CHAPTER III
The Doctor's Plans

The little company had only a mile, or a trifle more, to go before reaching their final destination. But it was literally "up hill work." Often it was worse even than that, involving the climbing of cliffs and difficult struggles to force the mules through rocky and tangled woodlands.

It was nearly ten o'clock therefore when they at last came to a halt in a body of thick-growing timber, and after a careful inspection of the situation, decided to pitch their permanent camp there.

There were many points to be considered in locating themselves. They must have water of course and there was a spring here under the cliff that rose at the back of the plateau. It needed some digging out to form a basin, but an hour's or two hours' work by two of the party would accomplish that. They must be near the cliff on the other side over which their ties and timbers were to be sent into the slide that was to carry them to the valley below, and this spot seemed the best of all for the purpose. Finally the timber, consisting chiefly of vigorous young oaks, hickories and chestnuts, but having many giant trees besides, was here especially dense in its growth, and ready to their hands and axes.

"There's a steep reach of mountain looming up just behind us," said the Doctor, "and when the snows come it may give us some trouble in the way of avalanches, floods and the like, but on the whole I think this is the best spot we could select."

So the pack mules were relieved of their loads, and turned loose. It was certain that the sagacious animals would slowly retrace the road over which they had come and return to their master in the valley below. At any rate the master of them was confident of that and his agreement with the boys had been that the mules should simply be turned loose when their task was done.

"Now let's all get together," said Jack Ridsdale when the mules disappeared over the edge of the last troublesome ascent. "Let's all get together and lay out our work."

"That's right," said the Doctor. "We must first of all provide for immediate needs, and next for a permanent camp. Now first, what are our immediate needs?"

"Water, fire, and a temporary shelter," promptly answered little Tom the readiest thinker as well as the most experienced woodsman in the whole company.

"Well we'll set two fellows at work digging out a large basin for that spring," said Jack. "That will give us an adequate water supply for all winter. You Tom, and Ed Parmly, are detailed to that work. Now as to shelter. Of course we've got to build a permanent winter quarters. But that will take several days – perhaps a week, and in the meantime we're likely to have snows or rains and we must have some sort of temporary abode. We must build that to-day. How shall it be done?"

"Easy enough," answered Harry Ridsdale. "We can set up some poles just under the cliff back there and make a shed open in front and covered with bushes so arranged as to shed the rain. Of course the place wouldn't be a good one for permanent quarters, but in November there are no avalanches or anything else of that sort, and so a temporary shed there will answer our purpose for the present."

"But how are we going to keep it warm?" asked Ed.

"By building a big fire in front of it," answered Harry.

"But suppose the wind should blow hard from the north and blow all the smoke into our shed?" said Ed.

"Well, let it," answered Harry. "The smoke will rise, especially in a high wind, and our bush roof will certainly be porous enough to let it through."

After a little further discussion it was decided to adopt Harry's plan, and by the time that Tom and Ed had completed the work of digging out a water reservoir, the rest of the party had constructed a temporary shelter under the cliff, quite sufficient for their immediate needs. By this time hunger – that always recurring condition – had seized upon them and they prepared a rather late dinner of squirrels that had been shot by one and another of the party on the journey. They were tired, too, and the need of rest was imperative. So they decided to do no more work that day, but to devote its remaining hours to the task of planning their winter quarters.

First of all they selected a location for their winter house which the Doctor thought the avalanches and the floods from the mountains would not seriously inconvenience. The ground on which they were camping was a sort of plateau, with a cliff rising behind and with the steep mountain side falling away into the fathomless depths in front. The plateau embraced several acres of land, and it was fairly level; but the spot selected for winter quarters was a little knoll which rose above the general level very near the top of the steep front.

By the time that all this had been accomplished night fell, and there was supper to get. After supper Jack said:

"Now we've laid out our camp, but we haven't named it yet. With the enmity of the moonshiners already aroused, it's a venture – our staying here I mean – but we're going to make the venture. So I propose that we call this camp of ours 'Camp Danger,' or 'Camp Risk' or camp something else of the sort."

"Why not call it 'Camp Venture?'" asked Harry.

"Good! 'Camp Venture' it is," answered Ed Parmly and the Doctor in unison. "Let it be 'Camp Venture'" and, added the Doctor, "if we are up to our business we'll show our friends that 'Camp Venture' did not venture more than its members were able to carry out. I'll tell you what, boys, I'm going to keep a diary setting forth all our adventures, and when the thing is over and done for, I'm going to write a book about it."

"Then we'll all be heroes of romance," said Jack. "Who'll be the villain of the piece?"

