CHAPTER I

A QUESTION OF NERVE

"That's a likely yarn, Sandy. I tell you I don't believe in ghosts."

"All right. You can say what you like, Bluff Masters, but Caleb declares he saw it."

"Oh, shucks! He must have been dreaming."

"Guess you never had any experience with that sort of things."

"Only once, and that time it turned out to be a crazy man. Since then I've got my opinion of any fellow who takes stock in ghost stories."

"Think you're mighty brave just because you've got that old gun of yours along—been having it at the locksmith's again, I reckon. Seems like it's there half the time, getting some tinkering done. I dare you to go out to Oak Ridge and settle this ghost question once for all. There you are, and it's either take me up, or back down off that high horse."

"Vacation's set in, and my chums don't seem to know just where to go. Tell you what, I've got a good notion to put it up to the crowd right away."

"Talk is cheap, Bluff. I'll believe it when I hear of you fellows going. So long," and the speaker, a boy who attended the same school in Centerville that Bluff did, walked down the main street of the little town that lay on Lake Camalot.

Bluff looked after him for a minute, as though he might be turning the daring project over in his mind. Then he fondled the repeating shotgun he was carrying, as if he resented the slur the other had cast upon its good qualities.

"Say, now, perhaps that would be a dandy idea, all right. Some people take considerable stock in that blooming old ghost story, and I reckon it would make a lot of silly ones sleep sounder if we went out and learned that the thing was only a fake after all. Wonder what the rest of the boys would say if I proposed it. And Will, he'd declare he wanted to take a snapshot of the ghost with his camera."

The idea seemed to amuse the boy, for he laughed softly to himself as he once more shouldered his gun, took a new grip on the package of ammunition he was carrying home, and again started along the main street of the town.

It was a July morning. School was out, the Glorious Fourth was but a memory, and the boys were trying to make suitable plans for spending their vacation in various little outings of a character to suit their love for the open.

There were an unusual number of people on the street that morning, Bluff noticed. A circus was in town, and they had promised a street parade at some time before noon, so that the boys and girls haunted the main thoroughfare in large and constantly increasing numbers.

Now Bluff liked to see such an exhibition just as well as the next one, but he believed he had plenty of time to get home with his gun and come back again.

A little further on he came face to face with a rough-looking fellow about his own age, whose freckled countenance took on a sneer at sight of the gun which Bluff carried.

"See yuh been repairin' the little old shootin'-iron again, Bluff. Think yuh happen tuh be some punkins because once yuh held up some of my crowd with that stick when we happened to be empty-handed. Sho! yuh can be brave enough when it's all one-sided, but turn the tables around an' I bet you'd run faster than we did over on Wildcat Island," said this worthy, as he stopped in front of the other.

Bluff belonged to a club of four boys who had formed plans to spend their vacations in the open whenever possible. They called it the Rod, Gun and Camera Club, and when a convenient storm tore off the roof from half the Academy, the previous October, necessitating a short session of holidays, they had gone up into the woods to camp, as told in the first volume of this series, entitled "The Outdoor Chums; or, First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club."

Here they were constantly annoyed by a crowd of town idlers, under the leadership of one Andy Lasher, and the four chums passed through a series of the most entertaining adventures, such as pleases all boys who love excitement. These three comrades of Bluff were named Frank Langdon, Jerry Wallington and Will Milton, the latter being a camera crank of the first water, always ready to sacrifice his comfort and time if there was any hope of securing a picture to commemorate the event.

During their outing, Jerry, being lost in the woods during a storm, succeeded in saving the life of Andy, who after that refused to continue his mean tactics of plaguing the chums, so that the leadership of the opposition fell upon another fellow, the same Pet Peters who was now jeering Bluff.

When the Easter week of holidays came, in early April, the chums had decided to spend a portion of the time camping on a timber-covered island near the foot of the ten-mile lake, and which was seldom visited by any one on account of the stories told about the vast number of wildcats to be found there, as well as the wild man who had been seen at various times. A fire on the little steamboat plying the lake, and the robbery of a passenger, played an important part in the exciting events that occurred while the chums were at Wildcat Island, all of which, including the solving of the mystery connected with the wild man, have been set down in the second volume of this series, called "The Outdoor Chums on the Lake; or, Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island."

