"Hit's sum climb," said Polly, doubtfully.
"But think what is at the end of it," answered the eager Bob. "Why, to see my father again, I'd go all night, and then some. Please don't say you won't, Polly, after giving me your promise."
"I'm gwine tuh leave hit tuh him," said the girl simply, and both of them understood that she meant Thad; for doubtless Polly had guessed before now that he was the leader of the boys in uniform, and that what he said was authority.
Thad knew there was no such thing as trying to restrain his chum, now that the fever was in his veins; nor did he have any desire to do so.
"He'll make it, all right, I think, Polly," he remarked, quietly.
"Sure I will; so let's start," declared the other.
Polly, of course, was willing. She did not seem to give one thought to herself; and yet Thad remembered how swollen her ankle had seemed, after such a bad twisting in the cleft of the rock that same afternoon, when the angry wildcat threatened to jump at her. But then Polly had been reared among the mountains that seem to meet the sky; and she was a girl accustomed to standing all manner of pain as well as any grown man could have done.
They started to climb upward.
One thing favored them, for which Thad was really glad. Polly knew every foot of the rough country like a scholar might the printed pages of a book. She could lead them along trails that they never would have suspected existed at all, hidden as they were from the eye of a stranger, by the artful moonshiners. And while possibly the climbing might be difficult, it was never as bad as the boys had found it when ascending the mountain in the day time.
Bob for a wonder kept quiet. Of course he needed all his wind to carry him through. Then again, he was naturally turning over in his mind the amazing thing that had just come to him, and trying to realize his wonderful good fortune.
The thought that he was about to see his dear father shortly was enough to fill his mind, to the exclusion of all else. And so he continued to follow close after the nimble girl, while Thad brought up the rear.
They paused to rest several times. No doubt it was more on account of these two boys, quite unaccustomed to such harsh labor as climbing a mountain, that compelled Polly to pause; because otherwise, she could have kept straight on, without any rest.
"We's gittin' thar now," she remarked, finally, as they halted for the fourth time, with Bob fairly panting for breath, and Thad himself secretly confessing that this mountain climbing after a surefooted girl who had shown herself as nimble as a goat, was no "cinch."
"I'm glad to hear that news, Polly," Bob admitted candidly; but then it may have been on account of the fact that he was nearer the meeting with his long-lost father, rather than an admission that he was tired.
"Jest wun moah stop, an' shore we'll be thar; p'raps we cud make her right smart from hyah, ef so be yuh felt fresh enuff," Polly explained.
"Let's try, anyhow," declared Bob; "you don't know how much I can stand. Why, I used to climb these same mountains as well as you ever could; and it'd be queer if I'd forgot all I ever knew."
"Thet sounds jest like a Quail," remarked the girl, with a chuckle, as she once more took up the work.
The last part of the climb was certainly the roughest of all. Old Phin had hidden his secret Still in a quarter of the rocky uplift where no revenue man thus far had ever been able to look upon it of his own free will.
But finally they heard Polly say that it was close by. Thad also noticed that the girl had changed her manner more or less. She climbed now without making the slightest noise; just as though some instinct, born of her life in the zone where warfare always existed between her people and the Government agents, had caused her to exercise caution.
Thad saw that they were approaching what must be a rocky gully, leading to some sort of cave. He remembered that Polly had, while speaking, happened to mention the fact that her father's famous Still was located in a cave, which could never be found by the smartest agent the authorities had ever sent to look for such illegal distilleries.
"Look out yer don't slip!" came in a low but thrilling whisper from the guide at this juncture; and from this Thad assumed that they must be passing along the edge of some dizzy precipice, that had to do with the safety of the manufactory, the existence of which had so long taunted the Government.
Now and then Polly would give a slight pause. At such times Thad believed she must be looking cautiously around, to make sure that the guard had not returned to the place since she left there some time before.
Then he realized that he could no longer see the stars overhead. From this he judged they must have passed underground; and that this was a fact he presently learned when, by stretching out his hand, he felt the cold rock close by.
All around them was pitch darkness at first, and the girl had made Bob take hold of her dress, while Thad in the rear kept a hand on his chum's back as they moved slowly along.
Presently the watchful scoutmaster made a little discovery that afforded him pleasure. There must be a light ahead somewhere, for he began to catch a faint glow, such as might come from a lantern.
