  In the wake of his racing leader, Brick Ryan dashed through the thickets behind the tent, and crossed the road. Here Sax paused and shouted toward the mountainside. “Hello! What’s the matter?” Ahead came a faint cry in answer, and a spitting crack. Something buzzed through the leaves of a maple overhead, and a detached twig drifted down. “That was a gun!” said Brick in amazement. “Somebody shootin’ through the trees.” Sax was angry. “The fool!” he cried. “Is he trying to pick us off?” He raised his voice and shouted again to the unknown. “Cut out that shooting! We’re coming right along!” Again he plunged into the woods. Brick, who had been rubbing his uncovered arms and legs where his swimming suit had not protected him from scratches and whipping branches, panted at his side. “Over this way it came from, Sax,” he said. “Not very far off, either.” McNulty saved his wind for running, and his long legs bounded out of sight. In short order, Brick heard the man’s voice upraised in stinging rebuke. “Put that gun down! Here, give it to me, before you kill a few of us! Now, What do you mean by this——” Brick came to the edge of a little glade, and saw the leader standing threateningly above a youth who crouched on the sward, guiltily handing over his weapon. His body was covered with a stained blue coat and the wreckage of a pair of white flannel trousers; his yellow hair was rumpled; and on his pale face there was a look of mingled relief and dismay. “Begolly,” said Brick to himself, “it’s the Baby!” Sax McNulty seized the rifle and poured out the contents of the magazine into his hand. “What are you trying to do?” he asked. “What do you mean by shooting around Camp Lenape? Who are you, anyway?” Brick came up, and grinned at his councilor, indicating the prostrate figure on the ground. “It’s the guy I was tellin’ you about, Sax,” he sneered. “Young Moneybags. What else could you expect?” “My—my name is Van Horn,” the other boy stammered. “I’m a camper.” “A camper? You?” McNulty was scornful. “Well, you must be in the wrong camp. At Lenape we don’t go around firing rifles all over the place.” Dirk Van Horn swallowed, and began clambering to his feet. “I—I got lost,” he began. “I read somewhere that three shots was a signal for help. They didn’t sound very loud, so I shouted, too. I imagined that someone might hear me and direct me back to the camp ground. You see, sir, I hurt my leg——” “Badly?” “No—I can walk on it now. But then I got a trifle frightened, I suppose, and things got mixed up somehow.” Brick broke into a rasping laugh. “Lost, is it! He gets lost a few hundred yards from camp, and yells for help! You got a job ahead of you, Sax. He don’t need a councilor—it’s a nurse-maid he needs!” “That’s enough, Brick,” the man said shortly. “Now, Van Horn, if you can walk all right, we’ll go back to the tent. I understand you’ve been assigned to my outfit. Well, first off, if you’ve got any more guns, they’re going to be locked up with this one. We can’t have bullets flying about. Come along—I’ll show you where camp is. After swim, we’ll see about clearing up that mess of stuff you left on the floor.” He led the way back toward the campus, bearing the forbidden weapon, followed by the crestfallen Dirk. Brick Ryan began cautiously picking a path through the underbrush—a swimming suit was not the best uniform for mountain rescue-work. He chuckled. “Lost, he was! And Sax and I thought we were goin’ to pull somebody out of trouble!” The bushes ahead crackled as somebody ran through, and Brick paused. The face of his friend Kipper Dabney appeared from behind a tree. “What’s all the shootin’, Brick?” Brick answered the question with a laugh. “You may think you’ve seen greenhorns at Lenape, Kipper,” he said, “but I want to tell you we’ve got the juiciest tenderfoot in Tent One that you ever saw. He’s a lily, he is! There he goes—Sax McNulty just grabbed his gun in time to keep him from shootin’ us for a couple of moose.” Kipper was interested. “You sound as if you figured on doing something about it.” “Maybe I will,” smiled Brick wickedly. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I might show him a few handy tricks. He sure needs a workout!” He lowered his voice. “About twelve o’clock tonight, eh? What about it, my boy? Are you game?” “You mean—pass him the runaround?” the other asked doubtfully. “He looks like a pretty husky fellow. He might go for us.” “Not a chance! But if you’re nervous, we’ll get Ugly Brown to come too. This baby is easy. Is it a go? Swell! Now let’s get down to the dock—that guy and his fool stunts have made me miss half my swim!” Dirk Van Horn did not fall asleep until some while after taps had sounded bedtime for the Lenape campers, and their big bonfire had died down to embers. He had gone through one of the liveliest days he had ever known, but although weary, he was too wakeful to join his