THE BARNACLE HAS A NOSE
Aside from that single mistake the meal was declared to be a great
success. The cake turned out a joy, and when it and the heaping dishes
of ice-cream were brought on, the boys stood up and gave three cheers
for the girls of Acorn Island Camp.
"But hold on!" exclaimed Chet, suddenly investigating his share of the
ice-cream with a spoon. "I have been given a premium with my supply.
Here! who has lost a perfectly good fly?"
"Alive?" demanded his chum, Lance.
"He can still crawl," admitted Chet.
"That fly's a perfect idiot," declared Lance, warmly. "It's the same
one that was in the hot gravy a little while ago. I hope he takes a
chill. What does he think this is--a turkish bath?"
They lingered long at the table, until finally Liz (who had agreed to
"clean up") drove them all out of the tent. They finished the
ice-cream (which Reddy and Short and Long declared _had_ to be eaten
up because there was not ice enough to keep it out in the open), with
the light fading out of the western sky and the early fireflies
flitting about the edge of the wood.
The Barnacle began to bark vociferously, all of a sudden. Lizzie, up
at the lighted cook-tent, squealed.
Up rose the boys with a great whoop. "Go for it!" yelled Lance. "Sick
'im!" which seems to be the approved way to set a dog on anything
living.
Barnacle was barking his foolish head off. He dashed across from the
cook-tent to the woods, and then back again. The boys all urged him
on. The girls ran together in a frightened group, Lil moaning:
"Oh, he's here again! that dreadful man is here again!"
"Hush you!" commanded Liz, in disgust. "'Tain't no man. 'Tain't even a
ha'nt. I seen it. It's a black and white kitten----"
"Oh, Chet! call him off! call him off!" begged Laura.
"Quick, Chet!" added Jess. "Don't let that horrid dog hurt that
kitty."
"Chetwood!" shrieked Laura again, knowing more about the inhabitants
of the woods than her chum. "Chetwood! Stop it! Come back! That's _a
polecat_!"
"_What_?" gasped all the girls, and then Bobby began to shriek with
laughter. It was too, too funny--with Jess begging the boys not to let
the Barnacle hurt "kitty."
It was impossible, however, to call the dog off the trail. That camp
scavenger, the American skunk, is the mildest mannered little creature
in the world--providing he is left strictly alone. Being timid and
otherwise defenseless, God has given him a scent-sack which----
"Nobody can tell me that the skunk only brought a _cent_ into the
Ark," declared the exhausted Bobby. "That fellow has a dollar's worth
himself!"
"Why--why did the Creator ever _make_ such a horrid beast?" demanded
Lil.
"You ask that and wear those furs of yours in the winter?" said
Nellie, laughing. "The pretty little fellow that the Barnacle has so
unwisely chased away from our vicinity is becoming very valuable to
the furriers. There are people who raise the creatures for the
market----"
"Excuse _me_!" gasped Bobby. "I'd want a chronic cold in the head, if
I had to work on a skunk farm."
As Barnacle and his quarry went farther from the camp the odor that
had risen drifted away, too; but for two days thereafter the girls
could easily tell in which part of the island Barnacle was running
game, by the way in which the odor came "down wind" to them.
Liz fed him at the edge of the wood; the girls chased him from the
vicinity of the tents whenever he appeared.
The Barnacle did not mind much; for he had struck a dog-hunter's
paradise. He was a fiend after small game and there had not been a dog
on Acorn Island for some years, in all probability.
He was running and yapping all day and pretty nearly all night. How
many groundhogs, chipmunks, muskrats, coons, and other small animals,
besides the rabbits, he chased and caught there was no telling.
Perhaps he did not kill one.
But he barked to his heart's desire and when he finally had driven
everything to cover, he came back to the tents, purified in soul as
well as in odor, and was willing to sleep during the day and sit up on
his haunches at night (when they tied him to the corner of the cabin)
and try to howl his head off at the moon.
The girls--even Lil and Nellie--lost their fear of a second visit from
the mysterious "kleptomaniantic." Nobody would land upon the island to
disturb them while that crazy dog was about.
So they fished, and swam, and picked berries, and hunted flowers and
herbs, and went out sailing with the boys in the powerboats, and drove
their canoes up and down the lake, having a fine time every hour of
the day.
Mrs. Morse got on famously with her book, and allowed the girls to do
about as they liked. They got into no mischief, however; but they all
grew brown, and strong, and even Lily began to put on flesh.
At this season there were few fishermen at Lake Dunkirk. Some days
there were long processions of barges sailing past the island, making
for Rocky River and the ports down stream. And sometimes puffy tugs
drew other barges westward, against the current.
None of the crews of these boats disturbed the campers. Acorn Island
had been placarded for years, and it had always been necessary to get
a permit to have even a picnic there.
Just one couple of fishermen came within range of the girls' vision
that first week or ten days. And that couple, in their clumsy canoe,
were never near enough for the girls of Central High to see their
faces.
"I wonder where _they_ camp at night?" said Laura thoughtfully one
evening as she and Jess were paddling in for supper, being the last of
the scattered girls to make camp. She had sighted the strange
fishermen off the western end of Acorn Island again.
"Bet they are the fellows who took our food!" exclaimed Jess,
suddenly.
"And have hung about here all this time? Nonsense!" returned Laura.
"But don't let Lil and Nellie hear you say that."
"All right. But I bet they are."
"I'm more worried by that cloud yonder," said Laura. "We're going to
have a tempest."
"Hope not till supper's over," said the hungry Jess.
"We'll peg down the tents to make sure as soon as we get in," said the
careful Laura.
They did so. Half through supper the first drops of the storm fell.
Then the thunder rolled nearer and a tall tree was riven on the
mainland, within sight of Camp Acorn.
_That_ pretty well settled the supper for most of the girls. Even the
bravest had never experienced a thunder storm under canvas before.
So they all ran into Mrs. Morse's cabin. It did not seem so bad
there.
In the midst of the downpour, however, and in a lull between thunder
claps, Barnacle, who had been tied to the corner of the hut and had
crawled under the floor for protection, suddenly broke out with a
terrific salvo of barks. He rushed out into the rain and leaped at the
end of his rope, barking and yelping.
"Somebody's about the camp," murmured Mrs. Morse. "The dog's nose--if
not his eyes--tells him so."
"It's Liz," ventured Jess, for the maid-of-all-work had not come with
them to the cabin.
Laura threw the door open, in spite of the flashing lightning. Lil
shrieked and even some of the other girls cowered as the lightning
played across the sky. But before the thunder burst forth again, Laura
heard another sound--and it was not the Barnacle baying.
Lizzie Bean, in the cook-tent, was screaming in a queer and stifled
way.