Hugh was thinking seriously. What was their duty under such circumstances? Should some of them risk going out into the stormy night, and try to find the abandoned Sam Merrivale, so as to save his life? He figured that if the erring brother of Gus, weakened by illness as he was, should be left to the full and protracted rigor of the storm there was small chance of his ever surviving the night.
Hugh never had a question to decide that worried him more than this one did. He wanted to do his duty, yet wondered whether it would be right to imperil the lives of himself and one or more of his chums in trying to save so miserable a wretch as Sam Merrivale.
The mental combat was short-lived. Hugh could not evade the issue which was presented so squarely to him. He believed that it would be possible to rescue the miserable Sam, providing the other tramp would direct them to the scant refuge where the prodigal son of Mr. Merrivale was doubtless cowering beneath a scanty shelter that served to protect him from the chilling blasts.
Of course they would have to accept a certain amount of risk in carrying out this plan. Hugh felt that for them to remain there in their comfortable quarters, all through the long night, knowing that a fellow human being, and poor Gus’ brother at that, was perishing close by, would be something that would haunt them with shame and regrets as long as they lived.
So he turned again to the tramp, who may possibly have guessed what had been passing through the boy’s mind, for he immediately called out:
“I kin direct ye to the place, all right, mister, and it ain’t so very fur away from here, either; but better think twict afore ye starts to try it. Chances are three to one ye’ll be sorry when ye git a hundred yards away, with them pines a fallin’ like hail all around ye.”
Gus held his breath, and kept those eloquent eyes of his glued fast upon the features of Hugh. It seemed to Gus just then as though the life of his erring brother were hanging by a slender thread. In fact, it depended upon the decision of the scout master. If Hugh decided they would try to find him perhaps Sam might yet be saved; but if the decision were adverse there was scarcely any hope for the lost one.
Hugh did not fail his comrade. He quickly made up his mind where the path of duty led as seen by a scout’s eyes. Doubtless, Gus was thrilled to the bone when he caught the reassuring glance Hugh shot in his direction, for it told what was coming even before a single word had been uttered.
“Suppose you tell us, then, Casey,” said Hugh, soberly, “just how to reach the place where you say you left your pal?”
Gus did not utter a word—he was really too full for that; but he allowed a hand to steal out and clasp that of the scout leader, which he squeezed again and again in a way that told of his gratitude more than mere words could ever have done.
“Ye have got to foller the crick down,” began the injured tramp, “till ye come to where it makes a second bend, turnin’ to the right. It might be all o’ a quarter o’ a mile from here. Then strike out as the rocks run. When ye come to a dip in the same ’tis there ye’ll find Sam alyin’, dead or alive, I can’t say which. But no matter, ye’ll have to fetch him back between ye, ’case he’s too weak to walk.”
“You’ll let me go along, of course, Hugh?” pleaded Gus, still clinging to the other’s hand.
Hugh hardly knew what to do about that. Some one must stay with Casey, and under ordinary conditions he would have detailed Billy and Gus to perform that duty. But he knew how the poor fellow was fairly hungering to be able to do something personally for the brother whom his mother had sent him out to find.
His decision was quickly made. It was very hard to say no when Gus was looking so appealingly into his eyes. After all, three might be better than just a pair of them. And surely Billy ought to be able to take care of the camp while they were away.
“Yes, you can keep company with us, Gus,” he told the other.
“Then I suppose you mean for me to stay behind, and not Arthur?” ventured Billy.
“Arthur will be of more help to me in case we find Sam than you could, Billy,” Hugh told him frankly, “because I depend so much on his first-aid knowledge. And Gus ought to go because you must remember it is his brother who’s out in all that storm.”
So it was settled, considerably to the chagrin of Billy, who was to stay behind; but then he knew the scout master too well to dream of argument when once the other had laid down the law. Obedience to authority and discipline is one of the fundamental rules which every member of a patrol learns early in his career as a scout; it is one of the finest things taught by the organization, and calculated to be of great assistance to boys in later life.
Accordingly, Hugh, Gus and Arthur immediately commenced making preparations looking to sallying forth. They went about this in a matter-of-fact way, just as though they did not know they would literally be taking their lives in their hands by braving that fearful storm.
Hugh did not neglect a single thing, for he was always thorough. He even made sure they carried plenty of matches along, and some food as well.
“Goodness gracious! I hope now you don’t expect to get lost in the woods, and wander around ever so long,” ventured Billy, when he saw this, although secretly he must have also commended the wisdom of the move.
“There’s no telling what may happen in a case like this,” Hugh replied. “Besides, we might find Sam pretty well exhausted, and chilled to the marrow. Then if only we can build a bit of a fire, and warm up this can of soup, it will give him a whole lot of new strength.”
“Wait a minute, Hugh!” cried Billy, excitedly; “here’s a can of soup of new-fangled make. It’s meant to be used when a fellow isn’t able to have any fire, if only he can get a little water. You cut a hole in the outer can, for there are two, one inside the other. The space between is filled with unslacked lime, I guess. Anyhow, as soon as the water gets to it a heat is generated, and in a few minutes you take out the inside can, open it, and you’ll find the contents steaming hot!”
“I’ve read about those modern sportsmen’s supplies,” said Arthur, “but never tried anything along those lines. I’d say it might be a splendid thing for an occasion of this kind. I’ll report to you how it goes, Billy, in case we have to make use of it.”
“Wish you would,” said Billy, eagerly.
Presently the three who were to brave the storm announced themselves ready. There was a hearty hand-shake all around. Then Billy carefully opened the door part way, holding his breath in very awe as the others pushed through the stingy gap.
No sooner had the trio of venturesome scouts found themselves outside the friendly shelter of the bunk-house than they faced the full rigor of the storm. As yet the air had not turned cold, which was a remarkable phenomenon in the eyes of Arthur Cameron, whose study of weather conditions had made him something of an authority along the lines of predictions, among his chums at least.
The wind was howling madly through the trees, making all sorts of weird and actually terrifying noises, Gus Merrivale thought, as he cowered a little closer to Hugh, who was on his right.
Gus was not a coward by any means, but he might have shuddered at finding himself abroad in such a gale, only that his heart was now bound up in the idea of finding his lost brother, who was somewhere out yonder, exposed to the full fury of the storm.
He had long in secret envied those of his chums who were entitled to wear upon the breasts of their khaki coats one of the three emblems given to show that the bearer had been found worthy of having his name inscribed on the roll of honor kept at scout headquarters. Fortune, however, had, up to this time, never knocked at the door of Gus Merrivale, perhaps partly because of his lack of “push” and zeal, such as had taken the others to the front. Then the want of a suitable opportunity may have had something to do with it.
They found the going pretty hard. Hugh wondered how Casey had ever managed to make his way back to the lumber camp, after once leaving it, because of his weak condition and the fearful nature of the storm. Then he remembered several facts that helped explain this puzzling thing.
In the first place the tramp was injured while on his way back to the bunk-house, and may even have been almost at his destination when caught by that falling tree and knocked down as its branches struck him. Then again his back was toward the worst of the gale, so that it even assisted him along.
The scouts had another story to tell of their progress, for they almost faced the wind, and at times had to bend low in order to simply hold their own against its mad fury.
Every yard covered counted in the race to find and rescue Sam Merrivale, Hugh realized, as he plodded steadily along, yielding nothing to the elements that sought to hold them in check, but surely gaining ground.
Several times they were compelled to stop behind some shelter in order to regain their breath. All the while Gus was trembling like a leaf, in constant expectation of having a tree topple over upon them, just as had happened to Casey. If the tramp, who confessed that he had once been a lumberjack himself, could be caught in such a trap, it was evident that greenhorns like the three boys were taking desperate chances indeed.
Still, where Hugh led his comrades were always willing to follow; and Gus told himself over and over again that perhaps this would all turn out for the best. If only they could find poor Sam, and manage in some way to get him under shelter, who could prophesy what wonderful results the experience might not bring about in the heart and mind of the erring young man?
