CHAPTER XX

A VISIT TO HOGS’ HOLLOW

The words which Ted shouted to the boys in the tent struck them dumb for a moment, but to their ears was borne the sound of the snapping and crackling. They rushed out of the tent into the open space of the camp, to see the dry pine grove above them glowing with fire.

Ted was running toward the truck for pails and the boys, awakening to the seriousness of the situation, followed him. Some of them made a hurried trip to the cooking supplies which were piled near the fireplaces, snatching up the pots and pans. Ted pulled out all of the pails which were in the truck and handed them around as fast as possible.

“Get water from the spring and go to it!” he cried, passing out the last pail. Then, seizing one which he had reserved for himself, Ted ran up the slope, stopped at the spring to dip out a supply of water, and then went on to the thicket where the fire blazed.

The pine grove had been a dry place with an accumulation of dry leaves and dead bushes and the whole thicket was now a raging furnace. The month had been dry and except for the big storm which had so thoroughly soaked them the boys had not experienced any adverse weather. The woods, as a consequence, was in a receptive mood for a fire, and Ted’s heart misgave him as he saw the blaze before him.

“If this gets going full blast in the woods, people will say that we started it, and there will be the dickens to pay!” he groaned inwardly, as he threw the water from his pail onto the fire. “Oh, I do wish that Buck and his squad was here to help us!”

Boys who had not been able to supply themselves with pails had seized anything handy with which to beat at the edges of the fire and they fought stoutly to beat it to submission. The smoke was choking and the heat thrown off was blistering. Ted, having emptied his pail, raced down to the spring, to find another problem confronting them.

The two springs had been drained down to mere trickles. A half dozen pails of water from each had effectively emptied them and Ted did not dare wait for the basins to fill up. There was but one thing to do.

“Fill your pails at the creek!” he cried, and dashed off down the slope to Bear Creek. Here he dipped his bucket into the black water and ran back up the hill with it, splashing it on the fire.

“Good glory, we’ll never beat it at this rate, and we simply have to!” was his despairing thought.

He remembered the large extra piece of canvas in the truck, and abandoning his pail he ran down the hill and procured the material. Just as he was about to charge back up the slope there was heard the sound of running footsteps and Buck’s squad, nearly played out from their hurried descent, arrived in the camp.

“Buck!” shouted Ted, joyously. “You just got here in time!”

“I guess so!” was the panted reply. “Here, let me have an end of that canvas and we’ll try and smother some of the fire.”

The boys who had just arrived in camp procured flat pans, shovels and anything else that came to hand and joined the almost exhausted boys at the pine grove. Ted and Buck carried the canvas up and each of them took an end. This large section of material, when raised and lowered by the two boys, snuffed out long, ragged edges of flame, and by working busily they soon had the fire under control. But their work was by no means ended as yet. There were dozens of individual spurts of fire still to be put out and to these they gave their attention. Two dead trees were beginning to blaze and the two camp leaders quickly put them out, so that the fire would not be noted by anyone living nearby. At the present time they desired no publicity.

The last glimmer of fire had been put out and the smoked and blackened boys stood silent for a moment, panting heavily. The night had been indeed a strenuous one, and the chasing squad in particular was worn out completely. Their long dash after the mountain man, their speedy return, and the exertions around the pine grove, had been as much as they could bear. Some of the smaller boys were shaking decidedly, now that danger was over, but the trembling was the result of excitement and exhaustion.

“Me for the spring!” exclaimed Drummer, and a rush was immediately made for the cool, fresh water. The basins had not yet filled but there was enough for everybody and they drank and drank and drank.

“How’d that patch of pine get on fire?” Buck asked Ted, waiting for all of the smaller boys to quench their thirst before caring for his own parched throat.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Ted shook his head. “But it was deliberately fired!”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know,” was Ted’s reply. “But we have been annoyed by some one groaning around all the time you were gone!”

“I can’t figure that,” said Buck. “We chased our man, and he captured me for about five minutes. If you say that you were bothered, then there is more than one prowler.”

“Let’s get our drinks and then swap stories down at the fire,” suggested Ted, dipping a tin cup into the cool spring water as Buck did the same.

Gathering around the fire with fire-fighting implements still in their hands they looked like a band of Black Riders themselves, for their clothing had become burned and their hands and faces were black. Buck related his adventures and then Ted told of the groans and his search across the brook.

“Well, all I can see is that there are two of these fellows,” declared Buck, when Ted had finished his story. “I’m beginning to wonder if that one fellow didn’t purposely lead us a merry chase just so that his companion could fire the woods. You know, if the woods had burned, the authorities around here would be hot against us for having done it.”

“I know that well enough,” nodded Ted. “That’s why I just knew that we had to get that fire out. I guess that things have become so serious that we’ll have to get in touch with Mr. Calvert and have some real action taken. Next thing we know somebody will be getting hurt or kidnapped or something. Yes, it looks as though there are two of these fellows.”

