CHAPTER IX
OFF TO CAMP
"This must be a joke," remarked Fenn, at length, after he had once moreread the note. "Sandy Merton, or some of the other fellows, who want tohave some fun with us, wrote that."
"I think not," said Frank, thoughtfully.
"Why?" inquired Ned.
"Some man wrote that," went on Frank. "That's no boy's handwriting.There's too much character to it. What are you going to do about it,Fenn?"
"Nothing, I guess. Of course, I'd sell my turtles and things, if I got achance, for I think I'm going to collect different kinds of wood now,and----"
"What did I tell you?" interrupted Ned triumphantly. "I knew Fenn's fadwouldn't last much longer."
"It would, if we weren't going camping," declared the stout youth, withvigor. "Only when I'm away there'll be nobody to look after the things.Mother is afraid to feed 'em, and dad won't, so if I had a good chanceto get rid of 'em I'd do it. Only I wouldn't do business with a fellowlike this, who doesn't sign his name, and who wants me to act as if Iwas leaving money in response to a black-hand note. I'll not pay anyattention to it."
"I would, if I were you," said Frank, quietly, but with somedetermination.
"You would?" asked Bart, in some surprise.
"Sure. I think there's something back of this," went on Frank. "If Iwere Fenn I'd enter into a correspondence with him, and try to find outwhat was at the bottom of it."
"What do you think it is?" asked Ned. "Let's make another examination ofthe letter, detective style, and see what we can deduce from it."
"I think the man who wrote that letter is the same man we have metseveral times--the mysterious stranger who entered the school--the manwho stole the diamond bracelet," spoke Frank, quickly.
"Then if you've got it all figured out, we don't need to puzzle overthis letter," decided Ned.
"Oh, I don't say I'm altogether right," came from Frank quickly. "That'sonly one theory."
"And I think it a good one," added Bart. "Fenn, suppose you answer thisletter, and leave your reply in the dead sycamore tree."
"What shall I say?" asked the heavy-weight chum.
"Oh, you don't need to be specific. Say you don't like to do businessthis way, that you prefer to meet the writer. Then we'll leave theletter in the tree, hide, and nab him when he comes for it."
"Good!" cried Ned. "That's the stuff. Regular detective business,fellows. Come on, Fenn, write the letter."
"I think that would be a good plan," commented Frank, who, being moresober-minded than his chums usually were, often said the final word whensome scheme was afoot. "If the writer wants to resort to such tactics asleaving an anonymous letter on the doorstep, we can retaliate by playingthe spy on him. Get busy, Fenn."
"When shall we leave it in the tree?" asked the stout lad.
"To-morrow," answered Bart promptly. "We haven't any too much timebefore going to camp. We'll try to catch him to-morrow, and maybe we cansolve the mystery of the diamond bracelet."
It took some time to compose a letter to the satisfaction of all fourlads, as each one had some suggestion to make, but it was finally done,and enclosed in a strong, manilla envelope, ready to be left in the deadsycamore tree. Then the chums planned to go to Oak Swamp the nextafternoon, early.
The appointed time found them at the place, and, as they came in sightof the tree, they adopted precautionary tactics previously agreed upon.
"For," Bart explained, "we want to catch that man, and we've got to goabout it right. He's given us the slip a number of times. Now, naturally,he'll expect us to-day, and he'll be in hiding somewhere near the tree.Look around carefully, and see if we can't spot him before we deposit theletter."
Accordingly, the lads made a cautious approach, but there was no sign ofa man, or any one else near the big tree. The approach to the swampappeared deserted, and on that afternoon, with a dull, leaden skyoverhead, and a mournful wind sighing through the trees, Oak Swamp wasanything but a cheerful place.
"It's going to snow," observed Ned, as they walked slowly on toward thetree.
"Keep quiet," advised Bart, in a sharp whisper. "The man may be inhiding."
There were patches of snow on the ground about the sycamore, but anexamination of them did not disclose any human footprints, though therewere squirrel and rabbit tracks which gave the boys hope that they wouldget plenty of game when they went to their winter camp.
"He hasn't been here," was Fenn's opinion, as he took his letter andstuck it in a conspicuous place in a crack in the bark.
"Then we'll hide and wait for him," decided Bart.
The four lads hid themselves in the thick underbrush not far from thetree, where each one could command a good view of it, and the pathleading to it. They agreed, on a signal from Bart, to rush out, and, ifpossible, grab the mysterious man in case he should appear.
Then began a period of waiting, and it was made all the more tiresomefrom the fact that the boys could not be together and talk. They had tocrouch down, in uncomfortable positions, not moving, for fear ofbetraying themselves, and, of course, it was out of the question totalk. The hours dragged. It seemed to grow dark suddenly, but it was dueto the thickening of the storm clouds overhead. Then came some flurriesof snow, which ceased from time to time, and then, with a suddennessthat was startling, the storm broke.
"No use waiting any longer," called Fenn, rising up from behind hisbush, and peering through the swirling flakes. "He won't come now."
"Keep quiet, he may," ordered Bart, and though the storm raged, theykept up their vigil half an hour longer. By this time it was so darkthat the sycamore tree could scarcely be distinguished, and even Bartdeclared it was useless to remain longer. They started for home, thestorm increasing every minute, and they left the letter in the tree, incase the man might arrive.
"This will be fine weather for camping," cried Ned exultantly, as heplowed through a small drift.
They began their preparations for camping the next day. It did not takethem long to get their things in readiness, for they had spent severaldays overhauling their outfits. The tents, one for sleeping and theother for cooking and eating in, were rolled up, cots were folded, thestove, cooking pots and pans, were placed in boxes, provisions werepurchased, and the bedding examined. Of course, the lads did not forgettheir guns, and they had a good supply of ammunition.
As to the location of their camp, they had settled on it only after astrenuous debate. Fenn and Frank were for going to the one where theyhad previously had such good luck hunting wild turkeys, but Bart and Nedwanted to go to a less frequented part of the State, where larger game,such as an occasional bear or deer, could be had, and, in the end theycarried their point, though it meant a longer trip, and necessitatedgoing by railroad.
Finally all was in readiness, the last of the packing had been done,good-byes had been said, Alice had made up a little medicine chest forher brother, and Jennie Smith had even composed an "original poem" inhonor of the occasion.
Jed Sneed had taken the camp stuff to the express office in his bigsled, and was to come back for the four chums, who carried their gunswith them. The storm had hardly ceased, and there was plenty of snow onthe ground.
"What'll you boys do if you get snowed in?" asked Mr. Keene as he watchedhis son and the others getting in Jed's sled, for the start was made fromBart's house.
"Oh, we'll wait until it thaws," replied Ned.
"Take care of yourselves," admonished Mrs. Keene.
"And drink hot ginger tea in case you get wet," ordered Alice, with hermost professional air.
"All right," chorused the boys.
"All ready?" asked Jed, as he looked around.
"All ready!" replied Bart.
"Gid-dap!" called Jed, cracking the whip, and the horses plunged forwardinto a drift, the bells jingling a merry tune. The start for camp hadbeen made.
Bart Keene's Hunting Days; or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp Page 9