Gus himself had laid out a campaign in which he intended to appeal to whatever element of good remained in the breast of his brother. The devoted mother would largely figure in this, and he hoped through some such means to reclaim Sam. Indeed, although Gus had as yet said nothing about it to his chums, a little scheme had been arranged between his mother and himself, whereby Sam, if he could be coaxed to agree to the conditions, was to be hovering near his old home at a certain time when the wife and mother meant to make a last great effort to placate the stubborn father, and secure his consent to give the boy one more trial.
All these things, then, must have been gripping the mind of Gus as he labored with set teeth and tense muscles to keep alongside his mates. The thought of that little woman at home, and how her prayers were following him in his venture, gave Gus additional courage to face the difficulties that beset him. He was resolved to keep on to the end though he died for it. If Sam were to be saved, there must be no sign of weakness on the part of any scout.
Several times a tree did go down close by, and gave them all a severe shock, such was the terrific crash accompanying its sudden fall. Even Hugh was bound to confess that his heart seemed to stand still when, directly across their very path, one of these lofty pines came whirling down in the grip of the wind, now raging at hurricane force.
All this while it required considerable ability to keep going straight. Hugh did not forget a single word of the scanty directions given by Casey. The night was not absolutely dark, even though heavy clouds obscured the moon, near her fourth quarter, so that they could manage to avoid collisions with such trees as came in their way.
Hugh was following the downward course of the creek, and if at times the nature of the obstacles they met forced them to turn aside, he always took his bearings, and managed to get back again to the little zigzag stream.
A quarter of a mile may not seem much of a jaunt under favorable conditions. To Gus, who was a pretty good stepper, it had indeed many a time looked very small; but as long as the boy lived he would never forget what he experienced on this occasion when pitting his puny strength against the herculean force of a veritable cyclone of wind.
If he had felt any reason to hope that Hugh could hear a word of what he said, Gus, no doubt, on more than one occasion would have endeavored to ask eager questions concerning the possibility of accomplishing the task they had set out to perform.
Still, though he could not get such comforting assurance in words, Gus at least felt that all must surely be well, else Hugh would not be pushing so steadily onward as though he had every confidence in his ability to attain his end.
It might be noticed that the scout master was commencing to be more vigilant than heretofore. When next he stopped it was not to regain his breath in a sheltered spot, as had happened several times before. On the contrary, Gus noticed, though his eyes were dim with tears on account of the sting in the wind, that Hugh was intently examining the ground. Gus could not help but admire Hugh.
When the other arose from his feet he drew first one of his chums toward him and then the other. A temporary lull in the roar about them gave him a chance to shout a few words, though Hugh was chary about wasting his breath, feeling that he needed it all.
“This must be the second bend Casey told us about,” he explained. “Here are the rocks on the right. We must go this way!”
Neither of the others attempted to make any answer. In fact, they had submitted so many times to Hugh’s guidance that they were ready to do anything he said without a word or question as to its advisability.
At least one thing favored them—a change in their course was bound to work more or less to their advantage, since it would no longer be necessary to plunge directly into the teeth of the biting wind.
Gus was almost ready to drop. He staggered like a drunken man at times. Part of this came from exhaustion, but no doubt the despair that was commencing to tug at his heart had much to do with the state of his near collapse. Could he have been assured of success just then, probably he would have felt quite invigorated, and capable of enduring much more than had already come his way.
Hugh must have guessed this much, for somehow he managed to take hold of the other’s arm while pushing steadily on along the rocks, as called for in the scanty directions given by Casey the tramp. And no one but a fellow who has been in somewhat similar conditions bordering on collapse could understand just how much this friendly act did for poor Gus. He would never forget it, he told himself again and again, as he plucked up a little more courage just through sheer contact with the boy with the valiant heart.
Hugh knew they must by now be close to the spot where they hoped to come upon the castaway. He was hoping for the best, even while gritting his teeth, and preparing to face the worst. His one thought was Gus. He expected that if they were doomed to meet with bitter disappointment the other might give way utterly, and even faint, such would be the shock of his discovery.
