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THE GO AHEAD BOYS IN THE ISLAND CAMP
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THE GO AHEAD BOYS IN THE ISLAND CAMP
BY ROSS KAY
Author of "The Search for the Spy," "The Air Scout," "With Joffre
on the Battle Line," "Dodging the North Sea Mines," "The Go Ahead
Boys on Smugglers' Island," "The Go Ahead Boys and the Treasure
Cave," etc., etc.
PREFACE
Every one who loves outdoor life knows the charm and the pleasures of
camping. To look back on the days passed in a tent by the shore of some
forest lake or stream is a source of never-ending enjoyment to those of
us who have had that experience. In this book I have tried to describe
the adventures of four boys who spent a vacation camping in the
Adirondacks, and who indulged in water sports of various kinds while
there. Many of the episodes are true or at least founded on the
experiences of former boys who enjoyed them. If the boys who may read
this tale will derive some of the pleasure in hearing about them that
the real boys did in participating in them I shall feel repaid.
--Ross Kay
CONTENTS
· CHAPTER I--MAKING CAMP
· CHAPTER II--A MISHAP
· CHAPTER III--JOHN HEARS SOMETHING
· CHAPTER IV--SETTING SAIL
· CHAPTER V--THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS
· CHAPTER VI--ADRIFT
· CHAPTER VII--AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
· CHAPTER VIII--A PREDICAMENT
· CHAPTER IX--DANGER
· CHAPTER X--WAIT AND SEE
· CHAPTER XI--WHAT GEORGE DID
· CHAPTER XII--A CHALLENGE
· CHAPTER XIII--THE OUTCAST
· CHAPTER XIV--TALKING IT OVER
· CHAPTER XV--PREPARATION
· CHAPTER XVI--GRANT MISSES
· CHAPTER XVII--GEORGE'S STRATEGY
· CHAPTER XVIII--A CLOSE MATCH
· CHAPTER XIX--A CLOSE SHAVE
· CHAPTER XX--GEORGE SURPRISES HIS FRIENDS
· CHAPTER XXI--HOW THE PLAN WORKED
· CHAPTER XXII--A STRANGE PERFORMANCE
· CHAPTER XXIII--AN UNEXPECTED HONOR
· CHAPTER XXIV--IN QUEST OF GAME
· CHAPTER XXV--THE WORM TURNS
· CHAPTER XXVI--AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER
· CHAPTER XXVII--CONCLUSION
THE GO AHEAD BOYS IN THE ISLAND CAMP
CHAPTER I--MAKING CAMP
"Here is the place to put the tent, String."
"I think this spot is better."
"Not at all. It's higher over here and consequently we won't be flooded
by every rain that comes along and besides that, the flies won't be so
apt to bother us."
"All right, just as you say."
The boy addressed as "String" had been named John Clemens by his
parents. He was six feet three inches tall, however, and extremely thin
so that the nickname applied to him seemed quite appropriate. At any
rate his friends thought so and that was the name by which he usually
was called.
Talking with him and arguing about the location of the tent was Fred
Button, a boy as short as John was tall. He was so small that the
nicknames of Stub, Pewee and Pygmy had all been applied to him, the last
one sometimes shortened to Pyg much to Fred's disgust. He had found out
long ago, however, that there was no use in showing his irritation at
this for it only served to increase the frequency with which the name
was applied to him.
These two boys, together with two of their friends, were pitching camp
preparatory to spending a summer on one of the Adirondack lakes. Grant
Jones was one of these boys and the other was George Washington Sanders.
Grant was the most serious-minded of the four and everything he did he
did with all his heart. As a result he was a leader not only on the
athletic field but in his studies as well. The other boys usually came
to him for advice and looked up to him in many ways. The fact that he
was of a serious nature, however, did not mean that he was not
oftentimes just as full of fun as anybody.
George Washington Sanders having been named after the father of his
country, had acquired the name of Pop. He was often in mischief and took
especial delight in teasing his three friends. It was almost out of the
question to be angry at him, however, for he never lost his temper for
more than a moment himself and was always bubbling over with spirits and
fun. He was the life of any crowd he was in.
While the argument between John and Fred was in progress Grant and
George approached.
"What are you two arguing about?" demanded Grant.
"We're trying to decide where to put the tent," replied Fred. "What have
you two been doing all this time?"
"Putting the canoes away," said Grant. "Where are you going to locate
the tent, anyway?"
"Well," said Fred, "John wants it over in that hollow, but I say it
ought to be up on this little plateau."
"I think you're right, Fred," said George. "We won't get so many flies
up there."
"Just what I said," exclaimed Fred triumphantly. "What do you think
about it, Grant?"
"I think your place is better," said Grant. "Besides everything else
we'll have a good view of the lake from there."
"All right," said John, pretending to be very sad. "You all seem to be
against me so I guess I'll have to give in."
"You see, String," exclaimed George with a sly twinkle in his eye, "we
all know so very much more about this business than you do that you
might just as well take our advice in everything."
"You talk too much, Pop," said John shortly, which remark drew a laugh
of glee from George who had tried to irritate his friend and was
delighted at having succeeded.
"I say we all stop talking and get to work on the tent," said Grant. "We
can do all the fooling we want later."
"Great idea, Grant," exclaimed George, who was in excellent spirits at
the prospect of all the good times ahead of them. "You're a wonder."
"You were right when you said Pop talked too much, String," laughed
Grant. "We'll put him to work now, though."
