"Well, this is something like camping," observed Bart that evening, when, having pitched their tent in midst of a particularly lonely bit of the big woods, they sat down to rest. The selection of the spot had been Frank's, and, though his chums had wondered somewhat at it, they agreed with him that it was a good place.
There was a little stream running through the forest, not far from where they pitched their tent, and their first attempt was rewarded by a catch of several fine fish. Fenn, who had been elected cook, soon had them frying with some bits of bacon, and Bart, leaning back comfortably against a big tree, made the remark quoted above.
"Say, are you a visitor, or only a day boarder?" asked Fenn, as he looked up from his cooking and observed Bart. "There's lots to be done yet. Lanterns to fill, the cots to get ready, and a trench to dig around the tent to keep the water away when it rains. You'd better get busy."
"Just as you say," answered Bart good-naturedly. "I'm willing to do my share."
He got a shovel and began digging the trench. Ned was busy with the lanterns, and seeing that the guy ropes were tight, while Frank looked after putting the folding cots up, and getting out the blankets. In a short time the camp was in fair shape, and Fenn announced that supper was ready.
In the cool of the evening, after the meal, they sat about the tent, before the campfire, and felt very well satisfied with the place.
"To-morrow we'll take our guns and take a tramp through the woods," said Bart. "I don't s'pose there's anything much to shoot, but we may get a chance at a hawk or something."
"Hawks aren't good to eat," remarked Fenn.
"Who said they were? Just because you're cook you needn't think every time we take our guns we're going out to stock up the pantry. We'll kill the hawks and save the farmers' chickens. They'll appreciate that."
"I don't believe there's a farmer within two miles of here," commented Ned. "We're quite a way from civilization. It's five miles to Lockport, the nearest town."
Tramping through the woods the next day the chums found the forest even wilder than they had anticipated. There were no trails or paths to be seen, and it looked as though few, if any persons, ever visited the vicinity. But the boys liked it all the better on this account. As Bart had said, there were no sounds of civilization to be heard; no locomotive whistles or factory bells.
"I had no idea there was such a wilderness in this part of the country," remarked Ned, as they walked along, looking in vain for something to shoot at. "I wonder if we'll come across a lonely cabin, where a hermit or a wild man lives?"
"It's lonesome enough for any sort of a hermit," said Fenn, as he paused and looked about him. The silence of the deep woods was broken only by the wind moving the branches of the trees, and by the songs of birds. "It looks like the jumping-off place. I guess—Hello! What's that?" and he pointed to something up in a tree.
"A hawk?" questioned Bart, raising his gun.
"No, it looks like a telephone wire."
"A telephone wire in these woods?" inquired Ned.
"That's what it is," Fenn went on, as he stepped back to get a better view, and caught sight of the two twisted strands of insulated copper. "There's no mistaking a telephone wire."
"That's queer," murmured Frank. "I wonder if—" then he paused. "Let's follow it and see where it leads to," he added, after a moment.
"What for?" asked Bart.
"Why, just to find out," Frank answered. "If there's a telephone wire there may be people near at hand!"
"I don't know's it makes much difference if there are," was Ned's comment. "These woods are open to any one who wants to come in, just as they are to us. Why should we bother to follow a telephone wire?"
"Oh, I just mentioned it," Frank hastened to add. "I'm not particular."
The wire was fastened to trees, about twenty feet above the ground, and ran in a zig-zag direction through the woods. It had evidently been put up by men not familiar with the telephone business, for no attempt had been made to go in a straight line, and, in some places the porcelain insulators were carelessly fastened to the trees. The wire was run through the branches with little regard for the safety of the conductor, and the boys noticed several places where better support might have been had for it, than was taken advantage of by those who put it up.
The chums tramped for an hour or more, coming across the wire several times in the course of their wanderings. Frank was generally the first one to see it, and finally Ned remarked:
"You must be very much interested in that, Frank."'
"No, not specially. I'd like to know where it runs to, that's all."
"You can trace it this afternoon."
"Maybe I will."
Ned and Bart decided on a fishing trip that afternoon, and Fenn elected to stay in camp and fix his gun, which had gotten slightly out of order.
"What you going to do, Frank?" asked Bart.
"I think I'll take a nap in the tent."
Bart and Ned, taking their poles and lines, went up along the stream, to a deeper part which they had observed in their morning journey. Fenn brought his gun out in front of the tent and proceeded to take it apart. As for Frank, he stood about for a while, watching Fenn, and then, remarking that he thought he would stretch out on one of the cots, went inside the tent.
It was nearly two hours before Fenn had his gun fixed to suit him. Then, oiling and cleaning it, he took some cartridges and set up a mark to shoot at.
"Come on out and try your luck!" he called to Frank.
There was no answer from the tent.
"Come on out! It's too nice to sleep!" Fenn shouted again. He fired at the target, and made a bull's-eye, much to his surprise and delight. "I say, Frank!" he shouted. "Come on, I can beat you all to pieces!"
He ran to the tent and lifted up the flap. He expected to see Frank stretched out on one of the cots, but what was his astonishment to learn that the canvas house was empty. There was no sign of Frank, and none of the cots showed any signs of having been used since they were made up that morning.
"That's queer, I didn't see him come out, and I was in front of the tent all the while," said Fenn. "He must have slipped past when I was hunting for that little screw I dropped."
He felt a vague sense of uneasiness, for, though he tried to make himself believe that Frank had come out unnoticed by him, he was not as sure of it as he desired to be. He moved toward the back part of the tent, and saw something that caused him to utter an exclamation.
For there, plainly to be seen in the dirt floor of the tent, were marks, showing where someone had crawled out under the rear wall of canvas. The sod, which was not yet tramped down, was torn, and one of the tent pegs had been pulled up by the strain. There was a rear entrance to the tent, but it was tightly laced shut, and would have taken some time to open.
"Frank didn't want me to know he was going," said Fenn to himself. "He wanted to slip away for some reason. Now I wonder what it could have been? He's been acting very queer lately. I hope—"
Just then Ned and Bart came through the woods, carrying strings of fish.
"What's the matter?" asked Bart, as Fenn came to the flap of the tent, his face plainly showing something had happened.
"Frank's gone!"
"What do you mean? Off for a stroll in the woods? Well, that's nothing."
"No, he crawled out of the back of the tent while I was fixing my gun! He didn't want me to see him go! Boys, I'm afraid there's something wrong with Frank!"
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg