CHAPTER X

THE MAN IN BLUE AGAIN

The two boats grated on the shingle of Pebble Beach, and their gay crews

disembarked and moored their craft to trees overhanging the water. Boys

ran in all directions, fetching dry wood to the circle of blackened

stones that marked the site of many a Lenape bivouac, and potatoes, in

their jackets of damp clay, were thrust into the first embers of the

small cooking fire that had been lighted under Dr. Cannon’s direction.

While the supper they had brought was cooking, Spaghetti Megaro

organized a game of “duck-on-a-rock.” Twilight brought a gang of

ravenous campers in a cluster about the fire, watching with alert eyes

the drawing forth of the food whose steaming aroma, mingled with the

bitter tang of wood-smoke, made every mouth water. The sun faded out

into a gray foggy mass of clouds low-lying over the Lenape range across

the lake, and by the replenished fire’s glow, the boys squatted about

and ate their simple meal, spicing it with many a cheery quip and

good-natured jest.

When pans and mess-kits had been washed by the simple method of rubbing

dirt on their surfaces to remove the grease, afterward dipping them in

the lake, dead limbs and brush were heaped on the fire, and in the

circle of light sent forth by the jolly blaze, the boys of Tent Eight

settled themselves for an evening of campfire talk.

One story followed another, most of them having to do with strange

occurrences, haunted houses, ghosts whose touch made the victim’s hair

turn White in a single night. As the hours passed, the air about the

little encampment became decidedly spooky. A wailing wind had arisen,

and swept mournfully through the overhanging trees. Down the lake on the

other side, a leaping torch of flame marked the spot where Tent Two,

camped below the baseball field, had built a high fire that danced with

every gust and spouted a hail of sparks toward the murky sky.

Oscar Hansen, a freckle-faced blonde boy, was relating the tale of the

Golden Hand. He raised his voice as the climax of his story drew near.

“—And he heard a footstep outside the door of the room, and a scary

voice said: ‘_Who’s got my Golden Hand?_’ Then he heard the door swing

open, and something said, in a louder voice: ‘_Who’s got my Golden

Hand?_’ But he couldn’t see anything there. His hair stood on end. He

sat up in bed. The thing was right at the foot of his bed, saying in an

awful screech: ‘_Who’s got_——’”

“Good evening!”

Everybody jumped, and little Barstow cried out in fear. A dislodged

stone rolled down into the fireplace. Peering eyes made out the towering

form of a stranger just beyond the circle of firelight. A man had come

upon them unawares as the group sat absorbed in the ghostly tale.

“Hope I don’t interrupt your fun. But I saw the fire, and just thought

I’d step over and warm my hands a bit.”

Dr. Cannon rose to greet the newcomer. “Glad to have you. We were

telling ghost stories, and I’m afraid you’ startled us a bit, Mr. ——”

“Diker. I’m from the state penitentiary over beyond Elmville.” The

stranger shook hands, and pulled aside his slicker for a moment; the red

glow flashed on the metal of an official badge. “Glad to know you, sir.

Well, if it isn’t my friends the twins!”

Jerry stuck his elbow in Jake’s ribs. It was the man in blue again! The

prison guard! Now that they looked closely, they could see that what

they had first taken for a stick in the man’s hand was in reality the

gun which he never seemed to be without.

“Hello, boys. I’m just staying a minute,” the guard went on. “A warm

fire feels mighty good. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had a good-sized

storm before morning. You’re lucky you don’t have to prowl around here

in the dark all night, the way I do.”

“Here, have a seat,” said Dr. Cannon hospitably. “You’re still after

that prisoner who got loose, I suppose. Are there any further

developments?”

“No such luck. He’s disappeared completely; but sooner or later, he’ll

be starved out of the hole where he’s hiding, and then we’ll get him

again. It won’t be an easy job in these woods, though, because

Burk—that’s the man’s name—used to be a hunter’s guide and is a real

woodsman.”