In an incredibly short time the white tent was erected on the little
bluff overlooking the lake. It was spacious with plenty of room for the
four young campers and all their equipment, which was speedily stored
away inside.
"How about a few fish for dinner?" exclaimed George, when the tent was
in place. "Personally I think they'd taste pretty good."
"Go ahead and catch some, then," urged John. "I'll help you eat them."
"Oh, I didn't worry about your not helping me out in that way," laughed
George. "That's the least of my troubles. What bothers me is who is to
clean the fish."
"The man who catches them always cleans them," said Fred.
"Oh, no, he doesn't," laughed George. "Not in this case, anyway."
"How about the cook doing it?" inquired John.
"As I am to do the cooking all summer I can't say I approve of that
plan," laughed Grant. "That seems a little bit too much."
"Well, he hasn't caught any fish yet, anyway," said Fred. "Let him do
that first and we'll argue about them afterwards."
"Where are you going to fish, Pop?" asked Grant.
"I thought I'd try it off those rocks down on the point there," said
George. "That looks like a likely spot."
"While you're fishing I'll cut some balsam boughs and make four beds in
the tent," said John.
"And I'll get a place ready to make a fire in," said Grant. "That'll
take a little time."
"How about you, Fred?" demanded George. "It looks as if you were about
the only loafer in the whole crowd."
"I'll help String cut balsam."
"Very good," said George haughtily. "You may go now."
"I'll put you in the lake if you're not more careful," said John
threateningly, but he laughed in spite of himself.
A few moments later every boy was busied with his appointed task.
George, armed with his fishing rod, made off for the end of the little
wooded island. John and Fred disappeared in search of balsam boughs,
while Grant remained behind to make a fireplace. This was an interesting
piece of work, the secret of which he had learned from a guide some few
summers before during a sojourn in the woods.
First he selected eight or ten rocks as nearly the size and shape of
cobblestones as he could find. These he placed on the ground in two
parallel rows some twelve inches apart. Both little stone walls thus
formed he endeavored to make as nearly the same height as possible and
before long his fireplace was complete. Between the two rows of stones
the fire was to be made; pots and pans could thus be set over the fire
and rest upon the rocks which formed the walls of the fireplace; in this
way they could be kept from actual contact with the coals and at the
same time most of the heat from the fire was concentrated upon them.
This is a very efficient method of making a camp-fire as Grant had
learned from previous experience. Of course, in the case of a temporary
camp or unless there are plenty of rocks close at hand, it is hardly
worth while and it is not the kind of a fire that campers like to sit
around in the evening. As a cooking fire, however, it is one of the
best.
Grant had hardly finished this task when John and Fred returned to the
camp. They were loaded down with balsam boughs and staggered under the
weight of the loads they were carrying. With a sigh of relief each boy
dropped his bundle on the ground and sat down to regain his breath.
"You fellows look as if you'd been working hard," laughed Grant.
"We have," panted John. "Just carry a load like that for a while and see
what you think of it."
"I'll take your word for it," said Grant. "Have you got all you want?"
"All the balsam, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Well, I should hope so," exclaimed Fred. "At any rate I refuse to go
back after any more. My fingers are all gummy and sticky, too."
"The boughs smell great, though," said Grant admiringly.
"Don't they?" exclaimed John. "They'll be wonderful to sleep on."
"You see, Grant," remarked Fred, "String here is so tall we had to cut
an extra supply to make a bed long enough for him. I'm really quite
worried, too, for fear his feet may stick out beyond the flap of the
tent, anyway."
"I'm not as bad as that I hope," laughed John. "It would be awful,
wouldn't it, if I couldn't keep out of the rain?"
"You might stand on your head," suggested Fred. "Your feet sticking
straight up in the air could take the place of umbrellas. They're big
enough so that they'd shelter you, all right."
"Look here," exclaimed John, "that sounds like one of Pop's remarks. I
hope you're not getting as bad as he is."
"By the way," said Fred, "where is he? He ought to be back pretty soon."
"He's still fishing," said Grant. "I guess he hasn't had very good
luck."
"He ought to have taken one of the canoes, anyway," said John. "He can't
catch anything just standing on the shore."
"Oh, I don't know," said Grant. "He might get some small perch or bass."
"What I want is a good big trout," exclaimed Fred. "I'll consider this
summer a failure unless I get one."
"Maybe we'll each get one," said Grant. "They say there are lots of them
around here."
"Not so much in the lake as in the streams running into it, I guess,"
remarked John. "It seems to me that the big trout are always in small
pools."
"Well, I'll try them all," said Fred eagerly. "I don't want just to
catch trout; any one can do that. What I want is a big one."
"One you can take home stuffed, I suppose," suggested Grant.
"That's it exactly. I mean to have one, too."
"Well, we might fix up the beds first," said John. "It won't take long.
All we want is four piles and we can spread the blankets out on them
when we are ready to turn in. Just think of it; a nice soft
sweet-smelling bed to sleep on and we won't feel any of the rocks and
roots and bumps that may be under us."
"It sounds fine all right," laughed Grant. "We'd better get to work
soon, too, for it'll be dark before long."
"I should think Pop would be back by now, too," said John. "You don't
suppose anything could have happened to him, do you?"
"Why, I don't see how--" began Fred, when he suddenly ceased speaking and
listened intently.
"What's the matter?" demanded Grant.
"Ssh," whispered Fred. "I thought I heard some one call."