THE DESERTED CAMP
“Guess we ought to have had a chart of this lake,” observed Jerry
grimly, as he looked over the side of the boat.
“That’s right,” came from Ned. “What is it, anyhow?”
“Hard to say,” replied Jerry. “We either struck a log, a rock or a sand
bank. Guess we’ll have to take a look to tell what it is. We’re fast,
at any rate.”
There was no doubt of that. The _Scud_ lay motionless on the water,
tilted slightly. On either rail stretched a wide expanse of low, marshy
ground, in which cat-tails and rushes seemed to thrive. There was no
town or settlement near, and only a few scattered boat houses, about
which there seemed to be no life. It was a rather lonely neighborhood.
“Are we taking in any water?” asked Ned, looking at the bottom of the
cabin floor.
“Not enough to show yet, anyhow,” replied Jerry, for the floor of the
cabin was raised some distance above the bottom of the boat, and was
carpeted. “We can soon tell, though. Sound the pump, Bob.”
There was a hand pump that went down into the bilge of the boat, and,
by means of this, water could be pumped out when the motor was not
running. In case of a bad leak, by the turning of a valve the motor
itself would force out any water that came in.
“She seems to have more in than usual,” announced Bob, as he managed to
get a fairly good stream from the hand pump nozzle.
“Seams opened a bit, I guess,” was Jerry’s opinion. “We didn’t appear
to strike hard enough to put a hole in her. Well, let’s see what’s to
be done. In the first place, let’s find out how bad a leak it is.”
The boards of the cabin floor could be taken up, and when this was
done, not without some labor, no hole could be seen. But the water was
undoubtedly coming in faster than it did ordinarily when it seeped in
through the stuffing box, or through opened cracks.
“Not so much but what we can keep it down by the motor pump,” remarked
Jerry. “Now let’s see if we can pull her off by her own power.”
He started the motor, and with the screw reversed put on full speed.
But, though the water foamed and bubbled at the stern, the boat
remained immovable.
“No go,” declared Jerry. He tried again and again, but without result.
“Somebody’s got to go overboard,” he announced.
“You mean to lighten ship?” asked Andy, and he seemed a bit
apprehensive.
“Not yet,” answered the tall lad, with a smile. “I mean someone will
have to dive over and see what sort of a thing we’re stuck on. Then we
can tell what to do.”
“I’ll go,” volunteered Ned, who was perhaps the best swimmer of the
boys. “I wonder if it’s cold?” and he thrust his hand over the gunwale
of the boat into the water.
“Is it?” asked Bob.
“Not very. Well, might as well plunge in at once and have it over
with.” Ned donned his bathing suit in the cabin, and, a little later,
plunged over the side. He dived deeply, and swam under the _Scud_. Up
he came panting for breath, for he was below the surface for some time.
“Well?” asked Jerry, as his chum clung to the rail.
“It’s a tree--a big tree,” Ned reported. “We slid right up on the
inclined trunk. I don’t believe we can get off until we all get out of
the boat.”
“But how are we going to do that?” asked Andy, for no rowboat was
towed behind the _Scud_.
“Oh, we’ll manage somehow,” Jerry replied. “But first we’ll try
shifting the weight, and see what that does. How does she lie, Ned?”
“I’ll take another look, and tell you.”
The boy dived again, and, when he came up, he said:
“If you all go in the stern, and on the port side, I think that will
raise the bow enough so she’ll slip off. Try it.”
They did, but it was no use. The _Scud_ was still held fast.
“We’ll have to get out,” said Jerry.
“Then I’ll swim over to one of those boat houses, and see if I can find
a rowboat,” went on Ned. “No use in everybody getting wet.”
Ned was lucky enough not only to find an available boat, but to locate
a man who offered to help get the _Scud_ off the submerged log. When
Bob, Jerry and Andy had been transferred to the dock of the boathouse a
plan of procedure was worked out. A rope was attached to the stern of
the _Scud_ and, the other end being carried to shore, they all pulled
on it.
The motor boat, being lightened of her load, rode higher in the water,
and when sufficient force had been applied to the rope, she slid off
the log into deep water.
“Hurray!” cried Andy. “That’s the stuff! Now we’re all right. Away
again!”
“Not quite yet,” warned Jerry. “Those leaks will have to be attended
to. Is there a drydock around here?” he asked the man who had helped
them.
“About three miles down the lake--yes. Think you can make it?”
“Oh, I guess so, if we don’t have any more hard luck.”
“It’s too bad you ran on that tree,” the man went on. “It must have
drifted there lately. I’ll mark it, and then get it out of the channel.
Well, good luck to you.”
