Phil Bradley's Mountain Boys Part 1

Phil Bradley's Mountain Boys.

by Silas K. Boone.

CHAPTER I

BOUND FOR LAKE SURPRISE

"Phil, _please_ tell me we're nearly there!"

"I'd like to, Lub, for your sake; but the fact of the matter is we've got about another hour of climbing before us, as near as I can reckon."

"Oh! dear, that means sixty long minutes of this everlasting scrambling over logs, and cras.h.i.+ng through tangled underbrush. Why, I reckon I'll have the map of Ireland in red streaks on my face before I'm done with it."

At that the other three boys laughed. They were not at all unfeeling, and could appreciate the misery of their fat companion; but then Lub had such a comical way of expressing himself, and made so many ludicrous faces, that they could never take him seriously.

They were making their way through one of the loneliest parts of the great Adirondack regions. There might not be a living soul within miles of them, unless possibly some guide were wandering in search of new fields.

The regular fishermen and tourists never came this way for many reasons; and the only thing that had brought these four well-grown boys in the region of Surprise Lake was the fact that one of them, Phil Bradley, owned a large mountain estate of wild land that ab.u.t.ted on the western sh.o.r.e of the lake.

All of the lads carried regular packs on their backs, secured with bands that pa.s.sed across their foreheads, thus giving them additional advantages. In their hands they seemed to be gripping fis.h.i.+ng rods in their cases, as well as some other things in the way of tackle boxes and bait pails.

Apparently Phil and his chums were bent on having the time of their lives upon this outing. Laden in this fas.h.i.+on, it was no easy task they had taken upon themselves to "tote" such burdens from the little jumping-off station up the side of the mountain, and then across the wooded plateau. There was no other way of getting to Lake Surprise, as yet, no wagon road at all; which accounted for its being visited only by an occasional fisherman or hunter.

Each year such places become fewer and fewer in the Adirondacks; and in time to come doubtless a modern hotel would be erected where just then only primitive solitude reigned.

Of course Lub (who at home in school rejoiced in the more aristocratic name of Osmond Fenwick) being heavily built, suffered more than any of his comrades in this long and arduous tramp. He puffed, and groaned, but stuck everlastingly at it, for Lub was not the one to give in easily, no matter how he complained.

Besides these two there was Raymond Tyson, a tall, thin chap, who was so quick to see through nearly everything on the instant that his friends had long ago dubbed him "X-Ray," and as such he was generally known.

The last of the quartette was Ethan Allan. He claimed to be a lineal descendant of the famous Revolutionary hero who captured Ticonderoga from the British by an early morning surprise. Ethan was very fond of boasting of his ill.u.s.trious ancestor, and on that account found himself frequently "joshed" by his chums.

It happened that Ethan's folks were not as well off in this world's goods as those of his chums; and he was exceedingly sensitive about this fact. Charity was his bugbear; and he would never listen to any of the others standing for his share of the expense, when they undertook an expedition like the present.

Ethan was a smart chap. He knew considerable about the woods, and all sorts of things that could be found there. And he had hit upon an ingenious method for laying up a nice little store of money whereby he could keep his savings bank well filled with ready cash, and thus proudly meet his share of expenses.

In the winter he used to spend all his spare time out at a farm owned by an uncle, where he had traps, and managed to catch quite a few little fur-bearing denizens of the woods. Then in the summer and fall he knew just where the choicest mushrooms could be picked day after day in the early morning. He also had several deposits of wild ginseng and golden seal marked down, and many pounds of the dried roots did he s.h.i.+p to a distant city to be sold.

His success was enough to turn any boy's head, since he seemed to receive a price far above the top-notch quotations for such things. The head of the firm even took occasion to write, congratulating him on having sent a fox skin (really a dark red), which he claimed was as fine a _black_ fox as he had ever seen, and worth a large sum of money. On another occasion it was to say that the dried ginseng Ethan had s.h.i.+pped was simply "magnificent," and that they took pleasure in remitting a price that they hoped would inspire him to renewed efforts.

Alas! how poor Ethan's pride would have taken a sad tumble had he ever so much as guessed that this very accommodating fur and root dealer was in reality an uncle of Phil Bradley, and that the whole thing was only a nice little plot on the part of the other three boys to a.s.sist Ethan without his knowing it.

That proved how much they thought of their chum; but should he ever discover the humiliating truth there was likely to be some trouble, on account of that pride of Ethan's.

It happened that Phil was an orphan, and had been left a very large property, the income from which he could never begin to spend in any sensible fas.h.i.+on. That accounted for his desire to a.s.sist Ethan; and while he felt that it was too bad to play such a trick, there seemed to be no other way in which the end they sought might be attained.

