uncle Bill knows his way about,”
thought Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_93">93</div>
<p>From this point, the operation was repeated, getting
them down 250 feet. But by now the shovelers
in the path above had worked ahead, and the snow
chunks were whizzing past uncomfortably close.
They saw that the ravine narrowed ahead of them into
a kind of bottle neck, and all the chunks worked into
that neck. They would have to pass right through it.
No use in yelling up to the shovelers to quit, either.
Their job was to get the trail opened as soon as possible.
Besides, they were laughing, and the little party
down in the ravine knew that meant they were just
waiting to get them into the narrow place and bombard
them.</p>
<p>“Keep half an eye up the slope this next drop,” the
doctor said, “and watch out for cannon balls. Those
fellows up there are going to wing us if they can.
The chunks won’t break any bones, but they’ll hurt.
Once we’re through the neck, we can get round behind
that rock, and be out of range.”</p>
<p>“Let her go!” said Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>Nobody lost any time on that next drop. Mr. Stone
went first, and no sooner was he out into the narrow
groove of the ravine than a perfect avalanche of snow
chunks came whizzing down. Most of them got
broken up before they reached him, but every now
and then one hung together, as big as a shoveler could
lift out of the path, and went whizzing by a mile a
minute. One of them bounced up just before it
reached him, and landed <i>ker-blam</i> against his camera
sack, smashing into a thousand pieces, and nearly taking
him off his feet.</p>
<p>“The idiots!” Uncle Billy said. “I’d like to throw
’em all down here head first. Go ahead, Dump. Your
father’s round the bend now.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_94">94</div>
<p>“You’re an easy mark, Dumplin’!” yelled the boys,
as poor Lester slid down the rope into the path of the
whirling missiles. “Hi! look out—here comes a big
one!”</p>
<p>Lester ducked, and a block of snow bounded right
over his head. Bennie had no such luck when he
started, though. He dodged a couple, but a third
chunk caught him right in the head, smashed wetly
around his neck and ears, and he felt the water trickling
down inside his shirt as he hurried, half blinded,
around the rock to shelter. Spider and the doctor soon
joined them, Spider nursing a bump on the leg from
a snow chunk with a stone in it.</p>
<p>“Great idea of a joke, those guys have,” said Bennie.
“Funny thing, Dumplin’ never got hit at all,
and he’s the easiest mark. Where do we go from
here?”</p>
<p>The doctor looked around. Straight down below
them was a long slope of pumice and gravelly looking
stuff, at a very steep angle, with a few trees and lava
blocks breaking it up, and patches of snow.</p>
<p>“Here,” he said, and threw out the rope.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_95">95</div>
<p>Bennie started first. His feet seemed to hold well
in this soft ground, and he let his hand just slide along
the rope, seeing how fast he could walk down. Suddenly
the ground just slipped away under him. He
sat down, and began to slide. His hand, held too
loosely on the rope, was yanked off. He grasped for
the rope again, but it was out of reach. For one
sickly, awful moment, he saw the lake and the rocks
hundreds of feet below him, and thought he was going
to land down there—or what was left of him. Down,
down he slid, six feet, eight feet, hit a patch of snow
and went faster, while he tried vainly to dig in with
hands and heels. Then, as suddenly as the first slip,
he realized that in ten feet more he’d hit a tree growing
on a tiny flat place by a piece of solid lava. A
second, and his feet struck the roots with a thump,
and he stopped abruptly.</p>
<p>When the rest got to him, he was still sitting there,
trembling a little, and trying to clean off his clothes.
His uncle’s face was white, but all he said was:</p>
<p>“I thought you knew how to climb, Bennie. I see
you’ve got to be taught to keep a hold on the rope.”</p>
<p>“It—it came so sudden.”</p>
<p>“It always does come sudden,” his uncle answered.
That was all he said. That was all he ever said about
it the whole trip. But it was all he needed to say.
Bennie felt deeply ashamed. He had failed on the
very first climb! He resolved then and there that the
next time he’d hang on to that rope with a death grip.</p>
<p>“Were you scared?” Spider whispered to him, as
they got down to the trail where the snow had
melted off, and could walk the last few feet of the
way. “Gee, I was scared blue when I saw you goin’,
till I spotted the tree, and knew you were goin’ to hit
it. Hadn’t been there, though, you’d been a goner.
Golly!”</p>
<p>“Sure I was scared,” said Bennie. “Didn’t have
time to think much about it, though, before I hit the
good old roots.”</p>
<p>Dumplin’ now dropped alongside.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_96">96</div>
<p>“If it had been me,” he said, “I’d have knocked the
tree down, and gone right on.”</p>
<p>“You’d ’a’ made an awful splash in the lake,” Bennie
laughed, though his voice still trembled a little.</p>
<p>There were only three boats at the landing, and
none of the boatmen had yet come down that day.
They were waiting for the trail to be opened. But
the hotel manager had told Uncle Billy how to find
the oars, and loading the cameras and lunch into a
couple of the skiffs, they pushed off, Bennie insisting
on rowing one boat, and Lester the other. The
lake was very still as they floated out over its blue
water.</p>
<p>“It don’t look more’n ten feet deep to me,” said
Bennie, glancing over the side. “There’s the old bottom.”</p>
<p>“Look up at the cliffs and take ten more strokes,
and then look down,” said Mr. Stone from the other
boat.</p>
<p>Bennie did so.</p>
<p>“Jiminy crickets and little jumping hoptoads!” he
exclaimed. “Why, there isn’t any bottom!”</p>
<p>Sure enough, the bottom had dropped completely
away. They were floating on what seemed like a bottomless
blue liquid.</p>
<p>“I feel as if we were sort of hanging in a piece of
the sky,” said Spider. “I never had such a funny
sensation.”</p>
<p>The doctor smiled. “You’ve got the Crater Lake
blues,” he said. “It scares some people.”</p>
<p>“I like it,” said Spider. “Gee, it’s wonderful!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_97">97</div>
<p>Bennie glanced over his shoulder at Wizard Island,
which looked about a quarter of a mile away, headed
his bow for it, and started to pull again.</p>
<p>“We’ll be there in a jiffy,” he said.</p>
<p>“How far do you think it is?” his uncle asked.</p>
<p>“’Bout a quarter of a mile.”</p>
<p>“It’s almost two, in a straight line.”</p>
<p>“Gee!” said Bennie.</p>
<p>From the level of the water, Crater Lake was quite
a different place. Instead of looking down from the
rim, you looked up, and the cliffs that hemmed you in
seemed far higher and far steeper. They looked as
steep as they really are. The high points around the
rim—Garfield Peak, Dutton Cliffs, Llao Rock,
Glacier Peak, the Watchman, were all snow-capped,
and in many places the snow came down the rim ravines
in great white wedges like capital V’s, almost to
the blue water. The hotel looked like a little Noah’s
ark.</p>
<p>“Say, if a guy got caught down here and had to go
on shore where he couldn’t get to the trail, what would
he do? Could he climb out?” Bennie asked.</p>
<p>“There’s a trail out over there on the east, at that
lowest place,” said the doctor. “The rim is only 500
feet high there. Those two are the only trails. You
might be able to climb out at some other points. A
photographer once climbed up under Llao Rock and
worked along the base of the lava precipices till he
reached the top of the rim. But if I was caught down
here in most places, I’d sit tight till a boat came for
me.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_98">98</div>
<p>“You needn’t die of thirst, anyhow,” Spider
laughed.</p>
<p>Slowly Wizard Island drew nearer, and at last Bennie
pulled into a little cove, and they hauled the bow
up. Lester pulled his skiff in a moment later. Wizard
Island, all around the base, seemed to be composed entirely
of huge blocks of blackish-brown lava, out of
which evergreens mysteriously grew—big, fine trees,
too. They scrambled up over these blocks, and soon
found a trail winding up the steep slope through the
woods. The lava blocks ceased now, and the whole
little mountain was composed of a fine material much
like cinders from a locomotive. In fact, the baby
volcano now resembled nothing so much as a huge
cone of cinders, covered with trees. Up and up they
toiled, Mr. Stone panting under the weight of his
movie camera, and at last reached the summit. Before
anybody even looked about, the canteens were
unslung and half emptied. Then they looked.</p>
<p>The top of Wizard Island was a perfect circle, like
Crater Lake itself, only a tiny circle, two or three
hundred feet across. Inside was a crater, about a
hundred feet deep, and now filled on the south side,
where the sun didn’t hit it, with a huge snow-drift
pitching steeply down to the bottom.</p>
<p>“Ah! I thought so!” cried Mr. Stone. “Boys,
get busy. I’m going to take a movie of you sliding
down a crater on the snow. Try it once standing up,
and see if you can keep your feet.”</p>
<div class="img" id="pic4">
<img src="images/p06.jpg" alt="The Boys Sliding down Wizard Island Crater. (Enlarged from a Movie)" width="922" height="600" />
<p class="caption">The Boys Sliding down Wizard Island Crater. (Enlarged from a Movie)</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_99">99</div>
<p>The three boys ran out on the drift to the edge, and
stepped over. The snow was soft enough so that they
sank in a little and pushed enough snow ahead to bank
up after ten or a dozen feet. When it did this, it
would pitch you head foremost unless you were spry
and jumped over the bank in time. The first try all
three boys went headlong a quarter of the way down,
and made the rest of the trip on their stomachs. They
got up and struggled back up the steep incline.</p>
<p>By this time the camera was set up and focussed.</p>
<p>“Good!” said Mr. Stone. “Now get out of the
picture a way, and when I say ‘Shoot’ come walking
in to the edge. Stop there a moment and point, as if
you were daring each other to go down. Then all
slide. Keep your feet if you can. At the bottom,
get up quickly, and come scrambling back. Ready?
Get on your marks, shoot!”</p>
<p>The three boys came into the picture as the crank
ground and the camera clicked. They stopped at the
rim, and began to act.</p>
<p>“I dast you to slide down!” said Bennie, forgetting
this was a movie, and nobody would hear his voice.</p>
<p>“Ho!” said Dumplin’, “that’s nothin’.”</p>
<p>He tossed off his cap. Spider tossed off his. The
three of them stepped over the rim, and shot down.
Dumplin’ got a third of the way and spilled, head
foremost. A second later Spider followed him. Only
Bennie got to the bottom on his feet. He yelled and
waved his arms in triumph, and all three started
scrambling and slipping back up the drift, digging into
the snow with heels and hands. As they came up over
the rim again, the camera stopped clicking.</p>
<p>“Good,” said Mr. Stone. “That’s a dandy.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_100">100</div>
<p>“Some Douglas Fairbanks, eh?” cried Bennie.
“Gee, Dumplin’, you sure did a comic fall. Bet that
would get a laugh on the screen.”</p>
<p>“My hands are cold—and I’m sweating,” said Lester.
“That’s going some.”</p>
<p>“It’s the climate!” came from three mouths at
once.</p>
<p>They now walked around the little rim, and on the
west side of the island saw, at the base of the cone, a
flat space of a few acres, with a tiny little pond in it.</p>
<p>“This is a volcano within a volcano, and that is a
lake inside of a lake,” the doctor pointed out. “You
don’t often find that. Now let’s eat some lunch, and
go down and see if we can catch a fish or two for
supper.”</p>
<p>They sat, hatless and coatless, in the shade of a
little tree beside a snow-drift, and ate their lunch, finishing
up the last of the water in the canteens, also.
Then they descended to the boats. Mr. Stone
mounted his camera in the bow of one boat, with Lester
to row, while Spider rowed the other, the doctor
sat as passenger, and Bennie got out the collapsible
rod his uncle had brought, jointed it, and adjusted the
tackle.</p>
<p>“Don’t seem fair to fish for trout with a spinner,
as if they were nothing but pickerel,” he declared.
“Wish we had some flies.”</p>
<p>“We want the fish to eat,” said the doctor, “and
Stone wants a picture. We’ll use the surest way to get
’em. Now, Spider, row very slowly and just as
steadily as you can, just offshore, around the rocks.
Keep an even pace—that’s the main thing. If the
spinner yanks, the fish get suspicious.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_101">101</div>
<p>Their boat crept softly along, with the Stones’ boat
not far behind, Mr. Stone sitting by the camera as if
it were a machine gun pointed at them.</p>
<p>Suddenly the line, trailing behind, tightened, Bennie
gave a cry, there was a leap and a silver flash in
the water astern, and the fight was on!</p>
<p>“Play him, play him!” the doctor shouted. “Keep
on rowing, Spider. Give Stone a chance to shoot!
Bring him up slowly, Bennie, don’t lose him!”</p>
<p>“I won’t lose him,” Bennie answered grimly.
“Gee whiz, what a trout! He pulls like a whale!”</p>
<p>Slowly he reeled in, and then had to play out again,
as the fish made a dash past the boat. But the big
spinner hook was too much for him, and after three or
four minutes he was alongside, giving his last kicks
and splashes in the water.</p>
<p>“Swing around, swing around, so the camera can
get this!” called the doctor.</p>
<p>As the boat swung, Lester pulled nearer, the camera
kept on clicking, and Bennie, reaching over, grabbed
the line short and hauled the trout into the boat, holding
him up to show his size.</p>
<p>“Some baby!” he cried, breathless with excitement.
“He weighs about four pounds. What kind of a
trout is he?”</p>
<p>“They put eastern brook trout into this lake,” said
Uncle Billy. “There were no fish here till it was
stocked.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_102">102</div>
<p>“Eastern brook trout!” Bennie exclaimed. “Well,
that’s the funniest looking eastern brook trout <i>I</i> ever
saw. I guess something happened to ’em.”</p>
<p>“It’s the climate,” Spider chuckled.</p>
<p>“I think it is myself, and no joke,” said the doctor.
“They are certainly a different fish, both to look at
and to eat, than the brook trout we used to catch back
home. You catch one now, Spider.”</p>
<p>Spider took the line, and caught a trout. Then the
doctor got one, and the line was passed to Lester, who
lost the spinner in a rock on the bottom, but, with a
new hook, caught still a fourth fish.</p>
<p>“That’s enough to last us; now for home,” came
the orders.</p>
<p>“I wonder if they’ve got the trail cleared yet?
Don’t much want to face that bombardment again,”
said Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“They’ll be through digging for the day, anyhow,
before we get in,” said Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>The long shadows from the western walls were out
across the water when they reached the landing and
tied up the boats. There was no sign of shovelers on
the trail, but no sign, either, that the gang had got to
the bottom. They had to make the first half of the
climb as best they could, scrambling up the treacherous
slopes with the aid of the alpenstocks and the rope
which the doctor dragged up ahead and fastened at
convenient points. Half-way up, however, they
reached the spot where the trail breakers had quit
work, and they were glad enough of the path and the
easy grade the rest of the way. Their packs were
getting heavier and heavier, and the doctor was taking
shifts on the camera, before they finally dragged themselves
over the rim, into the sunlight again.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_103">103</div>
<p>Bennie was carrying the four trout proudly when
they passed the hotel, and a crowd came out to see the
catch. At least a score more motors had arrived during
the day, and the hotel bus was arriving with a
load of people. At their camp, they found two new
tents pitched close to theirs, the cars bearing California
license plates.</p>
<p>“Well, our privacy is gone,” sighed Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“I don’t care, if they haven’t got a crying child
along, to keep us awake,” the doctor said.</p>
<p>“Nothing could keep me awake tonight,” said Bennie,
flopping down on the ground.</p>
<p>“And nothing could wake me tomorrow morning,”
puffed Lester, flopping down beside him.</p>
<p>“Well, don’t go to sleep till you’ve cleaned those
fish for us,” Uncle Billy laughed. “And, Dump, you
get water, and, Spider, you make the fire.”</p>
<p>The smell of boiling coffee and sizzling trout
brought new life to everybody. And how they ate!
The fish meat was reddish in color, more like salmon
than eastern brook trout, but it certainly tasted good,
and there was enough for everybody, with potatoes,
and bread, and coffee and stewed fruit.</p>
<p>When supper was over and cleared away, and they
were sitting around the little camp fire, in their sweaters
again, for the evening chill had descended with the
sun, a man strolled over from the near-by camp.</p>
<p>“Kind o’ cold up here,” he remarked.</p>
<p>“Drained your radiator?” Mr. Stone asked.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_104">104</div>
<p>“No. What you giving us?”</p>
<p>“Just as you like,” Mr. Stone replied. “If you
like a busted radiator, it’s up to you. I don’t care.”</p>
<p>“You mean to tell me it’ll freeze up? Why, it was
eighty-eight in the shade in Medford this morning.”</p>
<p>“It was probably hotter than that in Los Angeles,”
said Uncle Billy, with a wink at Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“No, sir!” the other man retorted. “No siree,
Bob. We have the finest climate in Southern California
there is in the world. Never too hot, and never
too cold.”</p>
<p>“It’s the climate,” chuckled Bennie.</p>
<p>“You bet your life it’s the climate, kid,” said the
man.</p>
<p>“Funny, another man from California once told
me the same thing,” Mr. Stone smiled. “I’ll have to
go down there some day and try it.”</p>
<p>“You’d better. No place like it.”</p>
<p>“What are you doing in Oregon?” Uncle Billy
suggested.</p>
<p>“Oh, just taking a look around. Pretty nice little
lake here, but you ought to see the Yosemite.”</p>
<p>“I’ve been to Coney Island,” Bennie grinned, falling
into the game.</p>
<p>“I’ve seen a picture of Venice by moonlight,” said
Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“I’ve been up Bunker Hill Monument. It is 224
feet high,” said Spider.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_105">105</div>
<p>The Californian began to get wise to the fact that
he was being guyed, and moved off. They watched
him. He went past their cars and glanced at the
ground under the hoods to see if they had really been
drained. Then he went over and drained his own.</p>
<p>Mr. Stone laughed. “Push any button on a Californian,
and you’ll start a record about the finest climate
in the world.”</p>
<p>“It’s the climate,” said Bennie, solemnly. “Let’s
see, where did I see that? Oh, yes, on a big banner
across the road in a city down in California.”</p>
<p>“A hit, son. I admit it,” Mr. Stone answered.
“We do a lot of bragging ourselves. At that, we’ve
got a pretty nice climate.”</p>
<p>“I move that the next man who says ‘climate’ has
to wash all the dishes for the next three days,” said
Dumplin’. “All in favor.”</p>
<p>A great shout of “Aye!” went up, and on that
they turned in.</p>
<p>“Praises be to the man who invented the air mattress,”
sighed Bennie, as he crawled wearily into his
sleeping bag. “Oh, you pneumatic kid!”</p>
<p>“Had enough hard work to satisfy you?” his uncle
asked.</p>
<p>“Till about eight <span class="sc">A. M.</span> tomorrow,” Bennie answered.
“Good night, friends. Please tell the bellhop
to bring me hot water at 7:30.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_106">106</div>
<h2 id="c11">CHAPTER XI
<br /><span class="sc">Dumplin’ Tests the Strength of a Snow Cornice on Garfield Peak</span></h2>
<p>Their friend the California camper and his party
were up bright and early. At least, they were
up early. As Bennie woke up at their noisy shouting,
and listened to their conversation, he didn’t think they
were particularly bright.</p>
<p>“Oh, well, Irvin Cobb couldn’t make me laugh at
half-past five in the morning,” Dumplin’ said at breakfast.
“I heard ’em, but I went to sleep again. I just
stayed awake long enough to hear whether they were
talking about their cli—ha! you didn’t catch me!—about
the atmospheric conditions of California.”</p>
<p>“Did they?” his father asked.</p>
<p>“Not’s I heard. One of ’em was pulling a merry
jest. His idea of a joke, I s’pose. He was throwing
cold water on the ones that weren’t up.”</p>
<p>“Gee, I’d have killed him!” the doctor said.
“Maybe they’ll be gone by night. Well, what shall
we do today? I don’t feel like going down to the lake
again till the trail is open. It will be done by tonight.”</p>
<p>“Let’s climb Garfield!”</p>
<p>“Good,” said Mr. Stone. “I’d like to get a movie
of you all up on that snow cap against the sky.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_107">107</div>
<p>“And I’m going to gather all the kinds of wild
flowers I can, and identify ’em from those mounted
specimens in the hotel,” said Spider. “Might’s well
do some work for a botany honor medal, too.”</p>
<p>Bennie was looking up in the tree as Spider spoke.</p>
<p>“Look,” he said, “who’s your friend?”</p>
<p>“Who are your friends, you mean,” added Uncle
Billy, also looking up.</p>
<p>Two large birds, fat and sleek, with gray and black
plumage were hopping nearer and nearer to the tents,
apparently much excited.</p>
<p>“Hello!” cried Spider. “They are new ones on
me. Say, aren’t they tame!”</p>
<p>Mr. Stone laughed. “Tame is the word. Everybody
look the other way, and pretend to pay no attention.”</p>
<p>They did so, and suddenly there was a flutter close
by, a little peep, a flap of wings, and one of the birds
was right down on the box by the stove that served
as a kitchen table, and up in the tree again with half
a slice of bread in his bill.</p>
<p>“Well, I’ll be switched!” Bennie exclaimed. “Can
you beat that! What are they?”</p>
<p>“Ever heard of camp robbers?”</p>
<p>“Are <i>those</i> camp robbers, eh? Canada jays is another
name, isn’t it? Well, I thought camp robbers
were ugly birds. Those are beautiful.”</p>
<p>“They are beautiful, but now they’ve discovered
the camps up here, we’ll have to keep everything covered.
They can’t take a hint worth a cent.”</p>
<p>“Let’s shoo ’em over to California’s camp,”
laughed Bennie.</p>
<p>Presently they started off for Garfield.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_108">108</div>
<p>“Hey, Uncle Bill, where’s the rope?” Bennie asked.</p>
<p>“Don’t need it today.”</p>
<p>“Aw, can’t we take it along and find a place to use
it?”</p>
<p>“Nothing doing. We don’t carry any excess baggage
out here, son.”</p>
<p>The climb up Garfield proved to be an easy one.
The trail was clear of snow for half the distance, and
the rest of the short thousand feet was over drifts
that were neither difficult nor dangerous, till they
reached a little flat place a hundred feet short of the
summit. Here a sheer precipice confronted them, with
the summit snow cap hanging out over it like the cornice
of a gigantic house roof.</p>
<p>Mr. Stone set up his camera some distance out from
the cliff.</p>
<p>“Now, I want you all to go up there, around on the
side, where the trail goes, and come out into view on
the left end of the top. Then walk in single file,
slowly, along the cornice to the right, and then move
back out of sight again. When you get to the top,
don’t come into view till I yell, ‘Shoot!’”</p>
<p>“You mean you want us to walk out on that snow
that hangs over the precipice, Pa?” Lester demanded.</p>
<p>“Sure, why not?”</p>
<p>“Well, if it breaks off with our weight, where do
we go from there?”</p>
<p>“It won’t break. You don’t have to get right on
the edge of it, of course. But it would hold up a team
of horses.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but will it hold up Dumplin’?” said Bennie.</p>
<div class="img" id="pic5">
<img src="images/p07.jpg" alt="The Boys Walking on the Snow Cornice of Garfield Peak. (Enlarged from a Movie)" width="933" height="600" />
<p class="caption">The Boys Walking on the Snow Cornice of Garfield Peak. (Enlarged from a Movie)</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_109">109</div>
<p>“Come on, boys, let’s get this Pearl White stuff
over,” the doctor laughed.</p>
<p>They scrambled up around the side to the very
peak, and waited till they heard the signal. Then one
by one they walked forward toward the edge. The
doctor led the way, and sounded with his alpenstock.
He stopped five feet short of the extreme edge, however,
turned and walked along that line, the rest following
him holding their breaths, and half expecting
to go pitching down any instant. But they didn’t.
The snow cornice was many feet thick, and would
probably have held up a far greater weight.</p>
<p>When they were out of the picture again, they
looked around. The view was tremendous, and the
first one they had got from a high summit. (Garfield
is a shade over 8,000 feet.) To the south they saw
the glistening white snow cone of Mount McLaughlin,
and then far, far away, 150 miles, floating almost like
a cloud on the horizon, the great white bulk of Mount
Shasta in California, more than 14,000 feet high. To
the eastward, they looked out over the desert country
of southeastern Oregon, stretching for endless miles.
North of them, they looked right down for 2,000 feet
into the blue caldera of Crater Lake. North of the
lake, beyond the farther rim, they could see Mount
Thielsen, which looked like a huge needle of lava
sticking straight up into the air, and beyond that the
white pyramid of Diamond Peak. Everywhere
near by, on the outer slopes of the crater, they looked
down into dark mysterious forests marching up the
ravines.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_110">110</div>
<p>“Well, Bennie, is this big enough and wild enough
for you?” the doctor demanded.</p>
<p>“I never saw so much land all at once in my life,”
said Bennie, “or such a big hole in it. And to think
I’ve seen old Shasta, way off in California! This
beats the old geography!”</p>
<p>“You loosed a larynxful then,” came from
Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Not very poetic, Dump, but true,” the doctor
smiled.</p>
<p>The boys found the steepest drift on the descent,
and tried to ski down it on their boot soles, but they
hit such a rate of speed that all three of them toppled
over, and landed at the bottom head over heels. After
they had reached the open trail once more, Spider cut
away from the path, and worked down the side slope,
through the pumice drifts and the tumbled piles of
broken lava, gathering specimens of wild flowers.
You would hardly have supposed anything would
grow in such unpromising looking soil, but volcanic
stuff rapidly breaks up into a soil rich in chemical
plant foods, especially potash, and soon his hands
were full. Bennie, who had followed him, began to
help, and rapidly got interested in the game of finding
new varieties. It was a big bunch they finally brought
into camp, half an hour after the rest had reached
home.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_111">111</div>
<p>That afternoon Spider took his flowers and a note-book
over to the hotel, where a large case of mounted
specimens is exhibited, and spent two hours identifying
them, and listing the names in his note-book, with
his specimens pressed between the leaves. Bennie
bought some candy, and a bunch of post-cards, and
scribbled messages to his mother and father and
friends. Finally he came over to Spider.</p>
<p>“Gee whiz, you’re a studious one,” he said. “Wish
I was. How do you get that way?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I just can’t help being interested
in birds and plants and things like that. You’ve just
got to find something you’re awfully interested in, I
guess.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m interested in mountains, but that won’t
get me any merit badge. I’m gettin’ kind of interested
in supper about now, too. What say we beat it
over to camp?”</p>
<p>They walked back along the rim. The snow cap on
Garfield was growing pink behind them, and the lake
below, ruffled by a little wind, was like a wrinkled
carpet of vivid ultramarine blue. The trail, they
heard, was now dug out all the way to the landing.
Rested by the quiet afternoon, they felt keen for fresh
adventures.</p>
<p>“I feel’s if I could walk all the way around this
old rim,” Bennie declared. “You know, there’s a
motor road runs around it, only it’s full of snow now.
Has to cut down behind Dutton Cliffs and Garfield,
way down to the road we came up on. But the rest
of the way round it’s up on the rim. Uncle Bill says
it’s about thirty or thirty-five miles around, he thinks,
by the road. Bet you we could do it in a day, right
over the old snow. That ought to help toward a merit
badge for hiking.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_112">112</div>
<p>“I’d rather row around the lake at the base of the
cliffs,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“Well, let’s do that tomorrow. Shall we?”</p>
<p>“I guess we’ll do what the rest do. Your uncle will
have something good on, sure.”</p>
<p>“Hope so, I need the exercise,” Bennie laughed,
plunging across the snow-drift toward the tents.</p>
<p>“Bennie’s feeling awful good,” Spider told the rest.
“Says he’s not getting exercise enough.”</p>
<p>“The wood-pile is rather low,” the doctor remarked
quietly.</p>
<p>Bennie saluted. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir!” he said,
and picked up his ax.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_113">113</div>
<h2 id="c12">CHAPTER XII
<br /><span class="sc">Bennie Climbs the Mast of the Phantom Ship and Knows He Has Done Something</span></h2>
<p>“Seeing that Bennie is such a glutton for exercise,”
said Uncle Billy at breakfast the next
morning, “what do you say we give him some,
Stone?”</p>
<p>“We want to keep him well and happy, surely,”
Mr. Stone answered, solemnly.</p>
<p>“Yes, we mustn’t let the little darling pine,” put in
Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Or his mighty muscles get flabby,” added Spider.</p>
<p>“You all think you’re having a great time, don’t
you?” Bennie retorted. “Well, I’m all ready. I
guess I’ll keep in the procession as long as the band
plays.”</p>
<p>“All right,” said his uncle. “Let’s get cleared up
here, and we’ll beat it down the trail and row out to
the Phantom Ship. Bennie can row us out and back,
and climb the mast between whiles, and then tote your
camera, Stone, up the trail again home. Maybe that
will restore his lost appetite.”</p>
<p>Bennie grinned amiably. “What’s the Phantom
Ship?” he demanded.</p>
<p>“You’ll see.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_114">114</div>
<p>The boys noted with delight that Uncle Billy was
taking his alpine rope. Lunches and cameras were
carried, too. The trail down from the rim was now
cleared of snow all the way, and the descent was quick
and easy. But, at the bottom, they found that so
many people had gone down ahead of them that all the
boats were out. They had to wait two hours while
some of the boatmen, who had gone across to the boat-house
on Wizard Island, got the launch in commission
over there, and towed back more boats.</p>
<p>“How did they ever get a launch down here?”
asked Bennie.</p>
<p>“Brought it down in pieces and assembled it, I suppose,”
Spider said. “Didn’t they?”</p>
<p>“Must have,” answered the doctor.</p>
<p>When the fresh supply of boats arrived, they pushed
off, rowing in the opposite direction from Wizard Island.
Now they passed directly under the jagged red
walls of Eagle Crags, which form the north wall of
Mount Garfield, and tower 2,000 feet above the water.
Rounding Eagle Point, they saw Chaski Bay, invisible
from the hotel, with a great snow-drift hanging over
it, and beyond that another 2,000-foot cliff headland,
with a long, steep talus slope of soft stuff leading up to
the precipitous lava.</p>
<p>“What do you see right at the base of that cliff, in
the water?” the doctor asked.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” said the boys. “Just some small rocks
at the water’s edge.”</p>
<p>“Some small rocks, eh? Well, row on a bit. Keep
in nearer shore, Bennie.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_115">115</div>
<p>Bennie rowed on another half mile, and again they
looked at the rocks at the water’s edge below Dutton
Cliff.</p>
<p>“Why,” Spider said, “those rocks are out in the
water. They’re an island.”</p>
<p>“That’s the Phantom Ship. They call it a phantom
because it looks like part of the cliff from a distance.
You’ll see pretty soon why they call it a ship.”</p>
<p>Sure enough, they did see, in a very few moments.
For, as the boats drew nearer, the detached rocks were
seen to be much larger than they had appeared from a
distance, where they had to be measured against the
whole 2,000 feet of Dutton Cliff; and not only were
they large, but they were really one solid mass of dark
brown lava, much more pointed at the end which faced
the lake, and with three sharp spires of lava, almost as
sharp as an obelisk, sticking up exactly like three
masts. To add still further to the illusion of a ship,
they saw, as they drew still nearer, that the patches of
green on the lava were really pine trees, which now
began to look like sails.</p>
<p>“It is just like a ship!” Spider exclaimed. “It’s a
ship made of lava, a three-master, sailing right out
from Dutton Cliff!”</p>
<p>“Is it one of those masts we are going to climb?”
Bennie suddenly demanded, a suspicion striking him.</p>
<p>“<i>You</i> are—for the exercise,” said his uncle.</p>
<p>“Yes, I am! Say, I’m pretty good, but I’m no human
fly. Gee, I don’t see even a finger-nail hold on
’em.”</p>
<p>“Don’t get impatient. Look down in the water a
minute. Row slowly. Now let her drift.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_116">116</div>
<p>The boys looked down as the boat floated in toward
the dark, straight sides of the Phantom Ship, down
into the deep blue water. No bottom was visible,
though the sunlight seemed to penetrate a long way
down.</p>
<p>Then, suddenly, there was bottom! The bottom
seemed to jump up at them, when the boat was about
a hundred feet away from the ship. They had floated
right on over the rim of a tremendous sunken precipice.
Even here the bottom was apparently fifty feet
below surface, yet they could see it clearly.</p>
<p>“Stop the boat a minute,” Spider said.</p>
<p>Bennie stopped it, and then took his oars out again.
Spider, meanwhile, had taken a nickel from his pocket,
and when the ripples had died down, he laid it carefully
overboard, flat on the water. They watched it
wabble and flutter rapidly down, but fast as it went, it
was a long time reaching bottom, showing the depth.
Yet they could see it plainly after it landed and lay
shining on the rocks fifty feet below. Then they
watched a big trout swim by, five or six feet under the
surface, and they could see every detail of his color, his
fins—all through water that was bluer than the sky!</p>
<p>“Now look up at the ship,” said Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>It towered above them now like a real ship, a ship
200 feet long, with masts 175 feet tall. Here, on the
south side, the walls rose in an almost sheer precipice
for many feet, with little clumps of bright flowers
growing in the cracks and on the tiny ledges, which
Spider instantly coveted for his collection of specimens
that was going to help him get a merit badge in botany.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_117">117</div>
<p>There was one place, however, near the bowsprit,
where you could make a landing, and Mr. Stone was
already getting out there and setting up his camera.