This illumination grew gradually stronger, until they could actually manage to see dimly around them.
"Wait hyah foh me, till I see ef ther coast is clar," whispered the girl.
The two scouts saw her slip away. It struck Thad that possibly he and his chums had much to learn ere they could pass along as noiselessly as this mountain girl.
How the seconds dragged. Each one must have seemed torture to poor anxious Bob, knowing as he did that the one he had long mourned as dead was so near at hand. They heard nothing save a dripping sound, which might have been caused by water. Evidently the secret Still was not in operation just then; and words dropped by Polly gave Thad the impression that possibly it had ceased work for all time, because of some reason that brought about a change in the conditions.
Polly could not have been gone more than five minutes before she came gliding back again to where she had left the boys.
"Hit's all right, an' thar don't 'pear ter be any guard 'round."
She plucked at Bob's coat sleeve, as if to let him understand that he could come on now; as if the boy needed a second invitation.
They turned a bend in the narrow passage ahead, and Thad drew a long breath as he looked upon one of the most remarkable scenes it had ever been his fortune to see.
The cave was a natural grotto, rock-ribbed, and as firm as the everlasting foundations of the mountains themselves. The moonshiners had fitted it up for their purpose; and there, for the first time Thad saw what a Still looked like. After all, it did not amount to much, the worm being the most interesting part of it. But then the fact that he was now gazing upon the very Still that revenue men had for years tried in vain to discover and wreck, gave the scoutmaster a sensation akin to awe.
But all this he saw with one sweeping glance. There was more. A clanking as of a chain drew his attention to a figure that had arisen from a bench, and was pushing the long hair from his eyes to watch their entrance. Evidently Polly during her short absence must have whispered to the prisoner that Bob was close by.
There was, of course, no such thing as holding Bob back any longer. He saw that ragged and altogether uncouth figure, which of course bore not the least resemblance to the father he remembered so well; but he also had discovered a pair of extended arms, and toward their shelter the boy fairly leaped.
Another instant and Bob Quail was wrapped in the embrace of the parent he had not seen in more than two years, and whose fate it had been to remain here a prisoner among the moonshiners who hated him so thoroughly, while his dear ones mourned him as dead.
After a few minutes Thad moved closer, and gave a little cough, wishing to let his chum know that he had a comrade tried and true near by. With that Bob started up, and gripped him by the arm.
"This is my best friend, Thad Brewster, father," he said.
Thad shook hands with the emaciated man who had been confined in this underground retreat so long. In spite of the long beard and strange looks of the other, he realized that Mr. Quail was no ordinary man. But then Thad had guessed that already, from what he had heard about the one-time marshal.
"This is a mighty big piece of luck for Bob!" Thad remarked. "It seems nearly too good to be true; and he'll be the happiest boy in the States when he takes you back home with him, sir."
"Home!" repeated the prisoner; "how strange that word sounds, after being shut up here so long. And how queer the outside world will seem to me. But I hope the promise Old Phin Dady made me, still holds good; for I've no longer the desire to hold out against his will. In my own mind I'm no longer on the pay-roll of the Government, for he tells me every one believes me dead; so I can take the vow with a clear conscience. Yes, I'm hoping to go home with my boy."
Thad felt that all now remaining for them to do was to get in communication with the moonshiner, and have Mr. Quail set at liberty. Surely after what he and Bob had done for the family of Phin Dady, the latter could not refuse to let his prisoner go; especially since he now professed his willingness to make the promise that up to this time he had absolutely declined to subscribe to.
They were still talking in this strain when a sound like a cough drew their attention, and looking up, Thad discovered a grim figure leaning on his gun not twenty feet away. There was no need to ask who the man was, for every one of them had already recognized the moonshiner, Phin Dady!
The mountaineer was the first to speak.
"'Pears like I was interruptin' a leetle fambly reunion," he remarked, drily.
At any rate, Thad noticed, there did not seem to be any great show of anger in the actions or words of the man. Nor was he leveling that terrible gun, which had doubtless brought consternation into the hearts of more than one invading group of revenue officers in times past.
Indeed, Thad was rather inclined to think Old Phin looked remarkably docile, as though his claws had been pulled, and he no longer felt that the whole world was against him.
Mr. Quail, however, did not see things in this way. He was not aware of the great change that had come about in the Dady family, that threatened to remove from the Blue Ridge the most remarkable and picturesque figure the region had ever known.
