The Meadow-Brook Girls in the Hills Part 32

"No, you were doing your best to protect us," replied Miss Elting.

"But I would rather you did not shoot again except in real defence. In other words, don't shoot unless some one shoots at you."

"What am I going to do?" demanded the guide rather crossly. "Sit down and allow some outlaw to rob us at every turn?"

"We know you are ready to defend us," pacified Miss Elting. "What would you advise us to do?"

"Make no further move until morning. When daylight comes we will get up the stuff that has been thrown over there, make up our packs and start for Mt. Was.h.i.+ngton," returned Ja.n.u.s promptly. "I'll reach a telephone before long and send word to the sheriff about what has occurred. He may be out already on the bridge matter, but he ought to know about this last affair. It will give him a clue as to where the man is."

"But the unknown wretch may follow us," protested the guardian.

"He won't. He's gone into hiding after what has happened. You won't see any more of him. You see, he knows we shall be on the lookout for him, and he won't be taking any chances on it until a day has pa.s.sed--perhaps about to-morrow night--then he may come back here to see what he can find. I am banking on that, after having thought the matter over. We won't be here, but the sheriff will, if I can get hold of him."

Miss Elting agreed that the guide's plan was as good as could be devised, and promptly directed the girls to return to the hut and, if possible, sleep for the few remaining hours of the night. That morning the girls overslept. By the time they awakened, Ja.n.u.s had gathered together all the supplies and equipment to be found below the hut.

Some of the provisions were missing. Nothing that would be likely to be recognized by the owners had been taken by the man who had thrown their stores overboard, so to speak, so they found themselves better off than they had hoped. A real breakfast was eaten that morning, after which packs were lashed and the party lost no time in starting to leave the mountain that had furnished them with so much excitement.

The journey down the trail was not a long one. After reaching the foot of the mountain they were obliged to travel nearly ten miles before reaching a village from whence they would go on by wagon until reaching the point whence they were to be conveyed to Mt. Was.h.i.+ngton.

That night found them weary and sleepy, but to stay at a hotel which boasted of all modern conveniences was a welcome change to the mountain climbers, who were both footsore and weary. It seemed but a few moments after retiring before they were called to get ready for breakfast and the long ride to the foot of the mountain, up which they were to climb. Their experience on Mt. Was.h.i.+ngton was to be both novel and exciting.

CHAPTER XXI

THE ASCENT OF MT. WAs.h.i.+NGTON

The supper smoke rose lazily in the still air. Below them lay a vast panorama of valley and now flattened hills. The Meadow-Brook Girls, after a day of hard climbing, were about half way to the summit of Mt.

Was.h.i.+ngton. They had chosen the most difficult climbing to be found in the White Mountain Range. Ja.n.u.s had promised them some real mountain climbing when they reached Mt. Was.h.i.+ngton, and he had made good his word.

They admitted that laughingly upon reaching the spot he had chosen for their night's camping, and willingly permitted the guide to start the fire while they rested preparatory to getting the supper.

"At least we have the satisfaction of knowing that we have left our friend of the green goggles behind," said Miss Elting, with a sigh of relief. "I hope we have seen the last of him. He certainly tried to spoil our trip."

"Sheriff's out on the trail," answered Ja.n.u.s. "There's trouble of some sort down there. Sheriff's office said things were popping, but wouldn't talk much because he--the fellow I got on the telephone--didn't know me.

Funny not to know me, wasn't it?"

"Yeth," answered Tommy.

"What did you conclude from what was said?" asked Miss Elting.

"That they were after some one and knew who it was. I hope they get him.

I hope that, when they do, they give Ja.n.u.s Grubb a chance to tell the fellow what he thinks of him."

"It may not be the man we think at all," suggested the guardian.

"No-o-o-o," drawled the guide reflectively.

"If not, what do you propose to do?" questioned Harriet.

"Why, keep on, of course," answered the guide, in a tone of mild surprise. "To-morrow we reach the top of Mount Was.h.i.+ngton; then we go down the other side, and so on till we get through."

"All of which isn't getting our supper," Harriet reminded him laughingly.

"Jane, will you please shave some of the smoked beef? And don't spoil your appet.i.te by nibbling, please."

"Why, darlin', I never did such a thing. It was the beef that flew right into my mouth. Now, what could poor Jane do under such circ.u.mstances, except to swallow hard?"

"Nothing but thubmit grathefully and thwallow the beef," commented Tommy.

"And I did just that," grinned Jane.

Their table was a rocky shelf elevated about ten inches above the ground and standing on a sort of standard, so that the girls were able, by sitting down beside it, to tuck their feet under the rock, which made an excellent board for the purpose. The night had not yet fallen, but shadows hung over the valleys and the distant mountains, the purple tinge creeping slowly up the side of the mountain which they were climbing, enveloping the campers before they had finished eating their supper.