Well, it was a comfort to Hugh to remember that he had Arthur along, Arthur who would be quick to meet just such an emergency as that, and who it seems had before this made out to grip the other arm of Gus in order to add to his stability.
Arthur may have been worrying greatly to account for this remarkable phenomenon of Nature, when an actual thunder-storm could come along on the eve of Thanksgiving, a thing never before known in all his reading of weather freaks. At the same time he was not giving up any time just then to bothering about such things. It was a condition that confronted them, not a theory, and they must devote all their attention to weathering the gale and finding Sam Merrivale.
Suddenly Hugh stopped short, and seemed to be trying to look around him.
“Oh! is this the place, Hugh?” almost shrieked poor Gus, overwhelmed with renewed anxiety.
“So far as I can tell it must be,” replied the other, loud enough to be heard.
Upon hearing this Gus shivered with a new dread, for there was certainly no sign of his brother.
“Hugh, he’s gone, don’t you see?” cried Gus, staring around helplessly in the dim light given by the moon that was hidden somewhere behind those heavy clouds overhead.
It chanced that the wind slackened its force for a brief spell just then, allowing, them an opportunity to exchange a few sentences, just as if the elements felt sorry for the misery of the poor fellow whose heart was full to overflowing.
“Yes, it looks like it,” Hugh admitted, “but if what Casey told us is true he must have been too weak to go far. We’ll find him, Gus, I hope.”
The other did not seem to be overconfident, even when he heard Hugh, whom he trusted as he did no other comrade, try to cheer him up in that way. A reaction was already setting in. Gus had been buoyed up much of the time by the hope that kept his heart warm, and now that this seemed gone a dreadful chill settled down upon him.
Hugh did not mean that this should be the end. He planned to bolster up the courage of his chum by prompt measures.
“Come,” he told the others, shouting aloud because the wind was rising again, with all those noises breaking forth around them once more, “what do we call ourselves scouts for if we can’t handle a little thing like this?”
“But what can we do, Hugh,” asked Gus. “Which way would we figure we’d better try and follow, when a dozen directions are open to him?”
“Stop and think,” said the other, quickly; “would a fellow who was weak, and ready to shrink from the storm, start out by facing it, or going the other way?”
Gus gave vent to a cry. New hope immediately started to tug at his heartstrings. Surely, as a scout, he should likewise have reasoned out things. But then Gus found himself the prey to contending emotions, and in no condition to figure what the answer to a conundrum might be, as under more comfortable conditions he would possibly have done.
Yes, it was certainly plausible to believe that the weak and tottering steps of Sam would carry him with the wind, and not against it. His one desire, when he moved away from the spot where Casey had left him, must have simply been to better his condition; and so he would drift along, the sport of the elements.
Gus watched Hugh as a cat might a mouse upon which it meant to presently pounce. The scout master was moving slowly up the little gully in which the tramps had hidden themselves, meaning to go back to the cabin should the intruders leave the vicinity, sooner or later.
While the place had offered a certain amount of shelter before the coming of the storm, it was a mere apology of a camp, once that driving wind started in to whipping the last remaining dead leaves from the hard wood trees, and levelling many of the pines. Sam must have stood it as long as he could, and then yielded to the impulse to let the gale urge him along, in hopes of finding a better shelter.
Hugh was alert and watchful, because he knew that it was an easy thing to go wrong in a case like this. A false deduction in the beginning would send them on a wild-goose chase, and with it would go their last feeble hope of finding the lost tramp.
Hugh even got down on his hands and knees and started to crawl laboriously up the slight ascent of rocks. At first Gus was bothered to account for this action on the part of his chum, and even feared that Hugh may have been more fatigued than he cared to admit. On second thought Gus arrived at the true explanation of the mystery.
Hugh was acting on the old principle of putting himself in the other fellow’s place. He meant to try and do just what he imagined the weak and distressed Sam must have attempted when making this desperate move.