As can be seen from what Bluff said, the boys were a bit uncertain as to where they should go during the early part of vacation time. Later on they expected to separate, as Will was to accompany his widowed mother to the seashore, and two of the others also had plans after the same kind; but for a couple of weeks they wanted some little, delightful camping experience, not too far away.

Bluff secretly had a contempt for Pet Peters. Still, he knew the other was an antagonist not to be lightly esteemed, and that once he set his mind on a thing he could hardly be called off. The trouble was, as a rule, his object proved to be a vindictive one, rather than worthy of praise.

"Oh, I don't pretend to be a hero," said Bluff, as he gave the other boy look for look, "and I'll put you wise to that right here. But when it comes to a pinch, and some mighty mean fellows are trying to play tricks on me and my chums, I can hold my own, all right. This gun may be unlucky about getting out of order too often, but she can scatter the shot, and is all to the good. You want to fight shy of her, Pet, that's all."

"Say, they named yuh all right when they called yuh Bluff. Sometimes these yer windbags they get punctured like. Take care that don't happen to you. I reckon the parade must be comin', ter judge from all the racket along yonder. Better fall in front and let the people of Centerville see the great hero, hey?"

Bluff had turned his head to look. If what the other said were true, then he would have no time to go home and leave his gun.

There did seem to be considerable excitement just at the bend in the street, and it was growing greater with the passage of every second. Men were running, shouting, and making for the sidewalks. Some caught up small children in their arms. Every one appeared tremendously stirred, as though an event far out of the common were about to occur.

Bluff laughed.

"Seems like people get crazier every year over the old circus. I understand this is a bum one, anyway. Look at 'em scoot! They couldn't act more like a lot of loons if the elephant had broken loose and was on the warpath. I don't hear the band playing, do you, Pet?" he said.

"No, I don't. And I reckon there's somethin' gone wrong around that bend in the street. Them fellers wouldn't act that way, else. See that fat woman tumble over, will yuh! Now she rolls like a barrel to the pavement. She's nigh about scairt to death, I tell yuh! What kin it be?" exclaimed Pet.

By this time Bluff was aroused. He realized that all this tremendous excitement could not have been caused by the near approach of the circus parade. There was the sedate head of the Academy footing it for the shelter of a shoeshop as if he had entered for a hundred-yard dash. Heads were appearing at all the windows, and now shrieks began to be added to the clamor.

Bluff wondered if he were dreaming. Had all Centerville gone crazy? There was an asylum over at Merrick, but since when had its inmates broken loose and taken up quarters in Centerville?

If he had not been gripping his gun and that package of shells, Bluff might have rubbed his eyes to find out if he were really and truly awake.

"Run! run!"

It sounded as though a dozen people were shouting that word. Why should they want to get others to run? Had the lion broken out of his cage, and was he coming down the street, looking for victims?

Some boys were climbing trees with mad haste. Perhaps they did not as yet fully understand the need of such a retreat, but in time of danger it seems natural for the ordinary boy to find refuge in a tree, as though he were, in truth, descended from monkey ancestors.

Now for the first time they caught other words that were being shouted by the panic-stricken people along the street, as they rushed hither and thither, anxious to find shelter somewhere.

"Mad dog! Mad dog!"

Pet Peters gave a howl of fear. He was greatly afraid of all dogs, and the very idea of a mad cur caused him to turn white and show his craven blood.

He made a wild rush for the nearest tree, and clambered into the lower branches with a speed that would have won a medal in a race.

Bluff wanted to follow after him. He felt his nerves quivering with fright, and as he started to run his knees showed an inclination to knock together.

There was the choirmaster, Mr. Melod, chasing across the street, and heading for the milliner's establishment opposite. He was usually a very dignified man, but just then, with his hat fallen off, and fear written upon his face, he startled Bluff not a little.

"Run, Richard! Come this way, my boy!" he called, beckoning wildly; for Bluff had come to a sudden pause in the middle of the road as a sudden terrible thought flashed into his mind.

He had a gun in his hands, and ammunition in plenty. Pet Peters had just called him next door to a coward, who could only show valor when everything was on his side. Who was to stop this mad dog in his career? There were many little children around the next bend, awaiting the coming of the circus parade. What if some of them were bitten by the beast, and he with a gun in his hands?