“What kind of a fellow is he? Any objection to telling us?” asked the

doctor.

“None at all,” said Diker cheerfully. “From what I’ve seen Of him, Burk

is not a bad chap. Short, slender fellow—always quiet and well-behaved,

never gave any trouble, until last Saturday morning, when he was

discovered missing. We still can’t figure out how he got away from the

prison grounds. It was a foolish thing for him to do, too; he only had a

year more to serve, and now, when he’s caught, it will mean added time

for breaking prison.” Diker held out his hands thoughtfully over the

fire. “As I say, he was a guide for hunters—he knows the Lenape hills

about as well as anybody—and most of the year he was caretaker at the

Canoe Mountain Sportsman’s Club, down below Wallistown. Well, he was

caught stealing money or jewelry or something when he was there alone,

in charge of the place—I don’t think I ever rightly heard the exact

circumstances. Probably some temptation came his way, and he wasn’t

strong-willed enough to resist.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very dangerous character,” remarked the doctor.

“No, he’s not a fighter—but any man in a corner will fight for his

liberty when he has to do it. I wish we could get him soon, though—I’m a

bit tired of hiking through the country day and night in all sorts of

weather. If we could only spot the smoke of his fire, or——”

“Say!” burst out Al Canning, nerving himself to speak. “Say, Mr.

Diker—you said something about smoke. Me and another kid named Toots saw

some smoke over here a couple days ago, right on this very side of the

lake! Down below a ways where the trees are thickest—we saw it from a

boat——”

“So?” The prison guard bent a sharp glance on the flushed face of the

youngster. “Well, there’s a chance he may be in there. If nothing else

happens, I’ll take a bunch of deputies in there first thing to-morrow,

and if he’s there, we’ll get him! But say, young fellow, if you saw this

smoke several days ago, why didn’t you report it?”

“Well,” stammered Al, “me and Toots were going to tell it at Council

Ring, but we forgot, and one of the Utway kids here said it wasn’t worth

mentioning.” He pointed to the twins, and stopped, breathless.

Jake and Jerry faced the accusing glance of the guard. “Hmm! I seem to

run into you two wherever I go. Now, will you kindly tell me——”

A crashing blast of thunder broke in upon his words, and a jagged stab

of lightning illuminated the sky. Dr. Cannon jumped up hastily.

“Back to camp, boys!” he commanded. “Put out the fire, stow everything

in the boats, and head for the dock! Everybody put on his raincoat—the

storm will be here before we know it!”

The rising wind whipped a few stinging drops against their faces as he

spoke. The prison guard stood motionless amid the bustle of breaking

camp. In a few moments the little beach was crowded with the campers,

who loaded their kits into the boats and climbed in after them. The fire

hissed as Linder poured a bucket of water over the embers.

The return journey across to the dock was short, yet in that space of

time the storm broke in fury. Stiff, white-crested waves slapped against

the thwarts, and made smooth progress with the oars a difficult feat.

Jake and Jerry bent their backs with a will, and their round-bottomed

steel craft was the first to reach the dock. As the other two occupants

clambered out, with water steaming from their rubber ponchos, Jerry

caught his brother’s arm and drew him under the shelter of the diving

platform.

“Whew, that was a close one!” he whispered. “That guard is sure

suspicious of us—I could see it in his eye. And he means what he says. A

gang of men can go over that patch of woods across the lake with a

fine-tooth comb, and they’ll find our convict as sure as shooting. This

is our only chance to get the reward—we’ll have to do it to-night!”

“I’m game!” Jake brushed the raindrops from his hair with a swift

motion.

“Don’t get undressed. As soon as everybody is asleep, crawl out and meet

me by the flagpole. Wear your poncho, and bring your big flashlight.” A

rumble of thunder capped his words. “Jakie, we’ve got to do it! We’ve

got to find our man, and bring him back!”

The Mystery at Camp Lenape · 第 10 / 22 章