As soon as it was up, he asked the two boats to row
around behind the island, and then come into sight
again, passing slowly under the side of the ship, so he
could show both the boats and the lava cliff. After
that he got Spider ashore, and took a movie of him
crawling, wherever he could get a finger or toe hold,
twenty feet up the ship’s side and picking a large clump
of pentstemon from a crevice.</p>
<p>“Don’t you want to take me and Dumplin’ diving
off into the water?” Bennie called.</p>
<p>“Sure, if you’ll do it,” Mr. Stone laughed. “Put
your arm down as far in as you can get it first.”</p>
<p>Bennie pushed up his sleeve and did so. He pulled
his arm out again quickly.</p>
<p>“Thanks, not today,” he said.</p>
<p>“The temperature when you get a ways below the
surface remains at 39° winter and summer, the scientists
have found,” the doctor smiled.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t feel more’n 29° on top,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>When the pictures were taken, they went around to
the north side of the island, where the sides were not so
steep, and taking the alpine rope, they all landed and
scrambled up into the high saddle between the rear and
the central mast—“the deck, this ought to be called,”
they said.</p>
<p>When they got up in here, they found it was possible
to climb still higher up the tallest mast (the rear mast),
till they reached a sharp, complete crack which separated
it into two parts. This crack had not been visible
from the water.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_118">118</div>
<p>“It’s a regular chimney,” Bennie exclaimed. “A
chimney open at both sides. Do we go up that?”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” Dumplin’ answered. “I couldn’t get
into it.”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” said his father. “I wouldn’t get into it.”</p>
<p>“It’s about forty feet from here to the top,” said
Uncle Billy. “I know a man who climbed it. It took
him an hour and fifteen minutes.”</p>
<p>Bennie wasn’t joking any more. He pulled himself
up from the little platform where they were resting till
he stood in the crack, and then he felt of the walls of
smooth lava, and looked up for hand and foot holds.</p>
<p>“But there aren’t any holds,” he said. “Hanged
if I see how <i>anybody</i> can climb up here.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you’ll find a few holds, if I remember right,
places where you can get a sort of apology for a rest,”
his uncle said, casually.</p>
<p>“Say, are you joshing me or not? Did somebody
really climb up here?”</p>
<p>For answer his uncle stepped into the chimney with
him.</p>
<p>“This is the way,” he said.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_119">119</div>
<p>He braced his back against one side of the crack by
pressing hard with his hands against the other side.
Then he raised both his feet free of the ground, while
he held himself wedged by sheer muscle, and set his feet
against the wall a little way up. Then he pressed so
hard with his legs that they wedged him in, and raised
his hands, hunching up his shoulders a few inches at
the same time. Again bracing with his arms and
shoulders, he got his feet up a few more inches. Then
his hands and shoulders again. Progressing in this
way, almost crawling, in fact, he was before long so
far up in the chimney that Bennie could walk under
him. Then, almost as slowly as he went up, he came
down.</p>
<p>“You see, it can be done,” he said. “I don’t say it
isn’t hard work. But you wanted exercise.”</p>
<p>“Give me the rope!” said Bennie, shortly.</p>
<p>“What’s the idea of the rope?” asked Lester.</p>
<p>“So the rest of you can get up,” Bennie answered.</p>
<p>He tied the rope under his arms, while his uncle held
the coil, to play it out. Then he tried his shoes on the
wall to see if the nails held, and found they would hold
in the lava, where they slipped on granite or other
hard rock, and began to work his way up. He worked
in silence. Spider and Lester shouted joshing advice
at him, advising him to use his teeth, to sit down a
while where he was and take a rest, and anything else
they could think of, but he was wasting no breath on
replies. In fact, he needed all the breath, all the
strength and all the attention he had to keep on
going. A dozen times he thought he would have
to give it up. Once he thought his strength was going
to fail him and he would fall. That was when
he was about twenty feet from the bottom. But each
time he grit his teeth and either seemed to get a kind
of second wind, or else found just the faintest hint of
a foothold, or a handhold, so he could relieve for a
moment the awful tension on his arms and back.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_120">120</div>
<p>Toward the top, he was literally moving inch by
inch, his strength was so far gone. He was just able
to get his hands over the rim at last, take a good grip,
and hold himself there while his strength came back
enough to enable him to pull himself up over the top,
and get his weight on to his stomach, where he hung
for a full minute, with his legs dangling back into the
crack.</p>
<p>Finally he pulled them up, too, and found himself on
a tiny little space, hardly large enough to sit on, with
the rocks and the lake 175 feet below him. It was like
sitting on top of a church spire. Trembling with muscular
exhaustion as he was, he didn’t care to sit there
long. In fact, he took one good look down, had a feeling
as if his stomach turned a flipflop, drew up half of
the rope and turned it around the top of the spire, and
then grasping both strands of the doubled rope, came
sliding down the chimney.</p>
<p>His uncle gave him a pat on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“Good work,” was all he said, but Bennie knew then
that he had really done something.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you wait for us?” Spider demanded.</p>
<p>“Isn’t room on top for more’n one at a time,” Bennie
replied. “Go on up and see what it’s like. Keep
hold of both strands of the rope, though. How long
did it take me?”</p>
<p>“About an hour and twenty minutes,” said Mr.
Stone.</p>
<p>“Is that all?” said Bennie. “I felt as if it was
day after tomorrow before I got there.”</p>
<p>And he sat down wearily.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_121">121</div>
<p>Meanwhile Spider was hauling himself up on the
doubled rope. He didn’t stay up much longer than
Bennie, though.</p>
<p>“Kind o’ ticklish up here,” he called back. “Glad
the wind doesn’t blow.”</p>
<p>Then he slid down. Nobody else wanted to go up,
so the rope was pulled down, and the party descended
to the boats again, to eat luncheon, which had been
long delayed. Afterwards, they fished for an hour,
and got enough trout for a meal.</p>
<p>“Want to row us home, Bennie?” his uncle asked.</p>
<p>“Spider hasn’t had a chance to row all day,” Bennie
answered.</p>
<p>The mile of zigzag trail up from the lake to the rim
seemed endless to Bennie that evening, and when the
rest went over to the hotel after dinner to hear the
music and watch the dancing, he felt like refusing.
But he didn’t. He went, too, rubbing his eyes to keep
them open.</p>
<p>“I guess you’ll sleep tonight, eh?” Uncle Billy said,
when they finally got back to camp.</p>
<p>“I’m going to sleep so hard I’ll puncture the mattress,”
Bennie answered.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_122">122</div>
<h2 id="c13">CHAPTER XIII
<br /><span class="sc">The Scouts Are Driven Ashore by a Storm and Have To Climb Llao Rock—and They Learn a Lesson</span></h2>
<p>The next morning the doctor and Spider woke up
before Bennie did, and they let him sleep till
breakfast was almost ready. When he did get up, he
stretched himself and discovered that his muscles were
a bit stiff, but otherwise he felt, he said, “like a fighting
cock.”</p>
<p>“Well, don’t feel so good you eat up all the pancakes
before I get one!” Dumplin’ laughed, snatching
for the plate.</p>
<p>“I guess what I need to take the kinks out of my
back is exercise,” Bennie remarked, with a grin.</p>
<p>“We’d better get hold of Jack Dempsey, and let
Bennie box with him every day,” Mr. Stone put in.</p>
<p>“Aw, I wouldn’t want to hurt him,” Bennie answered.
“What we going to do today, Uncle Bill?”</p>
<p>“We’ll have to think it over,” his uncle replied.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_123">123</div>
<p>But before anything was decided, a bell-boy came
from the hotel with the news that someone had been
taken sick there, and asking the doctor to come right
over. It turned out that a man who had arrived the
night before had eaten something on the road that
poisoned him, and he was so sick that the doctor didn’t
dare go far from camp that day. Mr. Stone wanted
to stay near camp also, to make motion pictures of
parties climbing up and down the rim, and he needed
Lester to help him. So Bennie and Spider asked if
they might go down to the water, get a boat, and row
across the lake, taking their lunch with them.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” the doctor said, frowning. “You
can both swim, and you know how to row, but that
lake can get pretty rough, and if you’re forced to land,
there’s no way of getting back till somebody can come
after you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but look at the old lake! It’s calm as a mirror,”
Bennie pleaded, “and there’s not a cloud in the
sky.”</p>
<p>“We want to see what Llao Rock looks like when
you’re right under it,” Spider added. “We’ll be awful
careful.”</p>
<p>“Will you promise to keep fairly near shore, and if
the water gets rough to beat it for home?” the doctor
asked.</p>
<p>“Sure we will.”</p>
<p>“Well, I oughtn’t to let you go. I’m responsible to
your parents for you chaps. But, after all, you’re big
enough to take care of yourselves. All right, but be
back at the landing before the sun gets off the middle
of the lake. Promise me that?”</p>
<p>The boys promised, and set off down the trail in
high spirits, some sandwiches, hastily made, and some
sweet chocolate in their pockets for lunch. There
were a dozen or more other parties starting down the
trail, too, or getting ready to start, so the scouts made
the descent in record time, in order to be sure of getting
a boat.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_124">124</div>
<p>Once out on the water, they decided it would be too
much of a pull to try to circle the entire lake, under the
cliffs—a matter of about twenty miles or more. But
they could pull straight for the grotto on the east side
of the lake, beyond the Phantom Ship, a matter of five
miles, then cut across to Llao Rock, about four and a
half miles, and then four miles home.</p>
<p>“Sure we can row that,” said Bennie. “That’s
only thirteen and a half miles. Call it thirteen, ’cause
we won’t land, probably, at Llao.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” answered Spider. “Easy.”</p>
<p>Well, it was easy to the grotto, which they finally
found by rowing along the edge of the cliffs. The
grotto is simply a shallow cave, only a few feet up
from the water, but once you are in it you look out on
the blue lake, through the opening, as if you were looking
through a big window. The boys ate their lunch
in here, and then started directly across for Llao Rock.</p>
<p>But the very first thing that they noticed was that
the wind had come up, blowing directly against them,
and with the wind a chop of water, which went slap,
slap, slap under their bow. They pulled hard, and
made slow progress.</p>
<p>About half-way across, Bennie, who was rowing,
said, “You pull a while, Spider. I’m through for a
bit.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_125">125</div>
<p>Spider took the oars and tugged. The wind and
waves were certainly rising. They were slapping the
how hard now, and swinging around so that the rower
was half the time tugging at one oar or the other to
keep his course.</p>
<p>“You know what your uncle said,” Spider panted.
“Strikes me we’re a long way from shore, and this old
lake is kicking up a sea. I think we better turn with
the wind, and beat it back to the other shore, and then
make for home.”</p>
<p>“We got to make for home, all right,” Bennie answered,
his face getting white as he looked first at the
waves and then up at what were unmistakably gathering
clouds over the rim. “But if we go back to that
east shore we get the full force of the sea, ’cause the
wind is west. If we get in under the west side, we’ll
be out of the wind, in shelter. Then we can run for
home that way.”</p>
<p>“There’s something in that,” Spider assented. “If
we can get there.”</p>
<p>“We <i>got</i> to get there,” Bennie cried. “Look at
that old black cloud up there.”</p>
<p>Spider took one look, and began to pull for all he
was worth.</p>
<p>It was dangerous business changing places in that
sea, but finally he had to give up to Bennie again.</p>
<p>“Look out for those oars!” Bennie shouted.
“We’d be goners if we lost one of them. We got to
make shore, and wait till this is over. Oh gee!”</p>
<p>This last exclamation was caused by a wave that hit
the boat almost broadside, drenching both boys to the
knees and putting an inch of water on the bottom.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_126">126</div>
<p>Bennie got hold of the oars, headed the boat into the
sea again, and Spider began to bail with his cap.
Wave after wave now hit their bow, and came spraying
over, soaking them. There were whitecaps all
around. The sun had disappeared behind the dark
cloud, and the wind seemed rising steadily. Bennie
pulled with every ounce of strength he had, and Spider
bailed madly. Slowly, very slowly, almost as if they
were standing still, Llao Rock drew near. They had
to make the dangerous change once more, when Bennie’s
strength gave out, and once more the boat swung
broadside, and shipped a dangerous quantity of water.</p>
<p>“If she’ll only stay afloat till we make the shore!”
Bennie cried. “Gee, it don’t seem to be a bit calmer
over here.”</p>
<p>“If it is, I’m glad we ain’t out there,” Spider panted
as he tugged at the oars.</p>
<p>In spite of all he could do, with only his cap to
bail with, the boat was perilously full of water before
the great lava precipices of Llao Rock finally towered
right above them, and they saw and heard the waves
on the stony shore.</p>
<p>“How are we going to land without smashing the
boat?” Spider puffed.</p>
<p>“Hang the boat! How are we going to land without
smashing our heads?” Bennie answered. “Hold
her right inshore, and when I see a place pull for all
you’ve got left!”</p>
<p>“Pull!” he yelled a moment later.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_127">127</div>
<p>Spider drove the boat in. A wave caught it and
threw it forward, but the bow drove between two lava
fragments which rested half in water, half on shore,
and while Bennie grabbed one oar and pushed at the
stern, Spider jumped from the bow with the painter in
his hand. He landed on a stone at the water’s edge,
slipped back above his waist, scrambled out dripping
wet, hauled on the painter, and got the bow in close.
Bennie got out, and between them they hauled the boat
up where the waves couldn’t knock it free, and tipped
her over to let the water run out.</p>
<p>Then they both sat down and panted.</p>
<p>“Well, I’d rather be here than out there,” Bennie
finally said.</p>
<p>“I don’t mind saying I didn’t know whether we’d
ever get here,” Spider answered. “I guess that was a
close call, all right. Gee, but my arms ache!”</p>
<p>“Mine don’t—they haven’t any feeling left in ’em,”
said Bennie. “Well, what are we going to do now?
We can’t stay here all night and freeze to death.”</p>
<p>“I sure am wet and cold,” Spider answered. “And
you can’t make a fire out of lava and pumice. Funny
thing, not a drop of rain has fallen. Look, there’s the
sun again over on the top of Scott.”</p>
<p>“No more sun here, though,” Bennie said, looking
up the 800 foot sharp slope of pumice above them, that
ended at the 1,200 foot absolutely precipitous and terrifying
leap of Llao Rock. “We’re under the shadow
of that old rock.”</p>
<p>“Well, we’ll just have to hop round and keep as
warm as we can, till the old lake quiets down and we
can row home.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_128">128</div>
<p>“She don’t show any signs of quieting down,” said
Bennie. “Hear the old wind. ’Sides, it’ll take a long
while for those waves to quit. And I don’t want to go
out on that water again! Gee, I couldn’t row a hundred
feet.”</p>
<p>“We could if we had to,” said Spider, bravely.
“Anyhow, probably your uncle will send the launch
out after us.”</p>
<p>“They don’t know where we are, and we can’t make
a fire to signal.”</p>
<p>“They’ll have field-glasses,” Spider suggested.
“We can wave our handkerchiefs.”</p>
<p>“’Sides,” Bennie went on, “maybe the launch is out,
too, and it’ll be dark before they can get here, and
maybe they won’t come across in this sea. I’ll be
frozen stiff by that time. I move we climb up to the
rim road and walk home. It’s only eight miles from
Llao Rock to camp, according to the map.”</p>
<p>“Climb up!” exclaimed Spider, looking aloft at the
terrific precipice. “This has gone to your head, Bennie.”</p>
<p>“You poor fish, we wouldn’t climb the rock itself,”
Bennie answered. “Don’t you remember, Uncle Billy
said somebody worked up to the base, and then along
on top of the pumice slope to the rim? If somebody
else did it, we can do it. If we see the launch coming
after we get up a ways we can come down. Anyhow,
it’s better’n freezing to death here. It’ll keep us
warm.”</p>
<p>“Looks to me like an awful job,” Spider objected.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_129">129</div>
<p>“Well, you can stay here then, <i>I’m</i> going,” Bennie
declared. His voice was shrill, and Spider realized
that he wasn’t quite himself. Besides, he was shivering
with cold. Spider was shivering, too, here in the
gloomy shadow of Llao Rock, with the wind beating
upon them.</p>
<p>“All right,” he decided, “if you go, I go. Come on.
We got to hit the rim road before dark. But take it
easy, Bennie, for Pete’s sake. We got to save our
strength, and this old stuff’s awful treacherous, too.
Test your footing.”</p>
<p>“I’ll test my footing, all right,” Bennie answered,
starting up the long, steep incline of powdered pumice
and loose conglomerate, out of which here and there
thrust up jagged lumps and spikes and little cliffs of
harder lava.</p>
<p>It was hard work, all the harder because they were
so wet and tired. And they soon found it was dangerous
work. Drive your foot down into the soft stuff
too hard to get a brace, and you start a little landslide
right under your own feet. That releases a lot of
stuff above you, which starts down, too, and it is only
too easy to get carried down with the rush. The boys
found this out, fortunately, before they had climbed
very far, so that they didn’t slide far enough to hurt
them. After that, they climbed side by side, ten feet
apart, instead of one behind the other, and zigzagged
across the slopes, instead of going directly up.</p>
<p>It seemed ages before they reached the top of the
loose stuff, at the very base of the mighty precipice.
From here they could see the whole lake, and scanned
the water for any sign of the launch, but no launch was
to be seen. So they kept on.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_130">130</div>
<p>Their troubles, which they thought would be over
when they reached the base of the cliff, were not over.
They still had a long, soft slope to climb at the foot of
the lava, which was impeded by huge broken fragments
fallen from the cliff above. Often they couldn’t
go around these, because if they did they got too near
the edge of the slope, and were in danger of starting
down on a landslide. They had to work over them.
However, they toiled on, getting warm, at least, with
the exertion, until they reached the long and almost
level stretch that led rapidly to the rim.</p>
<p>Here, for the first time in ten minutes, Bennie spoke.
“We’re going to make it!” he cried.</p>
<p>“And we’re going to make it before dark!” Spider
answered.</p>
<p>They hurried on now, with renewed courage, and
gained the rim at last, coming up out of the cold shadows
into the sharp mountain gale and the last low rays
of sunset.</p>
<p>Both boys flopped for a minute on the dry pumice
back from the rim, and lay there getting back some of
their strength.</p>
<p>Spider was the first up. “Come,” he said, “we got
to find the rim road before it’s dark.”</p>
<p>“Eight miles!” Bennie sighed. “Oh, you automobile!”</p>
<p>“Come on—no use crying for automobiles. We
got to find that road and hoof it. We can’t stay
out all night in these wet clothes, without any blankets.”</p>
<p>Bennie got up wearily. “All right. The old road’ll
be pretty close. All we got to do is walk down the
back slope, away from the rim.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_131">131</div>
<p>“But it’s all snow,” said Spider. “How’ll we know
the road when we see it?”</p>
<p>“If we can’t tell a road when we come to it, snow or
no snow, we’re bum scouts and deserve to stay here
and freeze to death,” Bennie retorted.</p>
<p>As a matter of fact, in spite of the snow, they did
find the road, by catching at a distance a cut through
trees, and then by picking up a long open space bare of
snow, which the road crossed, showing plainly. Once
on it, the chance of missing it again was not great unless
the night got very dark. With bright starlight,
even without a moon, the tired scouts, as they plodded
along, now for brief welcome stretches on the bare
ground, but mostly on the soft drifts where every step
was an effort, reckoned they could keep the trail.</p>
<p>“Besides,” Bennie said, “if we lost it, we could always
sort of follow the rim.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and have to climb up over the top of the
Watchman and Glacier Peak. No, thanks. I’ve
climbed enough today. It’ll be in woods a lot of the
way, and we can always feel the opening. You know
how we can follow a wood road at home in the
dark.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you home!” sighed Bennie. “Think of
bacon, and coffee, and baked potatoes! Oh, boy, I’m
going to cry in a minute, I’m so empty.”</p>
<p>“Take up a hole in your belt, like the Indians,”
Spider suggested.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_132">132</div>
<p>It was getting dark now rapidly, and they were
plodding wearily across a long opening on the heavy
snow, which was like walking on a pile of rock salt,
and wondering where the road was on the other side,
when suddenly Spider stopped.</p>
<p>“Look!” he cried.</p>
<p>“What is it? I don’t see anything.”</p>
<p>“Look, in the trees. I saw a light!”</p>
<p>“How do you get that way?” Bennie demanded.
“Light! We’re about six miles from nowhere here.
Haven’t any campers been around the rim road. Can’t
get around. Buck up, Spider. Don’t cave now!”</p>
<p>“Oh, quit,” said Spider crossly. “There! There
it is again!”</p>
<p>This time Bennie saw it. There <i>was</i> a light in the
woods ahead of them. Moreover, it wasn’t a camp
fire. It was moving.</p>
<p>“Somebody with a lantern!” Bennie exclaimed.
He stuck two fingers into his mouth and blew a long,
shrill blast.</p>
<p>The answer was a “Hoo-oo!” in Uncle Billy’s
voice!</p>
<p>“How’d they know we were here?” said Bennie, as
they both shouted back, and stumbled on more rapidly
toward the light.</p>
<p>A moment later they were beside Uncle Billy and
Mr. Stone, and out of his pack Uncle Billy was taking
a thermos bottle of hot tea, and the boys were drinking
it. Around his shoulder, they saw, the doctor had his
alpine rope.</p>
<p>“I guess that doesn’t go to the spot!” Bennie exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Never knew tea was so good,” said Spider.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_133">133</div>
<p>And now followed rapid questions and answers, as
the tramp to camp was resumed. No trouble about
finding the road now! They had a lantern, and the
back tracks of Uncle Billy and Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“How’d you know where we were?” the boys demanded.</p>
<p>“Watched you with a glass,” said the doctor. “I
saw the lake getting rough, after you started across,
and I saw that cloud coming. Stone went down the
trail to send the launch for you, but the launch was out
with a party. Finally it got in under the lee of Wizard
Island, and everybody tried to signal it to come
across, but it didn’t come, and finally somebody rowed
over from it and reported the engine had gone dead
and they couldn’t start it. They’re bringing the passengers
back now, when the lake’s got quieter.</p>
<p>“By that time, we’d seen you land at Llao Rock, so
we planned to row over and get you just as soon as we
could, if they didn’t get the launch started up. But
then you began to climb.”</p>
<p>The doctor paused.</p>
<p>“Well,” he finally went on, “I had a bad five minutes
then, I can tell you. But there was nothing to do
about it, so we watched to make sure you were really
going to try to make the rim, and then we beat it over
here. You made better time up than I thought you
could. We expected to get to the rock before you got
up. I brought the rope to—to help you.”</p>
<p>“Why did you keep on into the wind?” Mr. Stone
asked. “Why didn’t you turn back and run with it to
the east shore where you came from?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_134">134</div>
<p>The boys explained how they thought they were
going to get out of the wind under the protection of
Llao Rock.</p>
<p>“There’s no protection on that lake in a storm,” the
doctor said. “Fortunately, there aren’t many storms.
I told you to keep near shore, though, and you crossed
right over. Well, never mind that now. Guess you’ve
had your lesson.”</p>
<p>“Guess we have,” said Bennie, as he stumbled
wearily along, hardly able to drag one foot after the
other. “But we thought we were pretty near the
north shore when we crossed. Only to get there, we’d
have to go broadside, and besides, it was taking us
away from camp.”</p>
<p>“Still,” said his uncle, quietly, “you didn’t quite
live up to your promise, did you?”</p>
<p>“No, sir,” Bennie admitted. “It won’t happen
again, Uncle Billy.”</p>
<p>The six miles back to camp turned out to be seven.
It seemed to the boys that they would never get there.
But at last they did. Dumplin’ had a roaring fire going,
both in the stove and the camp fire ring of stones.
Coffee was ready to boil, and bacon to fry. He had
eggs, too, bought from the hotel.</p>
<p>The scouts fell into their tent and ripped off their
clothes, getting a rub-down before putting on dry ones.
By the time they were ready, their dinner was cooked,
and they came out to the table, dragging their feet
wearily, and slumped down on the camp chairs.</p>
<p>“Good old Dumplin’!” said Bennie, as he waded
into the food, “I never loved you so much as I do at
this minute.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_135">135</div>
<p>“P’r’aps you’d like to kiss him,” Spider suggested,
also cheering up as he felt the warmth of the
food.</p>
<p>“No, I’m not strong enough yet to do that,” Bennie
laughed.</p>
<p>“You never will be!” Dumplin’ retorted, filling his
plate again.</p>
<p>After their supper the boys hung their wet clothes
by the camp fire, and huddled by it themselves for a
while, but Uncle Billy soon ordered them to bed, and
they didn’t need to be told twice.</p>
<p>The doctor came into the tent after they had crawled
into the grateful, warm blankets on the comfortable air
cushions of their sleeping bags.</p>
<p>“All right?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Uncle Bill,” said Bennie, “it was my fault we
crossed the lake. Spider didn’t have a thing to do
with planning the trip.”</p>
<p>“No, we were both to blame,” put in Spider. “We
knew we couldn’t row all around the lake, and we
wanted to see the grotto and Llao Rock both, so we cut
across. I—I guess we didn’t really think.”</p>
<p>“We won’t say anything more about it,” the doctor
answered. “It’s come out all right. But maybe next
time you’ll believe that I know more about this country
than you do, and when I ask for a promise, it isn’t just
an old maid’s fancy.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” they both answered.</p>
<p>When he had gone out, Spider whispered across the
tent, “He’s a peach, your uncle. Gee, he didn’t bawl
us out a bit.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_136">136</div>
<p>“Made me more ashamed than if he had,” Bennie
replied.</p>
<p>“Me, too.”</p>
<p>“I guess we gave him a bad time of it, worrying
about us. I guess we deserved to get ours.”</p>
<p>“Well, we got it, all right.”</p>
<p>“Kid, you’ve enunciated a history full!” Bennie
answered. “We’re bum scouts. Never again.”</p>
<p>“Never again,” echoed Spider.</p>
<p>They were sound asleep when Uncle Billy returned
from a last call on his patient at the hotel and went to
bed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_137">137</div>
<h2 id="c14">CHAPTER XIV
<br /><span class="sc">Bennie Takes a Day Off to Do a Good Turn—He Washes All the Dirty Clothes</span></h2>
<p>The next day neither of the scouts felt much like
strenuous exertion. Their arms ached from
pulling the boat, and they both had blisters on their
hands, and the excitement had left them rather tired.</p>
<p>Mr. Stone looked at them while they were eating
breakfast.</p>
<p>“Well, Bennie,” he said, “what are you and Spider
going to do today? I can’t seem to think of anything
left around here that will give you as much exercise as
you want. Of course, you haven’t yet run all the way
down the trail and run all the way back again. You
might try that. Or you might row to Llao Rock and
tow your other boat home, before the launch has to go
for it.”</p>
<p>“Naw, that’s too easy,” Bennie grinned. “I kind
of thought we might hike around the rim road. How
far is it—forty miles? We’d be back in time for
dinner.”</p>
<p>“A good idea!” Uncle Billy exclaimed.</p>
<p>“What’s a good idea?” asked Bennie, beginning to
be sorry he’d made the joke.</p>
<p>“A hike,” said the doctor.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_138">138</div>
<p>Spider and Bennie groaned.</p>
<p>“Not today!” the doctor laughed. “Tomorrow,
maybe. We haven’t had a real hike yet, and I heard
you talking the other day, didn’t I, Bennie, about wanting
to work for a merit badge in hiking?”</p>
<p>“Where’ll we hike to—how far?” put in Dumplin’.
“Look at those two lovely automobiles, just doing
nothing. Don’t seem right to me to let ’em loaf so.”</p>
<p>“Well, you can stay back in camp, and have the
wood all cut and the dinner cooked for us when we get
back,” said his father.</p>
<p>“Yes, I will!” Dumplin’ retorted. “I may be
fat——”</p>
<p>“It’s just possible,” put in Bennie.</p>
<p>“I may be fat, but I can keep goin’ as long as any
of you, I guess!”</p>
<p>“You may not be so fat when we get back,” Uncle
Billy went on. “I think it would be a great idea to
give Bennie some regular exercise, about tomorrow,
also the day after, and the day after that. We’ll hike
over to the base of Mount Scott, because that’s the
highest point around here, packing our blankets and
grub. Then the second day we’ll climb Scott, and the
third day we’ll hike back again.”</p>
<p>“Ho, that’s no hike at all, if you take three days for
it!” Bennie said. “I been looking on the map. It’s
less ’n ten miles from here to the top of the mountain,
and the top is only 8,938 feet high, so it’s only a 2,000-foot
climb.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_139">139</div>
<p>“How much better you know this country than I
do,” said his uncle, quietly, “and how skilfully you can
read the contour intervals on a map. Well, you may
go over and back the same day, if you want to. The
rest of us will take three, however.”</p>
<p>Bennie turned red. “I—I guess I’m a dumb-bell,”
he stammered.</p>
<p>“It’s just possible,” Dumplin’ put in, while the rest
shouted with mirth at the hit.</p>
<p>Spider, meanwhile, had gone to his pack and got out
the government topographical survey map of Crater
Lake Park.</p>
<p>“Do we go along the rim?” he asked.</p>
<p>“More or less. We’ll have to climb part way up
Garfield, and then find a way down on the other side,
and work along back of Dutton Cliff to Kerr Valley.”</p>
<p>Spider was studying the contour interval lines of the
map closely now.</p>
<p>“Let’s see, we go up at least 500 feet for a start, and
then we go along a mile or two, and then we—holy
mackerel!—then we drop right down ’most a thousand!
And then——”</p>
<p>“Yes?” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“And then we go up again ’most a thousand, and
then we walk a mile, and then—jumping bullfrogs and
little fish hooks!—then we just fall down, let’s see,
about a thousand feet into Kerr Valley. That’s less
than 6,500 feet above the sea. Scott is almost 9,000.
We’ve still got a climb of 2,500 feet ahead of us.”</p>
<p>“Aw, go on, you’re making that up,” Bennie insisted.
“You can’t tell all that from the map. Let
me look.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_140">140</div>
<p>“Maybe <i>you</i> can’t tell,” Spider retorted. “I always
told you you didn’t half read a map. Go on—look
for yourself.”</p>
<p>And he passed the map over.</p>
<p>Bennie studied it carefully. “I guess maybe you’re
right,” he finally confessed. “Well, exercise is just
what I need! How’s the path, Uncle Bill?”</p>
<p>“Path!” the doctor laughed. “You’ll cross the rim
road at the bottom of Kerr Valley, where it comes
down from the rim to get around the cliffs back to the
hotel here. But that’s the only path you’ll see. This
is going to be a hike, not a Sunday School picnic or a
young ladies’ seminary out for a walk.”</p>
<p>“Suits me fine.”</p>
<p>“Good!” said his uncle. “I advise you to rest up
for it today, though.”</p>
<p>“I know what I’m going to do today, all right.
Anybody got any dirty clothes?”</p>
<p>“I haven’t got much else,” said Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Fine. Bring ’em out, all of you. Mrs. Murphy’s
on the job this morning. I’m going to wash things
up.”</p>
<p>“Want me to help?” Dumplin’ asked.</p>
<p>“No, you go off with Spider and collect pretty little
flowers. Don’t let ’em bite you, though. They’re wild
flowers, remember.”</p>
<p>Everybody groaned at this pun.</p>
<p>“Mrs. Noah threw a belaying pin at her husband
for making that one on the ark,” said Uncle
Billy.</p>
<p>“What’s the difference,” Bennie began, “between
Noah’s ark and Joan of Arc?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_141">141</div>
<p>But everybody dove, with another groan, into the
tents, to get their dirty clothes.</p>
<p>When everybody but Bennie had gone from camp,
he heated a big pail of water, got out a cake of soap,
and washed all the dirty clothes, hanging them on a
tent rope in the sun to dry. Then he picked up camp
as neat as he could, aired all the bedding and remade
the sleeping bags, and finally went off and hunted up
dead branches for fuel, dragging them back to camp.
After lunch, while the rest were loafing, he took the
fishing rod and sneaked away unseen, went rapidly
down the trail, and working around on the rocks by
the shore, managed to hook three trout. He was just
coming up over the rim with them when Spider and
Lester, wondering at his long absence, had started out
to look for him.</p>
<p>“I sure hate a man who pins roses on himself,” Bennie
remarked, as he was cleaning the fish for dinner,
“but I just can’t help admitting that I’ve been
mamma’s little white-haired boy today. I’ve washed
all your dirty shirts and socks, and I’ve got wood, and
I’ve cleaned up camp, and now I’ve dragged my poor
old aching bones down a thousand feet and back again
to catch you three sweet little fishie-wishies for supper.
Won’t somebody please say ‘Thank you, Bennie,
you are a good boy’?”</p>
<p>“Bennie doesn’t like himself a bit, does he?” remarked
Dumplin’, addressing a camp robber in a tree
overhead.</p>
<p>“Can’t you prescribe something for his poor old
aching bones, Doc?” asked Mr. Stone.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_142">142</div>
<p>“Try rubbing ’em with a little fish oil, Bennie,”
Spider put in.</p>
<p>“I think I shall prescribe exercise,” Uncle Billy
laughed.</p>
<p>“Well, of all the ungrateful bunches, you sure get
the loving cup!” Bennie exclaimed. “I hope you all
choke on a fish bone.”</p>
<p>“The Bible says virtue is its own reward, Bennie,”
remarked Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“Pretty skinny pickings for some of you guys,
then,” Bennie grinned.</p>
<p>But after supper Uncle Billy strolled out with Bennie
to the point of Victory Rock, to see the lake like a
great blue mirror in the twilight, and he said, quietly:</p>
<p>“We were all much obliged to you for what you did
today. Never mind the joshing.”</p>
<p>Bennie laughed. “Ho! I didn’t mind. Can’t get
my goat so easy as that! Besides, the old Bible is
right, I guess. You don’t do a good turn because
you’re going to be thanked for it. You do it ’cause it
makes you feel better inside.”</p>
<p>“That’s the idea, exactly,” Uncle Billy answered.