"I'm ready to make that promise you once put before me, Phin!" he cried out, as if secretly fearing that harm might fall upon the head of his venturesome boy, because of his braving the moonshiner's wrath by searching out the secret Still.
"Hit's too late fur thet, Mistah Quail!" declared the other grimly.
"But surely you wouldn't think of changing your mind now?" said the prisoner.
"Thet's jest what I done, suh," answered Phin. "Polly, I'se noticin' as how yuh brung them byes up hyah tuh the old Still. Reckons as how yuh never'd dared do thet same on'y foh what's cum ter pass."
"Reckons as how I wudn't, dad," replied the girl; who, somehow, did not seem to display any particular fear of the stern parent, such as might have been expected under the circumstances.
"Are you going to let me go free, Phin Dady?" demanded the prisoner, hoarsely.
For answer the moonshiner stepped forward, and with a key he produced, released the iron that had been fastened about the ankle of the one-time revenue marshal.
"I give you the promise you wanted, Phin, and never will I tell a living soul where the hiding-place of your Still lies," Mr. Quail declared, trying to conceal his emotion as a brave man might.
"Thet's good o' ye, Mistah Quail," remarked the other, with one of his dry chuckles that somehow Thad liked to hear.
"And more than that, Phin," continued the other, earnestly, "I agree never again to enter these mountains in search of the men who live here, and who believe they have a right to make this moonshine stuff as they please, whether the authorities down in Washington let them or not. I've resigned as a marshal, Phin. You and your friends will never have to think of me again as an enemy. And I suppose then that the curious public will never get the sight of this famous Still of yours, that I boasted they would."
"Thet's whar yuh makes a mistake, suh," said the old man, with a wide grin. "I reckons now as it's a gwine to be ther trade mark ter be used on ther bottles. I be'n tole thet it ort ter help make sales, w'en they knows the new medicine, made outen roots an' yarbs got in ther mountings, an' wich cures all kinds o' shakes an' chills like magic, is manufactured in ther same old Still as Phin Dady cooked moonshine stuff foh nigh on ten hull yeahs."
"What's that?" exclaimed the late prisoner, while Polly laughed softly, like one who sees a new life opening up before her.
Thad began to see glimpses of light. He remembered the strange words used by the girl from time to time. Yes, there had a change taken place; things were never going to be the same as they had been in the past. Accident had opened the eyes of the old mountaineer, and he had discovered a way to make money, with the Government for, not against him.
"W'y, yuh see," he began, rather clumsily; when Polly took the words from his mouth, being so full of the subject that she just could not hold in.
"He used ter make up a kind o' medicine w'enever we gut ther shakes, an' it did the bizness the slickest yuh ever did see, suh," she started to say. "Thar was a man as kim erlong heah, an' heerd 'bout hit. So he sez as how he'd like ter take a bottle erlong, and hev it tested. W'ich they done, an' writ as how it was sich a wonder thet p'raps dad, he cud supply ther trade. An' on'y yist'day he done gits a letter, suh, as binds ther bargain. Old Phin, he ain't agwine tuh make moonshine no moah. We's ameanin' tuh go tuh town, jest as soon's we heahs from ther people in Washington, as these drug men hes gone ter see. Yuh know hit wudn't be nice if they sot on my dad as soon as he showed up, an' locked him in prison, 'case as how he use ter make mounting dew on ther sly."
Crudely expressed as it was, Thad understood the whole story now. It fairly took his breath away, it was so strange. To think of this gaunt old mountaineer having discovered a medicine that was going to prove as great a benefit to mankind as the stuff he had been hitherto manufacturing was a curse! It was almost too wonderful for belief.
"Do you mean that the gentlemen who mean to handle the product of your Still in the future are trying to get the authorities to wipe all the past off the slate, and let your father start fresh?" asked Mr. Quail.
"Thems erbout hit, suh," Polly replied, nodding her head. "Hand we-uns 'spect ter live in town arter this, whar p'raps I kin wear a hat, an' hev sum shoes as hain't big ernuff fur a man, an' git some larnin' in school. Soon's as we knows, we reckons on movin'."
"And Phin Dady, perhaps I might be of assistance to you down at Washington, once I get to a barber, and look something respectable," said the late prisoner.
"D'ye mean thet ye don't hold no grudge agin me foh what I done tuh ye?" demanded the old moonshiner, evidently surprised.
