When Westy and Artie reached the lake bearing the heavy steel box with
Ol’ Pop’s life-savings intact, Uncle Jeb and his old pardner were
scanning the surface of the lake with all their might.
Westy set the box down and Ol’ Pop took his hand and his voice shook
with emotion and the deep gratitude he felt for this boy who had
rendered him such help.
“Don’t know how I’m a-goin’ ter pay yer back!” he said. “Guess nothin’ I
cud give yer wud be worth what I owe yer, but I kin tell yer pronto,
boy, yure good-stuff ’n never will I forget ye as long as I live!”
Westy felt well repaid in having him just talk like that. Indeed it made
him feel shy and embarrassed to have this hardy old pioneer condescend
to a lowly boy scout such as he. He tried to tell Pop as best he could
that he wanted no pay of any kind, and that he had done no more than any
boy should do.
Leaving Ol’ Pop to his wealth Uncle Jeb and the boys started around the
lake.
“Did you notice the exact spot he jumped in, Uncle Jeb?” Westy asked.
“As fur as I cud see, he landed right about thar!” Uncle Jeb explained,
pointing his finger toward the spot he meant. “He wuz a-comin’ on down
thet fast, turnin’ somersaults all the way, thet it made me right dizzy
ter watch him. He landed with a thump ’n I reckon he never did cum up
agin, he went down thet fast.”
“Well, I have a good mind to take a plunge and do a little investigating
myself,” Westy said enthusiastically.
“Go to it!” Artie said heartily.
“Be careful, boy!” Uncle Jeb warned him. “Yuh’ve hed yure share o’
narrow escapes already!”
“I will!” called Westy, making the plunge.
He swam around for a while and, finding no trace of anything, returned
to the shore.
All that day they kept watch, but nothing revealed itself from the lake.
Night came and they sat around the campfire once more, warmed in soul as
well as body, that they were all sitting there safe and sound.
Westy and Artie were voicing their regrets that the summer had gone so
quickly.
Events of the night before were gone over again, and, as the last spark
of the fire died out on that pebbly shore, Westy rolled into his
blankets, face upturned to the starry skies once again. They were to
return to the cabin in the morning and he wanted to fix in his mind
forever the beautiful spectacle that surrounded him, revealing all its
naked beauty to his wondering eyes.
The stars overhead in that dark blue sky, shimmering and twinkling down
upon him, seemed to want to confide in him the mystery of the heavens.
The mountains around, so frowning and formidable in aspect to most
people, looked to Westy that night majestic and serene, a solid wall of
protection to mankind. Everything around him in fact that night brought
gladness to his heart for he was happy in the thought that he had been
of benefit to his fellow-beings.
And so musing, sleep seemed utterly to have deserted him and he felt not
the least need of any.
“Well,” he whispered softly, “this is the last night under the stars, so
I might as well make the most of it. Guess I’ll paddle around and finish
my dreaming out here while I’m at it!”
He entered the canoe noiselessly and pushed off, lapping the water
lightly with the paddle, seeming hardly to have touched it at all.
The fact that a tragedy had entered the lake that day, did not make
Westy fear it at night. What he was not afraid of living, he surely
wouldn’t fear dead.
His thoughts drifting lazily along and with his dreamy eyes fixed on Her
Majesty, the Moon, he felt something strike the canoe.
The impact felt no more than what a small log would in striking it, but
nevertheless Westy, always observing, looked.
It was mentioned before that Westy did not know what fear was. To
retract it a little it can be here recorded, that he did receive quite a
shock at first when he looked over the side of the canoe.
There floating in the water, directly in the moonlight, was the skeleton
of a man and a few yards away from that--was another.