"Not at all," answered the Doctor. "I shall use fictitious names for all of you and even for myself, so that nobody shall ever know who we are or who it was that lived and experienced and perhaps suffered in 'Camp Venture.' I'm not going to spoil you superb fellows by making public personages of you before your time. But I'm going to write a book about your doings and sayings, which will perhaps interest some other boys and help them to meet duty as it ought to be met."

This story is the book that the Doctor wrote.

CHAPTER IV
A New Declaration of Independence

"Well," said little Tom long before supper, "if you fellows are too lazy to do any more work after an easy day like this, I am going out into the sunset to look for a turkey. I'm not fond of salt meat, and besides we've got to spare our salt pork against a time of need. I'll be back by supper time."

With that he shouldered his gun, withdrew one of the buckshot cartridges, inserted one loaded for turkeys in its stead, and strolled away up the mountain side.

An hour passed and little Tom did not return. Another hour went by and still no little Tom came. By this time darkness had set in and supper was ready. The boys were growing uneasy, but they comforted themselves with the thought that "Little Tom knows how to take care of himself, anyhow."

So they sat down to their evening meal with a great fire crackling and glowing in front of their temporary shelter, and filling it with fierce light which completely blinded their eyes to everything in the gloom beyond. They had carelessly stacked their arms in a corner, a dozen feet beyond reach, and were chatting in a jolly way when suddenly there appeared before them the tall mountaineer of the night before.

This time he was wilier than on his previous appearance. This time he levelled his gun at the party and quickly stepped between them and their arms. Then, with his rifle at his shoulder and his finger near the hair trigger that was set to go off at the very lightest touch, he called out:

"You got the drap on me las' night, but now I've dun got the drap on you. Will you now git out'n this here mounting? I've dun give you notice that us fellers what lives up here don't want no visitors from down below. So throw up your hands and march right now, every one of you. I'll take keer o' your guns an' other things, an' I'm not a goin' to take this rifle from my shoulder till the last one of you is well started down the mounting. Come now! Git a move onto you!"

At that moment a noise as of some heavy body falling was heard in the outer darkness just beyond the limits of the firelight. The next instant little Tom leaped upon the mountaineer's back grasped his throat with both hands and dragged him to earth. His rifle went off in the mélee, but fortunately the bullet had no billet and flattened itself against the side of the cliff.

Of course the mountaineer was more than a match for little Tom and in a prolonged struggle would easily have got the better of him. But the other boys instantly came to their comrade's assistance and the intruder was quickly and completely overcome.

He had received some ugly hurts in the encounter, among them a broken arm, but the Doctor dressed the wounds and meantime the man became placative in his mood.

"I was about to shoot him," said little Tom, "but it isn't a pleasant thing to shoot a man even when you must, and so I thought of the other plan, and jumped on his back instead. I knew I couldn't hold him down by myself, but I knew you other fellows would come to my assistance, so I risked that mode of operations."

"If you had shot him," said the Doctor, "you'd have been justified both in law and in morals."

"Yes, I know that," said little Tom, "but I shouldn't have slept well afterwards and I'm fond of my sleep."

"Well now eat your supper," said the Doctor, "and perhaps our friend the enemy here will join you in enjoying it."

To the astonishment of all, the mountaineer eagerly replied:

"Well, I don't keer if I do. I ain't et nothin' sence a very early breakfast, an' it wa'n't much of anything that I et then. As for the little scrimmage, I don't bear no malice when I gits hurt in a fair fight – least of all against a young chap like that. You see I had got the drap on you fellers, an' when he come up sort o' unexpected like and unbeknownst to me, he jist naterally took the drap on me. It was all fair an' right, an' I want to say I'm grateful to him for not usin' his gun. He could 'a shot me like a dog, an' he didn't."

All this while the lean and hungry mountaineer was eating voraciously and in spite of his wounds with an eager relish.

"How do you people live up here?" asked the Doctor. "You can't grow much in the way of crops. Do you generally have enough to eat?"

"Well hardly to say generally. Sometimes we has, and more oftener we hasn't. You see our business is onsartain. That's why we don't like strangers prowlin' around in the mountings. Now I've got somethin' friendly like, to say to you fellers. Fust off I want to tell you I'm not agoin' to bother you agin. I'm a believin' that you've come up here on a straight business. But there's others that ain't got so much faith as me. They'll make trouble for you if you stay. My advice to you is to git out'n the mountings jest as quick as you kin."

"But my friend," said the Doctor, "Why should we leave the mountains? We are on land owned by the mother of my young friends here. We have come only to see if we can't get some money for her out of lands that have never paid her anything – not even earning the taxes that she has paid on them. Why shouldn't we stay here and do this? This is a free country, and – "

"They's taxes in it," said the mountaineer, gritting his teeth, "an' they's jails for them that tries to carry on business without a payin' of the taxes. I don't call that no free country."