The boys embarked once more, and started for the boat yard. The water
came in rapidly, but by means of the hand and motor pumps it was kept
below the level of the cabin floor, and out of the engine compartment.
Then, on reaching the place whither the man had directed them, the
_Scud_ was put on the car of the marine railway, and hauled out to have
her seams caulked.
This would take two days, and she would need a coat of paint below the
water line, so the boys found themselves with unexpected time on their
hands.
They made it pass as best they could, in the small town where they had
been forced to lie over. Fortunately the place was a sort of summer
resort, and as the season was at its height the boys did not lack for
such amusements as moving picture shows and other like attractions. But
they were glad when they could resume their trip down the lake.
As Jerry had said, it was a large body of water, and around its shores
were many resorts where cottagers and hotel guests spent the summer
months. The lake, too, was dotted with pleasure craft of many sort, but
the boys did not stop to enjoy themselves as they might have done.
“We can do that on the trip back, if we want to,” said Jerry, little
realizing how soon they would come back that way again, and on what an
errand.
On they sped, now and then blowing their whistle three times, in
response to the salute of some lake craft, the skipper of which
recognized a strange boat.
“That looks like a good place to eat,” observed Bob, as they passed a
large hotel, set in the midst of beautiful gardens, that came down to
the water’s edge. “A fine place, all right!”
“I guess the _Scud’s_ galley will do for the present,” rejoined Jerry.
“I want to see Professor Snodgrass as soon as I can, and we’ve been
longer on this trip than I calculated.”
“Speed her up!” advised Ned.
“That’s what I’m doing,” was the reply.
Hurdtown, where the professor had said he would stay, was a small
settlement, about a mile from the northerly end of Lake Mogan. It was
in a lonely neighborhood, and it could be reached only by boat.
There were no railroads near it, and no towns of any size. It was a
hunting district, but one not very well known and, in consequence, not
thickly settled.
Inquiries made by the boys before reaching the place where they
expected to locate Professor Snodgrass brought forth little or no
information concerning him. Their first queries resulted in nothing.
No one seemed to know anything about a little bald-headed man, with a
passion for bugs. But, as they sent their boat into the swampy end of
the lake they saw, on the shore, a single cabin, that looked as if it
might be the home of a hermit.
An old man came to the door of the shack and, in answer to their hail,
gave them their first reliable information.
“Yep, there’s a crazy feller up there in the mountains,” the hermit
said, nodding in the direction the boys were taking.
“A crazy man?” repeated Jerry.
“Well, suthin’s the matter of him. He picks up bugs and puts ’em in a
box. He says they’re valuable. If that ain’t crazy I’d like to know
what is?” he asked, as if there were no disputing his question.
Further talk with the man disclosed that he had taken Professor
Snodgrass and his belongings up to a sort of hunting cabin, which the
little scientist was to make his headquarters.
“That’s the place for us, then,” announced Jerry.
“Be you friends of his?” the hermit wanted to know.
“Yes,” answered Jerry.
“Humph! Queer he didn’t tell me he had company comin’,” said the man,
as if he had been intentionally slighted.
“Well, he doesn’t expect us,” said Jerry.
“Oh, that’s all right then,” and the hermit seemed relieved.
“Yep,” he went on, “folks most generally has me take ’em up into the
mountains when they come here. I’m th’ only guide around here. Think
you fellers can find your way?”
“Oh, I guess so, thank you,” replied Jerry. “You say the trail is a
straight one?”
“Fairly so, fairly. Keep on straight and you’ll come to th’ cabin.
There’s only one. You can’t mistake it.”
The boys departed, thanking their informant. They sent the boat to the
extreme end of the lake, mooring it in a little bay where it would be
safe. Then, having reached the water end of their journey, they set off
into the woods for the last stage.
It was not easy traveling, for the trail was uphill and rough, but
they kept on, and finally emerged into a little clearing which held a
substantially built log cabin.
“Here’s the place!” cried Ned.
“Yes, and there are some of the professor’s nets!” exclaimed Bob,
pointing to some with long handles leaning against the side of the log
house.
“Hello, Professor Snodgrass!” shouted Jerry. The echoes alone answered
him. The boys, with a vague feeling of alarm, pressed forward. There
was no sign of their friend and as they looked into the cabin they did
not see him.
On a table were the remains of a meal, as though it had been hastily
abandoned, and the condition of the food indicated that it had been
there several hours, if not days. The bread was hard and dry, and many
flies swarmed over the food.
“Looks as though he’d gone,” said Bob, in a low voice.
“It does look like a deserted camp,” agreed Jerry. “And yet, there are
his nets.”