The gully was really nothing more nor less than a slight depression of the rocks. Its edges were not high enough in any place to effectually shut out the sweep of the wind. On this account it was likely to prove a poor sort of shelter, though, for one thing, the danger of falling trees was not so great here as in many other places, and Sam may have understood this.
Gus was using his eyes on his own account as they crept along up the rise in this slow and laborious fashion. In spite of their weak condition, owing to the wind and the gathering tears, he could manage to make out some object lying huddled just ahead of them, and toward which Hugh was moving steadily at the time.
As yet they could not tell exactly whether this might prove to be the object of their search, or simply an outcropping mass of rock. Another half minute would tell the tale, and therefore Gus shut his jaws firmly together, determined to prove himself a credit to his organization.
All doubt was quickly removed when Hugh, turning his head, called back:
“Here he is; we’ve found him!”
It was only natural that the first wild sense of exhilaration that swept through the breast of the eager brother should be instantly succeeded by another spasm of acute doubt. Was Sam still alive, or had he made his very last bid for existence when creeping away from the storm, as he believed?
Hugh was already bending over the recumbent figure that was huddled in a knot, as though in the endeavor to better resist the plucking fingers of the wind. Arthur, too, had pushed forward, his professional instinct aroused, since it seemed likely that poor Sam would be in need of more or less help.
Only Gus, who had much more at stake than either of his mates, hung back, consumed with mingled hopes and fears. He waited to hear whether good news or bad was coming, after Hugh had learned how matters stood. And so Gus Merrivale with clenched hands and set jaws held his breath, and felt his heart beating like mad in his bosom. What agonies the boy suffered, and how the few seconds must have seemed to him like long hours—afterwards, under far different conditions, when he allowed his thoughts to draw him back again to that dreadful moment he always shuddered at the recollection of what he passed through in so brief a period of time.
Then a spasm of supreme joy flitted through the heart of Gus. He saw the recumbent figure on the cold rocks move. Hugh, yes, and Arthur, too, bending over the tramp had managed to let him know assistance had arrived, though it must have been hard for him to understand it.
“We have come to try and help you get back to the cabin again,” was what Hugh was shouting in his ear. “You can’t stay here through the night, because the chances are this storm will turn into a blizzard before morning, and you’d freeze to death.”
The castaway upon the rocks seemed to try and stare at them. He doubtless had hard work convincing himself that he was not dreaming.
“How’d you know I was out here?” Hugh managed to hear him say, as though that strange fact impressed him most of all in his weakened condition.
“Casey told us,” said Hugh, thinking to humor him a little. “Casey is back there by the fire in the bunk-house, where we’ll have you in a jiffy. Do your best to help us, Sam Merrivale.”
“Who are you?” demanded the other, apparently staggered at hearing his name spoken by one of those boys whose faces he could just dimly see.
“Never mind about that now,” Hugh told him, with that old touch of authority in his voice that usually carried his point. “In good time you’ll know all about it. Let us help you get on your feet. You’re to lean on two of us, while we start back to the creek bed. After that it won’t be quite so hard going, for we can have the wind at our backs. Now, Arthur, give me a hand!”
It was really strange how Hugh managed to make himself heard in all that racket; but then he had one of those voices that carry in spite of all obstacles. Arthur needed no urging, for he was ever ready to perform the highest functions of a scout, and put himself to any amount of trouble in order to relieve distress, or succor a fainting heart.
Sam seemed stiff and weak. At first he could hardly do a thing for himself, and Hugh seriously considered whether they might not after all be compelled to carry him on some sort of a rude litter, fashioned on the spur of the moment.
After he had been enabled to work his limbs a little, however, it seemed as if some sense of initiative must have come back to the wanderer, for he even put out one foot and took his first step, without being urged by his attendants.
Slowly they moved along, down the slight grade, and facing the worst of the still bitter wind. Gus hovered close behind the others, feeling ever so much better, now that his worst fears had not been realized. If Sam could only be taken to the cozy cabin in the old lumber camp owned by his father, all might yet be well. Gus had great faith in the ability of Arthur to pull a fellow through when he seemed to be on his last legs. Yes, he certainly had cause for great rejoicing, and no doubt there was a song of thanksgiving welling up in his heart that could not wait for expression until the dawn of the National Day devoted to gratitude wherever true Americans are found, the world over.
