WATCHED FROM THE SHORE.
The day passed slowly.
Somehow no one seemed very anxious to stray very far away from the camp.
For one thing it was out of the hunting season; and on this account the
presence of many partridges on the island could not lure Max. They had
stirred up quite a number while making that little hike toward the upper
end of the place; and every time a bird was flushed, going off with a
sudden roar of wings, Bandy-legs had weakened; so that by the time they
got back home again he felt as though he had been through a spell of
sickness.
And then to have that new sensation sprung upon them, and find that an
unknown prowler had paid them a visit in their absence, was, as
Bandy-legs expressed it, "too, too much."
But because the boys lounged around camp was no reason why they were not
enjoying themselves hugely. Why, even Bandy-legs tried to forget all the
dreadful nights ahead of them still, six in a row, and find some source
of amusement.
Each fellow seemed, as the afternoon glided along, to just naturally
gravitate toward the kind of pleasure that interested him most.
Max and Owen were examining some small animal tracks every little while,
which the latter would find along the edge of the water; and as his
knowledge of such things lay in the form of book learning, while his
cousin had had considerable experience in a practical way, he
invariably, after puzzling his head awhile, softly called to Max, who
willingly joined him.
Now it was a muskrat that had wandered along the edge of the river,
looking no doubt for a fresh shellfish for his supper. Then again, Max
proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that a raccoon had crept up to the
edge of the water at a place where an old log thrust out. Here he could
lie flat, and fish with his paw for a stray small bass that happened to
pass too close to the shore for its safety.
The third set of tracks, differing materially from both of the others,
Max pronounced the trail of a sly mink; which, with the fisher, is
perhaps the boldest and most destructive enemy of the brook trout known.
While these two were amusing themselves in this way, and Owen making
notes in his little book all the while, Steve was using the rod and line
to some advantage. Perched on the end of another convenient trunk of a
fallen tree that projected out over the end of the bank, he managed to
secure quite a delightful mess of bass from the passing river--"taking
toll," Steve called it.
Toby Jucklin seemed to find his greatest pleasure in taking cat naps. He
complained of losing a heap of sleep on the preceding night; and as
there was no telling what the second might bring forth, he believed in
taking time by the forelock, as he called it.
And Bandy-legs, well, he was sitting there for a long time, working
industriously with a pad of paper and a lead pencil; and seemed to be so
wrapped up in whatever he was doing that he did not notice Max silently
approach, bend down, and secure one of the sheets of paper he had
already filled with his crabbed writing.
Really Max had begun to suspect that their camp-mate must be writing a
story, founded on that strange cabin, with its lichen-covered walls, and
the roof that seemed to be sprouting green grass with the moss.
One glance he took at the brave heading that began the page. The title
was quite enough for Max. With a broad grin he quietly laid it down,
gave the industrious writer one amused look, and walked away again,
without Bandy-legs knowing of the visit.
And no wonder Max felt amused, for what he had seen spread across that
page, in letters that were heavily underscored, was this wonderful
title:
"Programme for meals during six more days to be spent on Catamount
Island!"
Bandy-legs was trying to forget all his troubles by laying out the
_menu_ for the balance of their week.
It was about an hour before sundown that Steve came hurriedly into camp.
he carried a pretty good mess of fish, which attested to the fact that,
impatient as he was in nearly everything else, at the same time he
seemed to be a pretty fair waiter when holding a rod and reel in his
hand. Perhaps the constant expectation of a bite kept him in decent
humor.
But now Max saw that he was considerably excited.
"What ails you, Steve?" asked Owen, who also detected some unusual signs
of disgust about the returned fisherman; "did the biggest get away, like
it always does? Well, we'll believe you, never fear; especially if he
yanked your hook off, and broke your line in the bargain. How big do you
think he was, Steve?"
"That old gag don't work this time, Owen," remarked the other, as he
deposited his catch on the ground, to be admired by Bandy-legs
immediately. "I'm wanting to kick myself for being silly, that's all."
"Oh, well, I wouldn't bother about that," Max put in, kindly. "There are
four of us here, and we ought to be able to do the business to suit you.
When shall we begin operations, Steve?"
But even then Steve did not lose his look of disappointment.
"To think that I sat there all that time," he remarked, "and never once
remembered that bully field glass we've got along."
At this remark Max realized that the distress of their chum could not be
based on anything connected with his fishing experience.
"Hello!" he exclaimed; "now you've got us guessing, all right, Steve.
You must have seen something or other, I reckon. Out with it, please."
"Well, I did," replied the other, quickly. "You see, I was sitting
there, waiting for an old buster of a bass I'd got a glimpse of several
times to come up and get hold of my hook, when I happened to look across
to the shore at just the widest part, where it's far away. And right off
I discovered that it had been something moving that caught my eye as it
were."
"A panther!" gasped Bandy-legs, involuntarily letting his hand creep
down to his left ankle, where those scratches still proved the truth of
his story that something, the nature of which was unknown, had grabbed
him on the preceding night.
"Rats!" scoffed Steve, loftily. "Panthers don't prowl around in the
daytime--that is, not very much. It was a human being I saw; and then a
second appeared right at his elbow. They seemed to be mighty much
interested in this here island, too; for the first one pointed across,
and up and down, like he was trying to explain how a swimmer might get
over."