“Bennie, you’re a good scout. Your heart is just
where it ought to be every time. The only trouble
with you is that you haven’t quite got your head working
yet. If you are going to amount to anything as a
mountaineer or explorer—anywhere in the wilderness—you’ve
got to learn to use your head, and never bite
off more than you can chew. Will you try to remember
that?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_143">143</div>
<p>“I sure will, Uncle Bill,” Bennie answered. “I’m
awful fresh, I guess, and I talk a lot, but I’m learning
right now, every day. You just sit on me hard when
I need it.”</p>
<p>“You needn’t worry about my doing <i>that</i>,” the
doctor grinned.</p>
<p>“No, you’re some sitter,” said Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_144">144</div>
<h2 id="c15">CHAPTER XV
<br /><span class="sc">The Long Hike—The Scouts Find Packing Grub and Blanket Rolls Up and Down Cliffs is Hard Work</span></h2>
<p>Bright and early the next morning preparations
for the hike began. This was to be no ordinary
jaunt. They were going out for three days and two
nights into a wilderness, where they would have to
make long, severe climbs up and down treacherous
lava ledges; where they would have to sleep out in the
open, tentless, in a climate where water freezes at
night; where they couldn’t get a mouthful of food except
what they could carry with them.</p>
<p>“You see, boys,” said the doctor, “it’s going to be
quite a problem how to take along enough stuff to keep
us warm, and keep us fed, and yet be able to travel
with it on our backs.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_145">145</div>
<p>Each member of the party put in his shoulder pack
his own food ration, consisting of tea (because it is
lighter than coffee), some bacon, powdered egg, a little
dehydrated vegetables, a small bag of flour, a small
bag of sugar, a package of bouillon cubes, a can of
preserved fruit, a small can of condensed milk, two
pounds of raisins, two boiled potatoes, and several
cakes of sweet chocolate. In addition, each person
put in two extra pairs of wool socks, and a set of underclothes.
Then, out of their sleeping bags, they
each took a double blanket, and made a blanket roll,
fastening the ends with straps from the motors. Bennie
and Spider each had a boy scout individual cook-kit,
in a khaki case with a shoulder strap. These two
kits, with a tin cup and plate and spoon for the others,
and one, larger frying-pan and kettle carried by Uncle
Billy, was all the cooking outfit they carried. However,
the doctor made everybody carry a canteen, and
Bennie, Spider and Mr. Stone each carried a camera.
Everybody had a sweater, also, and two belt axes were
taken. The doctor had his rope.</p>
<p>When the shoulder packs were on, and the blanket
rolls, and the canteens, and the cameras and camp kits,
everybody was glad enough of the alpenstocks which
the doctor handed around.</p>
<p>“Say, I need this stock to help me stand up,” said
Dumplin’. “I feel like a walking department store.”</p>
<p>“I’ll bet we aren’t toting any more than a soldier
has to carry on a march, at that,” said Spider. “Are
we, doctor?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t believe we’re packing so much,” Uncle
Billy answered. “A gun’s heavier than a stock, too.
But it’s enough. Going to be hot today.”</p>
<p>As the little procession filed past the hotel (which
by now was full of tourists), a crowd came out to
watch them go past.</p>
<p>“Going on a hike, boys?” somebody called out.</p>
<p>“No,” Bennie answered, “we’re going over to
Wizard Island to play tennis.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_146">146</div>
<p>“Wonder what makes people ask foolish questions?”
Dumplin’ mused.</p>
<p>“It’s the——” Bennie began. Then he caught himself.
“Ha! thought you had me, didn’t you?—it’s the
altitude!”</p>
<p>“You chaps won’t talk so much at three o’clock,”
remarked Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>For the first half mile, they had a trail, the trail
they had already taken up Garfield Peak. But half-way
up, they left the trail, and struck right out, without
any path at all, around the tumbled crags of
broken lava, and over the snow-fields and patches of
soft pumice soil that crown this part of the rim on the
southeastern side of the lake. The going was very
slow and difficult, up hill and down, in and out among
the rises and dips, with the sun beating down upon
them till their packs and hot blankets seemed almost
unbearable. At first, they could see the blue lake almost
2,000 feet below them, while they worked along
the crest of Eagle Crags, but after a while they had
to drop down behind the rim to avoid a climb up Dyar
Rock, and lost all sight of it.</p>
<p>After about two miles, they came out on the crest
of a slope that led down to Sun Creek, and saw the
Sun meadows below them. They would have rejoiced
at this sight if they hadn’t also seen the wall of the
deep ravine rising up on the other side, steeper and
higher than under their feet.</p>
<p>“Oh, for the wings of a dove!” sighed Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Lot o’ good a dove’s wings would do <i>you</i>,” said
Bennie. “Take a dirigible to lift you.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_147">147</div>
<p>“A bridge across would do me,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“Meanwhile, we’ll get a little exercise crossing on
our own feet,” Uncle Billy smiled. “Come on, now,
and watch your step. Sound your footing with your
alpenstocks, and keep out of line, so if anybody starts
a slide, it won’t spill all the rest.”</p>
<p>They made the descent slowly and painfully over the
first steep pitches, and then more rapidly till they sank
at last on the ground by the water of Sun Creek, which
came down from a snow-bank up on the rim at the
head of the ravine, threw off packs and blankets, and
plunged their mouths in.</p>
<p>“Do we lunch here? I’m hungry——” from
Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“We do,” the doctor answered. “And it’s a brief
lunch, too. Everybody take one handful of raisins,
and half a cake of chocolate.”</p>
<p>“Oh, gee, is <i>that</i> all?” cried Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“That’s all. John Muir used to climb for two or
three days in the high Sierras on a pocketful of raisins,
and didn’t even carry a blanket. Come on, get busy.”</p>
<p>Everybody obeyed, and the doctor saw to it that
they didn’t take too many of their raisin supply,
either.</p>
<p>“I consider this a Lucullan feast,” remarked Mr.
Stone.</p>
<p>“Whatever that is,” said Bennie. “If you mean
some banquet, I’m right along with you. Always did
like these seven-course dinners.”</p>
<p>“Anyhow, it won’t take long to wash the dishes,”
Spider reflected.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_148">148</div>
<p>As soon as the raisins and chocolate were eaten, and
the canteens refilled, they picked up their packs and
blankets again and put them on.</p>
<p>“Gosh! mine weighs more’n it did,” said Bennie.
“Somebody’s put something into it.”</p>
<p>“Mine, too.”</p>
<p>“Mine, too.”</p>
<p>“Mine, too.”</p>
<p>“Wait till they get really heavy before you kick,”
said Uncle Billy. “Forward, march!”</p>
<p>The thousand-foot wall of the Sun Creek ravine
which faced them was just about the height from the
lake to the rim at the hotel, but it was not so steep,
except for a little distance at the start. On the other
hand, there was no trail at all, no sign that any other
human being had ever been up it, and when the going
was not amid treacherous lava fragments which broke
if you put your weight on them, it was over soft pumice
into which your feet sank deep, and then began to
slide backwards. Finally Bennie took his uncle’s rope
and scrambled up ahead with it, till he could find anchorage,
so the rest could have its help. When he was
fagged, somebody else took a turn. It took them more
than an hour to make the half mile up the wall, and
at the top they pitched off their packs and blankets,
their shoulders and backs dripping wet with perspiration,
and everybody set his mouth to his canteen and
drank.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_149">149</div>
<p>After a rest, they crossed Dutton ridge, a mile of
broken going, and then began to descend into the next
ravine, called Kerr Valley, which is the deepest ravine
on the slopes of old Mount Mazama, and lies right at
the foot of Scott Peak. The descent was not dangerously
steep till the last three hundred feet, and
there they used the rope again to help them.</p>
<p>As they came out at last into the mile wide ravine
of Kerr Valley, out of which the snow had pretty
well melted except under the trees, and in which the
wild flowers were springing up, they saw where the
rim road came down from the rim and descended the
valley to get around the mass of ledges and ravines
they had been crossing. It was now three o’clock,
and, as Mr. Stone had predicted, nobody was saying
much.</p>
<p>They could see the round, dome-like pile of Scott’s
Peak, directly across the valley, and Bennie did ask
how far it was from there to the top.</p>
<p>“Thinking of keeping on up today?” his uncle
asked.</p>
<p>“Aw, don’t rub it in,” said Bennie. “I couldn’t
climb an ant-hill now.”</p>
<p>“Well, a mile more will take us across the valley to
water,” his uncle laughed. “Guess we can all stick
that out.”</p>
<p>On the other side of the valley, across the still deserted
and useless rim road, they found a stream,
called Sand Creek, which came down, the doctor said,
from a spring on the cliffs of Scott, just above
them.</p>
<p>Here they dumped their packs again, stripped off
their clothes, and the three boys were only restrained
by main force from falling in.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_150">150</div>
<p>“You’re too hot to go in that ice water,” the doctor
said, grabbing Bennie. “Wash your feet all you want
to, and splash yourselves.”</p>
<p>After the wash, they put on their dry underclothes,
and spread the other set in the sun (which was fast
dropping down the west), and then set about making
camp.</p>
<p>“I say we find a straight-faced rock to build the
fire against,” Bennie suggested, “so it will throw the
heat all one way, and we can sleep around it in a half
circle, out of the wind.”</p>
<p>“I move we find a place where the ground is dry
and a snow-drift hasn’t just melted off it,” added Spider.</p>
<p>“And where it’s nice and soft,” added Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“And where it’s near wood,” added Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“Maybe you’d like a room with a bath, and have
your breakfast brought up to you,” Uncle Billy
laughed. “Well, go to it. Find your rock, Bennie.
Whoever’s got the axes, cut wood, and lots of
it.”</p>
<p>A smooth place was finally found in the lee of a
block of lava, some little way from the stream, but
near a patch of firs and hemlocks, where there was
plenty of dead wood. Dumplin’ started stoning up
a big fireplace, while the two scouts chopped wood and
Mr. Stone brought water in the big kettle and two
little kettles of the camp kits and in the canteens, and
the doctor mixed a pancake batter, and made the bacon
and egg powder ready to cook, and peeled one of the
two potatoes in each pack.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_151">151</div>
<p>As the sun dropped down behind the high ridge to
the west, a chill almost immediately came into the air.
In less than an hour everybody, who had been so hot
all day, was thinking about putting on his sweater.
But the fire burned brightly, the potatoes smelled delicious
in the frying-pan, and as soon as they were
done, the smell of bacon and eggs rose from the same
pan. Water for bouillon tablets and tea boiled in the
kettles. The food disappeared down hungry mouths,
and every plate was scraped clean, ready for the pancakes
to follow. They had no syrup to eat on the
cakes, but nobody seemed to mind that. After the
cakes, they drew lots to see whose can of fruit should
be opened, because the lucky one would have so much
less to carry in his pack. Dumplin’ won, to his delight.
His can was peaches, and how good they
tasted—after the can was finally pried open, with the
aid of a scout ax, a stone and a broken jack-knife
blade!</p>
<p>Then the dishes were washed, more wood heaped
on the fire, sweaters donned, and in the gathering
darkness, and the utter silence of the wilderness, the
five hikers sat in a close ring before the fire, and relaxed
their weary muscles.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad I lugged that grub,” said Bennie.
“’Bout three o’clock, though, I would have dumped
the whole pack over the rim for two cents.”</p>
<p>“Me, too,” said Dumplin’. “Gosh, this hiking is
hard work! Don’t see much adventure in it. Here
we’ve come about eight or nine miles, and took us all
day, and nothin’ happened.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_152">152</div>
<p>“What did you expect to happen?” his father
asked. “Expect to meet an elephant, or have the
mountain erupt?”</p>
<p>“Gee, <i>I</i> think it’s a wonderful adventure!” Spider
exclaimed. “It’s been a kind of <i>battle</i>. I—I can’t
say what I mean, but it was just the same when Bennie
and I were getting up Llao Rock. We were sort
of <i>fighting</i> up. Only instead of fighting another man,
who tries to hit you back, you are fighting just—just—well,
just the wilderness.”</p>
<p>“And it’s against you all the time,” said Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>Bennie had grown very thoughtful. “No, it’s <i>not</i>
against you all the time,” he said. “Excuse me for
contradicting, Mr. Stone. I don’t mean to be fresh.
But the way I feel is that it’s against you if you don’t
know how to meet it, but if you do know, it is always
kind of putting out things to help you.”</p>
<p>“Such as——?” asked his uncle.</p>
<p>“Well, such as dead wood for a fire, and a chimney
to crawl up in, if you know how, when you strike a
precipice, and maybe food to eat. I bet we could find
food in the roots of some of these wild flowers, if we
had to.”</p>
<p>“Give me bacon,” said Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Gee, Dump, you go to church behind your belt
buckle,” said Bennie scornfully. “But I’m with Spider,
though, that a hike like this is a regular adventure,
’cause it’s a sort of fight all the way, and it’s all
up to you whether you get through or not. Gee, I
wish I was an explorer!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_153">153</div>
<p>Uncle Billy smiled. “We may get a little exploring
yet, before we get back to Portland. You never can
tell. Well, who’s going to sleep tonight?”</p>
<p>“I guess we all are.”</p>
<p>“Till the cold wakes us up,” said Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“And a rock grows up through our shoulder
blades,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“Whenever that happens, put some more wood on
the fire,” said Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>Then everybody rolled up in his blanket, feet to
the fire, with his pack for a pillow, and in spite of the
bare ground, in place of a nice air mattress, was soon
asleep.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_154">154</div>
<h2 id="c16">CHAPTER XVI
<br /><span class="sc">The Climb Up Scott Peak—Bennie Begins Work for a Merit Badge for Hiking</span></h2>
<p>But the night wasn’t very old before everybody
had discovered that there is a big difference between
sleeping on an air mattress, inside four or five
blankets in a sleeping bag, under a tent, and sleeping
on the bare ground, in one blanket. Bennie and Spider
had slept on the bare ground, to be sure, many a time
on their scout hikes at home, but that was always in
summer, when it was warm. To be sure, it was summer
now, but they were more than 6,000 feet up, on
the crest of the Cascades, with snow all around them.</p>
<p>It seemed to Bennie as if he had been asleep only
fifteen minutes, when he was waked up by cold. He
didn’t fully wake up at first, but only just enough to
feel the wind getting down around his neck, and to
feel his whole body stiff and uncomfortable. He
yanked the blanket tighter around him, and tried to
go to sleep again. But, instead, he woke up still more.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_155">155</div>
<p>At last he was awake enough to prop himself up on
one elbow, and look at the fire. It had burned down
to a few glowing embers in the stone pit against the
lava block. Overhead the stars were extremely
bright, but the night itself seemed dark. There wasn’t
a sound in the world. Yes! Hark! Bennie’s ears
grew alert in the darkness. Far off he heard a roar,
starting low, then growing louder, then dying away.
At first he couldn’t understand it; then he realized it
was a landslide somewhere on a steep slope, perhaps
over on the rim of the lake a mile and a half away.
He listened again, but there was no further sound—only
a whisper of wind in the fir trees close by, and
the gentle run of the water in the creek. Suddenly
Bennie realized that he was in the very heart of the
wilderness, that except for his four companions asleep
beside him, there wasn’t a human being within a day’s
hike. He also realized that if he didn’t put some wood
on the fire pretty quick, it would be out entirely.</p>
<p>So he crawled out of his blanket as gently as he
could, and tried to make no noise as he put on more
fuel. He blew on the coals till the new wood caught,
and then turned his cold back to the flames. As he
did so, he saw Spider’s eyes open in the sudden light.
Spider blinked a second, and then sat up.</p>
<p>“Hello,” he whispered. “You cold?”</p>
<p>“Gosh, I was most frozen,” Bennie whispered back.</p>
<p>“Me, too. Been sleeping on a rock, right in the
middle of my hip. Ow, it’s sore!”</p>
<p>Spider now got up also, and came close to the fire.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_156">156</div>
<p>When they were warmed up again, they lay down
once more, and managed to doze off. But long before
morning, Bennie woke to see first Mr. Stone and then
his uncle putting more wood on the fire. It wasn’t
yet dawn—just the first hint of lightness in the sky—when
Bennie finally woke up so cold and so stiff and
uncomfortable from the hard ground, that further
sleep seemed impossible. He was just rousing himself
to put on more wood when he heard Spider stir, and
then sit up.</p>
<p>“I’m going to stay up,” he whispered. “Let’s take
a trot around to get warm.”</p>
<p>Spider rose, and after building up the fire and huddling
over it a few minutes, they walked away from
camp.</p>
<p>“Let’s go up the valley to the rim,” Spider said.
“We can go on the rim road, and have easy walking.
Gee, I’d like to run all the way, and get up some circulation.”</p>
<p>They set out rapidly, and reached the rim in fifteen
minutes. It was lighter now, and they could see
plainly. The lake at this point was only 500 feet below
them, for they had come out on the lowest point
on the entire rim. But, even so, they seemed to be
looking down into the clouds. They looked up into
clouds, too, whole masses of clouds around the peak
of Scott, of Dutton Cliff, of Garfield. Then the daylight
increased rapidly, the clouds began mysteriously
to disappear, holes came in them showing the blue
water—and suddenly Spider grabbed Bennie’s arm
and pointed half-way down the side.</p>
<p>Bennie looked, and saw a small deer—a mule deer,
as it is called—coming rapidly up the steep incline, directly
toward them! He could not get their scent from
so far below, and he quite evidently hadn’t seen them.
On he came, bounding easily up the incline, where a
man would have toiled breathlessly.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_157">157</div>
<p>“Wow! I’d like to be able to go up a mountain
like that!” Bennie exclaimed.</p>
<p>Almost at his first word, they saw the deer’s big
ears prick up. He landed stock still and rigid, and
raised his eyes. Then he saw the two boys above him,
and with a single bound, so quick the scouts couldn’t
detect how he made the turn, he was off at right
angles, along the slope. Working upward as he leapt
along, he reached the rim three hundred yards away
from them, and disappeared like smoke into a stand
of fir.</p>
<p>“What a shot!” breathed Bennie.</p>
<p>“Aw, you couldn’t have hit him in a year,” Spider
laughed.</p>
<p>“Why couldn’t I?”</p>
<p>“First place, you can’t shoot well enough, and second
place I’d have knocked up your gun,” said Spider.
“I wouldn’t shoot a deer as long as I had anything
else to eat.”</p>
<p>“He was kind o’ pretty,” Bennie agreed.</p>
<p>“’Tisn’t that so much. But he’s <i>wild</i>. He’s part
of the wilderness. He belongs to it. Killing a deer is
just as bad as knocking off the top of a mountain, or
spoiling all the forest trees.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you’re right,” Bennie admitted. “But
how about going back and getting grub?”</p>
<p>The sun was up when they reached camp again, and
so were the other three campers.</p>
<p>“’Smatter, boys?” asked Mr. Stone. “Getting an
appetite before breakfast?”</p>
<p>“So cold we couldn’t sleep,” they answered.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_158">158</div>
<p>“I was none too warm myself.”</p>
<p>“And I was none too comfortable,” the doctor
added.</p>
<p>“Ho!” cried Dumplin’, who was starting the breakfast
over the fire, “I never woke up once. Just as
warm as anything, and never felt a stone in me all
night.”</p>
<p>“Well, who wouldn’t be warm if he was covered
with a blubber bed-spread!” Bennie retorted.</p>
<p>“And who wouldn’t sleep soft if he carried his own
upholstery?” said Spider.</p>
<p>“All right, kid,” Dumplin’ grinned. “But there are
times when it pays.”</p>
<p>The sun was not far up when they finished breakfast,
cached the grub and blankets and the packs, and
armed only with the alpenstocks, a pocketful of raisins
and chocolate, the canteens and cameras, set out
for the summit of Scott’s Peak, which rose directly
above them, and seemed to be reached, after the first
pull up the steep side of the ravine, by a fairly easy
incline. The map showed, too, that the distance was
less than three miles.</p>
<p>“Three miles—three hours,” said Bennie. “A mile
an hour is what the Appalachian Club allows. We’ll
be there at half-past nine.”</p>
<p>“Getting sure again, are you?” said his uncle.
“This isn’t Mount Washington, where the Appalachian
Club climbs. This is Scott’s Peak. It isn’t made
of granite, but it’s a spur volcano spit up out of the
side of old Mazama, and it’s about 2,500 feet of nice,
soft pumice dust from here on.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_159">159</div>
<p>It was.</p>
<p>Once over the first scramble up the side of the
ravine, they settled down to a steady plod in the soft,
volcanic stuff. Their feet sank deep into it. The
pitch was greater than it looked, too, and every time
they threw their weight on to the forward foot, it
sank back a way. Sometimes there were patches of
snow they could get on, for partial relief. But mostly
this side of the mountain had melted off, and it was
just a long, weary, back-breaking grind up the pumice.
Did you ever climb a steep pile of sand? Anyhow, you
have walked in the deep, dry, soft sand above the tide
mark on a beach. You know what hard work it is.
The climb up Scott was just like that, only more so.
One hour, two hours, three hours, four hours, and
part of five, with many a rest, and the sun getting
hotter and hotter, before they reached the summit.</p>
<p>“Well, boys, this is the highest you’ve been yet,”
said Mr. Stone. “Eight thousand nine hundred and
thirty-two feet.”</p>
<p>“Wish there was a tree we could shin to make it
an even 9,000,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>Dumplin’ wiped the sweat from his face, and collapsed
on the ground, panting. “I wouldn’t climb a
barber’s pole,” he announced.</p>
<p>“Well, you can see most of eastern Oregon without
sitting up,” his father laughed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_160">160</div>
<p>This was certainly true. From the top of Scott,
they could look eastward for a hundred miles, over a
great plain almost as flat and bare as the sea, a sage
brush desert. North and south they could look mile
after mile in either direction along the tumbled, snowy
world of the Cascade range. And just below them, to
the west, they looked down 3,000 feet into the blue
hole of Crater Lake.</p>
<p>“There’s most room enough for a feller to breathe,
out here,” Bennie remarked. Then he started to drink
from his canteen, and discovered it was empty.</p>
<p>“Fill it with snow,” said his uncle.</p>
<p>Dumplin’ had drunk up all his supply, too, so both
of them hunted out a snow-bank, dug down to clean
snow, and began to stuff it into their canteens. “Gosh!
where does it all go to!” Dumplin’ remarked, after
three or four minutes.</p>
<p>“Takes a lot of snow to make a little water,” Bennie
answered. “Mine’s full—full o’ snow. Now let
her melt!”</p>
<p>Presently, after he had eaten his raisins, he took a
pull at the canteen, and got about one good swig of
water.</p>
<p>“Let’s be going down,” said he.</p>
<p>“Just so you can get a drink?” asked Spider.</p>
<p>“Marvelous, Watson, marvelous,” Bennie laughed.
“Why haven’t they given you a job on the detective
force?”</p>
<p>But the rest, by now, had emptied their canteens,
too, and everybody was thirsty, so down they started.
It was easy going down. When the slope was smooth,
they set in their stocks as far ahead as they could
reach, and then took a long vault, down past
them, pulled them out, and repeated. In one hour
they had covered the ground it took them five on the
ascent.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_161">161</div>
<p>It was only a shade after two o’clock when they
reached their cache, so they shouldered their luggage
and hiked on down the valley, away from the lake, for
nearly five miles, till they reached a region of grass and
flowers and heavy timber, where the Sand Creek had
cut down a deep cañon in the volcanic soil and lava,
but the strangest cañon you ever saw, because some
of the lava was harder than the rest, and the water
hadn’t cut this, but left it sticking up all through the
gorge, in great, round, water-worn pinnacles. Imagine
hundreds of Bunker Hill monuments, round instead
of square-cornered, erected helter-skelter at the bottom
of a wild cañon, and you have a picture of the pinnacles.
Here, near the brink, in sheltered woods, they
made their second night’s bivouac.</p>
<p>And this time Bennie woke up only once in the night,
and had to be shaken awake in the morning.</p>
<p>“I must be getting fat, like Dump,” he said. “I
wasn’t very cold, and I’m not very sore.”</p>
<p>“You’re getting harder,” said his uncle. “If we
did this a couple of weeks, we could all sleep out like
tops.”</p>
<p>The third day they hiked back to their camp on
the rim, using the rim road to get around the cliffs
and ridges—a long grind with the heavy packs, but
quite uneventful.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_162">162</div>
<p>And when they got to camp, the doctor announced,
“We leave to-morrow, at six o’clock. Everybody out
at four-thirty. Won’t need any grub except for tomorrow’s
breakfast and lunch, so we can clean up the
larder for dinner. Bennie, go over and smile sweetly
at the hotel cook, and see if you can coax him to sell
you a big beefsteak, and a loaf of bread, and a head
of lettuce.”</p>
<p>“Get a lemon meringue pie if he’s got one,” Dumplin’
added.</p>
<p>“The cook’s an awful grouch,” the doctor laughed,
when Bennie had gone. “He’ll throw him out of the
kitchen.”</p>
<p>Everybody was busy about camp, getting dinner
ready, when Bennie returned with a large package.
He opened it with a grin. It contained two steaks,
a head of lettuce, a loaf of bread—and a lemon
pie!</p>
<p>“The cook’s an awful old grouch,” Mr. Stone remarked
to Uncle Billy, winking at the boys.</p>
<p>“<i>How</i> did you do it?” demanded the astonished
doctor.</p>
<p>“It’s my fatal beauty,” said Bennie airily. And
that’s all he would tell.</p>
<p>But to Spider, later, he said, “Remember that fat
old guy that used to cook at the White Doe Inn, back
home? The one that used to come to all our ball
games? Well, he’s the cook at the hotel here now.
I knew Uncle Bill was trying to put one over on me,
and I didn’t have a notion how I was going to beat
him, till I saw who the cook was. He came at me
mad as anything, ’cause campers are always trying to
buy stuff off him. Looked as if he was going to
throw me out. And then I said, ‘Hello, Mr. Leary,
coming down to the field to see us play Lenox tomorrow?’—and
he recognized me—and, say! I was
so glad I gave him all the change from Uncle Billy’s
bill.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_163">163</div>
<p>“Some luck!” Spider laughed.</p>
<p>“Don’t you tell, now.”</p>
<p>“Not a word. But, boy, I’m going to eat my share
of that steak!”</p>
<p>It was a glorious meal, and Dumplin’ kissed the pie
plate when it was all over.</p>
<p>After Bennie had carried the pie plate back to the
cook, while the rest washed up the dishes, Uncle Billy
asked for the Scout Manual, and read what a scout
has to do to get a merit badge for hiking.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“To obtain a merit badge for hiking, a scout must:</p>
<p>1. Show a thorough knowledge of the care of the
feet on a hike.</p>
<p>2. Walk five miles per day, six days in the week,
for a period of three months. This may include walking
to and from school or work. He shall keep a
record of his hikes daily, preferably in his diary, a
transcript to be made an exhibit before the court of
honor.</p>
<p>3. Walk ten miles on each of two days in each
month for a period of three months; in other words,
six walks of ten miles each during the three months.</p>
<p>4. Walk twenty miles in one day.</p>
<p>5. Locate and describe interesting trails, and walk
to some place marked by some patriotic or historical
event.</p>
<p>6. Write his experiences in these several walking
trips with reference to fatigue or distress experienced,
and indicate what he had learned in the way of caring
for himself as regards equipment such as camping
and cooking outfit, food, footwear, clothing and hygiene.</p>
<p>7. Review his ability to read a road map (preferably
a Government topographical map), to use a
compass, and shall be required to make a written plan
for a hike from the map.”</p>
</blockquote>
<div class="pb" id="Page_164">164</div>
<p>“Number one,” Uncle Billy said. “What have you
learned about the care of the feet, Bennie?”</p>
<p>“Wash ’em in cold water when you can, and
dry ’em thoroughly. Wear wool socks, and carry two
extra pairs. At home we carry adhesive tape, to put
over a place that may start chafing, so’s to stop a
blister.”</p>
<p>“That’s all right. The best care of the feet,
though, is to have stout, easy boots, that <i>fit</i>. Well,
number two—we haven’t walked five miles a day for
six weeks, have we? You’ll have to do that at home.
Number three—‘Walk ten miles on each of two days,
in each month for a period of three months.’ You can
count this hike as ten miles, or its equivalent, on each
of three days, for July, all right. We hardly made
ten miles the first day, but it was equal to fifteen or
twenty of ordinary walking. You did two miles and
a half before breakfast the second day, then six up
and down the mountain, and six more before camp at
night. That’s fourteen and a half, with three of ’em
up Scott’s Peak in the pumice.”</p>
<p>“That ought to count for twenty, I’ll say,” Bennie
declared. “And how much the last day?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_165">165</div>
<p>“Well, with our getting wood for breakfast, and
taking a last look at the pinnacles, and your two trips
to the hotel, I guess we can call today twenty miles.”</p>
<p>“I’ll take a trot around now, if I need to,” Bennie
laughed.</p>
<p>“No, you can sit still. Well, that qualifies you on
number four, anyhow, and gives you a good start on
number three. Number five you’ll have to do at home.
Number six you can attend to some day in camp, and
let me see what you’ve written about these three days.
Number seven—h’m—you’ve got a lot to learn yet
about using maps, I suspect. Go get your map of
Crater Lake, and let me see you lay out, with a pencil,
what looks like the best way to hike from here to
Crater Peak, five miles south of us.”</p>
<p>Bennie worked over this for some time, and then
showed the line he had drawn.</p>
<p>“Good!” said his uncle. “I’m glad to see you
haven’t drawn an air-line path that plunges you down
any 500-foot precipices, or takes you up any 600-foot
walls.”</p>
<p>“I learned something on this trip,” said Bennie. “I
learned that when they put contour lines close together
on a map, it means steep, and if there are a lot
of ’em, and they are very close, it means, ‘Detour to
the right.’”</p>
<p>“That’s the idea. Well, boy, are you going to
stick? Will you write out for me an account of this
trip, and the next one we take, too, and try to work
for this merit badge?”</p>
<p>“You bet I will!”</p>
<p>“May I, too?” asked Spider.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_166">166</div>
<p>“Gee, he’s got so many badges now he looks like
Marshal Foch,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“The more the better,” laughed the doctor. “Now,
boys, bed! Big Ben is set for 4:30.”</p>
<p>“It’ll take a Big Bertha to wake <i>me</i> at 4:30,” said
Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Oh, you air mattress!” sighed Bennie, as he
crawled into his sleeping bag.</p>
<p>Spider answered never a word. He was fast asleep.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_167">167</div>
<h2 id="c17">CHAPTER XVII
<br /><span class="sc">Good-bye to Crater Lake, and a Motor Trip to Bend</span></h2>
<p>Uncle Billy was as good as his word the next
morning. At half-past four he shook Bennie
and Spider, and he had to shake them hard, too. Then
all three of them went into the other tent, and rolled
Mr. Stone and Dumplin’ upside down in their sleeping
bags. It was still cold, and the sun was not yet up
over the snowy crags of Garfield. In the still, crystal-clear
air, the water of the lake was without a ripple,
and every rock and tree on the rim was perfectly reflected
in the blue mirror.</p>
<p>“Take a good long look, boys,” said the doctor.
“It’s good-bye to Crater Lake as soon as we can load
the cars.”</p>
<p>“I hate to leave it,” Spider said. “I don’t believe
I’ll ever see anything so grand again, or have such a
good time.”</p>
<p>“I hate to leave it, too,” said Bennie. “But I bet
we’ll have a lot more good times. I guess old Oregon
is full of ’em.”</p>
<p>“I am satisfied with Oregon,” Dumplin’ began to
sing, in a high falsetto voice to the tune of “Glory,
glory, hallelujah.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_168">168</div>
<p>“Shut up, do you want to wake everybody else
on the rim, just because you’re up?” his father cautioned.</p>
<p>“Time they got up,” Dumplin’ laughed. “Early to
bed and early to rise, makes a man dopy with sleep in
his eyes.”</p>
<p>“Gosh, if he can’t sing, he makes up poetry,” Bennie
groaned. “Give him a flapjack, quick.”</p>
<p>As soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Stone and the
doctor tinkered the cars for the trip, while the boys
struck the tents, deflated and rolled up the sleeping
bags, packed their dunnage sacks, and then began to
stow the luggage in the cars. It was after seven when
everything was at last packed aboard, and Uncle Billy
gave the order to start. The engines turned over, reluctant
to start after their long idleness, but at last
the explosions came, the exhausts spit smoke, and the
cars moved out over dry ground, where a week ago
had been a snow-drift, headed toward the road.</p>
<p>“Good-bye, old lake!” cried Bennie.</p>
<p>“Au revoir, for me. <i>I’m</i> coming back some day,”
said Spider.</p>
<p>“And now where, Uncle Billy?” Bennie added.</p>
<p>“Bend,” said his uncle. “I wish we could go back
home on the Sky Line Trail that some day Oregon is
going to build into a highway right up along the spine
of the Cascades. But at present it is only a ranger’s
trail, and it takes weeks to travel it, with an expensive
pack train. So we are going by motor up the east
side of the range to the town of Bend, and we’ll get a
pack train there and go in and sample a bit of the
Sky Line Trail, to say we’ve ridden it, and maybe
climb a snow mountain.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_169">169</div>
<p>“Are we going in on horseback?” Bennie demanded.</p>
<p>“We are, if we go at all,” said his uncle.</p>
<p>“Hooray! I never rode horseback!”</p>
<p>“You’ll have plenty of chance to learn, then,” Uncle
Billy smiled. “About the first night, you’ll wish you
hadn’t tried to learn, too.”</p>
<p>“Bet I won’t!” Bennie retorted. “How far is it
to Bend?”</p>
<p>“Oh, a hundred miles, I guess. Maybe more.”</p>
<p>“Seven-thirty now—twenty-five miles an hour, that
means we get there at noon.”</p>
<p>“You are my idea of an optimist, Bennie,” said the
doctor. “This is an eastern Oregon road we are going
to travel on. If we should travel twenty-five miles
an hour, we wouldn’t get there at all.”</p>
<p>For many miles, the road out of the park took them
in a southerly direction, down the Anna Creek valley,
through a noble forest of yellow pines, a tree the boys
had never seen before, which has great flat scales of
bark which looks almost like copper, and past the deep
cañon the creek has cut in the lava, with sides fantastically
carved into giant columns. Finally, they
reached the gate of the park, were checked up by the
gateman, and went on, swinging eastward now.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_170">170</div>
<p>Bennie, as soon as they were off the government
road, very soon realized why they wouldn’t make Bend
at noon. In eastern Oregon, a country “dirt” road,
which in the East is usually quite decent in summer
isn’t a dirt road at all, really, because there isn’t any
dirt. All the soil is powdered volcanic ash and pumice,
no doubt deposited there by Mount Mazama ages ago.