tent-mates in their slumbers. He lay stretched on his bunk, staring up at the dim, quiet stars glowing above the sighing branches of the pines, and recalling the events of the crowded day. Around him, snug in their blankets, slept his new tent-mates. It was a strange feeling. Last night he had gone to bed in his familiar room back home in the city, with his father and mother close at hand. Tonight he lay out under canvas, in the forest-clad Lenape hills, listening to the unknown noises of the night and the deep breathing of his new-found companions—Mr. McNulty, and Lefty, and Joey, and the other Tent Two boys he had met at supper. On the line from the ridgepole hung his brand-new camping togs, and the other things he needed were neatly stowed beneath the bunk or in his wooden locker, as Lefty had shown him. Lefty had said that some baseball games were coming—— Dirk sighed. Lefty must know all about his ignominious return from his hunting trip that afternoon. If Lefty thought him a chump, perhaps he wouldn’t put him on the camp team! He could see now that he had made a fool of himself with his silly rifle, but how was he to know all the camp rules? And that Brick Ryan chap had snickered at him! Why did Ryan dislike him so? Thinking of Brick Ryan, the new camper drifted off into slumber.... He opened his eyes. His cheek was tingling. Something had trailed across his face in the dark! Through the trees he saw the yellow sickle of a new moon. He remembered now. He was at Camp Lenape—— But whose was the voice close to his ear, whispering cautious words? “Shh! Listen, Van Horn, are you awake?” He turned his head, and saw the outline of a strange face above him. A boy whom he did not know had thus quietly aroused him in the dead of night. “Put on your slippers and bathrobe and come on!” the voice urged. “Don’t wake up anybody else. This is just for you.” “But what—what——” Dirk asked hoarsely. “I don’t believe I know you. What do you want me for?” “Hurry up!” the strange boy urged. “It’s a party. We want you to be our guest. Just a little fun after taps, old man. Quick, now!” Wonderingly, Dirk obeyed. He found his slippers and robe in the pale light, while his guide waited motionless. Taking care not to make the least noise to disturb the sleeping leader and the other boys of Tent One, Dirk crept softly out into the thin moonlight. His guide took his arm, and led the way down a path that skirted the upper row of tents, and then wandered into the mysterious shadow of the forest. A hundred yards beyond the farthest tent, the unknown boy stopped, and whispered close to Dirk’s ear. “We’re giving a party for you, Van,” he explained. “Very select. Some of the best blood in camp is waiting to greet you.” “Why—that’s very kind of them.” Dirk was flattered. “Where are we going?” The other hesitated. “Well, you see, our meeting-place is supposed to be kept a secret. Would you mind wearing this for a minute?” Before Dirk knew what his guide was about, he felt a large handkerchief drop over his eyes. He muttered a protest, but already the blindfold was knotted about his head, and even the dim glow of the night was shut from his sight. “Just hang on to my arm,” said the stranger reassuringly. “We’re not far off now. This way.” He gave Dirk a slight push ahead. Slowly, with arms outstretched, Dirk felt his way forward along the rough path. He did not quite know what to make of this midnight game of blind-man’s-buff; but he had no reason to think that the other boy meant him harm. He remembered that at Wild Rose Camp last summer, it was often the thing to have quiet little “spreads” after bedtime, without the knowledge of the councilors. Seemingly, Lenape also enjoyed this adventurous custom; and he took it as a tribute to himself that he, a newcomer, should have been selected to be honored on his first night on the campus. While he was pondering this he was stumbling ahead over the rough ground, now and then tripping over a rock or tree-root and leaning heavily on the arm of the boy at his side. Suddenly, that arm was withdrawn; he felt a rude thrust into his back; he stepped forward to catch himself, found his ankles snared in a rope that had been stretched across his path. He tripped and crashed to the earth, throwing his arms out with a grunt of pain. He had landed with a smashing thud into a thicket of scratching branches. The shock of the impact had driven his breath out of him; he could not cry out. He thrashed about upon the rocky ground, trying to tear the blinding bandage from his eyes. But a sharp knee was now pressing into the small of his back, and even as he struggled, someone unseen lashed his hands together with a skillful handcuff knot. “Take it easy, Baby!” urged a mocking voice above him, and the knee dug deeper into his aching back. “How do you like our little party?” He knew this voice! Brick Ryan! He thrashed