Now they had managed to reach the creek at the second bend, and from this time on it might be expected they would find the going much easier, although bad enough at the best. The storm was at their back, and the haven of the bunk-house just a quarter of a mile away, as they made the turn, and pushed on resolutely, the two scouts who flanked Sam and gripped his arms, steadying his feeble steps.
This lasted only a short while. Then a change came about that put quite another face on the matter, and one that looked much less rosy.
Gus, hovering close behind the others, trying to figure out how his brother was going to take it when he eventually learned of his identity, and heard the message he was bringing from their devoted mother—Gus felt his heart apparently jump up into his mouth, when he saw that Sam had drooped, and was hanging helplessly on his guardians.
Undoubtedly Nature had played out, and the exhausted young fellow could not go another step of his own volition. He had been sick of late, and besides that must have suffered considerable privations while leading that roving, reckless life into which he had latterly drifted.
Had Billy been present his first remark would probably have been, “here’s a pretty kettle of fish.” On the part of Gus it was a feeling of intense dismay that gripped his anxious heart. Still that confidence in Hugh Hardin remained, and so long as the scout master stood by there was really no reason to give way to utter despair.
He waited only long enough to make sure that they were lowering their charge to the ground. Gus had no fear that two such staunch fellows as his chums would dream of giving up the game and deserting Sam then and there; they were not made of such base stuff as that.
He could see that they had their heads together, and eager to learn what was in the wind, he pushed up very close, so that he could catch their words. It was, of course, necessary to almost shout so as to be heard, and sometimes a sentence was utterly drowned by the crash of falling timber close by. Nevertheless this is about what the strained ears of Gus caught.
“He’s all in and done for, that’s sure, Hugh,” Arthur was saying.
“No question about that,” the other went on to say. “I began to guess it was coming from the way he hung on us. He couldn’t walk ten steps further if his life depended on it. Poor chap, he’s game, though!”
“Then I reckon we’ll have to carry him,” cried Arthur. “The only trouble about that is it’s always mighty hard to get a proper grip on a limp body, and walk for any distance. And I’m afraid it’s going to tax us to the limit to do that same thing, with this wind blowing forty ways for Sunday.”
“No use talking, we ought to have some sort of stretcher,” Hugh admitted. “That’s what makes me feel silly, because of all the things I thought to fetch along the camp hatchet wasn’t among the lot.”
“Too bad,” said Arthur. “What under the sun will we do about it, Hugh? To make a stretcher without anything to cut poles with is going to be a tough job.”
“Oh! Hugh, Arthur, I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” shouted Gus just then, so excited that he could hardly frame his words coherently.
From his actions any one might think Gus had suddenly been bitten by a rattlesnake, for he was jumping wildly up and down, and seemed to be pawing at his leg in a most idiotic manner.
“Got what?” burst from the astonished Arthur.
“The hatchet, don’t you know!” came the answering whoop. “I don’t understand why I ever thought to snatch it up, and tote it along, but say, I’m mighty glad now I did. See, here it is, Hugh, and oh! I’m ever so pleased to handle it.”
When the scout master heard that he gave a shout of joy.
“You’ve saved the day, I tell you, boy!” he exclaimed, slapping the delighted Gus heartily on the back. “It was an inspiration that made you think of the hatchet. The credit of the whole undertaking rests on your shoulders, Gus! Here, give me the blade, and see me get busy.”
“By great good luck,” added Arthur, also decidedly pleased by the new twist fortune had taken in their behalf, “here are all the poles we need close by, though without that hatchet they might as well have been in Africa.”
Hugh had not wasted a second of time.
“You look after Sam, both of you, and rub his limbs,” he told his chums. “Leave the cutting of the poles to me, though I’ll need help when it comes to binding them together.”