This volcanic soil looks almost gray-white in color,
and a road made on it, without any macadam, is very
quickly pounded, in dry weather, into a layer of dust
inches thick, which rises like a smoke screen behind
the car, and gets kicked out of holes in the road by
the passing tires till the holes deepen more and more,
making the road one endless series of bumps.</p>
<p>Instead of traveling at twenty-five miles an hour, the
doctor held the car down to fifteen, and very often
had to go slower than that.</p>
<p>And it was hot down here below the range, hot and
close. The yellow pines, and then endless acres of
ugly lodge-pole pines, lined the road on both sides, shutting
out wind and view. Only now and then did they
catch a glimpse of Scott’s Peak, and later of Thielsen.
They were in the dry country, too, for almost no rain
ever falls on the east side of the Cascades. So they
passed no brooks, after leaving Anna Creek. Choked
with dust, the boys sampled the canteens frequently,
and rejoiced that they weren’t in the second car, which
was following far behind, to keep out of the dust as
much as possible.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_171">171</div>
<p>It was almost noon when they reached a stream at
last, coming down from the snow-fields—and they were
only half-way on their journey! Here they stopped
for lunch. The doctor had insisted on saving out two
cans of peaches for this occasion, and now they understood
why. It was a job to worry the dry bread
and the bacon down their parched throats, but how
those cool peaches, and the juice they were canned in,
did go to the spot!</p>
<p>The trip was resumed, and they went on and on
northward, through endless forests of yellow pines,
one of the few trees that will flourish in this dry
region, till at last they came into the tiny little town
of Crescent.</p>
<p>It was Bennie who spied a sign, “Soda” over the
one store. He gave a yell, and hoisted his feet over
the car door, ready to jump.</p>
<p>The soda turned out to be the bottled variety, and
it hadn’t been kept on ice. In fact, there was no ice
in the place. But even that didn’t prevent the five
tourists from leaving behind ten empty bottles when
they departed again.</p>
<p>The road through the endless yellow pine forest began
to get better now. It had been straightened out
and rock ballasted in places, and Uncle Billy stepped
on the gas. He was traveling along at twenty-five
miles or more, leaving a cloud of dust behind, when
Bennie suddenly cried, “Say, I believe we just went
through a town. Golly, I wonder if there was a soda
there. Let’s go back.”</p>
<p>“This car doesn’t know how to turn around,” said
Uncle Billy. “That was the town of La Pine. I
know the man who used to own most of it.”</p>
<p>“What happened? Did he lose it out of his
pocket?” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“I guess it crawled under a pine needle and hid
from him,” said Spider.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_172">172</div>
<p>It wasn’t long now before the car rolled out of the
yellow pine forests into a great clearing, where every
tree had been cut down as far as the eye could see,
and a fire had followed, burning up all young stuff
and making the ground dry, naked ashes.</p>
<p>“That’s what the lumbermen do to us!” Uncle
Billy cried. “It’s worse than what they do to you in
the East, because the fire does so much more damage
in this dry country. I wonder how long it will be before
we wake up and make them lumber properly? I
hope you Boy Scouts will always work for conservation
and proper forest laws.”</p>
<p>“If they’d left one old tree to the acre for cone
bearers, and kept the fire out, I should think the forest
would almost start itself again,” said Spider. “But
they haven’t left a single tree.”</p>
<p>“They are hogs,” Uncle Billy exclaimed, angrily.
“It makes my blood boil every time I go through
country like this, and think that the voters of the State
let ’em do it.”</p>
<p>The road was hard now, the car went faster, and in
a short time they began to see the houses of a town.
They swung under a railroad, rolled on to asphalt pavement,
and found themselves in the middle of Bend, a
brisk, clean little city of 5,000 people.</p>
<p>“Well, what do you know about this!” Bennie
laughed. “It just pops right up here in the desert,
like a toadstool. And, oh, boy, there’s a soda fountain—and
a movie theatre!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_173">173</div>
<p>Spider and Uncle Billy laughed. “He’s a great
wilderness scout, he is,” said the doctor. “He’s gladder
to see a movie theatre than he was to see Crater
Lake.”</p>
<p>Bennie grinned a little sheepishly. “No, it isn’t
that,” he said, “but as long as we got to be in a town,
might as well have something to do.”</p>
<p>“The first thing I’ll do is to get a bath,” the doctor
laughed, as he drove right past the drug store, and
stopped in front of the hotel.</p>
<p>The other car rolled up behind them, Mr. Stone’s
and Dumplin’s clothes and faces covered thick with
dust, and the car looking gray-white all over. The
boys got out the dunnage bags and carried them into
the lobby, while the cars were taken to a garage. As
soon as the doctor and Mr. Stone came back, they
got three rooms, one for Bennie and Spider, one for
Dumplin’ and his father, and one for the doctor. Off
came their clothes, and from three bathtubs came the
sounds of splashing.</p>
<p>They were a much cleaner and more civilized looking
outfit when they came down to dinner.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_174">174</div>
<h2 id="c18">CHAPTER XVIII
<br /><span class="sc">The Boys Encounter “Pep,” Who Promises Them a Bear Hunt</span></h2>
<p>They were just coming out of the dining-room
when a tall, very thin man came hurrying in from
the street, saw them, and with a loud, “Hello, Doc!”
rushed over to shake Uncle Billy’s hand.</p>
<p>“Just heard you were in,” he cried.</p>
<p>The doctor introduced him as the “biggest booster
in Bend.” His name, the boys gathered, was Peters,
though the doctor called him “Pep,” which was evidently
his popular title.</p>
<p>“Well, boys, what do you think of Oregon?” he
demanded as soon as he knew they were from the
East. “Some State, eh? I’ll say it is. Wait till you
see the Jefferson country. Say, want to go on a bear
hunt?”</p>
<p>Of course, he had started by asking them what they
thought of Oregon, and the boys were all set to make
a polite answer, but he never gave them a chance to
reply, and ended up instead by asking if they wanted
to go on a bear hunt!</p>
<p>“Sure we do!” the boys chorused.</p>
<p>(“He’s a queer one,” Bennie whispered to Spider.
“Answers his own questions half the time.”)</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_175">175</div>
<p>“Pep” was now talking again. “I can fix it up,
Doc. Maybe your friend would like to get a movie of
a bear. There’s a crowd in camp over at Elk Lake
now who want a bear hunt. Some of ’em do, anyhow.
We can go over there and pick ’em up, and run
over to Newberry Crater and pick up a bear all right.
You know old Vreeland, who lives on the big ranch
south of La Pine? He’s got a pack of hounds, and
plenty of horses, and he’d rather go on a bear hunt
than go to Heaven. What do you say?”</p>
<p>“Well, boys, what do <i>you</i> say?” the doctor asked,
turning to the scouts and Dumplin’.</p>
<p>Bennie sighed with comical exaggeration. “Oh, of
course, I’ll go if you want to,” he answered. “I strive
to please.”</p>
<p>Everybody laughed except Spider. “Are you going
to kill the bear?” he questioned.</p>
<p>“No, indeed,” said Pep. “We catch ’em by the
tail out here in Oregon, and then tie a blue ribbon
round their necks, so they’ll look prettier as they gambol
through the woods.”</p>
<p>Spider bit his lip as if he was angry, and was trying
not to make a rude reply.</p>
<p>“That’s all right, too,” he finally said, “but some
folks like to kill wild animals and some folks don’t.
I’m one of the ones who doesn’t. Bears don’t do any
harm. I’d like to see one, and see Mr. Stone get a
picture of it. Hunting with a camera is harder, and
better sport, I think.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_176">176</div>
<p>“I’ll say it’ll be hard, all right,” said Pep. “Wait
till you see the stuff you’ll have to carry your camera
through! As for the shooting, Newberry Crater is a
State bird and game refuge, and you have to get permission
to hunt bears on it; but I’ve got that O. K.,
because they want the bears killed off. All they ask
is that you report the stomach contents.”</p>
<p>“I’ve just got something new I’ve not shown any of
you yet,” Mr. Stone now put in. “It was waiting for
me here, in my mail. It’s a movie camera no bigger
than a kodak, which works with a spring instead of a
crank, and takes twenty-five feet at a time. I can
carry it in the pocket of a hunting coat. It’s for just
such a time as this, when the big camera couldn’t be
taken along. I’d like to try it—that is, if you can
guarantee the bear.”</p>
<p>“What’ll happen to me if I don’t produce the
bear?” Pep demanded.</p>
<p>“We’ll take your horse, and make you walk home,”
the doctor said.</p>
<p>“Easy! It’s only thirty miles! Shall we start tomorrow
morning?”</p>
<p>“Sure. I guess we can stow you into our cars
somewhere.”</p>
<p>“Stow me nothing! I got a car of my own. It’s a
dandy, too—a genuine antique, built in 1909. They
made regular cars in those days. Well, you be ready
at eight o’clock. I’ll be around for you, and lead the
way.”</p>
<p>“But we haven’t any guns,” said Bennie, suddenly.</p>
<p>“Don’t matter. Vreeland has plenty. Don’t need
more’n one, anyhow, to kill a bear. So long.”</p>
<p>Pep departed, striding with his long legs out of the
lobby.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_177">177</div>
<p>“He’s a queer one,” said Mr. Stone. “What does
he do for a living?”</p>
<p>“Real estate, I guess,” the doctor answered. “He’s
a great booster for Bend, and spends half his time fixing
up parties for visitors who come here. He’s a
great card. Well, boys, I suppose you’re going to the
movies now?”</p>
<p>“I can see the movies without coming 4,000 miles,”
Bennie answered. “Me for a look around this burg.”</p>
<p>“Me, too,” said Spider. “Doug Fairbanks won’t
seem such a wonder after we’ve climbed old Llao
Rock.”</p>
<p>“Boys,” cried Uncle Billy, “you have not come to
Oregon in vain!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_178">178</div>
<h2 id="c19">CHAPTER XIX
<br /><span class="sc">The Bear Hunt—In Which the Boys Discover that the Bear Doesn’t Do All the Hard Work</span></h2>
<p>Right after breakfast the next morning they got
the cars out and left behind at the hotel all the
luggage they wouldn’t need on the bear-hunting trip.
Mr. Stone was exhibiting his new camera, an astonishing
invention which he held in his hand like a kodak,
while it took twenty-five feet of film (he could carry
as much as two hundred feet of extra reels in one side
pocket, too), when Pep appeared in his “antique.”
They heard him before they saw him, in fact. The
car was a runabout. The paint apparently had vanished
about 1918. The muffler was broken so that she
roared and spit like a motorcycle. One mud-guard was
so cracked that it half hung from the car and flapped
and rattled. The other three were bent and dented.
The wind-shield was cracked, and the radiator was covered
with iron rust where the water had boiled over
and run down the sides. When Pep put his foot on
the brake to stop, she shrieked and wailed like a sick
cat.</p>
<p>Bennie walked over to this car and stared intently.</p>
<p>“Some boat!” he said. “Some boat! Say, Spider,
a scout is always respectful and kind to the aged and
infirm. Remember that. What’s its name, Mr.
Peters?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_179">179</div>
<p>“Its mother never named it,” said Pep. “I’ve
called it a lot of things, but they aren’t very polite.”</p>
<p>Dumplin’ laughed. “I know what its name is, all
right.”</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“Its name is Methuselah.”</p>
<p>“I thought Methuselah died when he was only nine
hundred,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“Say, if you boys make fun of my car, I won’t let
you ride in it,” Pep threatened.</p>
<p>“Would it hold up two passengers?” asked Bennie.</p>
<p>“All aboard!” called the doctor. “Stop insulting
Pep’s chariot, and climb into your own. Lead the
way, Pep.”</p>
<p>Pep spun his crank around, Methuselah grunted,
spit, coughed, and then roared, the doctor and Mr.
Stone stepped on their starters, and the procession
moved down the main street of Bend, Methuselah leading,
and swung south on the same road they had come
up the day before. Once out in the open, Pep began
to travel. Through the cloud of dust he kicked up,
those behind could see the rear wheels of the old runabout
go bobbing up and down, and from side to side.
The doctor’s speedometer crept up to thirty, to thirty-five,
to forty miles, as he followed.</p>
<p>“Gosh, he doesn’t care what happens to him!”
Bennie said. “Think of hitting forty on this road in
Methuselah!”</p>
<p>“Think of hitting forty on <i>any</i> road in Methuselah,”
Uncle Billy laughed. “He’ll stop pretty soon, to
cool her off—and tell us it was for something else.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_180">180</div>
<p>Before long he did stop. When the other cars drew
up, Pep was standing beside Methuselah, at a place
where a side road led off to the west, toward the white-capped
mountains.</p>
<p>“Thought you might miss the turn if I didn’t wait,”
he explained.</p>
<p>The doctor winked at the boys, and Bennie got out
and started to put his hand on Methuselah’s radiator.
But he speedily removed it.</p>
<p>“Will you have your eggs three minutes or four this
morning, gents?” he asked. Then he listened with
his ear near the hood. “Uncle Billy, I think you
ought to come here,” he added. “I’m afraid poor old
Methuselah has got blood pressure.”</p>
<p>Even Pep laughed at this. “Maybe I give him too
much meat,” he said.</p>
<p>The cars now turned up the side road, which was
little more than a couple of wheel ruts through the
endless yellow pine forest, and began to wind their
way southwestward. Even Methuselah didn’t hurry
through here. The road was too rough and too winding.</p>
<p>“Say, I expect to meet myself coming back on this
road,” Bennie declared. “The feller who laid it out
must have had the blind staggers.”</p>
<p>“If it was straightened it wouldn’t be more than
half as long,” said the practical Spider.</p>
<p>Presently, coming around a sharp turn, they found
Methuselah silent and stalled, with Pep, the hood
lifted, poking into the engine.</p>
<p>Everybody climbed out, and went over to him.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_181">181</div>
<p>“What’s wrong?” they asked.</p>
<p>“I just stopped to tell you about a man who was
drawing a load of hay over this road once,” said he.
“He never got it out, because the horses ate it all up
behind his back from the tail of the wagon.”</p>
<p>“That’s a good story. Now let’s go on,” winked
the doctor.</p>
<p>“Wait just a minute,” Pep said. “Methuselah’s
foot slipped, and he sprained his carburetor. I think
it’s his carburetor. Maybe he pulled a tendon in his
ignition.”</p>
<p>“Quick, doctor, the arnica!” called Bennie.</p>
<p>But Spider, who knew something about cars, was
poking into the engine.</p>
<p>“I don’t think it’s the carburetor,” he said.
“You’ve flooded that trying to start her. Let me
have a screw-driver, and you turn her over slowly.”</p>
<p>He traced the ignition around till he found a spot
where there was no spark, and behind that found a
loose connection, into which had settled an insulating
film of dust and grit. When this was cleaned and
tightened, Methuselah coughed and spit and roared
again, and once more they started on their way.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_182">182</div>
<p>Methuselah had no more mishaps, though they expected
to find him stalled around every bend, and after
a couple of hours they came out of the yellow pine forest
into open country, right under the big mountains,
and presently before them lay Elk Lake, with the
white reflection of South Sister, 10,000 feet high and
snow covered, mirrored in the dark water. The road
ran along beside the lake to the upper end, and there,
in a grove of pines and fir trees, was a big camp, and
men and women just sitting down to luncheon at long
board tables. Methuselah had been parked beside the
road, and Pep was bobbing about talking and laughing
with the crowd.</p>
<p>“What’s the big idea?” Bennie asked. “Gee whiz,
a whole bunch of strange people, and no chance for a
swim!”</p>
<p>“I guess they don’t own the whole lake,” the doctor
laughed. “Anyhow, they’ll give us some grub.”</p>
<p>The crowd, they found, was a convention of Oregon
editors, with their wives. They were having a fine
time, no doubt, but the newcomers didn’t seem exactly
to fit.</p>
<p>“Spider was one of the editors of our high school
paper last winter,” said Bennie, “but all I did was get
an advertisement for it from Dad. I thought we were
going to hunt bears, not editors.”</p>
<p>As soon as lunch was over somebody got up and began
to make a speech. The crowd sat back and got
ready to listen. Whereupon Uncle Billy beckoned to
the boys and Mr. Stone, and they silently sneaked
away from the tables.</p>
<p>“I didn’t go on a vacation to listen to speeches,”
the doctor said. “It will be too late to get into camp
at Newberry Crater tonight if we hang around here
till that bunch gets through telling each other what’s
wrong with the newspaper business. You wait here
while I have a heart-to-heart talk with Pep.”</p>
<p>After ten minutes the doctor came back with the
long, lank Peters.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_183">183</div>
<p>“Sorry, boys,” Pep said. “I thought there were a
couple of good sports in this outfit who really wanted
a bear hunt. But when I told ’em they’d have to sleep
out, and get up at three <span class="sc">A. M.</span>, they decided they’d
rather listen to the speeches. Some folks would do
anything rather than get up in the morning. Well,
come on, we’ll get our bear even if there isn’t anybody
to write it for the papers.”</p>
<p>“Oh, ho!” cried Uncle Billy, “so that was it!
Well, I am a dumb-bell, as Bennie would so elegantly
put it. I didn’t realize before why you were so set on
having some editors along. You want to be boosting
Bend all the while, don’t you? Maybe Spider will
write it up for his school paper. That’s something.
Cheer up, Pep, and see if Methuselah is still
alive.”</p>
<p>Pep spun the crank till the drops of sweat fell from
his forehead before she coughed and started.</p>
<p>“I get a fine lot of exercise with this car,” he
panted, wiping his face before he climbed aboard.</p>
<p>They cut south from the winding road after a little
way, and presently arrived in the hamlet of La Pine,
the town which Bennie said one of Uncle Billy’s
friends once lost out of his pocket. Not far from this
town, in an extraordinarily green meadow beside the
Deschutes River, a long meadow like a rich oasis in
the dry desert soil, they came to the Vreeland ranch,
where the house sat beneath great poplar trees, and the
barns were full of fresh-cut alfalfa and the cattle were
browsing as they do in the East, along the river
bank.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_184">184</div>
<p>“Give this soil some water,” said Spider, “and instead
of a desert, it’s like our richest farms at
home.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir. Irrigation is all we need in Oregon to
grow anything,” said Uncle Billy, as the three cars
pulled up in the yard.</p>
<p>Pep found Mr. Vreeland out in a field, and brought
him in. He was a big, bronzed man, who looked hard
and wiry for all his gray hair and beard, and at the
suggestion of a bear hunt his eyes lit up and he smiled.
A long, low whistle brought an answering joyous yelp
from a near-by barn, and four hounds, with thin bodies
and long ears and sad faces, came jumping and wriggling
up to him.</p>
<p>“Them pups’ll get you a bear, if there is a bear,”
said their master proudly. “I guess we can rustle up
the horses. Let’s see, we’ll need six for you, and one
for me, and one for the rustler, and a pack animal—that’s
nine. We’ll start in an hour. Hi—Tom!” he
shouted to a man out in the paddock.</p>
<p>“He doesn’t lose any time,” whispered Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“Not when he smells a bear,” Pep replied. “He
can see a bear track in the dark. And he’s got some
regular dogs.”</p>
<p>While the horses were being saddled the boys made
up six blanket rolls for their party, and one for Pep,
and packed up enough provisions for a couple of days.
The provisions, a few “eating irons” and cooking
utensils, and the blankets were put on the pack horse.
Mr. Vreeland brought out two rifles, one for himself
and one for somebody else.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_185">185</div>
<p>“Who gets it?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Not I,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“Nor I,” said Mr. Stone. “Here’s my gun.” He
patted the case of his tiny movie camera, which was
slung from his shoulder.</p>
<p>“I’ll take it,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“Know how to use it?” the man asked.</p>
<p>“N-not very well,” Bennie admitted.</p>
<p>“Well, it isn’t loaded,” Mr. Vreeland laughed.
“Suppose you carry it today, and learn how much it
weighs. Are we all set?”</p>
<p>Tom, the horse rustler, brought the saddled horses
into the yard, and each rider was assigned a mount.</p>
<p>“Pick out a good strong one for that half starved
little chap there,” said Mr. Vreeland, pointing to
Dumplin’. “All you boys are good riders, I suppose?”</p>
<p>“Oh, sure,” said Bennie. “We gallop all the time
over the wide prairies of Massachusetts. Got a nice
mantelpiece for me to eat off of tonight?”</p>
<p>“It’s tomorrow night you’ll need that,” the man
laughed. “All aboard!”</p>
<p>In spite of his weight and his gray hair, Mr. Vreeland
swung into his saddle with the ease and grace of
a cowboy. The doctor and Mr. Stone and Pep were
not quite so easy, but they knew how to ride. Dumplin’,
however, was as green as the two eastern scouts,
and the three of them made a mess of mounting, and
after they were mounted and their horses had started
on a slow trot out of the yard, they bobbed around and
jounced up and down like three apples in a dump-cart.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_186">186</div>
<p>“Say, how do you manage this stunt?” Bennie
called to his uncle. “If I keep on this way, I’ll all fall
apart.”</p>
<p>“Stand in your stirrups as naturally and easily as
you can, and then lean forward a little from your
waist,” the doctor called back. “Don’t try to do anything
but just relax from your waist up, and stand on
your stirrups.”</p>
<p>The boys tried this, and gradually, very gradually,
they began to get on to the trick, so that their bodies
rode a little better with the motions of the horses’
backs. It was hard work, though, and they were glad
enough when they had crossed the highway, headed
east up a road through the yellow pines, and finally
dropped down to a walk as the road began to climb.
When the horses stopped trotting, the three boys sat
back in their saddles and took the weight off their tired
legs. Of course, they bounced a bit, but that didn’t
matter when the horse wasn’t trotting.</p>
<p>They were on the lower slopes of Newberry Crater
now, which is an 8,000-foot mountain standing fifty
miles or more east of the Cascade range, all alone in
the desert pines, and was once a volcano. On the top,
Uncle Billy told them, is a big crater, almost as large
as Crater Lake, but only a few hundred feet deep, and
instead of being filled with water, it contains two ponds
and a lot of summer camps. The whole mountain is
a State game reserve, for the slopes are covered with
pine woods, and the water attracts both birds and
animals.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_187">187</div>
<p>The party climbed slowly up the dusty road for two
hours, while the boys wriggled and shifted in their
saddles to find easy positions (which they couldn’t
find), and the rifle Bennie was carrying either banged
his back or had to be held across his saddle, growing
heavier and heavier.</p>
<p>At last, as the sun was setting in the west, they came
out of the yellow pines into a big open meadow,
through which Paulina Creek flowed on its way down
the mountain, making the grass rich and green. Here
Mr. Vreeland turned in. The horses were watered at
the stream and then hobbled (hobbles are just leather
bands like handcuffs put around their forelegs, so they
can move around to feed, but cannot wander far
away). On the edge of the meadow, near the brook
but under the pines, camp was made, by the simple
process of building a fire and spreading the blankets on
level spots of dry ground. While Mr. Vreeland and
Tom, the horse rustler, were cooking supper, the rest
went to the creek for a bath. The water was icy cold,
but, as Bennie said, it was softer to sit on than a
saddle.</p>
<p>After supper they gathered around the fire for a
while, in the cold mountain air of night, while Mr.
Vreeland told bear stories. The four dogs lay sleeping
close to them, one of them, old Ben, Mr. Vreeland’s
pet, with a muzzle snuggled against his side.</p>
<p>But before long he ordered them to bed.</p>
<p>“I’ll get you up before the sun,” he said. “That’s
the only time to start after bears. Their tracks are
fresh then, and the dogs can follow ’em.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_188">188</div>
<p>In spite of their saddle soreness, and the bare ground
they were sleeping on, the boys rolled up in their
blankets, without undressing, and were soon fast
asleep. There is nothing like riding a horse in the
mountains to make you slumber!</p>
<p>“Golly, doesn’t seem as if I’d more’n dropped off,”
said Bennie, sitting up and rubbing his eyes when he
was awakened by the voice of Mr. Vreeland.</p>
<p>“I don’t care what becomes of ol’ bear. I’m goin’
sleep some more,” mumbled Dumplin’, drawing his
blankets tighter about his neck and rolling over on the
other side.</p>
<p>“Yes, you are!” yelled Spider and Bennie, grabbing
the blankets and rolling him suddenly out of them.</p>
<p>It was still dark in the woods, with a dim, gray light
over the open meadow. They could scarcely see the
horses, which they heard feeding and thumping about
on hobbled feet. Tom had the fire going, and soon
there was the welcome smell of coffee. After the coffee,
everybody felt more awake, the light increased, the
trunks of the trees began to emerge from the gloom,
and Tom and Mr. Vreeland rounded up the horses and
began to saddle.</p>
<p>“Well, son,” said Mr. Vreeland to Bennie, “how
about that gun today? You’re going to ride some
pretty rough country, and she’ll get heavy.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think he’d better carry a gun through this
going,” the doctor said. “Especially as it is somebody
else’s gun, and he’s somebody else’s boy, whom
I’m responsible for.”</p>
<p>“Well, of course, I don’t want to worry my uncle,”
Bennie assented, with surprising cheerfulness.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_189">189</div>
<p>“You mean you need both hands to hang on to your
horse,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“Marvelous, Sherlock, simply marvelous!” Bennie
laughed. “When we get to the old bear, I’ll take the
gun from my bearer, and put a well-directed bullet
through his brain.”</p>
<p>Now, in the fast increasing daylight, they were off,
Mr. Vreeland leading the way and sitting his horse as
straight as a ramrod. The boys were stiff and sore,
but once on the saddle they felt easier than the day
before.</p>
<p>The leader crossed the meadow to the upper side,
and put his horse up on a long sloping ridge covered
with an open stand of yellow pine. As they climbed
this ridge, the boys could see a long distance between
the trees, and discovered that the side of the mountain
was composed of a series of long ridges, like this one,
with deep erosion gullies between them. The sides of
these gullies were very steep, and at the bottom grew
thick stands of lodge-pole pines. After climbing a way
on the first ridge, and evidently seeing nothing which
appealed to him, Mr. Vreeland suddenly turned his
horse right down the side, into the gully. As the boys
followed they found their horses’ heads almost underneath
them, and they had to lean far back in the saddles
to keep their balance. At the bottom, Mr. Vreeland
simply rode right into the dense stand of little
lodge-pole pines and disappeared. The doctor, Mr.
Stone and Tom and Pep followed. And after them
went the three horses that carried the three boys.
There was nothing to do about it. The horses were
trained to follow in file, and it was their job to go
through where the others went. But the boys made
an interesting, not to say painful discovery.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_190">190</div>
<p>They discovered that when a horse goes through a
thicket of lodge-pole pines, he picks out a place that is
wide enough for him to squeeze through, and high
enough so his head doesn’t hit a limb. But he doesn’t
pay any attention to the fact that his rider’s feet and
legs stick out on either side and his rider’s head is considerably
higher than his own. He’s looking out only
for himself, and it’s up to the rider to take the consequences
for getting on his back.</p>
<p>When they emerged on the farther side of the gully,
Bennie didn’t have any cap, Dumplin’ had a hole torn
in the right knee of his trousers, and Spider had a rent
in the left shoulder of his shirt and a long scratch on
his face.</p>
<p>But there was no stopping for repairs. Already the
other horses were up on the next ridge, and with a
heave and snort the boys’ horses suddenly stood on
their hind legs and scrambled up also, the boys leaning
far forward and hanging on to the horns of their
saddles to keep aboard.</p>
<p>“Some sport!” panted Bennie. “Gee, that was a
good cap, too.”</p>
<p>“My face feels as if the cat had sharpened her
claws on me,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“My knee’s bleeding,” puffed Dumplin’.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_191">191</div>
<p>Mr. Vreeland kept on up through the open woods of
the ridge, and suddenly pulled his horse to a sharp
halt, in a little patch of light made by the rising sun.
Here he spoke softly to the dogs, who had been padding
along at his horse’s heels with a bored air, as if a
bear were the very last thing they were thinking about.
As the dogs trotted sharply forward under the horse’s
nose and began to sniff where he pointed, Mr. Stone
got his camera out of the case and made ready. Suddenly
all four dogs began to utter little moaning
sounds, like barks just beginning in their throats, and
with a loud bay the two younger ones started off down
the mountain, while Mr. Stone’s camera whirred.
Ben, however, didn’t go. He kept on moaning and
sniffing around.</p>
<p>“They are back tracking. You watch Ben and Cap,
the wise old boys!” Mr. Vreeland cried, his eyes dancing
with excitement.</p>
<p>Then Ben and Cap, too, suddenly uttered deep, silvery,
triumphant bays, and sprang down the farther
side of the ridge into a second ravine. An instant
later the other two dogs came crying back and followed
them, just in time to get into the last foot of the
film. Then Mr. Vreeland put his horse down after
them at a gallop, and vanished into the pines, followed
by Tom and the doctor and Pep. Mr. Stone had a
hard time holding his horse while he got his camera
back into the case. Then he, too, went down the side
of the ravine and into the lodge-poles.</p>
<p>“Now, darling, <i>please</i> take it easy! Whoa!
Whoa!” yelled Bennie at his horse, as that animal
cascaded down the soft soil of the bank and made for
the wall of tearing little trees.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_192">192</div>
<p>Holding their legs as close to the horses’ sides as
they could, ducking to protect their faces, wriggling
and squirming in their saddles to avoid having their
legs torn and bruised by trees between which the
horses squeezed, the boys got through, and followed
the hunt. They could hear the dogs baying in the
next ravine, and over the ridge they went, in time to
see the tail of Mr. Stone’s horse vanishing into another
thicket of scrub.</p>
<p>This kept on for an hour or more—it seemed ages
to the three boys. In their efforts to get through the
ravines without any more injury to their clothes or
their persons than was necessary, they had to slow
their horses down, and the hunt, which was working
steadily up the mountain, got farther and farther
ahead of them. They had long since lost all sight
even of Mr. Stone, and the deep, bell-like baying of the
hounds grew fainter and fainter. At last it ceased
altogether.</p>
<p>When that happened Bennie pulled up his horse and
waited for Spider and Dumplin’ to catch up.</p>
<p>“Say, fellers,” he asked, “what are we going to do?
We’ve lost the hunt, all right. I can’t hear a sound
now, and we’ve been off the tracks for twenty minutes,
I guess. Those last two ravines we came through
hadn’t been broken before, and I haven’t seen a hoof-print
for a long while.”</p>
<p>“We’re a swell lot of bear hunters, we are,” Dumplin’
panted. “Gee, Spider, look at your face!”</p>
<p>“Well, if it looks anything the way it feels, I’m
some beauty, I can tell you that. Look at your own
face—and your pants, too.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_193">193</div>
<p>“I don’t feel as if I had any pants left,” said Bennie.
“Gee, I’m sore all over, and my hands are all
torn. What are we going to do?”</p>
<p>“I guess it’s up to us to go back to camp,” Spider
suggested.</p>
<p>“How are we ever going to find camp?” Dumplin’
demanded. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re lost.”</p>
<p>“‘Lost on Newberry Crater, or The Young Bear
Hunters from Bend’—sounds like a dime novel,” Bennie
grinned. “Maybe we could follow our trail back
by the blood on the ground. But I got a better idea
than that. Let’s go on up this ridge a ways till we
come to an open place, and then sit there and wait.
We can always follow the ridge down westward till
we come to the road. Guess we can’t starve. Maybe
the old bear will trot around past us. They don’t
travel in a straight line, I guess. Anyhow, it’s a
chance, and I guess it’s our only chance to get back in
the game.”</p>
<p>“That’s a swell idea!” said Dumplin’, scornfully.
“What you going to do if he does come around? You
wouldn’t carry the old gun. Use your pocket-knife?”</p>
<p>“No, I’ll look at him between my legs,” Bennie answered.
“The old bear won’t trouble us. All he’s
thinking about is getting away from the hounds.
Anyhow, I don’t see any use in trying to follow any
longer, ’cause we’ve sure lost the hunt, and I hate to
go back this early in the day. We may find a place
where we can look out and see something.”</p>
<p>“Sounds good to me. You’re the captain. Lead
on,” said Spider.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_194">194</div>
<p>So Bennie led the way up the open woods of the
spine, which were growing lower now, and presently
they found themselves in a little clearing on a sort of
peak of lava. From here they could look out on one
side for miles and miles, over the wilderness of the
mountain side, to the white summits of the Cascades.
But not a sight nor a sound of the hunt did they
have.</p>
<p>They dismounted stiffly, aching in every joint, and
tied the horses in the shade. Dumplin’ flopped to the
ground with a groan. “My knee’s all stiff,” he complained,
“and the blood’s all clotted on my leg. Gee,
I’ve got six tears in my pants!”</p>
<p>The boys looked themselves over. Their clothes
were torn, their hands and faces scratched and covered
with blood, and their thighs and knees sore with
the bruising trees. They were, in fact, a woe-begone
looking lot.</p>
<p>“And I could drink a barrel of water, and eat a ton
of food,” sighed Bennie.</p>
<p>“If you talk about water, I shall cry!” Dumplin’
exclaimed. “My mouth’s full of cotton.”</p>
<p>“Go to sleep, and forget it,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“If the bear comes, wake me up,” Dumplin’ answered,
closing his eyes at once.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_195">195</div>
<p>While Dumplin’ was slumbering Bennie and Spider
debated what they should do. It seemed pretty stupid
to sit there all the morning doing nothing, when they
had come 3,000 miles to Oregon for a taste of the real
wilderness. But, as Spider pointed out, if they tried
to follow the hunt again they would only get more
hopelessly lost. Finally they decided the only thing to
do was to wait till they heard some sound of it again
and then make toward the sound. Unless the bear
went clear around the mountain, sooner or later he
ought to come within sound of them again, they reasoned.
He would try to get back to his familiar hunting
ground. They waited one hour, two hours, getting
more and more thirsty, when Spider suddenly cried
“Hark!”</p>
<p>Far off, somewhere, he and Bennie couldn’t yet tell
where, they heard the deep, silvery bugle of one dog,
apparently old Ben, who had the deepest voice. The
hunt was coming their way again! Quickly they
roused Dumplin’, and all three listened. Yes, there
was no mistake! It was the bay of a hound, and it
was coming nearer!</p>
<p>“There’s only one dog, though,” said Bennie.