"Goodness gracious! Steve, were they men or boys!" demanded Bandy-legs.
"Now I know you're thinking about Herb Benson; or it might be that
tricky Ted Shafter," remarked Steve.
"Well, didn't we kinder half 'spect we'd have a visit from one or
t'other of them crowds, p'r'aps both?" demanded Bandy-legs, with an
injured air.
"All right; but these fellows didn't look like either lot. Then again,
I'm right sure I saw the sun, away down in the west you see, shining
from something bright. Couldn't make it out first, and then all of a
sudden it broke in on me that they had a pair of field glasses, and must
be examining this island. That made me remember our own pair, and I
hurried to get back off that log I was straddling; but before I'd been
able to make the shore, hang the luck, they'd gone."
"Perhaps they saw you, and wanted to keep out of sight?" suggested Max.
"That's just what they must 'a' done," admitted Steve. "But where's the
bally old glasses, fellows? I might lie around, and keep tabs on that
shore for a spell. Who knows but what they might show up again; and I'm
curious to learn just who they can be."
Max quickly vanished inside the tent, and came out with the desired
object in his hand.
"Before you go, Steve, tell us whether they looked like men or boys?" he
asked, handing the field glasses over.
"Well, I couldn't see as good as I wanted," was the hesitating reply;
"but 'peared to me they were men, all right. And they seemed to be
dressed in gray homespun, too, like some of the farmers around here
wear."
"Oh, perhaps after all it may have been a couple of young farmers taking
a day off, hunting woodcock along the river. This is the time of year
for the first brood to be big enough for shooting. The law opens for a
short spell, and then it's on again till fall," Owen remarked, with his
knowledge of such things, gleaned from much reading.
"They didn't seem to have any guns that I saw," observed Steve,
doggedly, as he hurried away.
This gave the others something to talk about until the shades of evening
began to gather around them. Who these two men could be, and just _why_
they seemed to take such an interest in Catamount Island, were questions
that the boys debated from all sides. Even Bandy-legs seemed to be
stirred up, and made all sorts of ridiculous suggestions.
Steve came in finally. It only required one look at his disappointed
face to tell that he had not met with any success in his latest mission.
Even the delightful odor of his freshly caught bass, cooking in the
frying pan over the fire, failed to make Steve look happier. He did hate
to be beaten in anything he undertook.
"Nothing doing, Steve?" questioned Bandy-legs; for there is a saying to
the effect that "babes and fools rush in where brave men hesitate to
tread"; which, however, must not be taken to mean that Bandy-legs
belonged to either class, although he failed to approach a subject with
tact.
"Naw!" snapped Steve, as he hung the case containing the glasses up in
its accustomed place inside the tent.
A few minutes later, finding that no one bothered him for information,
Steve, who was really brimming over with a desire to argue the matter
with his comrades, opened the subject himself.
"Say, now, Max, you don't suppose that it could have been any of them
fellows, do you?" he asked.
Max, who was adjusting the coffee pot nicely on the slender iron bars
that formed what he was accustomed to call his "cooking stove," these
four resting on solid foundation of stones on either side of the hot
little fire, turned his head when Steve addressed him particularly.
"Which way did they seem to go when they left?" he asked, slowly, as
though the answer might have a good deal to do with his opinion.
"Up the river," replied Steve, promptly.
"Well, then, I don't believe it could have been any of the boys," was
what Max went on to state; "and I'll tell you several reasons for saying
that. In the first place there would have been three if it was the Ted
Shafter crowd; and perhaps more if Herb had come up here to see whether
we were really camping on Catamount Island."
"Right you are, Max," remarked Owen, who was listening carefully.
"Then again, what would they be doing away up here so late in the day?"
the other continued. "Why, it's miles and miles by road back to town.
Even by the river in a boat they couldn't make it short of two hours;
and traveling at night along the rapid Big Sunflower would be a ticklish
job that I wouldn't like to tackle. Last of all, why go on _up_ the
river? If they came in a boat, it would have to be down below us, you
know, boys."
There was no dissenting voice raised against this line of argument on
the part of Max. And when they sat down to eat their supper the talk was
wholly confined to the subject of the two mysterious men. Who were they,
and why did they seem to be so greatly interested in Catamount Island?
And when Steve made a move that must have attracted their attention, why
had they bolted so hastily?
Again did all manner of surmises float to the surface. Bandy-legs was
beginning to show signs of nervousness once more. Possibly the coming of
darkness had much to do with his condition, for he shuddered every time
he felt that scratched ankle give him a twinge. For Bandy-legs feared
that he was a marked person; and that if the dreaded occupant of the
strange cabin chose to pay them another visit before dawn, he would be
the one picked out for trouble.
He seemed uneasy about supper, and wandered down to where the four
canoes lay upon the sandy strip, as though the desire to again examine
that plugged hole in the bottom of his cedar craft had seized upon him.
Those near the fire were paying little attention to Bandy-legs, for they
happened just then to have started an argument along some line, and
Steve was warmly defending his radical views.
And when they heard Bandy-legs give utterance to a shrill whoop they
scrambled to their feet, half expecting to find that some fearful shape
had darted out from the surrounding forest, and was carrying their chum
away.