Bluff turned as white as a ghost. His hands were shaking furiously as he broke open the package he carried. The shells fell in a heap to the road, and eagerly the boy stooped down to pick up one and push it into the magazine of the gun. Then he took up a second and a third.

There was no time for more. He would not need them. If he could not finish the mad beast with three shots it was bound to be all over with him. What that boy suffered as he crouched there, staring at the terrible brute that came around the curve in the street, no one would ever know.

He heard a clamor of voices. Some applauded his act, while others, frightened lest he fall a prey to the fury of the mad dog, cried to him to run while there was yet time. Even Pet Peters, perched securely on a limb of the tree, nearly above Bluff, shouted to him to get behind the trunk of the same.

Bluff heard this confusion as in a dream. He only saw that advancing beast, and to his eyes the yellow hound looked almost as big as a lion just then. Indeed, the brute did present a terrible aspect, with bloodshot eyes, and foam dripping from his square jaws.

Bluff could hardly raise the gun to his shoulder, in order to glance along the single barrel, but strange to say, just then it seemed as though a miracle had been wrought, for his nerves became like steel, and the gun no longer wavered.

CHAPTER II

LAYING PLANS

Like magic, it seemed, all that clamor died away.

Men and women simply stared at the terrible spectacle of that boy crouched there in the street, and that huge dog advancing directly toward him, with eager mien. Doubtless many a prayer was offered up for the safety of the lad who had thrown himself into the breach between that brute and the innocent children who thronged the square just beyond.

"Hey, Bluff! Aim right atween his bloomin' old eyes!" called Pet from his perch.

"Shoot!" shouted one man, almost wild because the dog was now so very near the kneeling boy, whom he imagined must be petrified with fear.

But Bluff was waiting. He wanted to make sure. The shot in his gun was small, and intended for birds. To render it effective against such a beast it must go at close quarters, when it would have all the force of a bullet.

Along that glistening barrel he could see the flaming eyes of the vicious dog, now not more than twenty feet away. Then he pulled the trigger!

Just as though he were shooting ducks in the slough at the foot of the lake, Bluff instantly made a movement with his hands that Jerry always likened to the action of a pump handle. Thank goodness! The locksmith had done his job well, for the mechanism of the gun worked like a charm, sending the empty shell flying, and pushing a full one into place.

He again aimed his weapon. The dog was on the ground, kicking, but even as Bluff looked he struggled up again. This was the signal for a second shot, and after that there was one last movement and the hideous creature lay there, still.

Then broke out a wild shout that was taken up along the whole street. People came thronging out of the houses to rush forward and gaze upon the monster that had sent them into such a panic of fear. A few thought to wring the hand of Bluff and thank him for what he had done.

The boy was no longer white. He had turned furiously red under these praises, and hardly knew what to do or say, it was so embarrassing. Mr. Melod, the choirmaster, wrung his hand, while tears came into his eyes.

"My dear boy, I am proud of you this day. That was a noble deed of yours, and deserves to be handed down in the annals of Centerville, as an incentive to the coming generations," he said with deep feeling.

"Oh, shucks! That wasn't so very much, sir. Any fellow with a gun would have done it. What would they have thought of me running away, and with this thing in my hands? I'm only ashamed to say I was about as badly scared as Pet here. He didn't have a gun, so he climbed a tree," stammered the boy, trying to break loose from the encircling arms of Miss Samantha Green, the old-maid milliner, who had witnessed the entire performance from the window of her shop, and was inclined to be sentimental at all times.

"Yes, I had a big stone up there with me, fellers, an' I was a-goin' tuh crack the pup on the head with it w'en he kim under the tree; but Bluff he got first say, as he allers does. It ain't fair, I tell yuh. I'd a-give the dorg a plunk that would a made him croak," declared Pet, shaking his head ferociously.

"Listen to him, will you, boys!" exclaimed Jerry Wallington, as with a quick movement he snatched from the hand of the other the rock which he had intended should demolish the big brute, and held it up. "This pebble is what Pet meant to throw at that yellow beast. Like as not it would have hurt him as much as a peashooter might. Talk to me about that for bravery, will you? Only for my chum, somebody might have been hurt. He's all to the good!"