“What’s the matter with the others?”</p>
<p>“Probably old Ben has got ahead of the others, or
they’ve got off on another track,” said Spider. “Let’s
wait and see if it stops in one place. That’ll mean
Ben’s treed the bear, I guess. Then we can go there
and not get lost again.”</p>
<p>“Maybe <i>you</i> can,” said Dumplin’. “I couldn’t go
anywhere now, ’cept on a stretcher.”</p>
<p>“We’ll leave you here then—the air’s fine,” said
Bennie.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_196">196</div>
<p>The baying didn’t stop in one place, however, for ten
or fifteen minutes. It seemed to be moving up and
down the mountain. Finally, however, it came from a
single direction, seemingly only a quarter of a mile to
the right, and down the mountain a bit, and the boys
thought they detected a change in the sound. They
also could now hear a second dog.</p>
<p>“I bet old Ben has treed him!” Bennie cried, “and
one of the other pups has caught up! Come on, let’s
go see!”</p>
<p>“Just us, a couple of dogs, and no gun, against a
bear? No, thank you!” exclaimed Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t live in Oregon,” Bennie replied, “but
I know that when a bear is treed by a dog, he stays up
the tree. Anyhow, I’m going to take a chance. You
can stay here alone, if you want to. I’m going to see
that old bear. That’s what we came here for.”</p>
<p>He got up and untethered his horse, climbing stiffly
and with a groan into the saddle. Spider followed
him.</p>
<p>“Oh, well, if you go, I’m going—if I can ever get
aboard that beast,” said Dumplin’. “Gee, he’s about a
thousand feet high!”</p>
<p>Bennie led the way toward the sound of the barking,
which was still in one place, but not so loud now, and
very hoarse. They had three ravines to cross, but in
their excitement they didn’t think about the fresh tears
and scratches. In fifteen minutes they came very near
the sound of the barking. A moment later they broke
up out of a lodge-pole thicket to find old Ben running
’round and ’round the trunk of a huge yellow pine, his
bark almost gone, like the voice of a man who has been
making too many speeches, nothing much left but a
hoarse whisper, while Cap was standing with his front
paws up the trunk as high as he could reach.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_197">197</div>
<p>The boys looked up the tree and gave a wild yell,
while old Ben, seeing them there, sprang at the tree
with renewed life, as if he were trying to climb it, too,
to show them he really wasn’t winded after all. Far
up, sixty or seventy-five feet from the ground, in the
crotch of the first big limb, lay a black bear. His forepaws
were hugging the limb, his head was poked over,
his tongue kept hanging out, and they could see his little
eyes looking at them. Since they had no gun, he
was perfectly safe as long as he cared to sit there, and
he appeared to know it.</p>
<p>“There’s nothing for us to do but wait for the rest,”
said Bennie. “Golly, he’s a big bear! I wonder what
he weighs?”</p>
<p>“I hope he stays where he is,” Dumplin’ put in.</p>
<p>“Come on, let’s tie our horses and sit down and
wait. Oh, boy, we beat the others to the bear!”</p>
<p>“No, sir, I sit here. My horse can go faster’n I
can. Two dogs aren’t big enough, all alone, to tackle
that bear if he starts coming down.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you’re right at that,” Bennie admitted.
“But, say, we’ve sure got one on the rest when they
show up! We’ll tell ’em we kept right on old Ben’s
heels, and beat ’em to it!”</p>
<p>“We’ll tell ’em so,” Spider grinned. “But if you
think you can put it over on Mr. Vreeland you’ve got
another guess coming.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_198">198</div>
<p>So they attempted to sit on their horses near the
tree, but the horses had something to say about that.
Some downward current of air brought a sudden bear
scent to them, and they began to rear and back and
wheel, so that all three boys jumped off as quickly as
they could, and led the twitching animals a long way
down the slope and tied them. They hadn’t realized
before how much a horse fears the smell of bear.</p>
<p>“I nearly got spilled before I could get my foot out
of the stirrup,” Bennie said. “Thought I was a goner
for a minute.”</p>
<p>“Me too,” said Dumplin’. “This isn’t so much fun
as it’s cracked up to be. Gee, I wish I knew how to
ride the way Mr. Vreeland does! He’d just have
<i>made</i> his horse stand still.”</p>
<p>As they were walking back they heard at last the
bay of the other two dogs, and then the far-off sound
of a horse crashing through lodge-poles. In two minutes
the other dogs joined Ben in a dance below the
big tree, and in two minutes more Mr. Vreeland and
Tom rode up. Behind them, down the mountain,
could be heard Pep’s and Mr. Stone’s and the doctor’s
horses.</p>
<p>Mr. Vreeland didn’t see the boys at first, because
they hid behind some bushes.</p>
<p>“Are the doctor and the camera man behind?” they
heard him ask Tom. “Too bad the kids had to drop
out. We’ll have to go hunting for them after Mr.
Bear’s disposed of. They’re wandering around lost, I
suppose.”</p>
<p>“Is that so?” cried the boys, jumping up from behind
the bush.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m darned!” Mr. Vreeland exclaimed.
“How did you get here? Where’s your horses?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_199">199</div>
<p>“Down the slope—tied,” said Bennie. “We kept
right on old Ben’s heels. How’d you lose the trail?
Get off on a false scent? Too bad!”</p>
<p>Mr. Vreeland fixed Bennie with a cool look, which
had a twinkle behind it.</p>
<p>“Were you huntin’ the bear, or was he huntin’
you?” said he. “I used to know a nigger down
South, where I was once, who always went out behind
a fox hunt, and sat down after a bit, and waited for
the fox to come trottin’ back. He’d get the fox, and
the rest would get the exercise. They had to do somethin’
kind o’ drastic to that nigger.”</p>
<p>(“I told you so!” Spider laughed at Bennie.
“Can’t fool him.”)</p>
<p>“You look as if the bear caught you, too,” Mr.
Vreeland went on. “Did he make those scratches
with his claws? He’s got nice claws.” (This last as
he cast a contemplative glance up into the tree.)</p>
<p>“Just the same, we beat you to the old bear, however
we did it,” Bennie grinned. “Who’s going to
shoot him?”</p>
<p>“Well, if you got here first, you can take a crack,”
Mr. Vreeland said. “Wait till the camera man comes.
I hear ’em now.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_200">200</div>
<p>A minute later the doctor and then Mr. Stone and
Pep came into the clearing. They were not torn and
scratched so much as the boys, but much more than
Mr. Vreeland and Tom. And they were even more
surprised to find the boys there. However, there was
no time for talk. The horses were dancing with nervousness,
the dogs were jumping against the tree, and
the hear was moving on the limb as if he contemplated
climbing higher. Mr. Stone unlimbered his camera,
Spider walked off into the woods because, he declared,
he refused to see a fine animal shot in cold blood, and
Bennie, armed with a rifle, was told to fire, aiming at
the base of the brain.</p>
<p>He sighted and pulled the trigger, trembling with
nervousness for fear he wouldn’t make a good shot.
The kick of the gun staggered him for an instant, but
as soon as he caught himself he stared into the tree, to
see the bear snarling with pain and rage, but still
crouched, alive, on the limb.</p>
<p>Bennie handed the rifle hastily to his uncle. “You
do it!” he cried. “Gosh, all I’ve done is hurt him.
I don’t want to mess the poor thing up any more.”</p>
<p>“Well, of all the——” Mr. Vreeland began.</p>
<p>“Shoot him, Vreeland,” said the doctor, sharply.
“I’m no hunter.”</p>
<p>The old man raised his rifle, sighted it so quickly
that it seemed part of the same motion, and there was
a sharp crack. The bear seemed to spring right off
the limb and fell, a black ball of fur, seventy feet to
the ground.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_201">201</div>
<p>The dogs were on it in a second, as its paws gave
one or two feeble and undirected swipes. Then it lay
dead. The dogs were called off, and promptly lay
down, panting and exhausted. Bennie wanted to go
away somewhere and lie down, too. He felt sick.
He had thought it would be wonderful sport to kill a
big bear, but now that he had pumped a bullet into it,
and then seen the creature, helpless and defenseless,
come crashing down dead out of the tree, the fun was
gone. If the bear had been attacking him, or even
attacking anybody, it would be different. But just to
shoot it in cold blood, for the sake of killing something,
suddenly struck Bennie as a low down, cruel trick.
He felt the way Spider always felt. He’d never been
able to understand Spider’s point of view before, but
now that he had pumped a bullet into the bear, he understood.
He thought of their talk about the deer
that morning by the rim of Crater Lake.</p>
<p>But Mr. Stone was calling. He’d got a fresh roll of
film into his camera, and wanted to take the whole
party around the dead bear. Tom and Mr. Vreeland
propped the big brownish-black body up into a sitting
posture, Bennie stood beside it, with a gun in his hand,
and Dumplin’, with a grin on his face, walked up,
grasped the bear by the paw, and shook hands with a
great show of friendliness.</p>
<p>“You weren’t planning to do that about twenty
minutes ago,” came the voice of Spider, returning to
the scene.</p>
<p>“Neither was the bear,” Dumplin’ answered.</p>
<p>Tom, Mr. Vreeland and the doctor now set about
skinning the carcase, which weighed, the hunter estimated,
about three hundred pounds. After that the
doctor opened the stomach.</p>
<p>Bennie watched this operation for a moment, and
then turned quickly away.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?” his uncle asked.</p>
<p>“It—it isn’t what you’d call real sweet and pretty,”
said Bennie.</p>
<p>“You’ll never make a doctor, then,” said his uncle.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_202">202</div>
<p>“Not a bear doctor, anyhow,” Bennie laughed.</p>
<p>But Spider stood right by. He was intensely interested
to see what the doctor found.</p>
<p>“Any evidences of a predatory diet?” he demanded.</p>
<p>“Of a <i>what</i>?” said Dumplin’ and Bennie. “Say,
Mr. Peters, did you bring a dictionary?”</p>
<p>The doctor was looking carefully into the opened
stomach.</p>
<p>“As far as I can see,” he answered, “this bear was
living on vegetable food, for the past day or two. No
trace of bones, feathers or meat. I should say he’d
been feeding on berries.”</p>
<p>“Why does the government want ’em killed, then?”
cried Spider.</p>
<p>“Why not? What good do they do?” Mr. Vreeland
cut in. “Seems to me you boys are about the
most tender-hearted people I ever stacked up against.
What do you want to do, spoil all sport?”</p>
<p>“It’s just as much sport hunting with a camera,”
Spider replied, “and a lot more dangerous, if you
aren’t armed, and takes a heap more patience and
skill.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and what do you get?”</p>
<p>“You get a picture—if you’re lucky—and you leave
the animal alive for the next man to see.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_203">203</div>
<p>Mr. Vreeland grunted in disgust, scraped all the fat
he could off the big, heavy skin, folded it up, put it
over his saddle, and called his dogs. The boys got
their horses, and the tired, hungry party rode down
the mountain, following an open ridge to the meadows,
and then trotted, lame and sore, to their camp. After
a hasty meal, they rode back to the ranch. The doctor
paid Mr. Vreeland for the trip, and insisted on giving
him something for the bearskin beside, because it was
his shot which brought down the bear. Then they all
stood by while Pep struggled to get Methuselah
started, and presently were out on the road again,
headed for Bend.</p>
<p>Bennie sank back into the deep cushions of the
motor with a huge sigh.</p>
<p>“Oh, boy!” he said, “p’r’aps these cushions don’t
feel good! The last five miles, my saddle was made
of cast iron. I’m dead to the world.”</p>
<p>“How far did that bear travel before he was
treed?” asked Spider.</p>
<p>“I’d say he probably ran fifteen miles,” said the
doctor. “It was enough, and lucky for you boys he
doubled around, or you wouldn’t have seen him. I’m
pretty sore and tired myself.”</p>
<p>“What I don’t get,” said Bennie, “is how Mr.
Vreeland and Tom rode right through those pine
thickets without getting torn to pieces. Gee, I’ve got
to buy a new cap and a pair of trousers and a shirt in
Bend before I can gladden the public eye.”</p>
<p>“They know how,” the doctor laughed. “After a
while, you learn to estimate how much room there is,
as well as the horse does, and protect yourself in advance.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_204">204</div>
<p>“It was an awful lot of fun,” Spider continued—“all
but shooting the bear. I think it is wicked to kill
off all the wild animals, when they are harmless.
Pretty soon we won’t have any wild life left. The
bears <i>must</i> be harmless, because they don’t shoot ’em
in the national parks, and nobody gets hurt, and the
other game is thick. Mr. Vreeland thinks I’m chicken-hearted,
I could see that. But I can’t help it. It’s not
because I’m chicken-hearted. It’s because I love the
woods and the wild animals in ’em, and hunting with a
gun strikes me as kind of silly and wicked.”</p>
<p>The doctor drove in silence for a minute. Then he
said, “I feel more or less as you do. But you must
remember this: Vreeland is an old man who was
brought up on the frontier. When he was a boy he
had to hunt to get fresh meat. Game was as thick as
huckleberries then. There were even grizzlies here in
Oregon. It seems perfectly natural to him, and he
can’t understand why eastern people, or any people,
shouldn’t want to hunt. He can’t understand the
word <i>conservation</i> at all. But you young fellows,
who are born later, into a world where most of the
game has been killed off, and most of the forest cut
down, don’t want to see less wild animals and less
woods—you want to see more. Your point of view is
just the opposite of his. Conservation has got to be
preached and practised by the young chaps. The old
fellows don’t understand it. They think a man is
afraid, or chicken-hearted, if he won’t shoot a wild
animal. That’s why I want to see the Boy Scouts
learn all about conservation, and help in the good
work.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_205">205</div>
<p>“You bet!” said Bennie. “When that old bear
kind of looked at me and groaned, when I hit him,
something turned over in the pit of my tummie. I
guess he had as good a right to live as I have. But
I’ll sure need his old skin to cover me, if the stores are
closed when we get to Bend. I got to have some new
pants.”</p>
<p>“It’s Saturday. They’ll be open all the evening,”
Uncle Billy laughed.</p>
<p>All three of the boys had to buy new khaki breeches
when they reached Bend, and new flannel shirts, and
Bennie had to get a cap. The doctor gave them some
salve and plaster for their cuts and scratches, and after
a bath they were ready to eat everything the waitress
brought to the table.</p>
<p>“And now,” said Mr. Stone, after dinner, “shall we
all go to the movies?”</p>
<p>Dumplin’ gave his father one look of scorn.</p>
<p>“Bed!” he groaned.</p>
<p>“Bed!” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“Bed!” said Spider.</p>
<p>But Pep, who had stayed to dinner with them, said,
“I’ve got to hunt up the editor of the <i>Star</i>, and tell
him about this hunt—good story—more advertising
for Bend.”</p>
<p>“Don’t forget to tell him how the three brave boys,
alone and unarmed, got to the bear long before the
skilled hunters,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“I’ll tell him <i>exactly</i> how they did it,” Pep laughed,
as he said good night.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_206">206</div>
<h2 id="c20">CHAPTER XX
<br /><span class="sc">Bennie Achieves a Dog, and the Party Puts Out a Forest Fire</span></h2>
<p>The next day, Sunday, they stayed in Bend, and,
to tell the truth, the boys were just as well
pleased. They were all three sore and stiff. Dumplin’
had a cut on his knee, Spider’s shoulder ached
where a dead pine limb had torn both his shirt and his
skin, and Bennie had three big black and blue bruises
on his legs. The two scouts spent most of the day
writing letters home, and also writing up the account
of their long hike at Crater Lake, to Mount Scott, as
part of the examination for a merit badge in hiking.
Spider also studied his government pamphlet on Oregon
trees, which he had bought at the Crater Lake Inn.
Uncle Billy said that when they got into the heart of
the Cascades they would encounter a great number of
different kinds of trees, and Spider was determined to
identify them.</p>
<p>While they were busy with this, Uncle Billy was
busy at the telephone, arranging with a man who lived
at Sisters, a little town nearer the mountains, to meet
them Monday morning with a pack train, and take
them in to Mount Jefferson.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_207">207</div>
<p>“I don’t know whether we are going to get to
Mount Jefferson or not,” the doctor said at luncheon.
“Norman tells me the snow up here was even heavier
last winter than it was at Crater Lake. He says he
tried to get over the Divide to Jefferson yesterday, by
the short way, and the snow blocked him. We’ll have
to go in past Marion Lake. That’ll take three days,
and maybe we won’t get there that way. I certainly
never knew so much snow at this time of year.”</p>
<p>He was wiping the perspiration off his forehead as
he spoke, which made everybody laugh. But they
could look out of the big plate glass window at the
west end of the dining-room and see, fifty miles away,
the white-clad summits of the Three Sisters, three big
mountains side by side, shining in the sun.</p>
<p>“Are we going to be on horseback all this trip to
Jefferson?” Dumplin’ asked plaintively.</p>
<p>“You can walk if you want to,” his father smiled.</p>
<p>“I feel now as if I’d have to,” Dumplin’ sighed.
“Wish they made pneumatic saddles.”</p>
<p>That afternoon, between trips to the garage to pack
the cars, and trips to the drug store to buy Spider a
note-book for his tree observations, and to get ice
cream sodas, Bennie acquired a dog. Maybe it would
be more truthful to say that the dog acquired Bennie.
He was a young dog, hardly more than a puppy, one of
those very small collies which the western sheep men
use in herding their flocks. Dumplin’ called him a
half portion dog. The poor little chap had evidently
lost his master, or else he had wandered away from
home. He didn’t seem to worry much, however.
What he was plainly looking for was somebody, anybody,
who would be kind to him. He trotted up and
down the street, following different people and trying
to attract their attention.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_208">208</div>
<p>The second time Bennie saw him, he said, “I don’t
believe that dog’s got a master. He’s looking for a
kind home. Come here, Towser.”</p>
<p>He whistled to the pup, and the dog came bounding
up to him, tail wagging madly, and crouched puppy
fashion at his feet. When Bennie stooped to pat him,
he sprang up, put his forepaws on the scout’s chest,
and tried to lick his face.</p>
<p>“Gosh, you nice little mutt!” Bennie exclaimed.
“I sure like dogs, and you’re a regular dog.”</p>
<p>To this the dog replied with a whine of joy, and
from that moment he clung to Bennie like a brother.</p>
<p>“Now you got him, what you going to do with
him?” Spider asked, as the pup bounded along beside
them, fairly shaking with delight, as his tail switched
back and forth.</p>
<p>“Dunno. Get him some grub first, I guess. He
looks awful thin.”</p>
<p>Bennie went around to the hotel kitchen and begged
some meat scraps, which the pup devoured greedily.
After that, he tried to follow Bennie into the hotel.
No dogs were allowed inside, however.</p>
<p>“I guess he’ll go away now,” Bennie said, shutting
the door in the poor dog’s face.</p>
<p>But when they came out from dinner the dog was
still lying in front of the door, and as Bennie went out
to the sidewalk he leaped upon him, trying to lick his
face. He settled down on the door-mat when the boys
went in for the night, and the last thing they saw was
his face looking in at them through the screen, his eyes
reproachful and sad at being left out.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_209">209</div>
<p>And when they came down at six in the morning, he
was still there! At sight of Bennie, he emitted a glad
yelp and began scratching at the door.</p>
<p>“Say, that pup is certainly fond of me,” Bennie
said, going out and petting it. “Can’t I take him
along, Uncle Billy?”</p>
<p>“Not a chance,” the doctor answered. “We’ve got
troubles enough. Besides, he probably belongs to
somebody here in Bend. He’ll go home when we’ve
gone.”</p>
<p>When they were putting the last of the baggage into
the cars in front of the hotel the dog leaped into the
doctor’s car and sat on the driver’s seat, wagging his
tail furiously, as much as to say, “Well, well, I’m all
ready to start; hurry up!”</p>
<p>He had to be put out three times before the cars
were ready. When the order came to start, Bennie
hugged him hard, while the pup licked at his face.</p>
<p>“Good-bye, you little mutt, you,” said he. “If my
uncle wasn’t a flinty-hearted old thing, we’d take you
along.”</p>
<p>Then Bennie climbed over into the car, and they
were off for Mount Jefferson. They ran north out of
Bend, and then turned west, toward the distant mountains.
In the early morning light, clear as a bell, they
could see the snow-clad peaks rising against the sky,
all the way from the Three Sisters in front of them to
Mount Hood, a hundred miles to the north. More
than fifty miles away, northwestward, rose the sharp,
glittering white pyramid of Mount Jefferson, their objective.
It was their first sight of it, and the doctor
slowed down the car so they could have a good look.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_210">210</div>
<p>And as he did so, they heard a little yip beside the
car—and there was the pup, his tongue hanging out,
his chest heaving, but his eyes fixed on Bennie in triumph!</p>
<p>“Oh, Uncle Billy, the poor little mutt!” Bennie
cried. “Some speed, I’ll say. He’s going to follow
us till he runs his head off. Can’t I take him in?”</p>
<p>The words were hardly out of his mouth, and the
doctor had no time to reply, before the pup, with one
spring, landed in Bennie’s lap.</p>
<p>“Looks as if you <i>had</i> taken him in,” the doctor
grinned. “Well, let him stay now. But you’ll have
to feed him out of your own rations. We can’t pack
food for a dog.”</p>
<p>The dog, with wiggles of his tail and body that expressed
his joy as plainly as any words could, snuggled
down in Bennie’s lap and tried to lick him.</p>
<p>“What are you going to name him?” Dumplin’
called out from the other car.</p>
<p>“I guess his name is Mutt,” Bennie laughed.</p>
<p>“Seeing’s how we are going to Jefferson, better call
him Jeff,” Dumplin’ retorted.</p>
<p>“Jeff it is,” Bennie answered, grinning at the joke.
“Good old Jeff! I bet he’s a good dog. I bet he can
round up a flock of sheep. I’m going to take him
home when we go.”</p>
<p>“How pleased your mother will be,” said his uncle.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_211">211</div>
<p>The cars started up again now, and they rode for
almost fifty miles northwestward, getting presently
into the yellow pine forests and then the foot-hills, so
that Jefferson disappeared entirely from view. At
last the doctor turned his car down a side road, and
stopped in front of a small house, all by itself in a forest
clearing beside a lovely little river. Opposite this
house was a barn, and in the barnyard was a herd of
horses.</p>
<p>“Allingham Ranger Station! All out! Far as we
go!” cried the doctor. “Hello, Norman!”</p>
<p>This last he shouted to a stocky young man, in khaki
riding breeches and leather leggings, who was standing
by the barn.</p>
<p>Norman was to be their guide. The horses were
his. With him he had two more men, one to take care
of the horses and one to cook. That made eight saddle
horses needed for the party. There were eight
more pack horses to carry the luggage. Although it
was only 9:30 o’clock, it took them till almost one
to get the cars unloaded, and the tents, dunnage bags,
sleeping bags, provisions, cameras, alpenstocks, and
so on, packed on the eight horses. Bennie and Spider
were of little use in this packing process, because they
knew nothing about it. They brought the stuff to be
packed to Norman and his two helpers, and watched
them stow it across the pack saddles, stretch a canvas
over, and then throw a long rope over the heap and
under the horse’s belly, back and forth several times,
till, when it was finally hauled taut and tied, it made
a large diamond-shaped design of the load, and held it
firmly on.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_212">212</div>
<p>“Say, that’s a complicated process,” said Spider.
“I can tie most knots after I’ve seen somebody do it,
but I couldn’t do that.”</p>
<p>“It takes some practice to throw a diamond hitch,”
Norman laughed. “Well, let’s saddle our old cayuses
now.”</p>
<p>The eight riding horses were saddled, the boys each
attending to his own nag. But Norman inspected the
saddles before they mounted, and tightened the girths.</p>
<p>“Now, adjust your stirrups,” he said. “Don’t
have them too short. Two fingers between you and
the saddle when you stand up is enough. We’re not
going to ride in Central Park this afternoon.”</p>
<p>“Where are we going to ride, by the way?” the
doctor asked. “Any chance of getting into Jefferson
Park?”</p>
<p>“Not a chance,” said Norman. “We can’t even
get in to Hunt’s Cove direct, as I ’phoned you. We’ve
got to detour around by Marion Lake. Too much
snow.”</p>
<p>“Hope he knows where all those places are,” whispered
Bennie.</p>
<p>“But can we climb Jefferson from Hunt’s Cove?”
the doctor asked. “Has anybody ever done it?”</p>
<p>“Never heard of anybody. But we can have a
look.”</p>
<p>“Why can’t you climb it from Hunt’s Cove—wherever
that is?” Bennie asked.</p>
<p>“Maybe you can,” Norman replied. “But it’s no
picnic. Wait till you see.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_213">213</div>
<p>“Well, I’ve been hearing about all this snow,” Bennie
grinned, wiping the sweat from his forehead, “for
two days. I’d like to see some right now.”</p>
<p>“Give us time,” Norman smiled. “And now we’re
off. We’ve got fifteen miles to make before dark.”</p>
<p>“But how about lunch?” Dumplin’ suddenly demanded.</p>
<p>“Marion Lake before dark!” Norman answered.
“No lunch.”</p>
<p>Dumplin’ groaned.</p>
<p>“It’ll help you reduce, Dump,” Bennie taunted.
“Gidup, Dobbin! Oh, gee, where’s poor little Jeff?”
And he began to whistle.</p>
<p>Jeff appeared with a loud yelp from the side of the
stream, where he had evidently been cooling himself.
Shaking off the water, he dashed ahead of the procession
of sixteen horses, barking madly, and the march
for Jefferson began.</p>
<p>The trail lay through a thick yellow pine forest.
This was a United States government forest, so that
the fire had been kept out and the little pines were
everywhere coming up under the old ones, much to
Spider’s delight. But the trail itself was dry and
dusty, and their noses soon smarted, their throats were
dry. With the loaded pack horses, they could not
trot, but plodded on in single file, the dust rising in
clouds behind them.</p>
<p>They had been traveling perhaps an hour when Norman,
riding ahead, suddenly pulled up his horse, and
Bennie, just behind him, saw him sniff.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?” the scout asked.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_214">214</div>
<p>“I smell smoke,” Norman answered. Then he
looked at the dust cloud behind to see which way it
was moving.</p>
<p>“We are going into the wind. Must be ahead,” he
said. “You come on with me. Let your uncle lead
the train.”</p>
<p>He kicked his horse and dashed up the trail. Bennie
kicked his horse, and dashed after him, not at all
sure that he could keep his saddle. Strangely enough,
though, he found it easier to gallop than to trot, and
found himself falling into the motion of the horse.</p>
<p>A quarter of a mile up the trail the smell of smoke
was plain. Over a knoll they dashed, and they saw
smoke in the forest ahead. A moment later they heard
the crackle, and then they were on the fire. It was a
small one as yet, evidently just under way, but it was
licking savagely into the small trees and the dead stuff,
all dry as tinder or else full of inflammable pitch.
And the flames were moving toward them!</p>
<p>Norman wheeled. “Go back!” he yelled. “Stop
the train where it is, and tell Joe to stay with the
horses while the rest bring up all the axes, and that
camp spade in my pack. Then you go back as fast as
you can to the Ranger Station and tell the ranger. If
he isn’t there, find him!”</p>
<p>Bennie wheeled his horse, and dashed back. He
gave the message to the rest, and kept on. Both he
and his horse were panting, drenched with sweat and
thick with dust, when he reached the Ranger Station
again. The ranger was there, as good luck would
have it. While Bennie watered his horse, he telephoned
for help; then he saddled and galloped up the
trail, with Bennie behind him, but some way behind,
for Bennie’s horse was getting weary.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_215">215</div>
<p>When Bennie reached the pack train, Joe, the cook,
had all the horses lined up facing back toward the
station, ready to retreat if the fire came nearer. Everybody
else had gone to fight the flames. So Bennie left
his horse, too, and with stiff, aching legs, ran up the
trail. As he drew near the scene, he could see, between
him and the flames that were still confined to
the smaller trees and the stuff on the forest floor, five
men and two boys working like mad. Norman was
digging a little ditch, while the rest, with axes and
scout hatchets, were chopping down the small trees to
make an open lane several feet wide. They had this
lane and ditch cut across the direct path of the fire, and
were swinging it around on each end, as if they were
going to enclose the flames in a big ring. Bennie
grabbed a hatchet, and went madly to work with the
rest.</p>
<p>Nobody was wasting any breath talking. The fire
was coming nearer all the time, and the nearer it came
the hotter they grew. But when, in the centre, it
reached the lane and ditch—and stopped, they gave a
loud cheer, and worked all the harder to get around the
two sides before it could spread out.</p>
<p>“If only the wind won’t change!” the ranger did
say, breathlessly, and then stooped to his work.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_216">216</div>
<p>It is doubtful if they could have outflanked the fire,
however, with only eight pairs of hands, if help had
not arrived. Half a dozen men came galloping up,
their horses rearing and snorting at sight of the flames,
and leaped off with spades and axes. With this new,
fresh help, the fire was outflanked on the two sides,
and as it moved more slowly back against the slight
wind, they were able to get it under control.</p>
<p>When the danger was over, they paused, wiped their
hot, dripping, dirty faces, and looked at the burned
area.</p>
<p>It was hardly more than an acre in extent, but an
acre, as Bennie said, is quite enough to dig a ditch
around in a hurry, without proper tools.</p>
<p>“Thank the Lord it’s no more,” the ranger declared.
“If you hadn’t spotted it when you did, it would have
worked down into those thicker pines over the knoll,
and then we’d have been in for a real overhead fire,
and no mistake. Once in there it would jump up into
the big fellows.”</p>
<p>“What I want to know is, what started it?” said
Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“Party went in ahead of you this morning, to fish
at Marion Lake,” said the ranger. “Cigarette, probably.
Idiots! Snoop around there, Norman, and see
what you can discover tonight. I’ll be over in the
morning myself. I want to stick by here tonight and
make sure this doesn’t blow up again. Well, boys,
Uncle Sam is grateful to you, all right!”</p>
<p>They went back to the pack train, and then resumed
their journey, crossing the black, smoking patch of the
fire, and waving good-bye to the ranger and his
helpers.</p>
<p>“Well, there are two precious hours gone,” Norman
growled. “We’ll have to make camp in the dark.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_217">217</div>
<p>“But we stopped a bad fire,” said Bennie. “Aren’t
you glad?”</p>
<p>“Sure, I’m glad. But I hate to camp in the dark.
Get up!”</p>
<p>He kicked his horse, and all the train behind picked
up to a faster pace. They didn’t hold it long, though,
for the trail began to go up-hill presently, and the
character of the forest to change. Instead of the big
yellow pines, the path rose into a forest of smaller
trees of many kinds, and shrubs, too. Spider did his
best to pull off specimens of the foliage or needles as
he rode past, so he could identify them. The guide
would not let them stop.</p>
<p>Even at the top of the pass they were still in the forest,
and could get no outlook. But as the trail grew
level again, on the pass, they ran into snow-drifts and
pools of water just melted. It was the first sign of
anything cool that day. Over the pass the trail began
to descend into a wild forest of big evergreens, and for
the next few weary miles Bennie, for one, had little
idea of where they went. He was dizzy from lack of
food and his exertions in the heat, and he was so saddle
sore that he had to keep shifting his weight to try
to ease the stiffness. His bones and his head both
ached. It was getting dark in the forest, too, whenever
they had to go down into the bottom of a ravine.
Nobody was saying a word, except, the horse rustler,
who kept yelling at the pack horses to make them
hurry.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_218">218</div>
<p>At last, when it seemed as if he couldn’t stand his
saddle another minute, and when it was so dark in the
deep, damp woods that Norman was almost invisible
at the head of the train, they heard him call, “Turn
left,” and followed him down a side trail, so dim they
would never have detected it in the dark.</p>
<p>A moment later there was light ahead, and they
were on the shore of Marion Lake! The woods went
right down to the water. There was no beach. The
lake itself was a good-sized pond, perhaps a mile long,
and across it rose up the snow-draped, needle-pointed
spires of Three Fingered Jack, nearly 8,000 feet high.
Nobody looked at the view, however; there was no
time. The boys got out the tents and sleeping bags,
the cook set up the stove and prepared food by lantern
light. The doctor and Mr. Stone rustled wood. Norman
and the helper took the horses off in the darkness
to find a bit of open pasturage if they could. For half
an hour, weary as they were, everybody worked like
mad. And then, dirty as they were, they all rushed
to the stove at the cry of “Come and get it!”</p>
<p>“I was never so hungry in my life,” Bennie said.</p>
<p>“I ain’t hungry any more,” Dumplin’ replied. “I
was three hours ago, but now I’m past caring. I’m
just a vacuum.”</p>
<p>“Stomach or head?” his father asked.</p>
<p>The food had been cooked in a hurry, but nobody
cared. Eating by lantern light and the glow from the
stove door, they gobbled the bacon and swallowed the
coffee in eager gulps.</p>
<p>“Glad Ma can’t see my table manners now!” Spider
remarked, his mouth full.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_219">219</div>
<p>When the meal was over Norman went off again
through the trees to see if he could find the camp of
the fishermen who possibly set the fire, and the rest lay
on their backs by the water, discussing the exciting
day. Norman came back to report that three men
were camping around a headland, and he suspected one
of them must have thrown away a cigarette, though
they denied it.</p>
<p>“And to think,” said the doctor, “that if we hadn’t
come along, the fire might have got a headway and
burned thousands of acres, just because one man didn’t
have sense enough not to throw a cigarette butt into
the brush! Some folks ought not to be allowed in the
woods.”</p>
<p>“Well, me for a bath and bed,” said Mr. Stone. “I
don’t know which I need more.”</p>
<p>The full moon was rising behind Three Fingered
Jack when they all jumped into the lake, which was
surprisingly shallow near shore, and had a good bath.