Raymond's folks, too, were wealthy, and he had really been sent up into the clear atmosphere of the Adirondacks to improve his health. Although the doctors did not really say he was threatened with signs of lung trouble, they advised that the boy, who had grown so fast at the expense of his strength, should live out of doors all he could for a year or two. He would then be able to catch up in school duties with little trouble.

The other three had by degrees come to look upon Phil as their leader; and indeed, he had all the qualities that go to make a successful pilot.

They delighted to call themselves the "Mountain Boys." Really it had been Ethan Allan who originated that name, and no doubt at the time he had in mind those daring heroes of Revolutionary days who made themselves such a terror to the British under the t.i.tle of "Green Mountain Boys."

Among other properties of which the Bradley estate consisted there was a tract of several thousand acres of wild land bordering on this mysterious Lake Surprise. Phil had heard a number of things about it that excited his curiosity. He had so far never set eyes on the place; when one of the other chums happened to suggest that it might make a splendid little outing, if they started to look in on the lonely estate.

One thing led to another, with the result that here they were heading toward the lake, and following a dim trail which had been described by an old guide who could not accompany them on account of other pressing engagements.

The boys were pretty good woodsmen, all but Lub, and they had not doubted their ability to find the lake.

"I think we're in luck about one thing," X-Ray was saying, as he toiled along st.u.r.dily, and wis.h.i.+ng that he had as much stamina as Phil or Ethan; for somehow his legs seemed a bit shaky after so long and difficult a tramp, with all that burden piled on his back.

"As what?" asked Ethan, giving Phil a nudge, and thus calling attention to the fact that by degrees the puffing Lub had actually gone ahead, fastening his eyes on the winding trail, and evidently feeling that he was becoming quite a woodsman.

"Why, about that cabin the old guide Jerry Kane told us was on the sh.o.r.e of the lake. It'll save us building one, you know, if it's in any kind of a decent condition," the tall boy went on to say.

"Yes, that's a fact," Phil himself remarked; "I've been thinking so right along. I only hope we won't find some fishermen camped in it. Kane said that once in a long while some guide took a party over to Surprise; but that the tramp was so hard few gentlemen cared to try for it. There are lakes all around that offer just about as good fis.h.i.+ng."

"I should think there'd be some pretty fine hunting around up here,"

remarked Ethan. "I've noticed quite a few signs of deer, and that was certainly the track of a big moose we saw. I'd like to run across one of that stripe. Never saw a wild moose in all my life."

"I wouldn't be surprised if some of us do meet one while we roam the woods around the little lake," Phil told him. "If I'm that lucky I want to take a picture of the beast, to add to my collection."

"And I reckon, now," suggested X-Ray, "that nearly every night you'll be setting traps, not to catch wild animals, but to make them take their own pictures. That's the main reason why you've come up here, isn't it, Phil?"

"Well, you know it's a sort of hobby of mine, and I've got all the apparatus for taking flashlight pictures along with me. I started in to the business just to kill time; but let me tell you it grows on a fellow like everything. I'm something of a hunter myself, but this shooting with a camera beats anything else all hollow. Besides, you get your game, and yet don't injure it, which is the best of all."

Ethan laughed, and shook his head.

"But your pelts don't bring you in the hard cash, Phil, like mine do,"

he went on to say, with a touch of genuine pride in his voice. "S'pose now I'd just snapped off that black fox's picture instead of getting his paw in my steel Newhouse trap--it might have been all very well, but I'd be several hundred dollars shy right now."

X-Ray Tyson chuckled; but the other frowned and shook his head. It would never do to get Ethan's suspicions aroused. He was terribly persistent, and once on the scent would never give up until he had unearthed their clever little plot. Then good-by to peace among the Mountain Boys, for Ethan would never be apt to forgive them the deception.

"That's the main thing, after all, Ethan," Phil added. "One man's food is another man's poison. You enjoy your way of doing things, and I understand how that is, for I'm something of a hunter of small game myself; but I find more real delight in surprising a keen-nosed fox, or a night-roaming racc.o.o.n, and getting his photo than in blowing them over with a charge of shot."

"Think there could be any bear up around here, Phil?" asked Lub, over his shoulder.

"I wouldn't be surprised, and if we run across tracks I'll add to my collection."

"Mebbe we ought to have fetched a gun along," suggested X-Ray, who was not much of a hunter himself, though fond of any kind of game when it was cooked at a camp-fire.

"Well, that would have brought us into trouble with the game wardens,"

Phil replied.

At this point they were interrupted by a cry from Lub, who was on his hands and knees in the midst of the scrub, where he had evidently caught his foot in a vine, and gone sprawling down on account of his clumsiness.

High above the exclamation from the lips of their fat companion they could hear a fierce growling sound, and about ten feet beyond Lub they saw the crouching body of a very large and angry bobcat, with blazing yellow eyes, and every hair on its back standing up on edge, as it got ready to spring.