"It would be idle to argue that question," replied the Doctor. "But we, at least, have nothing to do with the taxes. We are here to make a little money in a perfectly legitimate way, by hard work. We are not interfering with any body and we don't intend to interfere with any body. But we're going to stay here all winter and carry on our business."

"Yes!" added Jack, "and if any body interferes with us it will be the worse for him."

"Well, you're makin' of a mistake," said the mountaineer, "an' I give you friendly warnin'. As I done told you before, I believe you. I think you're dead straight. But there's them what ain't so charitable, as the preachers say. There's them that'll believe you're lyin', and 'll stick to that there belief till the cows come home, an' they'll make a mighty heap o' trouble fer you fellers ef you tries to stay here. They're men that won't be watched I tell you, and forty witnesses, all on their Bible oaths couldn't persuade 'em but what you're here to watch 'em. It's friendly advice I give you when I tells you to git out'n these mountings."

"All right," broke in little Tom, "but while you're scattering friendly advice around suppose you advise your friends to let us alone. Tell them that little Tom Ridsdale proposes to shoot next time, and to shoot his buckshot barrel at that." Tom rose to his feet and added:

"You and your people mean war. Very well. I for one, accept the issue. Hereafter it will be war, and in war every man shoots to do all the damage he can. I have a perfect right to be here on my mother's land, and here I am going to stay. If every other fellow in the party should start down the mountain this night, I would stay here alone to fight it out all winter. And every other fellow in our party feels just as I do. Go to your criminal friends and tell them that! But warn them that if they interfere with us we'll not wrestle with them, we'll shoot and we'll take no chance of missing. We'll shoot to produce effects. We'll never interfere with you or your friends, but you and your friends mustn't interfere with us. If you do, you'll get war and all you want of it. We've tried to do the right thing by you; and now I give you fair warning."

"Well, all I've got to say," said the mountaineer, as he took his departure, "is jest this: You fellers has dealt fair with me, an' I'll deal fair with you. That boy that threw me down an' broke my arm mout just as easy have shot me through the body; an' then the tender way that the Doctor done up my arm! Why even a woman couldn't 'a' been tenderer like. Now I ain't got no quarrel with you fellers, an' that's why I'm advisin' you to git down out'n the mountings as soon as you kin. There's others, I tell you, an' they ain't soft hearted like me. They'll give you a heap o' trouble if you stay here."

"Let them try it," answered little Tom. "Let them try it. Then we'll see who's who, and what's what. Now tell your friends what I've said to you. There! good night! I hope your arm will get well. If it doesn't, come over here and let the Doctor look at it."

With that defiant farewell in his ears the mountaineer took his leave.

"Was it prudent, Tom?" asked Ed Parmly, "to send that sort of defiant message to the moonshiners?"

"Yes, quite prudent. We want them to know that we are here on our own business and not on theirs, at all. We want them to know that we propose to stay here whether they want us to do so or not. And finally, we want them to understand that any interference with us on their part, will mean war. I've simply issued a Declaration of Independence, and – "

"And to it," called out Jim Chenowith, quoting, "we pledge our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."

"Now," said Jack, "from this hour forward we'll keep a sentinel always on duty, so that we may not be caught napping. During the daytime, of course, when we're chopping ties and timbers, we'll need no sentinels. We'll keep our guns within easy reach, and so every one of us will be a sentinel, but when night comes on we mustn't let anybody 'get the drap' on us as that fellow did to-night. By the way, Tom, did you get any game?"

"Why, yes. I forgot all about that. I dropped it out there to tackle that mountaineer. I had carried and dragged it for weary miles, and I wonder at my forgetfulness."

Without questioning him further two of the boys went off into that circle of darkness which seemed impenetrably black when looked at from the fireside, but which was light enough when they got within its environment. There they found a deer, weighing perhaps a hundred and fifty pounds, which little Tom had shot high up on the mountain and had laboriously dragged, in part, and carried on his shoulders in other part, all the way to camp.

Tom was much too weary to attend to it, but there were eager hands to help, and while Tom slept, they dressed the venison, and when Tom waked in the morning, he found that he had been completely excused from sentry duty throughout the night. His toilsome hunt, his painful carrying of the deer, his nervous strain over the necessity of encountering the mountaineer, and pretty seriously injuring him, and above all, his rise in wrath and his deliverance of a new Declaration of Independence as a defiance to the mountaineers, had been decreed by unanimous vote of the party to be the full equivalent of sentry service, and so Tom had been permitted to sleep through all the hours till breakfast was served.