Then they climbed wearily into their tents, and in two
minutes they were in bed. But no sooner had they got
snuggled down in the dark than there came a yell from
the doctor.</p>
<p>“Here, get up, Bennie, and take that pup out of
here! He’s licking my face!”</p>
<p>“Oh, gee, he’s all wet, and he’s shaking himself on
me,” from Spider.</p>
<p>“Aw, let him sleep at my feet, Uncle Billy,” from
Bennie.</p>
<p>“No, sir; he’ll hunt fleas in the night. I want a
good sleep. You get up and take him outside!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_220">220</div>
<p>So poor Bennie got stiffly up again, and led Jeff out
of the tent, making him a little bed out of a canvas
pack cover by the flap. Jeff curled up contentedly,
with a good-night lick and whimper, and Bennie went
back.</p>
<p>Already he could hear Spider breathing hard, and in
one minute he, too, had dropped off like a soldier after
a battle.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_221">221</div>
<h2 id="c21">CHAPTER XXI
<br /><span class="sc">The Pack Train Has to Toboggan Into Hunt’s Cove, and Bennie Puts “Action” Into It</span></h2>
<p>The next morning Bennie expected to be sore and
stiff, but somehow he wasn’t. He felt fine. The
day began at sun-up with a plunge in the lake, and then
an early start, because the horses hadn’t had enough to
eat, and Norman wanted to get to pasturage. It was
a wonderful day for Spider. They were now on the
western side of the Cascade Divide, the side on which
the rain and snow falls all winter, so that the woods,
instead of being dry, were as rich and dark and damp
as an Adirondack forest. The yellow pines had vanished,
but in their place were great cedars, and stands
of Douglas fir trees bigger even than those on the way
to Crater Lake. About the middle of the morning they
picked their way down a steep, broken, rocky trail into
a cañon, and at the bottom they rode for a long way
through a forest of fir trees so big that when anybody
rode around one, both horse and rider vanished from
sight! These trees rose 150 feet without a limb,
straight as masts, and they were over 200 feet tall.</p>
<p>“Some shrubs!” cried Bennie. “My neck’s nearly
broken trying to see the tops of ’em.”</p>
<p>“How’d you like to shin up one, Bennie?” Mr.
Stone called.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_222">222</div>
<p>“I’d rather shin up it than saw it into wood for the
stove,” Bennie answered.</p>
<p>“Who owns these trees?” asked Spider.</p>
<p>“Your Uncle Sam,” Norman called back.</p>
<p>“I’m glad of that. I hope they’re never cut down.
I wish everybody in America could see them, and
know what trees are!”</p>
<p>“A lot of people in America would think they were
dead before they could get here,” Uncle Billy laughed.
“We are some ways from civilization, Spider.”</p>
<p>At noon they came to a natural meadow, and pastured
the horses for two hours, while they themselves
ate lunch. Then they pushed on. Late in the afternoon,
when the boys were getting saddle sore and
weary again, and everybody was hot and sweaty, Norman
suddenly turned up the side of the cañon, by a
dim trail through the bushes (there were few trees on
this slope, due to an old fire). The trail was very
steep, the horses sweated and panted, the pack horses
had to be tugged and driven. For an hour they
climbed, with frequent rests for breath, until the forests
lay below them and the tumbled cañons, and they
came into an open pasture near sunset time, a pasture
full of glorious red and blue wild flowers and rich
grass. They crossed this toward the east, still climbing,
and suddenly came up over a crest into a second
pasture, which was even fuller of flowers, and was the
top of the mountain they had been climbing. But that
wasn’t what made them pull up their horses and shout.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_223">223</div>
<p>What made them do that was what they saw apparently
only two or three miles eastward—the great
white pyramid of Mount Jefferson, covered with cold,
glittering snow, rising up and up against the sky, its
summit needle flushed pink with sunset! It was a
beautiful sight, but it was a tremendous sight, too.
The mountain looked immense, terrific.</p>
<p>Bennie sobered after his first shout.</p>
<p>“Do you mean to say we are going to climb <i>that</i>?”
he demanded.</p>
<p>“Surely,” his uncle smiled.</p>
<p>Bennie, for once, made no reply whatever.</p>
<p>They went into camp immediately, above a big, fine
spring on a slope of the meadow, which is called Minto
Pasture. The horses were unsaddled and unloaded,
hobbled, and sent out to graze their fill. Tents were
strung between some trees on the edge of the big
natural clearing. Dry wood was gathered, and supper
got under way. They were more than 5,000 feet up
here, and the minute the sun set it grew very cold, with
a strong, bitter wind blowing down from the snow-draped
mountain. There were snow-drifts in the
woods beyond the spring. Everybody got into sweaters,
and huddled around the boiling coffee-pot. Even
Jeff snuggled up close to Bennie—but that might have
been because he was hungry and was looking for food.</p>
<p>He got the scrapings from all the dishes, and the last
batch of pancakes, which nobody else had room for,
and then went bounding off again, barking and wheeling
amid the grass and flowers.</p>
<p>“Great dog, that!” Bennie declared.</p>
<p>“Well, here come some cattle. Let’s see how good
a dog he is,” Norman grinned, pointing up the pasture.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_224">224</div>
<p>Sure enough, a herd of cattle, turned out to range
wild during the summer, was breaking out of the
woods.</p>
<p>“They’ll be around all night, and walk all over
camp, and get into the spring, if we don’t chase ’em
off,” Norman went on. “Sic your sheep dog on ’em,
Bennie.”</p>
<p>Bennie whistled to Jeff, and then pointed to the
cattle.</p>
<p>“Sic ’em, Jeff! Drive ’em away!” he said.</p>
<p>Jeff gave a yelp, jumped madly around in a circle—and
then ran barking loudly directly toward a bird sitting
in a low tree, singing its evening song!</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s a great dog,” remarked Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>“He certainly knows how to herd up cattle,” Norman
added.</p>
<p>“Maybe he’s a bird dog, Bennie,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“I know what he is,” Dumplin’ grinned. “He’s a
Chickadee hound!”</p>
<p>“Aw, you make me sick,” Bennie retorted. “Just
’cause he’s a pup, and hasn’t been trained yet. Come
here, Jeff. Bite ’em!”</p>
<p>Jeff came back, as proudly as if he had herded the
cattle instead of scaring one small bird, and once more
he had to be put out of the tent, after everybody had
got nicely to sleep.</p>
<p>The next morning the thermometer, which the
doctor carried in a case with his aneroid barometer,
registered only 38° at five o’clock. Everybody was
glad to pile out and hustle around striking camp, to
get warmed up for breakfast.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_225">225</div>
<p>“Now, gentlemen, we’ve got our work cut out for
us,” said Norman, when they were ready to start.
“Everything has been a picnic so far, but now we are
going to run into the snow. I don’t know whether
we can make Hunt’s Cove or not. It will depend on
how good sports you are.”</p>
<p>“If the last two days have been a picnic, I don’t
know whether I want to see your idea of working,”
said Bennie.</p>
<p>“Afraid?”</p>
<p>“Afraid, your grandmother. But I sure am sorry
for poor old Dobbin,” Bennie retorted.</p>
<p>Old Jefferson, which looked so near, wasn’t so near
as it looked, of course. Mountains never are. They
descended gradually from Minto Pasture, through a
“ghost forest” for two or three miles. A ghost forest
is a forest which has been burned, without consuming
the standing trunks. There the trees stood,
thousands of them, but ghostly gray and dead—not a
live branch, not a needle. Beyond this forest, they
came out on a great plateau three miles wide, which
was bare of everything except low bushes, wild flowers,
a few snow-drifts and lava heaps, and a tiny brown
tarn of water. The fire had done its work thoroughly
here.</p>
<p>“Grizzly Flats, they call this,” Norman said. “But
I guess it’s been a long time since any grizzlies were
seen here.”</p>
<p>“What a fire this must have been!” Spider was
saying, when Bennie suddenly cried, “Sh!”</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_226">226</div>
<p>“Somebody’s following us over the trail on a
motorcycle,” he answered. “Don’t you hear?”</p>
<p>It certainly sounded that way. Far off they heard
the roaring buzz of an unmuffled engine.</p>
<p>“An aeroplane!” Spider exclaimed.</p>
<p>They halted, listening and watching. A moment
later, flying fairly low, the plane came over Minto
Mountain behind them, and swept toward Grizzly
Flats. As if he saw them, and wanted to tell them so,
the aviator swooped a bit over their heads, then rose
again, banked against the white wall of Jefferson, and
swung off to the north.</p>
<p>“<i>What</i> is he doing here?” the boys exclaimed.</p>
<p>“It’s one of the new aeroplane forest patrol,” Norman
said. “They go out every day now, in the dry
season, to spot fires. We haven’t had a bad fire—not
one of the old-fashioned big blazes, since they started
in. They can get up and see into all the cañons,
everywhere, every day, and get back with the tip in
no time.”</p>
<p>“But what would they do if they had to land?”
asked Spider.</p>
<p>“I guess it’s up to them not to have to land,” Norman
answered. “I don’t want the job—but it’s a
great work, just the same.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’ll say war isn’t the only risky thing,” put
in Bennie. “That guy ought to have a medal for flying
over this country every day.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_227">227</div>
<p>The plane had disappeared. They pushed on, and
soon found themselves at the edge of Grizzly Flats.
Right below them the land dropped at an angle of
fifty or sixty degrees for a thousand feet, into a deep
hole. Directly across this hole it went up again, and
up and up and up, for the other side was Mount Jefferson.
They were only a mile from the wall of the mountain,
but for all they could see, they might as well have
been a hundred miles. It looked quite impossible to
take horses down that slope. To the right and left
were dense woods which the fire hadn’t burned, and
these woods were full of snow. The hole below them,
called Hunt’s Cove, was carpeted with snow. The
great pyramid of Jefferson opposite them was blinding
white with snow.</p>
<p>“You wait here,” said Norman, “while I prospect.”</p>
<p>He went off to the south, into the woods, and
they saw his horse climbing up over the drifts. Uncle
Billy got out his field-glasses, lay on his stomach with
his elbows firmly on the ground at the rim of the
precipice, and began a long, careful study of the slopes
of Mount Jefferson. He was very grave about it, and
didn’t say a word, except now and then in a low voice
to Dumplin’s father. The three boys wandered along
the rim, wondering how Norman was going to find a
way down. They couldn’t see any trace of a trail.
Wherever the slope was enough off the perpendicular
to hold a trail, it was covered with snow.</p>
<p>Norman didn’t return for nearly an hour. When
he finally came back, he said, “Well, I think I’ve found
a way, if you care to risk it. I’ll risk the horses.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_228">228</div>
<p>“As bad as that, eh?” the doctor replied. “Well,
if you’ll try it, we will. I think I’ve found a way up
the mountain, too, though I don’t like the looks of certain
rock slides down that big west snow-field.”</p>
<p>“But why do we go on the big west snow-field?”
the boys asked. “Looks as if we could just go right
up the southwest shoulder.”</p>
<p>“Look sharp at the summit pinnacle, Bennie,” the
doctor said, handing him the glasses.</p>
<p>Bennie looked. All he said was “Wow!” and
passed them to Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Do we climb <i>that</i>?” Dumplin’ demanded.</p>
<p>“We do, if we get to the top of Jefferson,” the
doctor answered. “You see, that top peak, or pinnacle,
is absolutely straight up and down. It’s just a
slab of lava set up on edge and covered with snow and
ice. The only place it can possibly be climbed is on
the northern end, so we’ve got to get around to the
northern end. My plan is to go up from Hunt’s Cove
by the southwest spur to the 7,000-foot level, where
the permanent snow begins, then traverse the big west
snow-field and get up on that first northwest shoulder,
which apparently leads us right up to the north end
of the pinnacle. It looks possible. Well, Norman,
we’re ready.”</p>
<p>Norman led the way southward into the woods at
the rim of the Cove. As soon as they were in the
deep shadows of the evergreens, they were on snow,
and deep snow. Some drifts were still as much as
ten feet deep, and so hard that the horses barely sank
over their hoofs.</p>
<p>“The trail is somewhere underneath us,” Norman
called back.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_229">229</div>
<p>He traveled for almost a mile above the rim, and
then led the way over. By zigzagging through the
woods, on the steeply pitched snow, they were able to
ride about half the way down. Then he called for
them all to dismount.</p>
<p>“Want to get a good motion picture, Mr. Stone?”
he asked.</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>The big camera was unpacked, and Norman and Mr.
Stone disappeared with it, down the steep pitch ahead.
Ten minutes later Norman came back.</p>
<p>“Now,” said he, “each man lead his horse. Keep
as far away from him as you can, and jump fast, or
he’ll step on you. Go in single file, and Joe and Bill
you go last and drive the pack horses ahead of you.
Come on—follow me.”</p>
<p>They pitched down a few feet through the evergreens,
and came to the top of a long, straight, open
chute, like a ski run cut in the woods, covered deep
with snow, and descending 500 feet to the very bottom
of Hunt’s Cove. It was evidently the path of an
old landslide. Part way down, at one side, Mr. Stone
had set up his camera, and was ready to shoot them
as they went past him.</p>
<p>“Ready? Go!” cried Norman, and over the edge
he went, dragging his horse.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_230">230</div>
<p>Bennie followed, and Spider and Dumplin’ and the
doctor, and the pack horses, and the rest, in single
file. Two jumps, and you were speeding up. Three
jumps, and the horses were going ten feet at a plunge,
snorting and slipping and sometimes going through the
snow to their bellies, and the boys, ahead of them,
were leaping from side to side madly to keep out of
the way of their iron-shod, plunging hoofs.</p>
<p>As he passed the camera, Bennie heard the crank
grinding, and the laughing voice of Mr. Stone crying,
“More action, Bennie!”</p>
<p>Bennie was about to make some reply, when his foot
slipped, and he turned a superb somersault, and only
was stopped from rolling the rest of the way to the
bottom because he kept hold of his horse’s bridle.</p>
<p>It was all over in two minutes, but it was certainly
lively while it lasted. Then all the horses, their legs
wet, shivering and trembling with nervousness, stood
huddled at the foot of the chute, and Mr. Stone was
seen descending with his camera. Bennie sprang back
up the slope to get the tripod.</p>
<p>“Say, that beats skiing!” he cried, “and I sure got
some more action for you, Mr. Stone.”</p>
<p>“You did,” the man laughed. “You did! That
was the best action picture I ever took.”</p>
<p>They found at the bottom of Hunt’s Cove a small
open meadow, boggy now with melted snow and full
of white cowslips and running brooks, but full, also,
of fresh grass for the horses, and all around the
meadow deep forests of fir trees and deep drifts.
Among the trees, beside a rushing stream of ice cold
water, and in a dry place between drifts, they pitched
their tents.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_231">231</div>
<p>There was no danger of a fire spreading here, with
the snow all around, so they built a roaring camp fire
between the tents, and while the dinner was being
cooked the doctor got from his pack a box of spikes,
and they began to fix their shoes for the climb.</p>
<p>Uncle Billy fixed his first, to show them how. As
the heavy soles of his boots were already studded thick
with sharp hobs, he didn’t have to put in any short
spikes. But into each sole, with the help of a key
wrench, he screwed eight sharp steel spikes more than
an inch long, and four more into each heel.</p>
<p>“I’d hate to be catching when you tried to slide for
home,” Bennie said. “Those are wicked looking
hoofs!”</p>
<p>“Now make yours just as wicked. And be sure
you get the spikes in straight and firm,” his uncle
answered. “Everything on this trip so far has been
a mere picnic to what we are going to get tomorrow.
It’s not only going to be the hardest work you ever
did in your life, but the most dangerous. We can’t
have anything wrong with our equipment.”</p>
<p>Everybody who didn’t already have plenty of sharp
hobs in his boots also screwed in a large number of
short steel spikes, in addition to the long ones. Then
all the shoes were freshly oiled, to make them as nearly
water-proof as possible, and Uncle Billy got out the
amber goggles, to see if they were unbroken. He also
produced a stick of grease paint.</p>
<p>“What’s that for? Are we going to act in a play?”
Dumplin’ asked.</p>
<p>“No, but we are going to paint our faces, just the
same. You’ll be glad enough of this stick before the
sun sets tomorrow.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_232">232</div>
<p>After supper the cook made ready six small packages
of lunch, for Norman was going to make the
climb, too, and the doctor wound up his alarm clock.</p>
<p>“Bed, boys!” he ordered.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, not yet!”</p>
<p>“Who’s captain here? Bed, I said! We get up
at three o’clock sharp tomorrow morning.”</p>
<p>“Say, it’s worse than a bear hunt,” Dumplin’
groaned.</p>
<p>“You’ll think it is, by the time we get back to camp
tomorrow night,” the doctor smiled. “I have a
hunch that even Bennie is going to get enough exercise,
for once.”</p>
<p>“Ho,” said Bennie, “Uncle Billy’s trying to scare
us! Can I take Jeff along, Uncle, up his own mountain?”</p>
<p>“It might be a good way to get rid of him,” the
doctor answered. “But if you <i>don’t</i> want to get rid
of him, I advise you to tie him up in camp.”</p>
<p>“I wonder if Uncle Billy is trying to scare us?”
Bennie whispered to Spider as they got ready for bed.
“Don’t seem as if the old mountain was so bad as all
that.”</p>
<p>Spider was very sober. “I had a good look at it
through the glasses yesterday,” he replied. “I don’t
mind saying right now that it’s got me scared. Remember
those pictures in the book at home?”</p>
<p>“You mean the old Spitzes, and things? Sure!”</p>
<p>“Well, we’re going to get some of that stuff ourselves
tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Hooray!” said Bennie. “The real thing beats a
book.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_233">233</div>
<p>But he began to think of the pictures as he was going
to sleep, pictures of men clinging to precipices
with awful depths below them, and in his dreams he
was falling, falling, falling——</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_234">234</div>
<h2 id="c22">CHAPTER XXII
<br /><span class="sc">The First Attempt at Jefferson—Dumplin’ Almost Falls to Death—the Hardest Work the Boys Ever Did</span></h2>
<p>He was falling into a terrible black cañon where
there was a loud noise of whirling water—and
he woke to hear the alarm clock buzzing. The grip
of the bad dream was still on him, and he was shivering
a little, as Uncle Billy got up and lit the lantern in
the tent. It was pitch dark in the woods outside, and
still as death. But as they dressed, the three could
hear Mr. Stone and Dumplin’ dressing in their tent,
and then the sound of the cook starting the breakfast
fire. Those who were to make the climb put on light
shoes, for they were going to use the horses as far as
timber line. They came out of the tents wearing their
heavy sweaters, for it was bitterly cold, and washing
by the brook was a very sketchy job. Nobody even
suggested a bath.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_235">235</div>
<p>While breakfast was cooking, they huddled around
the stove. Meanwhile the horse rustler had gone up
into the open meadow to round up six saddle horses.
He was bringing them back as they ate their bacon and
drank their coffee by lantern light, still huddled around
the stove. As soon as the horses were saddled, each
member of the party put his lunch into his pack, slung
a canteen over his shoulder, tied his climbing boots
over the saddle horn, took his alpenstock in his hand,
like a lance, made sure he also had his colored goggles,
and mounted.</p>
<p>“I feel like Sir Launcelot,” cried Dumplin’, tipping
his alpenstock forward, like a knight about to tilt.</p>
<p>“I’d hate to tell you what you <i>look</i> like,” Bennie
laughed. “Did Sir Launcelot carry his boots on his
saddle?”</p>
<p>Bennie was the last one into the saddle, because he
had to catch Jeff and tie him up. “Don’t let him
loose till we’ve been gone a couple of hours,” he called
back to the cook. “Don’t want him to follow us and
break his neck.”</p>
<p>The sleepy cook grunted, and Jeff whined and
moaned and tugged at his improvised rope collar, as
Bennie patted him good-bye and climbed into the saddle.</p>
<p>It was still dark in the woods as they moved out of
camp, but out in the open meadow of the cove there
was a kind of gray daylight. Norman and the doctor
led the way, putting the horses across the creek, and
heading them for the steep side wall opposite the chute
they had descended the day before.</p>
<p>This wall, when they came to it, was not so steep,
however, as the chute. It had once been burned over,
too, so that there was no timber except some dead,
fallen stuff, and no snow. They zigzagged up it
quickly, and at the top, looking over a two-mile gentler
slope of low forest, they saw again the snow-white
cone of the mountain rising up against the sky—or,
rather, they half saw it, for the white clouds were
swirling around it.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_236">236</div>
<p>“They’ll lift with the sun,” said Norman. “Don’t
worry.”</p>
<p>For the next hour, the horses plodded upward, over
deep, hard snow, packed in huge drifts under the evergreen
trees, which got smaller and smaller as they approached
timber line. What had looked like an easy
slope from below turned out to be full of short but
steep pitches, over lava ledges, and if it had not been
for the snow they could hardly have taken the horses
up without endless zigzagging.</p>
<p>It was bright morning when they reached timber
line, on the southwestern shoulder of the mountain,
but as yet the sun had not reached them, of course,
being cut off by the great bulk of the cone. They tied
the horses to the last little trees, where the poor creatures
would have to stay, without food or water, till
night. Then they put on their heavy, spiked boots,
shouldered their packs, canteens and cameras, the doctor
with his coil of alpine rope, and set out for the
summit above them, around which the clouds were
scudding at a tremendous pace, driven by a strong
west wind.</p>
<p>“How high up are we now?” Spider asked.</p>
<p>“About 7,000 feet, I should guess,” the doctor answered.</p>
<p>“Then we’ve got about 3,500 feet to climb,” Spider
reckoned. “That’s not as much as Mount Washington
from Bretton Woods or the Crawford House.
You climb 4,200 there.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_237">237</div>
<p>“It’s 700 feet less,” said Bennie. “Gee, I’m good
at arithmetic.”</p>
<p>“The only difference being that this is the second
hardest snow climb in the United States (excluding
Alaska, of course), and we are tackling it by a route
which, so far as I know, nobody has ever tried before,”
the doctor smiled.</p>
<p>“What’s the hardest?” Bennie asked.</p>
<p>“The north side of Mount Baker in Washington,
up the Roosevelt Glacier,” his uncle answered.</p>
<p>“You been up there?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Gee, I’d like to!”</p>
<p>“Suppose you do this one first,” said his uncle,
“and suppose you follow me, instead of racing ahead.”</p>
<p>Bennie fell back into line.</p>
<p>They had reached a long, upward-stretching snow-field
now, which the doctor said was the foot of permanent
snow. It never melted entirely away. It was
frozen now so hard that it held them up, and the long
spikes were needed, or they would have slipped. They
had to jam their alpenstocks hard down to set them
into it. It led upward for a quarter of a mile or so,
to a spine of broken, naked lava. As they climbed
this slope, they could look back into the hole of Hunt’s
Cove—or they could look where the cove was. They
could only see it by flashes, as it were, because whole
seas of billowing white clouds were driving in over
Minto Mountain, crossing above the cove, and hitting
Jefferson just below them. As these clouds hit, they
seemed to get thinner, slid right up the snow slope
past the climbers, like white snow, and blew off into
blue space over the peak.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_238">238</div>
<p>Spider, who was watching them slide up the snow-fields,
suddenly cried, “Look! Look at the summit!”</p>
<p>Everybody looked upward. The sun had evidently
risen now, and as the clouds reached the top of the
mountain they ran into its rays. The angle was just
right to refract the rays down to the climbers, and the
result was that the summit peak of the mountain was
haloed with a beautiful rainbow. This rainbow lasted
for ten minutes or more, and then the sun got too
high, and it disappeared.</p>
<p>By the time they reached the lava spine, the clouds
were thinner, and the wind had died down. They
were warmed up with climbing, too, and took off their
sweaters. The doctor got out the rope, and proceeded
to make six loops in it, tied with knots which couldn’t
slip. The loops were about fifteen or twenty feet
apart. He put the first loop under his own arms;
then came Bennie, then Dumplin’, then Mr. Stone, then
Spider, and last of all, Norman. Everybody then
covered his face with grease paint, putting it especially
thick on noses and lips, and donned colored goggles.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_239">239</div>
<p>Then the doctor spoke. “Now, boys,” he said,
“from this point on you must obey orders quickly and
without question. You must do exactly what I tell
you to, and nothing else. There are two things to
remember, above everything. Number one is this,—every
second man on the rope must have his stock
driven in deep and firm, with a good grip on it, when
the man in front takes his stock out to make a step,
and he mustn’t pull his stock out of the snow till the
man ahead has made the step and driven <i>his</i> stock in
again. If you do that, you see, fifty per cent of us
will always be anchored, if anybody slips. If I find
you cannot or will not obey this rule, I’ll stop the climb
at once. The second thing is:—never let the rope get
taut between you and the next man, so it can yank
either of you, and never let it get slack enough to trip
anybody. Keep it sagging, but not dragging. Now,
all set!”</p>
<p>Uncle Billy spoke sternly. The boys knew he meant
what he said, and that it was serious business ahead.
They followed him carefully down the north side of
the lava spine, and found themselves on a steep slope
of pumice and fine conglomerate, like a mixture of
gravel and wood ashes, hung at such a sharp angle
that it just did stay there, and that was all. It hung at
what is called the angle of repose. As Uncle Billy
started out across it, to get to the snow slope beyond,
Bennie noticed that every time he put his foot down,
the stuff below him started slipping a little. Bennie
looked down the mountain to see what would happen
if they started a slide and all slipped. A hundred feet
below the snow began again, and ran down for a
thousand feet or more, smooth as glass, and ended at
the top of a precipice! Below that, all he could see
was a hole! Something went flipflop in the pit of his
stomach at the sight, and he looked quickly away,
just in time to see that if he didn’t step out, the rope
between his uncle and himself would be pulled taut.
So he had to walk ahead, on to the treacherous slope.
It was exactly like running tiddly-benders on thin ice,
only instead of the danger of going through into water
was the danger of starting a landslide and going down
with it. You could feel with every step the sickening
start of the slide.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_240">240</div>
<p>However, everybody got across to the snow.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad <i>that’s</i> over!” exclaimed Mr. Stone.
“That conglomerate is hung exactly at the angle of
repose. One degree more tilt, and she’d slide off into
the cañon. Where do we go from here?”</p>
<p>The doctor pointed to the great west snow-field that
lay between them and a high shoulder, which extended
toward the northwest.</p>
<p>“We have to traverse that snow-field,” he said.</p>
<p>Everybody looked at it. Between them and it were
four or five little snow slopes, each about a hundred
yards wide, and separated by ridges of broken lava
fragments. The great west snow-field itself looked
to be a quarter of a mile wide, or even more. It was
practically unbroken, except for one island of lava near
the middle, looked smooth as glass, was tilted at an
angle of more than forty-five degrees, and stretched
right up to the precipice of the summit pinnacle, and
right down to the top of the precipice which dropped
to the cañon. If you slipped when you were out on it,
and started down, it was certain death. Bennie didn’t
need to be told a second time why fifty per cent of the
climbers must have their alpenstocks driven in at every
step!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_241">241</div>
<p>The doctor now took his scout ax out of the sheath
at his belt, and stepped out on the first snow-field.
Being on the western side of the mountain the sun
had not yet touched it, of course, and even when he
drove his boot down hard, he could not make enough
of an impression for a good footing. So, holding his
stock in his right hand and driving it deep into the
snow at each stride, he leaned down and with the ax
in his left hand cut out a chunk of snow—one blow
inward against the slope, and a second downward.
This took out the chunk in such a way that a very
small but level step was made. He reached as far
ahead as he could, and the steps were three feet
apart.</p>
<p>Bennie watched him carefully, glad not to look
either up or down the terrifying slope. While his
uncle was cutting, with his stock driven in, Bennie
took a step behind him and drove his stock deep.
Then he waited, clinging to it, while the doctor pulled
his stock out and moved one step ahead. As the doctor
cut and moved, cut and moved, Bennie discovered
that there was a regular rhythm to it, and the only
way to keep this rhythm unbroken was to pull your
stock up at the right instant—that is, when you saw
the man ahead drive his in. If you delayed doing it,
you broke the rhythm. But to pull your stock up at
the right instant wasn’t so easy as it sounds. Once
driven two feet deep into the packed snow, the sharp
point wedged there almost like a nail in wood. You
had to pull it out with one hand, and pull it out
quickly, without stopping your stride and above all
without upsetting your balance on the tiny, icy steps.
It took muscle. It took a lot of muscle, and it strained
your back and shoulder.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_242">242</div>
<p>When they all were across the first snow slope, and
were resting a moment on the lava spine, Uncle Billy
said, “Well, Bennie, how do you like it so far? Getting
any exercise yet?”</p>
<p>“I always thought you climbed mountains with
your legs,” Bennie answered. “But I feel as if I was
climbing with my back and shoulder. Gosh, it’s hard
work pulling that old alpenstock out!”</p>
<p>“They say a good mountain climber is a combination
of a weak head and a strong back,” his uncle
laughed.</p>
<p>“Too bad, Bennie, your back isn’t very strong,” said
Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Well, if your back is strong, you’ll be able to scale
Mount Everest,” Bennie retorted.</p>
<p>They moved out now across the second small snow-field,
and then the third and fourth. They were working
upward a little, as well as across, and the summit
precipices grew nearer. Bennie looked up once at those
cliffs towering almost over his head, absolutely precipitous
and hung with ice—and looked quickly down
again. Jefferson hadn’t seemed very hard to climb
from a distance, but now that summit looked absolutely
impossible, and sure death if you tried it. He
preferred to keep his eyes on his uncle, who was methodically
cutting steps across the frozen snow.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_243">243</div>
<p>They rested a moment, and took a drink from the
canteens, on the last lava spine before they tackled the
big snow-field. Uncle Billy looked out across it with
troubled eyes.</p>
<p>“I don’t like those two chutes down the centre,” he
said, pointing to a couple of deep scars, like ditches,
which started far up at the base of the pinnacle cliffs,
swept down the middle of the field, and only ended at
the top of the cañon wall far below.</p>
<p>“Nothing coming down ’em now,” Norman said.
“I don’t believe there will be till the sun gets around
this side. It’s coming down tonight that we’ll be in
danger.”</p>
<p>“What has made them?” Spider asked. “They
look like toboggan slides.”</p>
<p>“That’s about what they are. They are made by
big hunks of lava and ice breaking off the pinnacle and
sliding down, digging a chute as they go.”</p>
<p>“How fast do the hunks travel?” asked Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Fast enough!” Norman laughed.</p>
<p>But Dumplin’ didn’t laugh. He looked up that terrific
incline to the ice-capped summit precipices, and
said, “Do we have to cross those chutes?”</p>
<p>“We do if we want to climb Jefferson,” the doctor
answered.</p>
<p>“Tell Mama I was a good boy,” Dumplin’
groaned.</p>
<p>“Shut up!” said his father, sharply. “Uncle Billy
knows what he’s about.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_244">244</div>
<p>Without further words, the doctor started out on
to the big snow-field, cutting steps as he went. Bennie
followed, his arm and shoulder aching now, his heart
thumping a little in his chest as he thought of those
chutes ahead. When they reached the first one, it
turned out to be about six feet deep and eight feet
wide. The sides were almost straight, and the snow
on the bottom was packed hard and smooth.</p>
<p>His uncle beckoned Bennie up to him.</p>
<p>“Drive in your stock,” he said, “and play me out
on the rope. If we hear anything coming, take up the
slack, and haul me back to you.”</p>
<p>He started cutting steps down the side, across the
bottom, and up the farther side. Nothing happened,
and once across, he cut a good firm step to brace his
foot on, faced back toward the chute, told Dumplin’
to come up to Bennie, and then he took up the slack
of rope between himself and Bennie, while Dumplin’
played out the rope behind. In this way, everybody
got across.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s that,” said the doctor, with a sigh of
relief. “Now for the next one.”</p>
<p>The next chute turned out to be just about the
same size, and they crossed it slowly and cautiously,
by the same method. Again nothing happened, and
soon they were at the lava island, which turned out to
be much nearer the northwest shoulder than it had
looked. Here they sank down on some firm rock to
rest, and while they rested, the sun peeped over the
shoulder of the mountain south of them, and almost
instantly the snow all around leaped into a blinding
dazzle. The boys, who had taken their colored glasses
off, put them hurriedly on again.</p>
<p>The doctor laughed. “Not much dust up here—the
snow stays clean and reflects the light,” he said.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_245">245</div>
<p>“Pretty soon you’ll be yelling for more grease paint,
too.”</p>
<p>When they started on again, it was boiling hot. In
spite of the glasses, their eyes began to smart, for the
dazzle got in around the edges, and their faces and
necks to burn.</p>
<p>“And now the real business is beginning,” the doctor
said, heading directly from the lava island to the
base of the northwest shoulder.</p>
<p>Bennie took one look at that shoulder, and cried,
“Do we climb that?”</p>
<p>“Sure thing.”</p>
<p>“Well, if you say so, I suppose we do. But I’m no
human fly.”</p>
<p>Ahead of them was an unbroken wall of snow, the
side of a vast drift which had blown over the shoulder.
It was about three hundred feet high, and the angle
couldn’t have been less than sixty-five degrees. If you
will tip a board or a ruler up to an angle of sixty-five
degrees, and then imagine that slope to be hard, icy
snow crust, with a drop of two or three thousand feet
to the bottom of a cañon below you, you’ve got some
idea of what the climbers were up against.</p>
<p>But the doctor went right ahead, cutting steps. He
was chopping almost opposite his face, the slope was
so steep. Bennie, watching him, had to tip his head
way back, as you would to watch a man ahead of you
on a ladder. He kept his head tipped back, too. He
tried one look downward—and no more. All he saw
was the top of Dumplin’s cap—and then the white snow
slope sliding away to the hole of the cañon. He swallowed
hard and bit his lips, which had already begun
to swell and crack.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_246">246</div>
<p>“I will <i>not</i> get scared,” he whispered to himself.
