Boy Scouts in Glacier Park Part 26

Every one shook hands with him then, even Mrs. Jones, who, now the hotel was in sight again, was as cheerful as a cricket.

"I just love roughing it--now it's all over," she laughed.

But Bob was not to be seen. Joe looked around for him, and wondered where he could be. He shook hands with Lucy last of all. She was sweeter and prettier than ever as she smiled at him.

"Not good-bye--au revoir," said she. "You're going to swap snap shots with us, and write me how you are, and what you see in the Park after we're gone, and some day you'll come to Was.h.i.+ngton, won't you?"

"You bet I'd like to," he answered. "Gee, you--you--you've been awful nice to me--kind of makes me homesick----"

He couldn't finish, and Lucy gave his fingers a friendly little pressure, and turned away.

Joe got on Popgun again, still wondering where Bob was, and turned to depart, when with a "Hi, there--don't go yet!" Bob burst from the hotel door.

He was bearing in one hand a jointed bamboo fish-pole, in the other a full box of tackle and flies.

"This is for you," he said. "'Course, you can't get a good, big fish without me to catch it for you, but you can cook what you do get O.K.

And don't let any more bears kiss you, and send a feller some snap shots when you have 'em developed, and here's my address."

Joe took the rod and tackle. "Gee, Bob, that's white of you," he said.

"Guess I'll never forget this trip."

"Me, neither. Old Pennsylvania's goin' to look like a prairie when I get back. So long, Joe."

"So long, Bob."

He waved his hand to Alice and Lucy, who watched him from the doorway, and rode off behind Mills, dropped his dunnage bag at the camp, and took Popgun to the Ranger's cabin.

"If you boys will let me, I'll grub with you this noon. Not a thing in my shack," the Ranger said.

"Fine--come on. Well, Mr. Mills, did I make good?"

Mills gave him a funny look out of his pale, keen blue eyes.

"I never pick a man that doesn't," he said. "By the way, here's your money--seven days at three dollars a day. Cooks are coming high this year."

He handed the astonished Joe twenty-one dollars--six of it in cart wheels, which you almost never see in the East.

"Say, I didn't expect so much. Is that on the level?" Joe demanded.

"Regular price this season--labor's awful scarce. I don't see why you shouldn't have all the work you want for the rest of the season."

"Gee, and it isn't work--it's fun!"

"Glad you think so," the Ranger laughed. "Yesterday struck me as work."

"Sure, but it was fun, too."

The two boys and the Ranger ate their lunch at the tepee camp, where Tom had been experimenting on the stove. Poor Tom! He wasn't much of a cook--not compared to Joe, at any rate, and he got rather sore for a minute when Mills suggested that Joe remake the coffee.

"Don't get peeved," Mills laughed. "Just take one drink of Joe's coffee, and you'll feel better."

Then Tom laughed, too. "Well, old Joe's a professional chef now," he said. "I'm only a janitor. Has he been well, honest and true, Mr.

Mills?"

"Far as I've seen, he's as sound as the best," Mills answered. "Why don't you take him over and weigh him this afternoon?"

"I will," said Tom.

And he did. They found some scales in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the hotel, and Joe got on. He had gained five pounds that week, in spite of the hard work of the trip! Spider gave a shout of glee.

"Hooray!" he cried. "I told you the old ozone would do it! We're giving the bugs the knock out. Now, when an M. D. comes along, you're going to get the once over again, and see if you can climb."

"I--I----" Joe began, looking rather guilty. "Well, Tom, I did climb a glacier, and fell in, too!"

"It would have served you right if they hadn't fished you out--tell me all about it."

All that afternoon, after Joe had given his money to Big Bertha, to keep in the office safe for him, the two boys sat by the lake sh.o.r.e, on a little point of rocks, taking turns fis.h.i.+ng with the new rod, while Joe narrated the story of his trip. They caught only two smallish trout, hardly enough for a good mess, but that didn't matter. It was too much fun telling and hearing about the wonders of the Park.

"And you've just had to stick around here, old Spider, working for me,"

Joe exclaimed, penitently. "To-morrow, I'm going to see Big Bertha, and get him to let me run the camp for a while, so's you can take a trip."

"Yes, and who'll go with me?" said Tom. "Can't go alone. Besides, didn't we come out here for you to get well? Forget it, wifey."

"Oh, I don't care what you call me to-day," Joe laughed. "I've had too good a time--and I'm going to find a way for you to, now. You wait--something will turn up."

Something did--and that very night, just after the party Tom expected went into the chalets, too tired to camp.

Yet the turn-up did not look a bit promising when it arrived. It was a small man, with big steel spectacles, enormous hobnail boots, a huge pack, a blanket roll, and a coil of curious, soft rope around his waist.

He was a man about forty years old, and didn't look as if he could carry such a load two miles. Yet he came down the trail at six o'clock erect and brisk, and said casually he'd come that day from the Sun Camp, over Piegan Pa.s.s.

"That's twenty-two miles!" the boys exclaimed.

"Is it?" said he. "I should hardly have called it so far. Have you a cook here?"

"Why, yes," said Tom. "Joe's a cook. Folks at camp generally get their own meals. I'd hardly know how to charge."

"I hate my own meals," the man said. "That's why I always take a pocket full of raisins for lunch. You get me dinner and breakfast, and I guess we can reckon out a fair payment. Am I alone in the camp to-night?"

"There was a party coming," Tom said, "but they were so tired, they went to the chalets. I don't expect anybody else."

"Too bad," the man said. "Not that I pine for company, but I do want to find somebody to climb with me. Here I've brought an Alpine rope all the way out here, and I can't find a soul to s.h.i.+n a precipice."

He wriggled out of the coils of the soft, braided rope, which was almost as pliable as silk, and laid it on the table.

"You don't know of anybody, do you?" he added.

"Why, no sir, I don't," Tom answered, fingering the rope curiously, to feel its soft, strange texture.