The evening, on the side of the mountain in their comfortable camp, was a delightful one. They sat on their blankets beside a blazing campfire amid the great silence, broken only by the voices of the campers and the occasional cry of a night bird. Ja.n.u.s, after having made a thorough patrol of the ground surrounding the camp, returned to the campfire and entertained the girls by telling of the early Indian days, stories that had been handed down by generations, and that had grown and grown until they had a.s.sumed startling proportions.

All at once Harriet, in the midst of one of these remarkable tales, tilted her head back, her eyes apparently studying the stars that hung over the mountain range to the south of them. She gazed thoughtfully.

After a few seconds of this, she s.h.i.+fted the position of her head, supporting the latter with her clasped hands. After remaining in this position for several minutes the girl got up, yawned and began walking slowly back and forth, the while listening to the guide's story.

"Harriet, are you nervous or tired?" questioned the guardian, eyeing her shrewdly.

"I believe it must be nerves," answered Harriet laughingly. She strolled off into the shadows, there to sit down on a rock within easy sound of the voices of her companions, who soon forgot that she was not among them. After making sure that she was safe in doing so, she slid slowly from the rock, and walking on all fours ran away into the bushes and out of sight. It was a most unusual thing to do. Had Crazy Jane been guilty of such an act, nothing would have been thought of it, but had Harriet Burrell's companions observed her they would have opened their eyes in amazement. Fortunately, they were too fully occupied with Ja.n.u.s Grubb's story.

Harriet sat down on the ground, after having moved away some two hundred yards from the camp.

"I hope they don't miss me," she thought. "I hope, too, that I haven't been seen. Now I will try to see something for myself." The girl sat perfectly still, with ears more than eyes on the alert.

Harriet had not been in her position very long before her ears caught a faint sound directly ahead of her. Still she did not move, except to raise her head a little. A bird hopped into a bush close at hand without discovering her presence. The faint noise ahead grew more p.r.o.nounced, the whip of a bush as it was released by the hand that had pushed it away was heard and understood. Harriet Burrell was woodsman enough to recognize all such sounds instantly upon hearing them.

She crouched low, fearing that the intruder might approach close enough to discover her. Every faculty was on the alert. Who or what the unseen intruder might be, of course, Harriet did not know. It might be a mountaineer who, seeking camp for the night, was first doing a little investigating to satisfy himself that he would be welcome. Then, again, it might be a different sort of visitor.

Harriet's attention was distracted by a burst of laughter from the camp of the Meadow-Brook Girls. Then there followed a long-drawn "Hoo-e-e-e!"

that she knew was meant for her.

"Harri--et!" It was Margery who was calling. Harriet groaned under her breath. Were her companions to persist, were they to get an idea that she had strayed from the camp, her quest would come to a sudden end, for the guide and his charges would soon be piling over the rocks, searching and shouting for her.

It was Miss Elting, however, who, quick to understand, quieted Margery Brown.

"Harriet will return presently," said the guardian. "Please go on with your story, Mr. Grubb."

Ja.n.u.s continued. The next moment Harriet Burrell was forgotten by her companions once more, for which forgetfulness the girl out there in the bushes was duly thankful. The movement in the bushes, which had abruptly ceased, following the call, had not been resumed. This worried her somewhat. If the person out there were in the least a woodsman, he would know that some one of the party was out of the camp and would be on his guard. This might defeat the plan she had in mind. But there was only one thing to do, that was to remain in her present hiding place, keeping prudent silence and awaiting results. This was what Harriet did.

She crouched there fully fifteen minutes after the interruption from the camp before the presence of another person was again revealed. A sound so close that Harriet barely repressed an exclamation of surprise caught her ears. The girl for a few seconds held her breath. She could hear the beating of her heart so plainly that she feared that the other person might hear it as well.

There followed another period of silence, but much more brief than the previous one. It was then that Harriet Burrell was able to distinguish the figure of a man--that is, his head and shoulders. The night was too dark to enable her to do more than decide upon what it was.

Now he began creeping cautiously toward the camp, going only a few paces at a time, then halting to listen. Harriet moved with him, though not so fast. She was stepping directly toward the camp, which lay directly ahead of her, whereas the man was following a different course with the same destination in view. When he moved, Harriet moved; when he halted, she did so. Halting a second too late would undoubtedly reveal her presence, hence the girl exercised unusual caution, making little more disturbance than a cat stalking its prey. Once she sank down noiselessly when, by a movement of the head and shoulders, she discovered that the man was turning to look behind him.

"If he gets within sight of the camp he will see that one of the party is missing, if he knows how many of us there are," reasoned the young woman shrewdly. "I must be on my guard when he discovers that, or something may happen." Harriet might have called out to warn her companions, but that was not a part of her plan as yet.

About seventy-five yards had been traversed in this manner when a sudden change came over the scene, for, between Harriet Burrell and the intruder whom she was stalking, the camp of the Meadow-Brook Girls was soon to be thrown into wild turmoil and the young woman's utmost expectations were to be more than realized.