“I will <i>not</i> get scared!”</p>
<p>The dazzle of the snow was now right in their faces,
because the slope was so steep, and they could actually
feel the reflected rays blister their noses. Their eyes
smarted, their lips were cracking. But nobody had any
time or chance to do anything about it. There was
enough to do without that. Every second man had to
be absolutely sure his stock was driven deep when the
man above him took an upward step, and he had to
pull out his own stock and drive it in firmly on a level
with his face (no small muscular task) when it was
his turn to take an upward step. The doctor was
cutting good, high steps, too, a couple of feet to a
rise. Bennie ached in every joint, and felt as if he
were balancing on the edge of eternity—as, indeed, he
was! But he climbed grimly, steadily, keeping the
alternate rhythm with the doctor.</p>
<p>There was no chance to rest here. For half an hour
they crawled up. Mr. Stone said he’d like a movie of
it, but there didn’t seem to be any way to take a movie
of it. It wasn’t safe for anybody to get off the rope;
in fact, it would have been sheer recklessness. Bennie
was never so glad of anything in his life as he was of
his uncle’s call, “The top!” He scrambled up over
the edge of a great drift, and found himself on a narrow
spine of snow and lava blocks, a spine leading
straight up to the northern end of the summit pinnacle.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_247">247</div>
<p>When the rest were over the rim, they took off the
rope, and sat down to rest on a lava platform. The
wind had died down. It was calm and cloudless now,
and there wasn’t a sound in the world—not a whisper
of wind, not a bird song—nothing but the stillness of
the everlasting snows, and their own voices, which
sounded strange up here, almost startling.</p>
<p>The doctor took out his instrument for measuring
altitude, called an aneroid barometer. It showed that
they were over 9,000 feet. Their watches told them
it was one o’clock.</p>
<p>“Wow, we’ve been climbing more’n nine hours since
breakfast!” said Bennie. “I wouldn’t have guessed
it.”</p>
<p>“Funny, I don’t feel very hungry,” said Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“That is funny,” his father laughed.</p>
<p>“It’s the funniest thing he ever said,” Bennie added.
“Didn’t hear you making many jokes coming up that
old drift just now, Dump.”</p>
<p>“You won’t hear me making <i>any</i> jokes till we get
down this mountain again,” Dump replied. “Gee, my
lips are all cracked, and my nose feels as big as a house,
and my back aches, and my eyes smart, and I haven’t
got any wind and—and——”</p>
<p>He paused for breath.</p>
<p>“But except for that you’re feeling fine, eh?”
Uncle Billy smiled. “Well, out with the lunches,
everybody. We’ve got to eat and be on our way. We
ought to have got here by eleven o’clock. But maybe
we can go faster now. The snow is getting soft, and
I won’t have to cut steps, and the shoulder won’t be
very steep.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_248">248</div>
<p>They ate their lunches, huddled on the shady side
of the lava block, to keep out of the sun glare, put
more grease paint on their lips, noses, cheeks and
necks, and set out again up the shoulder. The sun
had been shining up here for several hours, and the
snow was softened. Their feet sank ankle deep into
it, in fact, and in a short distance it had soaked through
their boots so that their feet were wet and cold, while
their faces were burning. The pitch of the shoulder,
too, turned out to be much steeper than they had reckoned.
Even the doctor and Norman were fooled, old
hands that they were at mountain climbing. It was
so steep that the doctor kept them roped, and it grew
steeper as they toiled slowly upward, like tiny black
ants on the vast white expanse of the mountain. It
was almost three o’clock when they reached a big
jagged pyramid of lava which stuck up above the snow,
just below the summit pinnacle, and found a level spot
in its lee. Here the doctor gathered them together
into a group, and pointed to the pinnacle, without at
first saying a word.</p>
<p>Bennie looked up a forty-five degree slope of dazzling
snow, frozen into little wind ripples like desert
sand, for two or three hundred feet, and saw that
slope end at the base of the pinnacle itself. The pinnacle,
as he could see only too plainly now, was a sheer
precipice at every place except the edge just above
them. That edge—the north end, which the shoulder
they were climbing on led to, was just enough off the
perpendicular to make it a daring and desperate hazard.
Even it, in some places, looked perfectly straight
up. And those places were not snow covered, as Bennie
could now see. They were just green, glistening
ice! The pinnacle rose thus for a full 300 feet, into
the naked blue sky.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_249">249</div>
<p>Dumplin’ groaned. “I can’t do it,” he said.
“Honest, Dad, I can’t do it! I didn’t say anything,
but I got dizzy back on the shoulder, and my head’s
aching now. Gosh, I don’t want to look at it!”</p>
<p>He turned quickly away. Bennie started to laugh,
but stopped himself when he saw his uncle’s face.</p>
<p>“Sit down, Dumplin’,” the doctor said kindly.
“You won’t have to climb it. Rest a bit, and don’t
think about it. None of us is going to climb it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, why not?” Bennie exclaimed. “It doesn’t
look to me as if anybody <i>could</i> climb it, but if they
have, I guess we can, with you to lead us. Gee, think
of getting this far, and stopping!”</p>
<p>“How long do you think it would take us to go
from here to the top?” his uncle asked.</p>
<p>“Half an hour.”</p>
<p>“An hour,” Spider amended.</p>
<p>Norman laughed, and said nothing.</p>
<p>“It would take nearly two hours up, from this point,
and two hours down,” said the doctor. “If you boys
were all skilled climbers, and one of you could cut
the steps, we might do it in an hour and a half each
way. But I wouldn’t let even Norman cut the steps
on that pinnacle—he’s not done enough ice climbing.
And I’m pretty well fagged already. Besides, it’s
three o’clock. If we didn’t get back to this spot till
seven, where do you think we’d spend the night?
Want to spend it up on these snow-fields, with soaked
shoes, and no food, no fire and no blankets?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_250">250</div>
<p>“No, and I don’t particularly want to go down that
shoulder wall and cross those chutes after dark,
either,” Norman said. “It’ll be dark before we get to
the horses if we start back now.”</p>
<p>“Give me one shot at the pinnacle, and I’m with
you,” Mr. Stone said, pointing his camera.</p>
<p>Bennie and Spider turned reluctantly away. It
seemed tough to get up 10,000 feet, almost to the very
base of the summit pinnacle, and then have to turn
back.</p>
<p>“It’s like being licked, when you still have a punch
left,” Bennie said.</p>
<p>“We were licked by daylight, not by the mountain,”
his uncle answered.</p>
<p>The descent of the shoulder to the lava block where
they had eaten lunch, which Bennie and Spider had
expected to make in rapid time, was just as slow as
the ascent. The pitch was so steep that they did not
dare to come down facing forward. They had to face
up the slope, and sink their feet into their old tracks,
as you come down a ladder.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_251">251</div>
<p>At the lava block, Mr. Stone shifted to number one
on the rope, so he could be the first down the wall of
the drift, and get a movie of the rest. Bennie stayed
at number two, Dumplin’ at three, Uncle Billy took
number four place, then Spider, and finally Norman.
The doctor told them, before they started down, how
to make the descent, using the steps cut that morning.
You faced sideways to the wall of snow, drove in
your stock firmly, and then sank your left foot to the
lower step, got a good footing, sank your right foot
also, and then pulled out your stock and drove it home
again lower down. Everybody was cautioned to keep
the rhythm, and not to pull out his stock till the man
above had made his step and anchored again.</p>
<p>When they were ready, Mr. Stone slipped over the
edge, and Bennie had a sickening feeling as he saw
him disappear. When the rope was played nearly out,
Bennie started. That first step took his nerve more
than anything all day. With his stock driven into the
snow at the very edge, he had to look down to see
where to place his foot, and in doing so, he had to see
past the step, fifteen feet down to the top of Mr.
Stone’s hat, and then 300 feet to the bottom of the
drift, and then the long, white shoot of the snow-field
to the cañon hole! For one instant, Bennie’s knees
shook. Then he got a brace on himself, and began
slowly, cautiously, to creep down, testing each footing
before he pulled out his stock.</p>
<p>As soon as Dumplin’ appeared above him, he kept
an eye upward, to make sure that his stock was always
driven in when Dumplin’ changed position. And
he soon found, too, that Dumplin’ was coming very
slowly.</p>
<p>“Poor old Dump,” Bennie thought, “I bet he’s too
fat for this kind of work. I must be careful not to
go fast, and yank the rope. Might pull him off.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_252">252</div>
<p>They were about half-way down, and Bennie had
just driven his stock hard in, waiting for Dumplin’ to
shift, when he saw the snow under Dump’s foot beginning
to cave. The step had melted since morning, and
grown weak, and the boy, besides, had got his weight
too much on the very edge. Dumplin’ felt it give, too,
and with a little cry tried to get his alpenstock driven
in again.</p>
<p>“Dumplin’s slipping! Hold him, Uncle Billy!”
Bennie called.</p>
<p>Even as he spoke, the step gave way, and Dumplin’s
alpenstock, which he hadn’t been braced to drive deep
enough, gave way also. Dumplin’ began to drop!
Bennie saw him coming directly down. If he kept on,
he would hit him, and both of them would go! It was
a sickening instant, while Bennie leaned in against the
snow, braced both feet, and clung with both hands to
his stock.</p>
<p>But Dumplin’ dropped only four or five feet, and
hung there, against the slope, while Uncle Billy’s voice
came down, cool and steady, “Don’t drop your stock!
Get your foot back on a step, Dumplin’. Keep your
head!”</p>
<p>It was all over so quickly that Bennie could hardly
realize for a second just what had happened. Of
course, Uncle Billy had been anchored, and when
Dump slipped, he could only go the length of the slack
between him and the doctor! Bennie really knew that
when he called up to his uncle. But he had forgotten
everything but his instinct to cling to his stock when
Dumplin’ had actually begun to fall. He felt suddenly
sick and faint.</p>
<p>Then he said to himself, “This is no place to be
sick on! Get on to your job!”</p>
<div class="img" id="pic6">
<img src="images/p08.jpg" alt="Looking Across Hunt’s Cove to Jefferson. Dotted Line Shows Route of Climb. Arrow Points to Place Where Dumplin’ Slipped." width="924" height="600" />
<p class="caption">Looking Across Hunt’s Cove to Jefferson. Dotted Line Shows Route of Climb. Arrow Points to Place Where Dumplin’ Slipped.</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_253">253</div>
<p>He heard the doctor above and Mr. Stone below
encouraging Dumplin’, too, and he knew it was up to
him.</p>
<p>“Some old rope, Dumplin’, if it can hold you that
way,” he shouted. “Come on, now, steady. I’ll kick
the steps out bigger so’s they won’t break again.”</p>
<p>He kicked and packed them vigorously as he descended,
and soon Mr. Stone was at the bottom, and
he was within fifteen feet of it. Mr. Stone asked them
to stop for a minute while he got out of the rope and
went fifty feet out on the traverse, and took a movie
of the final stages of the descent.</p>
<p>When he got back, Dumplin’ was sitting on the
snow, very pale, but grinning as cheerfully as he
could.</p>
<p>“Rope kind of yanked me under the arms,” he said.
“But I’m all right. I won’t be so dizzy now we’re
down. I couldn’t see very well, and I guess I didn’t
get my foot far enough in on the step. It was looking
down got my goat.”</p>
<p>The doctor and his father patted his back, and once
more shifted positions on the rope.</p>
<p>“Once we get across those chutes, and it’s plain
sailing,” Uncle Billy said, as he prepared to start out
across the big snow-field, on the little path of steps he
had cut that morning. Bennie noticed that there was
a red ring around his left hand, and realized that he
had seized the rope with a lightning twist when
Dumplin’ slipped, and caught the weight that way, before
the yank came on his body, and before Dumplin’
could get up speed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_254">254</div>
<p>“He’s some quick thinker,” Bennie reflected. “Gee,
I guess you have to be, in this game.”</p>
<p>They were now out on the big traverse. Their
morning steps were melted out deeper and larger, and
they made fairly rapid progress toward the first chute.
Nothing had come down it while they were approaching,
and nothing came as the doctor crossed. But,
once on the other side, he took his large jack-knife
from his pocket, opened it, and held it ready to cut the
rope as the others crossed, for if something should
come down large enough to stick up above the sides
while the rope was stretched across the chute, it might
pull them all down with it. Nothing at all happened,
however, either here or in the second big chute. Once
across the latter, Uncle Billy gave a sigh of relief.</p>
<p>“Well, <i>that’s</i> over!” he said. “Now we have plain
sailing.”</p>
<p>Hardly were the words out of his mouth when they
heard a crackle and roar far up on the pinnacle precipice.
Looking quickly upward, they saw snow powder,
like white smoke, rising from the base of the
cliff, and something descending toward them, not in
the chute at all, but on top of the smooth snow!</p>
<p>“Run for it!” Bennie instinctively cried, taking a
step forward that nearly yanked Dumplin’ off his feet
again.</p>
<p>“Stop!” the doctor cried, in a sharp command.
“Don’t you dare give orders again! Don’t try to run!
You’ll have us all down. Watch it, till we see just
where it is coming, and how big it is. Let it come
between us if we have to, and if it’s too big to pass
under the rope, I’ll cut. Stand ready to hold the rope
up, or move as I tell you to!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_255">255</div>
<p>The thing was coming toward them, piling up snow
in front of it. This piling up of the snow impeded its
progress and diminished its speed. It had to push its
way. Instead of coming a mile a minute, as the boys
expected it would, it came slowly enough to give them
time to estimate where it would pass.</p>
<p>“Move ahead!” the doctor snapped. “Easy, now—don’t
try to run. Don’t forget your stocks—don’t
pull on the rope. Steady!”</p>
<p>They moved forward several steps, and just as Norman,
the last one on the rope, took a long, quick stride
of two steps instead of one, the great hunk of lava, as
big as a molasses hogshead, went slowly but inexorably
downward, over the very spot where, a few seconds
before, they had stood! Slowly as it moved,
pushing the snow ahead, and piling it out on the sides,
nothing could have stood in its path. They watched
it go on down, leaving a track two feet deep behind it.</p>
<p>“There’s chute number three just started,” Norman
said.</p>
<p>They heard another crack and roar on the pinnacle
as he spoke, and looking up again saw something starting
down one of the big chutes behind them.</p>
<p>“Say, let’s get out of here!” Dumplin’ cried. “I
don’t like this.”</p>
<p>“I’m not stuck on it myself,” Uncle Billy answered.
“Forward, march!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_256">256</div>
<p>They plugged ahead to the first lava spine, and
rested a minute, looking back over the traverse. The
sun was sinking, and its rays hit the slope almost level,
making dark shadows of their steps, like a long row
of dots out across the great field of white. These dots
crossed the traverse, and then went straight up the
shoulder, and in that light the shoulder looked as perpendicular
as the side of a house.</p>
<p>“Did we go up there?” Spider exclaimed.</p>
<p>Dumplin’ took one look, and remarked, with such a
heartfelt expression that everybody laughed, “Gosh,
I don’t believe it!”</p>
<p>But there was no time for a long rest. Tired as
they were, they had to keep on going, for they were
still a long way from camp.</p>
<p>As they started across the first of the five smaller
snow traverses, it seemed to Bennie as if his back and
shoulders were one big ache every time he had to pull
out his stock from the sticky snow. Yet Uncle Billy
was moving ahead with a regular stride, and he <i>had</i>
to get his stock in and then out with one firm motion,
or else lose the step, fall behind, and make the rope
yank his uncle. He gritted his teeth and told himself
that he <i>would not</i> let that happen.</p>
<p>As they stepped up on the second lava spine, Bennie
cried, “Hello, old lava!”</p>
<p>As they reached the third spine, Dumplin’ cried,
“Hello, old lava!”</p>
<p>As they reached the fourth, Spider cried, “Hello,
old lava!”</p>
<p>“You boys seem to be glad you’re getting down,”
the doctor called back.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_257">257</div>
<p>“We’re glad we’re getting where we don’t have to
pull these stocks out of the snow in time to your
steps,” Bennie replied.</p>
<p>“Sorry to go so fast—but we must get to the horses
before dark,” his uncle answered.</p>
<p>At last they were creeping over the treacherous
slope of pumice, they were up the southwest shoulder—they
were on the lower snow-field which sloped more
gradually to timber line and the horses!</p>
<p>“Rope off!” the doctor called.</p>
<p>He coiled it up and hung it over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Now, each man for himself,” said he, starting
down with huge strides, his boots sinking into the soft
snow, which had been frozen crust that morning, and
keeping him from sliding. The rest followed. It was
such a relief to be free of the rope and the danger
that they took a new lease of life, and almost ran
down the quarter mile to timber.</p>
<p>When they reached the poor hungry, thirsty, impatient
horses, however, the sun had sunk behind the
western mountains, and the hole of Hunt’s Cove was
already dusky.</p>
<p>“Don’t change your boots. We can’t ride down as
quickly as we can lead the horses,” the doctor commanded.
“Saddle them quickly, and come on.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_258">258</div>
<p>In the timber, too, the snow had softened, and the
horses sank knee deep. Bennie soon discovered that
a horse, which scrambles rapidly up a steep slope, goes
very slowly down it, especially when the footing is
soft snow and he doesn’t know whether he is going
to break through a long way or not. The doctor and
Norman, more used to the ways of horses, and knowing
how to manage them, were soon far ahead. Mr.
Stone was somewhere in between. The three boys
were before long so far in the rear that the leaders
had vanished. Bennie and Spider could have gone a
little faster than they did, but Dumplin’ was about all
in with weariness, and they stuck with him. By the
time they reached bare ground at the head wall of
Hunt’s Cove, it was so dusky they could just make out
the tracks. Below them, somewhere on the slope, they
could hear the leaders crashing down through the fire
scar.</p>
<p>“Come on,” Bennie urged. “We got to hurry.
Can’t see the track at all on the bare ground. It’s
dark down in the cove already.”</p>
<p>“I could hurry, but I can’t make this darn horse go
any faster. Nearly pulled my arm out dragging him,”
Spider answered.</p>
<p>The three of them started over the rim, tugging at
the reluctant horses, who wanted to pick their way
gingerly over the dead, fallen timber. The long spikes
in their boots, which had been so necessary up on the
snow, were a hindrance now. They kept catching in
the dead sticks, and half turning the boys’ ankles when
they stepped on a hard piece of lava in the dark. Several
times they tripped and fell, scratching themselves.
Once Spider’s horse slipped, knocking Spider over and
bruising his leg. At the bottom, now, they heard the
doctor calling to them.</p>
<p>“Coming as fast as we can!” Bennie yelled.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_259">259</div>
<p>It was pitch black night at the bottom of the cove, in
the heavy woods. They could just see the doctor
waiting for them. The minute they were down, he
led the way, after Norman and Mr. Stone, who had
kept on to camp. In the dark they couldn’t see the
swampy places, or the little brooks, and soon their
boots, soaked all the afternoon by snow, were full
of water, and they were wet almost to their waists.
They came to the main stream at last, and mounted
the horses, spikes or no spikes. The horses reared
and balked, and had to be kicked and driven into the
dark water, and nearly spilled their riders as they
scrambled snorting out on the farther bank.</p>
<p>Nobody had said a word for ten minutes, but now,
through the black forest ahead, they saw suddenly the
red glow of a big fire, and Bennie emitted a whoop.</p>
<p>“Hello, fire!” he yelled.</p>
<p>“Hello, food!” yelled Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“Dumplin’ has recovered,” said the doctor.</p>
<p>The boys dropped off their horses at camp—literally
dropped off. The rustler, who had stayed in
camp, took the horses back to pasture, and the doctor
and the three boys joined Norman and Mr. Stone in
front of a huge camp fire, flopped wearily on the
ground, and began to peel off their boots and stockings.
They took off their trousers, also, and got dry
clothes from their dunnage bags. Then, without even
attempting to wash the grease paint off their faces,
they flopped on the ground again beside the roaring
fire, and let the cook bring them food.</p>
<p>“If anybody speaks to me before I’ve had a cup of
coffee, I’ll bite him,” said Bennie. “I was never so
tired and cross in my life.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_260">260</div>
<p>“Nobody wants to speak to you,” Dumplin’ retorted.
“Don’t worry.”</p>
<p>“And yet,” said Uncle Billy, “if we’d really got to
the top, we’d be so set up now that we wouldn’t mind
the weariness. It’s like a crew race. You’ll notice it’s
always the losing crew which collapses at the finish
line.”</p>
<p>“I’d like to try it again, from a base camp at timber
line,” Norman said. “That would give us two hours
more of daylight at each end. We could do it easily
with that.”</p>
<p>“If anybody talks about climbing Jefferson again,
he’s in danger of his life,” Bennie retorted.</p>
<p>“Well, well, Bennie has had enough exercise for
once!” Mr. Stone smiled. “He must have had—he
hasn’t even spoken to poor Jeff.”</p>
<p>“Oh, gee, I was so tired I forgot him!” Bennie
cried, jumping up with sudden energy. “Where is
he, cook? What you done with him?”</p>
<p>“Whined so I tied him up down the creek a bit,” the
cook answered. He, too, was cross, because he had to
get supper so late.</p>
<p>Bennie grabbed a lantern, and went off into the
woods, calling, “Jeff, Jeff!” Those in camp heard a
far-off yelp of greeting, and a few minutes later Bennie
returned, with Jeff at his heels, and lay down by
the fire again with the dog’s head snuggled up to him.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_261">261</div>
<p>It was after ten o’clock when supper was finished.
The six climbers took enough water from the stove to
wash the worst of the grease paint from their faces,
and without any further preparation for bed pulled
off their clothes, got into their pyjamas, crawled, stiff
and lame and aching in every joint, with cracked and
bleeding lips, and red, smarting eyes, into their sleeping
bags, and almost before their heads touched the
little air pillows were fast asleep.</p>
<p>Bennie had started to remark to Spider, as he got
into bed, that real mountain climbing was the hardest
work there was, but he forgot what he was going to
say before he could open his mouth. And, if he had
said it, nobody would have been awake enough to
listen.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_262">262</div>
<h2 id="c23">CHAPTER XXIII
<br /><span class="sc">The Summit is Conquered</span>!</h2>
<p>The doctor and Mr. Stone let the boys sleep late
the next morning. The sun was high when they
finally arose, and tumbled out into the ice-cold water
of the creek for a good scrub with soap. After the
bath, and a hot breakfast, they all felt cheerful and
fairly fit again. The aches of the night before had
somehow vanished, though their lips were still cracked
and their noses were peeling.</p>
<p>“By Jiminy,” said Bennie, as he scraped the breakfast
plates to feed Jeff, “I believe I’d like to climb the
old mountain again, after all. I sure do hate to go
away from here and admit it beat us.”</p>
<p>“Me, too,” said Spider.</p>
<p>“Well, I know when I’m licked,” Dumplin’ put in.
“I guess if you’d been dizzy and if you’d slipped the
way I did, you wouldn’t be so keen to go back.”</p>
<p>“You’ve got more weight to cart up than we have,”
Spider laughed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_263">263</div>
<p>“That’s no joke, either,” said the doctor. “Dumplin’
needs a lot of training down before he tackles a
climb like Jefferson. It isn’t his fault he was dizzy, or
that he got so tired. Some people are always dizzy at
high altitudes, anyhow. I wouldn’t let him try it again
in his present shape. But if you other boys are game,
and Stone is game, I’d like to tackle the mountain
from a base camp where we tethered the horses. That
will keep us here two days longer, so we won’t have
time to get in to see Mount Hood close to. You’ll have
to decide whether you’d rather reach the top of Jefferson,
or see Hood. Those in favor say ‘Aye.’”</p>
<p>“Aye!”</p>
<p>“Aye!”</p>
<p>“Aye!”</p>
<p>“Aye!”</p>
<p>“The ‘ayes’ have it,” the doctor laughed. “Well,
Norman, we’ll take up a tent and bedding right after
lunch. We’ll sleep at timber line tonight, and again
tomorrow night. Have two horses sent up day after
tomorrow morning, at daybreak, to get the stuff, and
have the rest of the train packed and waiting at the
head of the cove. We’ll make our getaway over the
head wall by seven or eight o’clock. I’m going to try
to get out by the short trail, day after tomorrow, snow
or no snow.”</p>
<p>Everybody lay around all that morning, in the shade
of the woods, resting. After lunch, the largest tent,
some grub, the sleeping bags, and a few cooking utensils
were packed on two horses, while the climbers
toted their climbing boots (now dried and oiled again),
and a change of clothes in their packs. Nothing else
was taken except the necessary climbing equipment—not
even cameras. Dumplin’ went along to spend the
night with them, and have supper ready for them
when they got down the next evening. He was pretty
blue at the idea of being left behind, and kept saying,
“I bet I could do it this time, and not get dizzy.” But
his father and the doctor wouldn’t say he could go.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_264">264</div>
<p>They got the tent pitched as near timber line as they
could find a level, dry spot, and spent the latter part
of the afternoon gathering fuel and melting snow for
water. The two horses, of course, had been taken
back down the slope by the guide. The six of them
were alone, in the chill silence at the edge of the eternal
snows, with the mountain rising right above them,
white and naked, to the glittering pinnacle. While
supper was cooking, Bennie and Spider walked up a
few hundred feet on the lower snow-field, glanced back
at the tumbled wilderness of forest and mountain and
cañon, stretching south to the white pyramids of the
Three Sisters, and then looked long upward at the
pinnacle, pink with sunset.</p>
<p>“Gosh!” Bennie exclaimed, “what a lot of wild
country! Do you realize, Spider, that we haven’t met
a human being since we left Marion Lake?”</p>
<p>“You forget the chap in the aeroplane,” Spider
laughed. “Well, we came out here to see the wilderness,
didn’t we?”</p>
<p>“You bet we did! And tomorrow we’re going to
tackle old Jefferson again. You know, I feel just as
if it was a kind of fight. I bet other mountaineers
feel that way, too. That’s why it’s such fun.”</p>
<p>“<i>Other</i> mountaineers is good,” Spider replied.
“You talk as if you were a Swiss Guide.”</p>
<p>“Well, I feel as if I could be one, when we get
through with this old ant-hill,” Bennie laughed. “I
bet that pinnacle is going to be a sockdologer!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_265">265</div>
<p>Spider’s face was sober. “I’m kind of scared of it,
I don’t mind admitting. I don’t blame poor old Dump
a bit for getting dizzy. I don’t get dizzy, but when I
think how easy it would be to slip, I kind of get hollow
in the pit of my stomach.”</p>
<p>Bennie was about to answer, when he heard a bark
down the slope, and looking back saw Jeff bounding
up the snow! The pup had broken loose back at the
camp (or the cook had let him loose), and he had followed
the tracks up here. He fell upon Bennie with
yelps of joy.</p>
<p>“Well, that pup loves you, if nobody else does,”
Spider laughed. “Dumplin’ will have to sit on him
all day tomorrow.”</p>
<p>With the setting of the sun, it grew very cold up
here under the snow-fields. They all huddled around
the fire to eat, and soon after supper took off nothing
but their boots and crawled into bed with even their
sweaters on. The six sleeping bags had been packed
into the one tent, so there was no free floor space at
all. The first man in couldn’t get out without stepping
on all the rest. Poor Jeff, driven outside, snuggled
down against the tent on the lee side, out of the wind,
and so the night was passed, none too comfortably by
anybody.</p>
<p>They were up with the first daylight, built the fire,
and cooked breakfast. Then Jeff was tied with a
piece of the tent guy ropes, and Dumplin’ came with
them as far as the southwest shoulder, where they
roped.</p>
<p>“Don’t let Jeff get away and follow us!” was Bennie’s
parting word.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_266">266</div>
<p>“He might use my alpenstock, and make it all
right,” said Dumplin’, trying to seem cheerful as he
saw the rest leaving him. “I’ll watch for you, and
have hot supper ready,” he added, waving his
hand.</p>
<p>“Good old Dump!” Bennie said, as they moved out
on the pumice. “Too bad he can’t come along.”</p>
<p>“He’ll be all right in a year or two, after we get the
fat off him, and get him hardened up. He’s grown too
fast,” said Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>Whether it was because they were now more used
to the trick, or because Dumplin’ was not on the rope
to hold them back, or because the steps had not entirely
melted away since the day before yesterday, making
the doctor’s work easier, or because of all three reasons,
they made faster time than before, and didn’t
need to rest so long or so often. But they had four
rock chutes to cross instead of two. The one which
had been started by the big lava chunk which nearly
hit them was now four feet deep, and a fourth one
had been ploughed, also. But nothing was coming
down them yet, for they reached the traverse long before
the sun’s rays got in on that side. They were up
on the northwest shoulder at 10:30, and at the base of
the pinnacle at noon.</p>
<p>Once at the foot of that terrific incline, both the
scouts felt suddenly weak in the knees.</p>
<p>“Like the looks of it?” the doctor asked.</p>
<p>“I do not!” Bennie answered. “I’d about as soon
try to climb the outside of the Washington Monument.
But if you say people have done it, I guess we can.
It’s a fight, and I ain’t licked yet!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_267">267</div>
<p>The doctor let them rest before they tackled the
pinnacle, and gave his orders. “I’ll go ahead and cut
the steps. You, Bennie, will anchor, and play me out
the rope, and don’t you come on a step till I tell you.
Then Stone will play you out till you get to the platform
I’ve made for you. Then Spider plays him out,
then Norman plays Spider out. We won’t have more
than one of the five of us moving at any one time, in
other words.”</p>
<p>The doctor rose, and began to hack steps into the
snow, in front of his face, on the precipitous incline.
He had to cut them deep, to get a firm footing, and it
was slow work. Before he was quite played out on
his twenty feet of rope, he cut an extra large step,
like a little platform, and then moved up a couple of
steps, and told Bennie to climb to the platform. Bennie
did so, while Mr. Stone played him out. Then
Bennie anchored firmly on the platform, and let his
uncle cut his way up fifteen or twenty feet farther.
Bennie then stepped up two steps, and let Mr. Stone
climb to the first platform. Once on it, Mr. Stone
played Bennie up, till he was on a second little platform,
just behind the doctor. Then the doctor moved
ahead twenty feet higher, Bennie moved, Mr. Stone
climbed to platform number two, and they all anchored
hard, and waited till Spider reached platform number
one. In this way, only one man ever climbing at a
time, with the rest anchored, they crept slowly up the
wall of icy snow. In two places, it was, in fact, not
snow but actual ice, and the doctor had to hack out the
steps and could not use his stock as he climbed. He
had to depend on the spikes in his boots entirely, because
he carried no ice ax. Bennie, below him, watched
with terror in his heart, and clung to his alpenstock
with a rigid grip. If his uncle slipped, nothing would
save him but that stock! If Bennie’s grip gave way,
they would both go, and maybe pull down all the rest!
Here was a battle indeed, here was a fight with the
mountain where every single step you took had to be
just right, or you were gone! Bennie didn’t dare look
down. He kept his eyes fixed on his uncle’s boot soles
above him, and refused even to look off to right and
left. He didn’t dare.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_268">268</div>
<p>They climbed steadily, and in silence, except for the
orders to each man when he was to advance. Their
faces were set and grim. Bennie felt the strain. He
was getting tired rapidly, not from the physical effort,
which wasn’t really great except for the doctor, but
from the mental effort, the incessant concentration on
every step he took. At last, after an hour and a half,
the doctor went over the top, and shouted back a loud
“Hurrah!” Bennie followed him over, and one by
one the rest came on, to fall at once down on the snow.</p>
<p>After a long moment, Bennie sat up and looked
around him. At first he felt as if he were riding in
an airship in the sky. The summit cap of snow was
small, and on every side ended in a sharp edge—the
edge of a precipice!</p>
<p>“Look at old Hood up there!” his uncle cried,
pointing north. “Seems near enough to touch today,
and it’s fifty miles off.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_269">269</div>
<p>“I don’t want to look at it,” Bennie answered. “I
don’t want to look at anything. Gosh, I don’t like
this place!”</p>
<p>“I don’t care for it much myself,” Mr. Stone confessed.
“You could roll over twice here, and commit
suicide with the greatest ease.”</p>
<p>“But we got here!” Spider exclaimed. “I’m glad
we got here! We’ve beat the old mountain!”</p>
<p>“Now you’re talking,” said Uncle Billy. “You’ll
all like it better when we are down again. Well, come
on, let’s start then, if you don’t care for my view.”</p>
<p>They now reversed positions on the rope, Norman
going first, and facing in against the cliff almost as
you descend a ladder, crawled down as slowly as they
had crawled up. But it was even more trying to Bennie,
because he had to look down for each step, and
he had to watch the man descending below him, when
he was anchored, in order to brace extra firmly in case
of a slip. He didn’t get dizzy, but at every step he
had to fight a kind of nausea, as if he was going to
be sick, especially when he was obliged to lower himself
over the two ice walls, with only his spikes to hold
him, and the rope, played out by the man above.
When they were all at the bottom again, he felt faint,
and sat down on the snow a moment, to get back the
strength in his legs.</p>
<p>“Well, boys,” he heard his uncle say, “you’ve done
what mighty few people do any one season. But
we’re not through yet. We’ve got to get home, you
know.”</p>
<p>Bennie got up quickly. “I’m all right,” he said.
“Lead the way!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_270">270</div>
<p>At half-past four o’clock they were back again at
the point on the shoulder where they lunched two days
before, and here they rested fifteen minutes, and ate
the small portions of food they had brought. Nobody
was really hungry, however, and soon they were
starting down the drift where Dumplin’ slipped. Out
across the traverse they went, got over the chutes without
accident, though twice they were barely over when
great toboggans of ice came whizzing down, and at
seven o’clock reached the southwest shoulder. Far
below, at timber line, they saw Dumplin’ building up
the fire, and they saw, too, his tracks up here in the
snow.</p>
<p>“He was up here watching us crossing the traverse,”
Bennie said. “He beat it down to cook supper.