Bluff had been watching his chance, and as soon as the excited old maid freed her arms he darted away, followed by two other boys. These were Jerry, and Will Milton, the latter of whom was smiling all over his face.

"That was the time luck followed me, fellows. The photographer just loaded my camera for me when I was buying a new lot of films, and if I didn't snap off five of the dandiest pictures of that little circus you ever saw. Wait till I get a chance to develop them, and see," he was rattling along.

"There comes Frank, too! Stop and wait for him, boys," said Jerry just then.

A fourth lad quickly joined the group. He was a fine-looking boy, with a face full of determination and quiet courage. His first act was to seize the hand of the still blushing Bluff and squeeze it fiercely.

"Great work, old man! The best ever! Lucky chap that you were to have that gun of yours along. I happened to be in the drugstore, and the people came pushing in so fast that it was impossible to get out. So I glued my nose to a window, and saw it all. My heart was in my throat; but I knew you wouldn't fail, though to tell the honest truth, I wasn't half so certain about the gun."

"Then it's up to you to apologize to the bully old gun right away," said Bluff. "Didn't she act great? Why, it was as easy as falling off a log. Anybody could have done it. And don't you believe there was any hero business about it, either. I was that badly scared my hands shook as if I had fever and ague, like poor old Dad Atkins. Just pure luck carried me through, fellows."

"Don't you believe it for a minute," declared Will vehemently, at this juncture, "and when my pictures are developed I can prove it. I was only fifty feet away, hardly that, and I give you my word that when the cur was almost on top of Bluff all his shake left him. He aimed that gun as if he was shooting at a set target."

"And to hear that big blower, Pet Peters, say he was ready to smash the brute's cranium in with a rock, when he was gripping a pebble not half as large as my hand! That is a joke to make me laugh," went on Jerry.

"What's that?" demanded Frank, who had not been present when the boast was made.

"Pet was jealous. He says Bluff always cuts him out from hanging on to the glory part. He was telling about snatching up a big rock, meaning to let it drop on the head of the mad dog as he went under the limb of the tree, when Jerry pulled it out of his hand. Here it is—I picked it up for a memento."

Will held up a small stone as he spoke, at which Frank burst into a laugh.

"I suppose at the time Pet really thought he was picking up a boulder. What do you suppose that hard-headed brute would have thought if this pebble had struck him? It would have been a flea bite. But for one, I'm done laughing at that newfangled gun of yours, Bluff."

"Me, too. I've said some mighty mean things about it in the past, pard, but never again. Talk to me about a handy thing to have about the house, that same gun just seems to wallow in luck. It's Johnny-on-the-spot when most needed. I may still believe in my double-barrel as the best thing on earth, but this contraption has its uses, and many of 'em."

Which was saying pretty much for Jerry.

"But I saw you talking to Pet before all that row broke out," remarked Will.

"Yes; he stopped me to jeer at the gun, like a good many other fellows, who don't know a good thing when they see it," answered Bluff, grinning amiably.

"Well, perhaps he's also changed his mind about it, like Jerry here," laughed Frank.

"To tell the honest truth, boys, perhaps it was something Pet said that made me determine it was my duty to stand there and knock that beast over," admitted Bluff, as if determined to confess all his shortcomings while about it.

"And what was that?" asked Jerry, frowning, for he detested Pet above all other boys in town.

"He was saying that it didn't take much courage to hold up fellows when one had a gun and they didn't; he also took occasion to rub it in, and declare that I was by nature a timid sort of a chap, well named Bluff. Do you know, what he said came to me like a flash, even while my legs were bent on carrying me across the street to a store or a tree. That was why I stopped so suddenly. I was ashamed to run while I held this gun. So you see there was no bravery about it, only desperation."

"Humbug! That's what most so-called bravery is, old fellow," said Frank, patting him on the back.

"I saw you talking to Sandy Griggs, too," remarked Will.

"Say, that reminds me! I've got a plan to propose for a short outing. We were fortunate enough to discover the secret of the wild man of the island, last spring—what's to hinder us from going out to Oak Ridge and doing a little investigating there, eh?" demanded Bluff eagerly.