"That's just what I mean," replied the other, heartily. "Outside of keeping me a prisoner, and even that was partly my fault, you've not been harder on me than one might expect. And I'm so happy now, with this noble lad by my side, and the knowledge that my wife still lives, that I couldn't bear you any ill feeling. I hope you'll be a big success in your new business; and here's my hand, if you care to take it."
"Hurrah!" cried Bob, feeling like throwing up his hat when he saw the two men, enemies for so long, shaking hands in a friendly way.
Thad himself had never felt so light-hearted. It seemed as though all of their troubles had suddenly taken flight, and the future looked bright indeed. This hike through the Blue Ridge had turned out ten times more wonderful than any of them had ever dreamed, when the undertaking was first discussed, away up in Cranford. It had given Bob back a father whom he had believed was dead; and presently Bertha, too, would be taken from the guardian who had no real legal right to her charge.
The Boy Scouts would be able to go back to their home town with a feather in their hats, after accomplishing so many wonderful things.
But how were they going to get down to the faraway camp? Would Mr. Quail, who must be weak on account of having been kept in the cavern so long, be able to stand the rough trip? Perhaps, after all, they had better stay there during the balance of the night, and wait for daylight to come.
Thad was perfectly willing to leave all this to the gentleman himself; and presently he became aware that they were even then discussing it.
His long and bitter association with those cold walls, and that Still, must have given Mr. Quail a dislike for the sight of them; because he expressed himself as only too willing to start down without delay.
"It's true that I'm not as strong as I might be right now," he admitted; "but that weakness ought to pass away as I get the fresh air. Besides, having my boy at my side will work wonders. Yes, please do not let my condition keep us here one minute longer than is absolutely necessary."
And so they all started down. Since there was no longer any need for secrecy, Polly carried the lantern along.
After all, it was not such very hard work. With a light to show them what they had to avoid, and a pilot who knew every foot of the mountainside, they made very fair progress indeed. Even Mr. Quail declared he was getting stronger all the time, as he drew in big quantities of the sweet mountain air, so different from that he had been enduring so long, tainted with the fumes of the Still.
Once Polly haulted, and drew their attention to a light far down.
"Thet's yer fire," was what she said, simply; and both Bob and Thad allowed their gaze to fall upon the flicker with a sense of deep satisfaction; for they knew that they were about to prove to be messengers of good tidings to those tried and true comrades so anxiously awaiting their return.
Thad forgot that his feet burned, and that his muscles cried out in protest against such unusual exertion; the thing that had happened was of so wonderful a nature that every time he thought about it he told himself he ought to consider himself equal to the task of walking up and down hill all the remainder of the night, without a single groan or falter.
Now they were evidently drawing nearer the lower part of the mountain. Glimpses they caught of the camp-fire told them this good news. Besides, Thad really began to recognize his surroundings.
And he was not so very much surprised when Polly suddenly stopped and pointing to the rock at her feet, remarked:
"Hit war right thar, dad, as I got cort by ther foot; an' on thet ledge yonder ther cat squatted, agrowlin' and spittin' like the Ole Nick, and meanin' tuh jump right on me. See, hyars a stick thet helped tuh beat him off. An' as yuh knows, 'twar this same boy, Thad they calls 'im, as dun fixed Uncle Cliff up, so's Nate an' Tom, they cud fotch him acrost tuh ther doc. Reckon we ort tuh do all we kin ter show 'em ther Dady fambly hes gut feelins."
"Shore we ort, gal, an' we's agwine tuh do thet same," declared Old Phin.
"We don't doubt it," said Thad, more or less affected by these evidences of gratitude on the part of the mountaineer and his daughter. "What I did was only a little thing you know, that could hardly count."
"But hit saved Cliff's life, an' thet meant sumthin' foh him," the girl continued, with a shake of her tousled head. "Come erlong, an' let's git down thar. Reckons as how a cup o' coffee'd taste right good tuh yuh dad."
"Coffee!" echoed Mr. Quail, as though the very sound of the word touched his inmost feelings; "it'll seem like nectar for the gods just to smell it again, after—but no matter, it was the best they had, and I oughtn't to say anything."
All the same Thad noticed that his steps quickened a little, and he seemed to sniff the air from time to time, as if in imagination he could already catch a faint whiff of the treat in store for him.