Good old Dump—wish he could have been with
us.”</p>
<p>Off came the rope now, and with wet boots and
cracked faces and aching backs and smarting eyes,
they half ran, half tumbled, down the last snow-field
to the camp, and walked into the odor of boiling
coffee and sizzling bacon, while Jeff, released from his
tether, came yelping to meet them.</p>
<p>“I saw you on top!” Dumplin’ said. “I spent half
the day up on the shoulder. I couldn’t see you climb
the pinnacle, but I saw you on top. You didn’t stay
there long.”</p>
<p>“Bennie didn’t like it,” his uncle laughed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_271">271</div>
<p>“I’ll say I didn’t!” Bennie cried. “Gee, Dump,
I’m not fat like you, and I guess I’m in pretty good
condition, but I kept feeling all the way up and down
that old pinnacle as if I was going to be dizzy the
next minute.”</p>
<p>“That’s not a matter of condition with you—it’s a
matter of nerves,” said his uncle.</p>
<p>“I felt so, too,” Spider put in. “Whenever I
looked down, and couldn’t help thinking what would
happen if I fell, then I got kind of sick inside. But
when I was just thinking about my next step, I was
all right.”</p>
<p>“And nothing happened,” the doctor added.
“Climbing is safe enough if you know how to climb,
if you are in good physical condition, and if you can
control your nerves. But you can no more tackle a
climb like this safely without a guide who knows the
technique than you can fly an aeroplane without practice.
The accidents happen either to people who try to
climb without knowing the tricks, or to people who
aren’t in good shape for the hard work, or to people
who can’t keep their nerves under control and take
each step slowly, carefully and firmly.”</p>
<p>“What made me so tired at the top?” Bennie asked.
“I was twice as tired then as I am now. Was it the
altitude?”</p>
<p>“No,” said his uncle. “Ten thousand five hundred
feet wouldn’t bother you a bit. It was because you
are still a green climber and you were fighting your
nerves all the way up the pinnacle. Nothing is such
hard work as fighting your own nerves.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_272">272</div>
<p>“Well, I’ll tell the world my old nerves put up a
good scrap, then!” Bennie laughed. “Anyhow, Spider
and I aren’t so green as we were three days ago.
I wish the Boy Scouts gave merit badges for mountain
climbing. I bet we could get one.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t they give badges for that, I wonder?”
Mr. Stone said.</p>
<p>The doctor shook his head. “Too dangerous,” was
his comment. “How many scout masters could you
find who are really skilled mountain climbers? Think
what would probably happen if a green climber tried
to take a bunch of scouts up Jefferson. They’d all
land down in the cañon. And rock climbing is just as
dangerous.”</p>
<p>“How would you get up the pinnacle if it was all
ice, the way it was in a couple of places?” Spider
asked. “I mean, so hard, you couldn’t drive your
stock in, and the man below you couldn’t either?”</p>
<p>“You’d have to use ice axes,” the doctor replied.
“An ice ax has a long handle, and on the back of the
blade is a long, sharp, slightly curved point, like a
railroad spike. You cut your steps with the blade, and
then you use this point, driven in above you, to anchor
with. That’s what they use in the Alps, where so
much of the climbing is on glacier ice.”</p>
<p>“Well, Spider, we’ll have to go to Switzerland next,
and climb some old glaciers,” Bennie grinned.</p>
<p>“And a few spitzes,” Spider answered.</p>
<p>It was bitter cold again that night, and soon after
supper they all crawled into their sleeping bags. They
were so weary, however, that even the cold could not
keep them awake.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_273">273</div>
<h2 id="c24">CHAPTER XXIV
<br /><span class="sc">Back Over the Divide—A Horse Turns Three Somersaults Down the Snow Slope</span></h2>
<p>The doctor, as usual, was first up. He rose at
dawn, got the fire and the breakfast started, and
then routed out the rest. The peak of Jefferson above
them was hidden in mist, and Hunt’s Cove below was
filled with white cloud, also. In fact, they looked out
over a billowing sea of white, with the sharp lava
spires of Three Fingered Jack to the south, rising up
like an island.</p>
<p>“Looks like a phantom ship,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>They were scarcely through breakfast, when they
heard horses coming up through the timber, and soon
the guide appeared, leading a couple of pack animals
to take the luggage down. An hour later they were
once more in Hunt’s Cove. The luggage was repacked,
the boys unscrewed the spikes from their boots and
mounted into the saddle again, and Norman led the
way almost due south, following a trail up the head
wall, instead of trying to get back as they had entered
across Grizzly Flats.</p>
<p>“We can get back to the cars this afternoon this
way—if we can cross at all,” he said. “But I won’t
promise we can cross, doctor. A week ago you
couldn’t get up on the other side.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_274">274</div>
<p>“Just the same, we’ll try it,” the doctor replied.
“Bennie needs some exercise.”</p>
<p>For the next few miles they traveled through woods
and across open upland meadows, riding on deep snow.
In the hot glare of the sun, they had to put on their
glasses again, and repaint their faces. Their lips once
more cracked open, and their noses were burnt a still
brighter brick red. Then they came to the crest of the
Divide, below the long south shoulder of Jefferson,
and started down. They realized at once why Norman
said it was impossible a week ago to climb up
here. There was a drop of a couple of hundred feet
where the trail was completely buried in a huge drift,
which, Norman said, a week before had an overhang
at the top, completely preventing any horse getting
over. But this cornice had now melted and collapsed.
They dismounted, grasped their horses by the bridles,
and started down, taking the slope at an angle to
lessen the pitch. The saddle horses got down well
enough, but the pack horses, with the top-heavy loads
on their backs, could not keep their footing so well,
and half-way down one of them fell. He turned three
complete somersaults as he pitched headlong. At first
the load held, but at the second somersault the hitch
slipped, and out burst the load, scattering and tobogganing
in all directions—two rolled-up sleeping bags,
a tent, alpenstocks, a dunnage bag, a coffee-pot, and
what canned goods were still left in their provision
supply.</p>
<div class="img" id="pic7">
<img src="images/p09.jpg" alt="Crossing the Divide near Mount Jefferson on July 25th. Three Fingered Jack in the Distance." width="929" height="600" />
<p class="caption">Crossing the Divide near Mount Jefferson on July 25th. Three Fingered Jack in the Distance.</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_275">275</div>
<p>The terrified animal landed in a small fir tree at the
bottom, scrambled to his feet apparently unhurt—and
made a dash right back up the slope! His fall, his
snorts, his sudden dash, threw a scare into the other
horses. The saddle horses, of course, were being led,
and couldn’t get away, but the pack horses dashed
after him.</p>
<p>“Quick!” shouted Norman, “give all the saddle
horses’ bridles to one man, and then head ’em off!”</p>
<p>Everybody led his horse quickly to the cook, who
tied the bridles to a tree, and then the men and boys
ran up the slope as fast as they could, some going to
the right, some to the left, in order to surround and
get ahead of the runaways, and drive them back.</p>
<p>It was hard work. The snow was deep and soft
and wet, the slope very steep, and a frightened horse,
with four legs, can climb faster than a man with two.
Jeff didn’t help any. He merely dashed wildly around,
barking loudly, without sense to head the horses
back.</p>
<p>“Call off that chickadee hound!” panted the doctor
to Bennie.</p>
<p>The first horse, minus his load, actually got back to
the top, and scrambled over, before he could be headed.
Norman and Bennie followed him, sneaking on either
side through the trees, for a quarter of a mile before
he stopped abruptly at a spot where the snow was
melted, and began to eat grass. Then they crept up on
him, got hold of his rope bridle, and led him back.</p>
<p>By the time the train was rounded up again, everybody
was reeking wet with perspiration from their
knees up, and soaking wet with snow water from their
knees down.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_276">276</div>
<p>“My head is burning, and my feet freezing, and oh,
boy, for a drink!” Bennie exclaimed.</p>
<p>The scattered luggage was collected, the horse repacked,
and they moved on. In less than a mile of
rapidly dropping trail the snow ceased entirely. The
trail grew dry and dusty. The yellow pines began to
appear again, and they came to a little lake at the head
of a cañon—and everybody, horses and men and boys,
drank and drank and drank.</p>
<p>After that there was no more snow, and before long
the trail was in a forest of yellow pines, and wide as a
country road, and all except the rustler and the cook,
who had to look after the pack horses, broke into a
trot.</p>
<p>In a couple of hours they reached a fine, clear, racing
brook, and a Forest Service camp ground. Across
the brook was a real road. The doctor and Mr. Stone
trotted on three or four miles to get the cars, while
the rest waited for the pack horses, and when they
arrived got the packs off and sorted.</p>
<p>When the cars came back, the baggage was transferred
to them, the boys said good-bye to Norman,
Bennie made the cook shake hands with Jeff, and sinking
back into the cushions of the motor cars, the boys
sighed with the sudden sense of luxury.</p>
<p>“Beats the saddle of an old cayuse, when you’re
tired,” Dumplin’ called from his father’s car.</p>
<p>“Just the same, I’m awful sorry it’s all over,” said
Bennie. “I never have worked so hard in all my
life—and I never had such a wonderful time.”</p>
<p>“Me, too,” said Spider.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_277">277</div>
<p>“You’ve got a good time coming, and in about one
hour, or less,” said Uncle Billy. “I don’t know
whether you’ve noticed that lunch was pretty sketchy
today.”</p>
<p>“Sketchy is the word,” Bennie answered. “Gee,
it’s three o’clock, and we haven’t had a thing since
five <span class="sc">A. M.</span>”</p>
<p>“You wait,” laughed the doctor. “I’ve got a surprise
for you.”</p>
<p>In a short time he stopped the car at a ranch house
beside the great springs of the Metolius River, which
gush right up out of the open ground of a green
meadow in the heart of the forest, irrigating the whole
meadow and making a rich oasis of grass and crops
in the arid soil.</p>
<p>“Dinner ready?” he called to a woman on the
porch.</p>
<p>“All ready,” she answered.</p>
<p>“How did you order dinner here?” demanded Bennie.</p>
<p>“Radio,” the doctor grinned.</p>
<p>“He telephoned from the Ranger Station when he
went for the car, you poor fish,” Spider said.</p>
<p>The two men and three boys washed up and went
into the dining-room. There, on a table with a real
cloth, was a huge dinner—steak, fried potatoes, green
vegetables, hot biscuit, berries. They ate and ate, and
when the food was gone the woman of the house reappeared
bearing a huge lemon pie, with browned
meringue three-quarters of an inch thick, all covered
with little golden drops like honey.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_278">278</div>
<p>“Wow!” yelled Dumplin’. “Lemon pie!”</p>
<p>“Oh,” sighed Bennie, “why did I eat so much
steak!”</p>
<p>“I’ll take Bennie’s piece, then,” said Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“I’d like to see you try!” Bennie answered.</p>
<p>When the pie was gone, everybody sat back and
sighed with content.</p>
<p>“That pie was almost as wonderful as Mount Jefferson,”
Bennie declared.</p>
<p>“And it didn’t make me dizzy,” said Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“It’s the kind Mother made,” said Mr. Stone.</p>
<p>“Gosh, I wish <i>my</i> mother could!” Spider exclaimed.</p>
<p>“It was a good pie,” said the doctor, “but don’t
forget you’ve lived on camp fare for a week. It would
have seemed pretty good if it hadn’t been as good as
it was.”</p>
<p>“Don’t try to run that pie down, Billy,” Mr. Stone
declared. “I will defend that pie with my last breath.”</p>
<p>“All I can say is this——” Bennie began impressively.</p>
<p>“Yes?” the rest prompted.</p>
<p>“I am satisfied with Oregon,” he finished.</p>
<p>“It’s the lemon pie!” laughed Dumplin’.</p>
<p>They rolled into Bend at nine that evening, Jeff was
left to sleep in the car at the garage, and for the next
hour there was a grand splashing in bathtubs, a washing
of clothes, a shaving by the two men, who hadn’t
shaved for a week, a patching of burnt noses and
cracked lips with salve, and a general clean-up and
overhauling.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_279">279</div>
<p>“Oh, dear!” sighed Bennie, “it’s almost over! I
wish we hadn’t been able to get over the Divide today,
so’s we’d been forced to go back over Grizzly
Flats. That would have kept us out three days more.
I don’t want to sleep in an old bed, with sheets!”</p>
<p>“I guess it won’t keep you awake,” laughed Spider.
“If it does, I’ll set up the sodas tomorrow.”</p>
<p>But he didn’t have to.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_280">280</div>
<h2 id="c25">CHAPTER XXV
<br /><span class="sc">Bennie Loses Jeff, but Brings Home Something Else to Last Him Many Years</span></h2>
<p>The doctor routed everybody out at five the next
morning.</p>
<p>“It’s the last time, boys,” he said. “But we’ve got
to get an early start today. I must make The Dalles
tonight, and Portland tomorrow night. My vacation
is over then.”</p>
<p>“Don’t go back on <i>my</i> account,” said Bennie. “I’ll
stick around the mountains another week or two with
you, if you really want me to.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and I’ll stick, too,” Spider laughed.</p>
<p>“I wish we could,” Uncle Billy answered. “But
while we’re getting hard and healthy, a lot of folks up
in Portland are getting sick, so you see I have to be
back. Hustle along, boys. No time to lose!”</p>
<p>It was so early that they had to get breakfast at an
all-night lunch room, where Bennie bought some meat
scraps for Jeff, who was still on the job. He had
slept in the car that night.</p>
<p>“Good gracious, are you really going to take that
mutt back with you?” his uncle demanded. “All the
way East?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_281">281</div>
<p>“You’ve said it. Why, I bet he’d follow the train,
if I didn’t take him. He appreciates me at my true
value, this blooded collie does, don’t you, Jeff, old
thing?”</p>
<p>Jeff responded by leaping up and licking his face.</p>
<p>They were off at six, and rode all day northward
through the “desert” country, sometimes down in
the bottom of bare, desolate looking cañons, sometimes
up on the plateau where nothing but endless miles of
sage brush lay between them and the Cascades. In
the morning Jefferson was the nearest mountain, and
they could see the whole eastern face, snow-white and
precipitous, with the summit pinnacle looking from
this distance like a tiny little white button on top.
Later they had to descend by a long, winding road cut
out of the bank, without any guard rails, into the
Deschutes Cañon, across the river on a bridge, and
climb out on the other side. As afternoon came on,
Jefferson dropped behind them, and Mount Hood grew
nearer, 11,225 feet of snow, shaped like an almost perfect
pyramid.</p>
<p>Again they descended into a cañon, and climbed out
of it for six miles by a road so steep that they had to
keep in low speed all the way, so narrow Bennie prayed
they wouldn’t meet anybody, and without any sign
of a guard rail, or fence, or wall, to keep a car from
skidding off into the hole below.</p>
<p>“Say, if I drove a car out here much, I’d have
nervous prostration,” Spider said, as Uncle Billy
crawled past a descending Ford, with his right wheels
about eight inches from the rim of the cañon.</p>
<p>“And if I had to drive down Fifth Avenue, I’d
probably have it,” the doctor laughed.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_282">282</div>
<p>The sun was setting as they finally came into a
region of orchards and endless grain fields, hit a good
road, and whizzed rapidly down hill, steeper and
steeper, into the gorge of the Columbia River, and ran
right into a thriving, lively town called The Dalles.</p>
<p>While the cars were being looked after in a garage,
Bennie went to a butcher’s shop to get some more food
for Jeff, fed him, and put him up in the car again, for
the night. Then they all went to the hotel, registered,
got the dust off their faces and clothes, and went in
to dinner.</p>
<p>The next morning Jeff was not in the car. The
garage man said he stayed there a while the night before,
and then, when nobody was looking, evidently
jumped out and ran away.</p>
<p>“Oh, gee, he was looking for me!” Bennie cried.
“I ought to have tied him. Poor old Jeff, he’s just
hunting for me, all over this town!”</p>
<p>“Too bad,” said Uncle Billy. “But he’ll find a
home somewhere—he seems to make friends easily,
and your mother’ll be awful glad.”</p>
<p>“Well, I got to find him. Please drive around
town while I look for him!”</p>
<p>“But I have to be back in Portland, Bennie. I’ve
got to be at the hospital tomorrow morning.”</p>
<p>“Aw, just ten minutes! Please!”</p>
<p>“Well, we’ll take a look. Get in.”</p>
<p>They started slowly down a residential street, Bennie
hanging out of the car and whistling. One block,
two blocks, three blocks they went, turned a corner,
and began on another street.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_283">283</div>
<p>Suddenly Spider gave a yell. “Hi, Bennie, there’s
your pup!”</p>
<p>The doctor stopped. Sure enough, in a yard beside
a small house, playing with a boy of ten, was Jeff!</p>
<p>Bennie jumped out, ran to the gate, and whistled.</p>
<p>Jeff cocked his ears, looked toward Bennie, wagged
his tail, took three jumps toward the fence—and then
turned around and went back to the small boy!</p>
<p>“Sure, Bennie, that dog would follow your train
all the way to Chicago,” laughed Spider.</p>
<p>“He appreciates you at your true worth,” called
Uncle Billy.</p>
<p>“Just the same, he’s my dog, and I’m going to have
him!” Bennie said, angrily, laying his hand on the
gate.</p>
<p>“Hold on,” said his uncle. “Is he your dog?
Where did you get him? Seems to me <i>he</i> has most to
say about whose dog he is. He chose you, so’s he
could get a trip to the mountains, and now you’ve quit
camping, he’s chosen this kid.”</p>
<p>“Well, he chose me first.”</p>
<p>“Come here, son,” the doctor called to the small
boy, who came to the gate, Jeff at his heels. “Where
did you get this dog?”</p>
<p>“He followed me home from the store last night,”
said the boy. “He’s a fine dog. Is he yours?”</p>
<p>“He’s mine,” said Bennie, sternly. “Come here,
Jeff!”</p>
<p>At the sound of his angry voice, Jeff got behind the
small boy’s legs.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_284">284</div>
<p>“I didn’t do nothin’ to make him follow me,” the
little fellow said. “Honest, I didn’t. He just came.
Ma said I could keep him. I—I never had a dog.”</p>
<p>He was almost in tears, both because he thought he
was being accused of stealing Jeff, and because he
feared they were going to take his new pet away.</p>
<p>“Have a heart, Bennie,” Spider said. “He wants
the pup worse than you do.”</p>
<p>Bennie hesitated, but his fondness for Jeff was too
much. “No, sir, he’s my dog,” he declared.</p>
<p>“Let Jeff decide it,” said Uncle Billy. “He doesn’t
really belong to either one of you. That’s fair, isn’t
it?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I guess so,” Bennie confessed.</p>
<p>“Now, you go ten feet up the sidewalk. Son, you
walk down as far as that tree. Spider, hold Jeff till
they are set. Now, both of you, call him!”</p>
<p>“Here, Jeff! Here, Jeff!” called Bennie.</p>
<p>“Come here, Buster, Buster!” called the little boy.</p>
<p>Spider released Jeff as they called—and the pup
jumped up and licked Spider’s face!</p>
<p>“Gee whiz, he’s <i>my</i> dog!” Spider shouted, while
the doctor sat in the car and roared with laughter.</p>
<p>“Try again,” he said, after a second.</p>
<p>The two boys called once more, and Jeff, without
hesitating longer, sprang to the little fellow, nearly
knocking him down.</p>
<p>“All right, you keep him,” Bennie declared. “He’s
a fool pup. I won’t guarantee he’ll not run away from
you tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“I bet he <i>won’t</i>!” the little chap declared, throwing
his arms around Jeff’s neck.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_285">285</div>
<p>Bennie didn’t look back.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Uncle Billy mused, “Jeff certainly regarded
you at your true worth, Bennie. He was certainly
a one-man dog, too, true to his master till
death.”</p>
<p>“Aw, quit it,” Bennie pleaded. “I always really
knew he was a mutt, but I—I was kind o’ fond of him,
just the same.”</p>
<p>“Never mind,” said Spider, “you’ve done your
good turn for today. You’ve given him to that
kid.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I have!” said the honest Bennie. “He did
the good turn, I’ll say. He gave <i>himself</i> to the kid.
A lot I had to do with it!”</p>
<p>They picked up the Stone car at the garage again,
and set off at last for Portland, down the Columbia
Highway, which is one of the finest motor roads in the
world. It is laid out beside the great green river,
sometimes down on the bank, beside the railroad,
sometimes climbing up a thousand feet to the top of
the cliffs, sometimes cut out of the sides of the cliffs,
sometimes having to go right through a headland of
lava by a tunnel. All the way through the Columbia
gorge, from The Dalles nearly to Portland, the car
rolled along the wide macadam highway, with the
green river on one side, and the towering cliffs and
waterfalls on the other, or else climbed up and down
these cliffs by cleverly engineered grades.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_286">286</div>
<p>The highest waterfall they passed was Multnomah,
which dropped hundreds and hundreds of feet over the
cliff, almost on the very road. And near it were several
superb basaltic lava pinnacles, towering 2,000 feet
above the car.</p>
<p>“Oh, Uncle Billy, haven’t we time to stop and have
a try at that one?” Bennie cried, pointing to a great
dome-like pinnacle which jutted out from the cliff like
the tower at the front of a church.</p>
<p>“That’s St. Peter’s Dome,” his uncle said. “We
wouldn’t have time to climb that if we had a year.
Nobody has ever succeeded in getting up it.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“Because a couple of hundred feet or so below the
top, it is not only perpendicular all around, but the
wall overhangs a shade. Nobody can climb an overhung
precipice. I suppose we could carry up a coast
guard mortar, and shoot a rope over the top, and then
hoist you up in a breeches buoy, maybe. But I’m
afraid there won’t be time to do that today.”</p>
<p>“You folks out here have it pretty soft, I’ll say,”
Bennie commented.</p>
<p>“How’s that?”</p>
<p>“Why, all you have to do is get in a car and drive
out a few miles on a macadam road, and there you are
right at the foot of rock climbs so hard nobody has
ever climbed ’em! Out East, we either have to sail to
Europe and tackle the—the Spitzes, or else ride 3,000
miles across the U. S. A. when we want a climb.
I’m going to get a job in Oregon when I get through
school.”</p>
<p>“So you’re satisfied with Oregon?” his uncle
laughed.</p>
<p>“I’ll tell the world I am!” Bennie answered.</p>
<div class="img" id="pic8">
<img src="images/p10.jpg" alt="Saint Peter’s Dome and Columbia River. Mount Adams in Far Distance." width="926" height="600" />
<p class="caption">Saint Peter’s Dome and Columbia River. Mount Adams in Far Distance.</p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_287">287</div>
<p>They rolled into Portland in time for dinner, which
they all ate at Dumplin’s house. The next day the
scouts spent in packing their trunks, and seeing the
city with Dumplin’ for a guide. They took the evening
limited for home. The doctor took them to the
depot, and Mr. Stone and Dumplin’ came down to see
them off. The depot was full of men and women, in
khaki clothes, with packs and alpenstocks. They were
members of the Mazamas, going to take another train
to get them to Diamond Peak, for a week’s climbing.</p>
<p>“If one of them spoke a kind word to me, I’d swap
my ticket East in three and four-fifths seconds, and
go with ’em,” Bennie declared. “I don’t want to go
home, Uncle Billy.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you want to see your father and mother?”
the doctor asked.</p>
<p>“And get your little old Algebra out and nicely
dusted?” added Dumplin’.</p>
<p>“’Course I want to see the folks, but I don’t want
to leave these old mountains,” Bennie answered. “I
guess Spider and I will never forget old Jefferson.
And say, Mr. Stone, don’t you forget you’re going
to send us the movie films when they’re printed.
We’ll have ’em at the Town Hall, for the benefit of
the Boy Scouts.”</p>
<p>“I won’t forget. And don’t you forget you’re coming
back some day.”</p>
<p>“A swell chance of forgetting that!” laughed Bennie.
“And don’t forget, Dump, that you’re coming
East to college, with Spider and me.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_288">288</div>
<p>The train was made up now. The boys shook hands
and shouted a dozen more messages of farewell as
they went through the gates and climbed aboard.</p>
<p>It was dark when the train got up into the Columbia
gorge. They saw no more of the Cascade Mountains.
The next ones they saw were the Rockies. There was
little snow left now, in mid-August, on the Rockies.</p>
<p>“Give me the old Cascades,” said Bennie.</p>
<p>“Just the same, I’d like to stop off a few days and
climb the Rockies, and see Glacier Park, and Yellowstone
Park, and the Grand Canyon, and——”</p>
<p>“Did you say a few days?” Bennie laughed. “Spider,
you and I have got to get busy the next few years,
and make a bunch of money, so’s we can really see
America.”</p>
<p>“We’ve done pretty well for one summer, at that,”
Spider answered. “And I’ll tell you one thing, it’s
up to us to do something to pay for it. I’ve got a
scheme, too.”</p>
<p>As they traveled homeward, Spider developed his
scheme. It was to raise some money for the scouts
by showing Mr. Stone’s movies, and with the money
have a lot of signs made, to mark trails with. Then
Spider and Bennie and the scout master, maybe, would
lead the scouts in opening up footpaths for trampers
over the highest hills and cliffs around Southmead.
Some of these trails used to exist, but they had long
since grown over, and the summer boarders were always
getting lost trying to find them. But many of
the wildest places, the spots where there were the best
views, had no trails at all.</p>
<p>“We’ll make trails,” Spider declared.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_289">289</div>
<p>“Yes, and we’ll build some shelter lean-tos where
we can go and spend the night,” Bennie offered.</p>
<p>“Sure, and we’ll make some easy trails, and some
hard ones, with cliff climbs in ’em.”</p>
<p>“Sure, and put warning signs on the bad ones—‘Dangerous—only
for experienced climbers.’”</p>
<p>“Like us,” Spider laughed. “Seriously, though, I
bet we can do a lot to help the scouts and the town,
and everybody, and have a lot of fun, and you and I
can survey and map out the trails first, and get our
merit badges in hiking that way, at the same time!”</p>
<p>“Great!” cried Bennie.</p>
<p>They continued to lay their plans all the way home,
but they forgot them for a day or two in the excitement
of greetings, and seeing their parents, and the
old town, and all their fellow scouts. Bennie spent
half his time for the next few days trying to cut up
wood and weed the drive, while half a dozen boys stood
around, making him tell them about Crater Lake, and
the climb up Llao Rock, and how Dumplin’ fell on
Jefferson.</p>
<p>But after the first week was over, and they had
settled back into the life of Southmead, Spider and
Bennie got together with Mr. Rogers, the scout master,
and outlined their trail plans. He was enthusiastic
about them, and they set to work at once, with the
help of his suggestions. They went out every afternoon
till school opened, hiking through the woods and
up the small 2,000-foot mountains around Southmead,
surveying practical routes for paths, and making
sketch maps. After school opened, they had to abandon
the daily trips, but got in long ones on Saturdays.
By October they had enough work planned out to
keep the scout troop busy for months, and the task of
opening the trails with scout axes, brush hooks, and
pruning shears began.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_290">290</div>
<p>The first trail opened was an old, steep path, long
since overgrown by laurel and other bushes and small
trees, up the mountain to the top of the cliffs the boys
had climbed the previous winter. It took them five
Saturdays, working with a gang of ten scouts, to get
this trail, two miles long, cleaned out. By that time,
Mr. Stone’s pictures had come, and the scouts made
twenty-five dollars by exhibiting them at the Town
Hall, so that everybody could see what the Oregon
mountains were like. Mr. Rogers kept the money,
and the first use made of it was to have three or four
white signs made, to mark the newly-cut trail. Every
sign carried, in black letters, the name of the trail—“Cliff
Path to Monument Mountain,” and, below, the
name of the organization erecting it—“Southmead
Boy Scouts.”</p>
<p>As soon as these signs were ready, the troop took
them out and put them at the proper places—at each
end, and at the points where old wood roads crossed,
to make confusion.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_291">291</div>
<p>During the winter, Spider and Bennie hiked on
snowshoes many miles, over all the surrounding hills,
trail planning, and visited the scouts in the next town,
planning with them a foot-trail over the long, rocky
ridge of wooded hills between the two villages. When
spring came, this work, too, was started, the two troops
working from their respective ends. They finally met
at the town boundary, erected a shelter there, and had
a big camp fire and celebration.</p>
<p>By the end of the summer, Bennie and Spider saw
real results—not so many as they had planned, but
yet enough to cause the local Board of Trade to get
out a little trail map for summer visitors, which Spider
was asked to draw, and to cause the summer visitors
to hike in larger numbers than ever before. And
wherever they hiked, on the new trails, they saw the
neat signs to guide them, posted by the Boy Scouts.</p>
<p>“It’s fine work, boys,” said Mr. Rogers, after the
two scouts had passed their examinations for merit
badges in hiking. “We’ve got a long trail to the next
town, we’ve got one up Monument, we’ve cleaned the
old path to Eagle Rock, and we’ve built one to the
Cave. If we keep these cleared out, and add one new
one a year, we’ll soon have Southmead the best town
for tramping in the United States!”</p>
<p>“Just the same,” said Bennie, a little wistfully, “I
wish I was going to climb old Jefferson tomorrow,
where there isn’t any trail at all!”</p>
<p>“If you hadn’t climbed him, though, you wouldn’t
have been so keen for this work we’ve been doing,”
Spider said. “It’s because we got into the real wilderness
that made us want to help folks around here to
get out and hike.”</p>
<p>“Right—as usual,” Bennie laughed. “I’m not
kicking. It’s great stuff, making trails. I like it. But
some day!—Oh, you Crater Lake, I’m going back to
you!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_292">292</div>
<p>“We might get in shape for it by taking a crack
at the Monument cliffs tomorrow,” Spider laughed.
“We haven’t climbed them since spring.”</p>
<p>“You’re on,” said Bennie. “Let’s carry packs and
blanket rolls, and hike on down the other side, and
spend the night at Wilson Pond.”</p>
<p>“That’s only fourteen miles—I’m your man,” cried
Spider.</p>
<p>“’Course, it isn’t much, but it’ll keep us in condition,”
Bennie declared, with great pretended airiness of
manner. “We’ll hike back home in time for breakfast.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Rogers, who overheard this conversation,
came out on the porch when the boys had gone.</p>
<p>“Bennie’s a great joker,” she laughed.</p>
<p>“He is—and he isn’t,” the scout master answered.
“As a matter of fact, it <i>is</i> fourteen miles to Wilson
Pond, over the mountain, and as a matter of fact,
those two boys <i>will</i> get up tomorrow at four, have a
swim, and be home for breakfast at half-past seven or
eight.”</p>
<p>“Now you’re the joker,” his wife laughed.</p>
<p>“You take a climb with them once, and see how
much of a joke it is,” said he.</p>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">THE END</span></p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_293">293</div>
<h3 id="c26"><i>Every boy will want</i>
<br />FRANK H. CHELEY’S
<br /><span class="large">The Boys’ Book of Camp Fires</span></h3>
<p>This is the most complete book of
boys’ camp activities ever written.
It contains suggestions for camp
cooking and for stunts of all kinds,
handicraft work, camp songs and
stories which help toward the fullest
enjoyment of out-of-door life. The
author stands among the highest
authorities on camp life.</p>
<h3 id="c27"><i>By the same author</i></h3>
<dl class="undent"><dt>Camp Fire Yarns</dt>
<dt>The Mystery of Chimney Rock</dt>
<dt>The Job of Being a Dad</dt></dl>
<div class="pb" id="Page_294">294</div>
<h3 id="c28"><span class="large">The Boys’ Bookshelf</span></h3>
<p class="center"><i>Which have you read?</i></p>
<dl class="undent"><dt><b>By Walter P. Eaton</b></dt>
<dt class="center"><b><i>Scouting</i></b></dt>
<dd>The Boy Scouts of Berkshire</dd>
<dd>The Boy Scouts in the Dismal Swamp</dd>
<dd>Boy Scouts in the White Mountains</dd>
<dd>Boy Scouts of the Wildcat Patrol</dd>
<dd>Peanut—Cub Reporter</dd>
<dd>Boy Scouts in Glacier Park</dd>
<dd>Boy Scouts at Crater Lake</dd>
<dd>Boy Scouts on Katahdin</dd></dl>
<dl class="undent"><dt><b>By Lewis E. Theiss</b></dt>
<dt class="center"><b><i>Radio Series</i></b></dt>
<dd>The Wireless Patrol at Camp Brady</dd>
<dd>The Secret Wireless</dd>
<dd>The Hidden Aerial</dd>
<dd>The Young Wireless Operator Afloat</dd>
<dd>The Young Wireless Operator—as a Fire Patrol</dd>
<dd>The Young Wireless Operator with the Oyster Fleet</dd>
<dd>The Young Wireless Operator with the U. S. Secret Service</dd>
<dd>The Young Wireless Operator with the U. S. Coast Guard</dd></dl>
<p class="center">“<i>The finest radio stories ever written—interesting and informational</i>”</p>
<dl class="undent"><dd>The Flume in the Mountains</dd>
<dd>Aloft in the Shenandoah II</dd></dl>
<p class="center">“<i>Every red-blooded boy will devour such splendid books</i>”</p>
<dl class="undent"><dt><b>By Capt. Edward L. Beach, U. S. N.</b></dt>
<dt class="center"><b><i>Stories of the American Navy</i></b></dt>
<dd>Ralph Osborn—Midshipman at Annapolis</dd>
<dd>Midshipman Ralph Osborn at Sea</dd>
<dd>Ensign Ralph Osborn</dd>
<dd>Lieutenant Ralph Osborn Aboard a Torpedo Boat Destroyer</dd></dl>
<p class="center">“<i>The best set of American Naval Stories ever written for boys</i>”</p>
<dl class="undent"><dt><b>By Frank H. Cheley</b></dt>
<dd>The Job of Being a Dad</dd>
<dd>Camp Fire Yarns</dd>
<dd>The Mystery of Chimney Rock</dd>
<dd>The Boys’ Book of Camp Fires</dd></dl>
<p class="center">“<i>Boys and fathers, too, will revel in these</i>”</p>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="large">W. A. WILDE COMPANY</span>
<br /><span class="large">BOSTON</span> <span class="hst"><span class="large">CHICAGO</span></span></p>
<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
<ul>
<li>Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.</li>
<li>Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.</li>
<li>In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)</li>
</ul>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 54536 ***</div>
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