He said no more than the law allowed, because it was a most arduous task to do any sort of decent talking in the midst of all that clamor. Already Hugh had turned in the quarter where Arthur’s extended finger had pointed at the time he spoke of the “poles” being conveniently near by.
Long practice had made the scout master a clever hand at using a hatchet. When a fellow has cut cords and cords of wood for campfires from time to time, he gets considerable experience in swinging both ax and hatchet. Besides, Hugh always took especial pains to have every tool he handled well sharpened, under the plea that a good working edge saved “heaps” of muscle.
The “poles” mentioned by Arthur were really second-growth ash springing up all around the butts of several trees that had been cut down a year or so ago by the lumbermen. They grew straight up, and would possibly have been used sooner or later by any nomad hoop-pole man wandering that way in search of material to eke out his scanty winter’s wages.
One after another those slender but stout saplings fell before the keen edge of the camp hatchet wielded so skillfully by the scout leader.
When Hugh considered that he had felled enough of the stuff, he paused and began to fumble in his pockets. There was no doubt about his action this time, because he knew full well he had hurriedly thrust a bundle of stout cord somewhere about his person before starting forth, under the conviction that it was going to come in handy.
Meanwhile, Arthur, assisted by Gus, had been rubbing the limbs of poor Sam, who could not raise his weak voice loud enough to make himself heard, but by certain gestures gave them to understand that he appreciated their efforts in his behalf.
“You go and help Hugh, while I stay by Sam, and keep the circulation of his blood up!” Arthur shouted in the ear of Gus.
The latter, while a little loth to turn aside, knew that he could do more to help his brother that way than by lingering over him. Accordingly he hastened to join Hugh, who was already busily engaged in trying to fasten some of the poles, so as to make the framework upon which the real stretcher would immediately afterwards be constructed.
Every scout is taught how to do this, for it is a very useful accomplishment to know, since there is no telling when one of their number may meet with some accident while in the woods, necessitating his being carried, perhaps a distance of several miles, and on such an occasion a stretcher is invaluable.
Possibly, if left to himself, even Gus, although not claiming to be adept at this sort of work, with the aid of a greenhorn, might have made some sort of clumsy contrivance that would have answered the end in view. Fortunately there was now no need of his depending on himself when in the company of such a clever artisan as Hugh Hardin.
The latter had made stretchers on numerous occasions, but if asked later about it he would certainly have admitted that never in all his experience had he worked under such a serious handicap as when that storm howled about his ears, taking his very breath away.
Gus managed to make himself useful in holding the pieces that were thrust into his hands, as well as in other ways. His heart was in the work, and for a good reason. It was his own brother whose life lay in the balance. He, Hugh and Arthur might survive the night, even if compelled to remain out in the gale, with the mercury constantly sinking, but such exposure would undoubtedly be the finish of sick Sam.
The job was really completed in a wonderfully short time, considering all the difficulties Hugh faced. He often mentally congratulated himself afterwards on that task, and Hugh ought to be a pretty fair judge of such things.
Gus, however, was laboring under such a strain that it seemed an interminable time before he knew from the actions of his comrade that Hugh considered the rude stretcher fit for service.
The next thing was to get Sam on the same. Of course, the stretcher had no legs, so that it had to be laid directly on the ground. That mattered little or nothing, however, for in all probability it would only be required for this one occasion.
“Got it ready, have you, Hugh?” was the boisterous way Arthur greeted the others when they came hurrying up with the clumsy but serviceable stretcher held between them.
“Just as I promised, and done with a rush, too, but it’s going to hold all right. How is Sam getting along?” Hugh asked, his lips close to the other’s ear.
“He’s recovering some from his weak spell,” came the reply, as Arthur drew the scout master’s head down near his lips. “But he never could walk it, never, Hugh. The sooner we get him under cover the better I’ll be pleased, for I’m afraid he’s in a bad way.”
It was lucky for the peace of mind of Gus Merrivale that he did not overhear those last words spoken by Arthur. The sense of exultation and triumph that was filling his brotherly heart would have received a rude jolt had he suspected that Arthur, so experienced a physician, considered the case of Sam as bordering on the desperate.