As they drew closer to the camp Thad could see that some of the boys were sitting there. Perhaps they had been too anxious to even try and sleep; though he believed he knew of one at least who could never have held out all this while, no matter how strong his determination.
Waiting until they had arrived within a certain distance, and there was no evidence that any one had noticed the descending lantern, Thad gave vent to a call. It was the bark of the fox, and used by the members of the patrol as a signal in case they wished to communicate with one another.
He saw the figures about the fire quicken into life. They seemed to jump to their feet, and stare about them, as if unable to understand what that call meant.
A little to the surprise of Thad his signal was repeated from a point close by, and immediately Allan Hollister showed up. Undoubtedly the Maine boy had been scouting around the borders of the camp, seeking to guard against any surprise. He had watched the coming of the group with the lantern, and guessed that two of them must be the missing comrades, Thad and Bob.
When they all stalked into camp, the boys were thunderstruck to see Old Phin and his daughter, apparently on the best of terms with their comrades; and as for the tall man with the long hair and beard, they could easily guess who he must be by the way Bob Quail clung to his hand.
Then Bumpus called for three cheers, and they were given with a vim that made the valley echo from side to side. Possibly some of those moonshiner videttes must have started up, wondering what on earth could be occurring in the camp of the Boy Scouts.
There was little chance that any of the boys would get a wink of sleep during the remainder of that eventful night. Long did they sit there by the revived fire, watching Mr. Quail drink his coffee, cup after cup, and listening to the strangest story they had ever heard. Even when finally, along about three in the morning, they were induced to lie down upon their various beds of leaves and grass, sleep must have utterly refused to visit their eyes, save in the case of Bumpus himself; and he could drop into slumber in almost "any old position, even if he were hanging by his heels," as Giraffe used to say.
And so the night passed away, and another morning found them, red-eyed but joyful beyond compare; for they felt that their great hike among the mountains had turned out to be the finest thing possible, both for their comrade, Bob, and themselves.
The mountain hike had come to an end.
One and all, the Boy Scouts declared that they had seen about enough of this wild country of the Blue Ridge, and would be glad to turn their steps toward dear old Cranford. They believed they could find other ways to enjoy themselves that offered better inducements than climbing the sides of mountains, with suspicious moonshiners watching their every move.
Of course, now that Old Phin Dady had taken them under his protection, they had no reason to fear any bodily harm. And what Thad had done for Cliff Dorie must go pretty far toward making them friends among the ignorant mountain people. But because Old Phin meant to desert his former calling for one that would have the sanction of the law, did not mean that moonshine stuff would not continue to be made up in the dells back of the trail in the Smoky Range. There were many others who knew no other means for making a slim livelihood, than by cheating the Government of the heavy tax it placed on strong drink.
So the scouts decided, by a unanimous vote, that they had seen enough of these parts; and would hail with delight an order to turn their backs on it all. Besides, did they not know that both Bob and his father would be fairly wild to hasten to the waiting mother and wife in that Northern home?
They made the start as soon as they could get in marching order. Polly and her father accompanied them through the mountains. This was considered best, lest some suspicious moonshiner think it his duty to take a pot shot or two at those figures far down the valley, wearing the khaki uniform he hated.
At every cabin they passed, the natives swarmed out to see the strange sight of Old Phin walking amiably by the side of the boy soldiers, as they supposed the scouts to be. Once or twice there was an ugly demonstration, some of the natives fancying that the mountaineer must have surrendered, and was being carried off to jail. It took considerable explaining to get these people to understand the truth about things, and that Phin was on the best of terms with the boys.
Finally he dared go no further, because as yet he did not know what success his agents, the drug men, had in Washington; and there was danger of revenue men sighting him at any moment, when trouble must break out, since there had been war between them for so long.
When the little party of scouts turned up again in Asheville, they found plenty to do there to keep them over until another day. First of all, Mr. Quail underwent a complete transformation at the hands of a barber; for he declared he believed the sight of him, in his present condition, with such long hair and beard, would be enough to send his poor wife into a fit, or else have her drive him from the door as a pretender.
And when he appeared before the scouts, decently dressed in a new suit, which Bob's money paid for, as he had none himself just then, Bumpus voiced the sentiments of the entire patrol when he declared that Mr. Quail was as fine looking a gentleman as he knew.