about, striving to regain his feet; but the torturing knee pinned him fast. “Don’t get worked up,” his tormenter advised. “We just want you to do a few little tricks for us. Lift him up, Kipper!” Dirk was jerked roughly to his feet, pinioned on both sides by strong arms. Behind him rose again the jeering voice of Ryan. “Now, don’t go wild and hurt yourself. If you’re a nice baby, and do what we tell you, maybe we’ll let you off easy—maybe!” Dirk choked, and found his voice. “You are a coward, Ryan! A coward and a bully!” “Shut up!” came the savage answer. “Do you want to wake up the whole camp?” A sharp point of metal prodded the flesh of Dirk’s leg. “Feel that? Any more hot air and you’ll get a touch of this! Now, march!” Biting his lip to keep back the cry that rose to his tongue, Dirk Van Horn was dragged through the woods. His blindfold was still knotted tightly over his eyes, and he was helpless in the hands of his captors. Soon, he could tell by the’ feel of smooth earth under the thin soles of his slippers that they had come to some sort of clearing. Here his torturers—he judged that there were three of them—halted. Again Ryan spoke. “Now, you’ve got so much sportin’ goods with you, we thought you must be a swell athlete. We want to see what you can do on the high jump and the dash and the obstacle race. That right, boys?” “I won’t do it,” said Dirk stubbornly. “Let me out of this, Ryan. If the camp director knew you were hazing me——” “Shut up! Now, the first event will be the runnin’ high jump. When I say ‘go!’ you take off and show us how to break a record! Don’t try to pull off that blindfold, either, or you’ll get another jab with my knife. Ready?” The restraining arms were drawn away, but Dirk stood motionless, refusing to reply. Sightless, he knew that he could not run, or even walk, more than a few steps before he would again be brought to the ground with a crash. Where was he? Far from any help, any sympathetic leader who could put a stop to the cruel hazing. Was Ryan determined to push him, helpless, through the motions of a travesty of a track meet, in disregard of bruises and broken bones? “Go!” rasped the voice. “Run! Run, or——” Dirk flinched as he felt the sharp knife-point pierce the skin of his thigh. His terror was rising, but he did not cry out. A horrible moment of waiting; then Dirk heard his unseen tormenter laugh wickedly to himself. “He won’t play with us, boys! Well, that’s his hard luck! Too bad! It’s over the cliff for him!” “Over the cliff!” echoed the henchmen hollowly. “We gave him his chance. Come on, you!” Again Dirk was dragged through the forest, more roughly than before. His captors twisted about so that he had not the least idea in which direction they were heading, but it seemed as if ages passed before they halted at last. During the painful journey he had tried to make some plan for escape; but it was of no use—there were three of them, holding him closely; he could neither see them nor his surroundings, and his hands were tightly bound. Was their threat merely a sham, or were they really now nearing some steep, jagged wall of rock in the forest? “Don’t move!” warned Ryan suddenly. “We’re right on the edge of Indian Cliff! Now, Baby, we’ll give you one more chance. Will you behave and do your stuff in our moonlight track meet? Or do you want to end up a hundred feet below, down on those big rocks, with a busted neck?” Dirk’s head was whirling. He tried to fight free, but the clutch of the restraining arms tightened, and an ungentle hand made sure his blindfold was still secure. He cautiously felt out with one slippered foot. A few inches before him, the grassy earth ended in a crumbling edge. A tingle of horror rose up the boy’s spine. “Indian Cliff,” Ryan’s voice assured him harshly. “That’s where they’ll find you in the mornin’. Well, what about it? Yes or no?” “You don’t dare go through with it!” Dirk cried. “You’re trying to frighten me! Well, I won’t be fooled! I don’t believe you!” “He don’t believe us!” jeered Brick. “We’ll have to show him. Get ready. Let him go, my lads!” The two henchmen fell back. Dirk turned swiftly; but the point of the knife caught him in the side, and he recoiled to the treacherous edge of the embankment. “So long, Baby! One jump, and it’s all over with you! Well, will you jump yourself, or will we have to heave you over?” Another prod of the blade accented his words. Dirk swallowed heavily, and tears came into his shrouded eyes. “You’ll be sorry for this, Ryan, you mucker!” he shouted. His teeth were chattering, and a faint breeze fanned his brow where beads of cold sweat stood out. “You’re a coward——” “That’s enough!” Ryan’s tone was ugly. “Do I have to prod you again, or will you jump?” Dirk took a deep gasp of air, and his muscles tensed. “I’ll jump,” he said, and leaped blindly forward. |
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