“I think that one of them is that Jerry Jackson, from Hogs’ Hollow,” said Buck.

“What makes you think that?”

“The fellow that we chased ran in that direction and I’m sure that he is the one. I suppose he has a companion and they work together. Tell you what let’s do, let’s go over to Hogs’ Hollow tomorrow and call on Mr. Jackson.”

“All right, we’ll do it,” agreed Ted. “For some reason he doesn’t want us to camp here, and if we find him at home we’ll try and learn why he doesn’t want us.”

The boys were shaky with fatigue and Ted ordered them to bed at once, while he and Buck took lanterns and looked once more over the ground which had been burned, hoping to find some kind of a clue. But they were unable to learn anything from the burned, down-trodden soil.

“Nothing to be learned here,” decided Ted, as they went back to camp. “We’ll see what we can find out at Hogs’ Hollow tomorrow.”

That night the boys slept like logs, and had anyone been minded to run away with the tents, trucks or fires themselves, no one would have known anything about it until daybreak at least, and most of them not until much later in the day. It was almost noontime before the whole camp was awake and crowding around for something to eat.

“If anyone had run away with the whole camp last night, I wouldn’t have known it,” smiled Ted.

“Shows what a bum general he is,” said Buck. “He should have known that we would all be half-dead and that he could have worked anything he wanted to while we slept so soundly. But we’re glad he is a bum general!”

As soon as camp was cleaned up they began to make plans for a visit to Hogs’ Hollow. It was finally decided that only Ted and Buck would go, and that all of the boys would remain behind to protect the camp. With Charlie, Bob and Drummer to counsel and lead the younger boys they felt reasonably safe, and after talking it over with those who were to remain in the camp the two older boys started off.

“I’m pretty sure that nothing will happen in broad daylight,” was Ted’s final word to them.

“I guess not,” Bob had smiled. “We’ve got Drummer with us, and even if we haven’t any apples for him, to peg, maybe he can use potatoes just as well!”

Walking swiftly and heading in the general direction which Farmer Crane had told them to take toward Hogs’ Hollow, they quickly covered the ground followed last night by Buck’s squad and arrived at the cemetery. Passing around the walls of the country graveyard they entered the woods at a point close to where the man had escaped on the previous night and at once found themselves in a tangle of forest much denser and wilder than that which surrounded their own camp. The graveyard itself was on the top of the mountain and as soon as they entered the dark and cool woods they began to go down into a valley.

“Notice how the soil gets soft as soon as we begin to go down?” asked Buck.

“Yes, and I suppose the bottom of the valley is quite marshy. I guess that is why they call it Hogs’ Hollow.”

Ted’s guess was a correct one. At the bottom of the valley they struck a low, marshy expanse of ground that kept them busy avoiding muck holes. Tall bunches of weeds and marsh grass grew in profusion and there was a decidedly damp smell in the air.

“Cheerful place!” grunted Buck.

“Yes, not! This must be Hogs’ Hollow. Only the animal for whom it is named would enjoy this place. Now, all we have to do is to find the shack that this man Jackson lives in.”

This was not an easy thing to do, for the hollow was blanketed and screened by so many bushes and clumps of small trees that they could not see far before them. They had spent a good three-quarters of an hour wandering around when Ted sighted the object of their search before him on a higher strip of ground.

“There it is! There’s the shack we’re looking for!”

A rude hut, constructed of picked-up boards and roofed with sections of tree bark, loomed up before them on a tongue of land which was slightly drier than the surrounding territory. The hut was a large and rambling affair, with a window on each side and a door which sagged on leather hinges. A rusted stove pipe thrust its way up through the bark roof, but no smoke came from it. There was no sign of life around the place and they debated the wisdom of walking boldly up to it.

“We might as well,” decided Ted. “We’re here to have a talk with this Jerry Jackson and we might as well plunge right into it. No use sneaking around, because we have to make the break sometime or other.”

So they approached the hut openly, eyes and ears alert for anything unexpected, but there was no sign or movement of any kind. Ted peered into a window and found that the place was empty.

“He isn’t at home,” he said. “Let’s see if we can’t get in.”

The sagging front door was unlocked and with some degree of caution the two boys entered the place, but it was indeed empty of life and they looked around them with interest. The furnishings of the hut were as rude as the outside and they consisted of a discolored table, a rickety-looking rocking chair and a firmer-looking straight one, a rusted stove, a disordered bunk, and various odds and ends. But the object on the table caught and held their eyes and they examined it closely.

It was a long white cloth garment which the dweller in Hogs’ Hollow was working upon, for a needle still stuck into the cloth and a spool of white thread stood beside it. There was a hood to the thing and a cloth mask for the face, a mask which was punctured with eye holes and a slit where the mouth should be. The two boys looked at it silently and then exchanged glances.

“A ghost suit, as sure as you are a foot high!” Buck voiced the thought.