Douglas Daily Dispatch

Burgess
Bedtime Stories
By
THORNTON
W. BURGESS

The Mysterious Whistle

When eyes are fooled and ears deceive,
'Tis hard to know what to believe.
-Farmer Brown's Boy

Farmer Brown's Boy had climbed high on the mountain side, higher than trees grew, higher than he ever had been before, for back home there were no such high mountains. On the edge of a great rock slide he had stopped to rest and get his breath and marvel at the wonderful view spread before him. Peak on peak the mountains towered as if seeking to touch the blue, blue sky, some of them with glistening white caps of snow. Rocky crags were all about him. High above him Talons the Golden Eagle sailed in majestic circles. He saw no other living creature. A feeling of awe
"That is queer," he muttered, and whistled in reply.
The only reply was the echo of his own voice. He began to have a queer feeling. "If that fellow is so bashful what did he whistle for in the first place?" he muttered.
Once more he shouted, and as before the echoes of his own voice was the only reply. "All right for you. If you don't want my company I won't force it on you," said he, and began his downward climb toward camp. Not until he was nearly to the bottom of the rock slide did he hear anything more. Then again came that clear whistle by another farther away.
It was mysterious, very mysterious indeed.
"I'm coming back here tomorrow morning early and if that fellow, or those fellows, try any more such tricks I'll find them," he promised himself.
"Hello!" he shouted. "A joke is a joke and you've had yours, so come out and get acquainted."
There must be some one else up here after all!" exclaimed Farmer Brown's Boy in surprise, and looked eagerly in the direction from which the sound had come. But though he looked and looked he could see no one.
"That is queer," he muttered, and whistled in reply. There was no response, so he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. It was the clear, loud whistle with which he often had called Bowser the Hound when the latter was far away. Again he waited in vain. He began to have a funny feeling. He certainly had heard a whistle. He was positive of it.
"It must be that some one is trying to have fun with me by hiding among the rocks," thought he. "I'll just mind my own business and pretend I am not interested."
So Farmer Brown's Boy sat down on a rock and pretended to be interested only in the wonderful view, but all the time he was searching the rocks with his eyes for that unseen whistler. For a long time he did not move and there was no sound. At last he got to his feet undecided whether to climb higher or go down to camp. As he did so he heard that whistle again, clear, sharp and piercing, and he was sure that it came from behind a jumble of rocks some distance away along the very slope he was on.
"All right, Mr. Who-ever-you-are, if you are hiding over there I'll soon find you," said he, and started for the rocks.
It was farther to them than he had thought, for the air was so clear that it was hard to judge distances, and distant things seemed very near. But at last he reached that jumble of rocks and searched all through it in vain. There wasn't a rock big enough for a man, or even, a boy, to hide behind that he didn't examine. Such a funny look as there was on his face!
"Hello!" he shouted.
(Copyright, 1931, by W. T. Burgess)
The next story: "The Whistler Is discovered."