Dorothy's Triumph

Dorothy heard the second cry, and she, too, felt the appeal of the voice, as she awakened the other inmates of the tent.

The cry came again at short intervals.

“What can it be?” someone asked.

“Sounds to me like someone’s lost their way,” said Jim, as he and Gerald stood listening outside their tent.

“Oh, Lordy! Maybe it’s er ghost!” wailed Ephraim, whose superstitious fears the passing years had failed to dislodge. “Dat suah sound tuh me like de cry ob er lost soul.”

“Nonsense!” cried Gerald. “There’s no such thing as a lost soul. And stop that sort of talk, Ephy. No matter what you think, there’s no use scaring the women.”

“What are you boys going to do?” asked Dorothy, peeking out from behind the flap of her tent.

“There’s only one thing to do, when a voice appeals to you like that – investigate,” said Jim.

“Yes; we must find out who it is,” Gerald readily agreed.

“But you boys mustn’t venture down the mountainside alone,” said Aurora. “No telling what will happen to you. No, no; you stay here and answer the voice. Then maybe the person will be able to find his way to the camp.”

“I’m not so sure we want him in camp,” said Aunt Betty, grimly.

“Well, the least we can do is meet him half way,” was Jim’s final decision.

Dorothy, who knew the boy, felt that further argument would be useless, particularly as Gerald seemed to agree with everything Jim said.

“But you have no revolvers,” protested Aurora. “It is nothing short of suicide to venture off into the darkness unarmed.”

“That’s right; we didn’t think to bring any fire-arms with us,” Gerald said, turning to Jim. “But we’d have a hard time finding anything to shoot in the dark, so I reckon we may as well get a couple of stout clubs and see who that fellow is.”

Two poles that had been found too short for the purpose of erecting the tents lay near at hand, and searching these out, the boys bade Ephraim not to leave the women under any circumstances and started down the side of the mountain in the direction from whence the cries had come.

“Help, help!” came the voice again, like a person in mortal terror.

“Hello, hello!” Jim responded, in his deep bass voice which went echoing and re-echoing down the valley. “Where are you?”

“Here!” came the quick response. “Come to me! Hurry! Hurry!”

“Have patience and keep calling; we’re moving in your direction. We’ll find you,” replied Jim in an encouraging tone.

At short intervals the voice came floating up to them, getting louder and louder, until it seemed but a few yards away. The boys realized, however, that voices carry a great distance on a clear night, hence knew that they had not yet achieved the object of their search.

Grasping their clubs tightly, they worked their way through the underbrush. The trees were scattered in places, letting a few beams of moonlight seep through, though the dark shadows were deceptive and no objects could be distinguished beyond their bare outlines.

Soon, however, they were in close proximity to the voice, which appeared to be that of a young boy. Then, suddenly, as Jim called out again in an encouraging tone to know whom they were addressing, a form came staggering toward him out of the shadows, and someone grabbed him in frenzied madness, while great heart-rending sobs shook his frame.

Startled at first, Jim realized that this was caused by fright, so instead of casting the person away as his instinct seemed to bid him, he threw his arms about the trembling form and tried to distinguish in the darkness who and what he was.

What he felt caused a great feeling of pity to surge over him; for his hands encountered the slight form of a young lad, not more than twelve years old. Jim was astonished, and readily perceived why one so young should be racked with terror at being alone on the mountainside in the dead of night.

“There, there,” he said; “don’t cry. It’s all right. You’re with friends.” He turned to Gerald: “It’s nothing but a boy. Scared most to death, I suppose.”

“What, a boy, and alone on the mountain at this hour?”

“Strange, but true.”

“I don’t understand it.”

“Neither do I. I suppose he’s lost, or has run away from home. In either case, the best we can do is to get to camp with him as quickly as possible.”

Jim tried to draw the lad out – to get him to tell something of himself, but his only answer was more sobs, as the lad still quivered from fright.

“Well, are you alone?” Jim asked.

There was a hastily murmured:

“Yes.”

“Do you want to go with us?”

“Oh, yes, yes – don’t l-l-leave m-m-me alone again!”

“We’ll not leave you alone. We have a camp near here and you’re more than welcome.”

Gerald led the way back up the mountainside, Jim, his arm supporting the little fellow at his side, following as rapidly as the rough going would permit.

It was no easy matter, getting back to camp, as they quickly discovered. As a matter of caution, of course, those at the camp would not allow any lights, so the boys were forced to pick their way through the woods with only the stars and a partly-obscured moon to guide them.

The descent had been comparatively easy, but this was almost more than human endurance could stand. Several times great rocks impeded their progress and they were forced to go around them. They paused frequently to rest on account of the young boy, who seemed all but exhausted. The frightened lad continued his sobbing at intervals, his body shaking like one with the ague. He refused to talk, however, save to respond to an occasional question in a monosyllable.

“Is that the camp, do you suppose?” Gerald inquired, suddenly, after they had climbed what seemed an interminable distance.

Jim, following the motion of his arm, saw a bright patch of light; but as he looked this resolved itself into sky. Concealing their disappointment, they continued the ascent.

At times they were almost tempted to cry out, but thoughts of the boy, and the fear that he had not been alone on the mountain, caused them to refrain.

Finally, they reached the road by which that morning they had come upon the mountain. Now, at least, they were able to get their bearings, for the mountain to the east, the first one they had ascended after leaving the foothills in the auto, loomed up sentinel-like, through the moonlight.

Forming their impressions by their distance from this mountain, the boys decided that they were nearly half a mile from camp.

“Just think of all the climb we wasted,” said Jim. “We might have been at camp twenty minutes ago had we been able to keep in the right direction.”

“Well, one thing is sure,” Gerald responded; “we’ll be able to find it now.”

They set off down the road, which, being composed of sand, was plainly visible in the moonlight, in spite of the deep shadows thrown by the trees on either side.

Some moments later they made out the tents. This time there was no mistake, for, as they listened, they heard the murmur of voices. The girls and Aunt Betty were no doubt discussing their protracted absence. Probably suspecting that some harm had come to the boys they were afraid to make their presence known, and were talking in low, guarded tones.

“Camp ahoy!” cried Gerald, suddenly.