Of course a message had been sent to Cranford, to apprise Bob's mother of the glorious result of his hike down in the Blue Ridge country, which they had once upon a time called home. It had to be very carefully worded, lest the shock to her nerves prove too great. And in another day, father and son hoped to be once more with the one who would not sleep a wink until her own eyes beheld the loved form which she believed had gone from her forever.
Then there was that affair concerning little Bertha to be considered. Great had been the indignation of Mr. Quail when, on examining the paper which Bob had secured through the help of the girl, he realized all the rascality that Reuben Sparks had been guilty of.
They held an interview with a well-known lawyer, who, on hearing the facts, and seeing the legal document, advised them to leave it all in his charge.
"I promise you that this party will be summoned to appear forthwith, bringing his ward with him," this legal gentleman had declared; "and once within the jurisdiction of the court, it will be an easy matter to dispossess him. Indeed, should he show fight, we can have him sent up for a term of years."
With such a pleasant prospect before them, did the scouts leave the Old Tar-heel State. They had come down here for an outing, and to see what Bob had once called his home; but the tour had turned out to be a more serious affair than any of them could ever have anticipated.
And now they were on the way home again, filled with memories of the many events that had seasoned their brief stay in the Land of the Sky; home to familiar scenes and to look upon faces that were dear to them.
A jolly party they were on the train that bore them away toward the North. Bob and his father sat by themselves, for they had a thousand things to talk about, that concerned only their private interests. But the rest clustered at one end of the sleeper, and eagerly reviewed the stories they would have to tell.
"Oh! we'll have the greatest time ever, just showing the fellers how we did it," declared Bumpus. "First of all, we'll get Giraffe to wade into a creek, and explain how he was bein' pulled down by that sucking quicksand, when the prompt arrival of the rest of the bunch saved his precious life. I always heard that when one's just born to be hanged there ain't no use tryin' to get rid of him by any other means; which I guess stands for quicksand too."
"That sounds mighty fine, Bumpus," remarked Giraffe, unmoved by the laughter greeting the proposition; "but just think what a great stunt it'll be when we get Davy Jones here showing 'em what he c'n do dropping down head-first into a bully old camp-fire, and swimmin' in red coals. That ought to bring down the house; if only we c'n coax him to do it over again."
"Not much you will," declared the said Davy, looking ruefully at sundry red marks on both his wrists, that served to remind him of the accident. "Once is enough for me; and I tell you right now, fellows, if ever I do climb a tree again, to exercise, I'm going to be mighty careful I don't hang down over a blaze. There's such a thing as takin' too many chances."
"A burnt child dreads the fire," sang out Step Hen.
"Hello! are you there, old sobersides?" remarked Giraffe, pretending to be surprised; "now, we all of us thought you might be busy writin' out in your mind a treatise on how to be happy watching a tumble-bug try to roll his big ball uphill; or else what lessons can be gained by watching the humble beetle in his never-say-die act as a gymnast. But I see you've got your badge right-side up to-day, all to the good, Step Hen; what wonderful stunt have you been pulling off now?"
"Oh! it didn't amount to much, I guess, fellows; but then even a little speck of kindness counts, they say," remonstrated Step Hen.
"I happen to know," remarked Thad, breaking into the conversation; "for I was just coming into that other ordinary car, when I saw our comrade doing himself proud. Perhaps it is only a little thing for a boy to notice that a poor woman with three kids clinging to her skirts, and a baby in her arms, wants to get a bottle of milk warmed, and don't know just how to manage it; and to offer to do it for her; but let me tell you, that poor tired mother said 'thank you, my boy' just as if it meant a heap to her! Yes, Step Hen, you had a right to turn your badge; and I only hope you find as good a chance to do it every single day, as you did on this one."
And Giraffe became suddenly silent. Perhaps something within told him that he too had passed that same weary mother; and if he thought anything at all at the time it was only to wonder why a woman could be so silly as to travel with so many children.
"Well, you see," remarked Step Hen, feeling that some sort of explanation was expected from him, after the scoutmaster had given him the "spot light" on the stage. "I got to talkin' with her afterwards, and she told me that the children's paw had just died down South, and she was on her way home to her mother's. After hearin' that, fellers, I wanted to do anything more I could for the poor thing; and I did jump off at the last station, and buy the kids some sandwiches, 'cause, you see, they didn't have a great lot to munch on. But it was worth while to watch 'em gobble the snack of chicken I got along with 'em, like they hadn't had a bite to eat this livelong day."
Thad walked away, satisfied that Step Hen was proving his worth as a scout. That little lesson of the humble bug had opened his eyes, and through those touched his heart. Perhaps he might not change all at once, for he was inclined to stumble, and fall down, when he had made good resolutions; but the chances were he would see more in life than ever before.
And that is what a scout wants to do, keep his eyes open all the while, in order to notice many of the strange things that are happening every minute of the day all around him; until he learns to do that which will give him the greatest treat that could possibly happen to any one.
Time was when Step Hen might have passed that poor mother, and never have given her a second thought; but it was different now. And the strange thing about it, in Thad's mind, was that an obscure little tumble-bug, one of the lowliest of all created things, could have succeeded in showing Step Hen that he had a heart; and that even a boy can find chances to do kindly acts, if he looks for them.
"Well," said Bumpus, as they huddled together in a bunch, exchanging views and watching the mountains and valleys as they were whirled past, "if we could have the say right now where the Silver Fox Patrol would spend next vacation, where d'ye reckon it would be?"
"Let's take a vote!" suggested Step Hen.
"That's the ticket, Mr. Secretary, get eight ballots ready, and let's write first choice and second, majority rules," and the patrol leader nodded in the direction of his chum Allan, just as much as to say it was easy to guess what one vote would be.
"Count as I call out, Bob White. Here goes now: Maine first choice, Rocky Mountains second."
"Hurrah!" cried Bumpus.
"Another for Maine, with the Saskatchewan country of Canada second," Thad went on; "but this comrade forgot that as American Boy Scouts we do not want to spend our money and vacations in a foreign land."
When the eight ballots had been counted, strange to say Maine was first choice with every one, and the Rockies well in the lead as second.
"Move we make it unanimous," laughed Giraffe, which was duly done according to statute.
"Much good that will do, with a whole year to wait, because it wouldn't pay to go up into Maine for only Christmas week," grumbled Step Hen.
But strange to say it was decreed in a most remarkable way that the wish expressed by the scouts should be made an actual fact, and just how this came about the reader will find duly set forth in the third volume of this series entitled, "The Boy Scouts on the Trail, or Scouting through the Big Game Country."
In due time the scouts arrived at Cranford station, where their coming had been anticipated; for the story of how the boys had found the missing husband of Mrs. Quail had somehow gotten around, since Cranford had its gossips. One of these happened to be calling on the lady at the time Bob's telegram arrived. Of course its nature was such as to give Mrs. Quail a shock, though she quickly recovered; but there had been ample time for the visitor to glance at the message, between dabs at the face of the fainting lady with a handkerchief wet with cologne. And that was how the news got out.
"Look at the crowd, would you?" gasped Bumpus, as he poked his head out of the door, and saw what seemed to his excited imagination about the whole of Cranford filling the home station, and craning necks in the endeavor to be the first to glimpse the resurrected father of Bob Quail.
"Hurrah for the Boy Scouts!" some one called out.
They were given with a rush and a roar that brought other passengers hurrying to the windows of the cars, to see what popular hero it could be arriving home, to excite such a tremendous demonstration.
"Hurrah for Thad Brewster!" called a second school-boy, as the young scoutmaster stepped off the train, bearing certain bundles, that might be a haversack and a take-down shotgun.
Another wave of applause went sweeping up from the crowd.
"Three cheers for Bob Quail, and his dad!" shrilled yet another enthusiast; upon which the echoes were fairly awakened by the racket.
The scouts fell into line, and two and two marched along the station platform; for Mr. Quail had already taken his wife into his arms, and they had retired to the interior of the little building, in order to be less conspicuous while they talked it all over.
Bumpus sounded his bugle, and the boys kept step as they walked along, with heads up, and feeling that they had gained the right to feel a bit proud, after what they had gone through. The crowd pushed after them, still shouting, and making a great clamor.
And from one of the car windows looked a bevy of childish faces, back of which was the wan one of the tired mother; Step Hen disobeyed the rules for one second only, when he turned, and waved his hand to his little friends of the train. Seeing which Thad Brewster said softly to himself:
"I warrant you that little woman believes all this noise is meant for just one boy, and he the fellow who was so kind to her; because, in her sight Step Hen is a real hero, and this racket is meant especially for his home-coming."