A CRY FROM THE CLIFF
"It's a snake sure enough!"
"My, what a big one!"
"No climbing on that rock for me!"
Such were some of the cries which rent the air as the four youths
dropped back into the lake and lost no time in getting away from the
spot which had been the goal of the swimming race.
"Say, Dave, what sort of a snake do you suppose that was?" queried
Roger.
"Did he drop into the water?" questioned Ben, anxiously. "If it's a
water snake maybe it's after us."
"I don't know what kind of snakes are to be found around here," returned
Dave. "But it was dark in color and I think all of four or five feet
long."
"Say, who won this race, anyhow?" came from Phil, as the boys swam
around not far from the rock.
"I should say the snake did," laughed Dave.
In the meantime Dunston Porter, noticing that something unusual was
going on in the vicinity of the goal, had leaped up and was running
along the edge of the cove.
[Illustration: "IT'S A SNAKE, AND A BIG ONE!"--_Page 179._]
"What's the matter over there?" he yelled.
"A snake, Uncle Dunston," called back Dave. "Better get a shotgun and go
after it."
"O dear! did you say a snake?" came from Laura, in dismay.
Acting on Dave's suggestion, Dunston Porter hurried back to one of the
bungalows. He reappeared with a shotgun, and lost no time in making for
the vicinity of the rock where the reptile had been seen. In the
meanwhile the four boys rejoined Luke and Shadow, and all swam back to
the dock.
"Oh, Dave, are you sure the snake didn't drop into the water after you?"
questioned Jessie, and her face showed her anxiety.
"No, it retreated to the rocks further back," was the answer.
"Was it a poisonous snake?" asked Mrs. Basswood.
"I am sure I don't know."
"If there are snakes in these woods I don't think I'll care to go out
very much," commented Laura, with a shiver.
"Snakes will just spoil everything," added Jessie, dismally.
While the boys and girls were dressing the report of a shotgun rang
out.
"If that was Uncle Dunston shooting, he must have found Mr. Snake," were
Dave's words.
"I hope he did find the snake," answered Roger. "If that reptile was
left prowling around in this vicinity, none of the ladies would want to
go out."
"And I wouldn't care much about going out myself," added Luke.
Having finished dressing, the boys lost no time in following Dunston
Porter toward the rock which had been the goal of the swimming race.
They found the old hunter and traveler searching through the brushwood
back of the rocks.
"Did you get it, Uncle Dunston?" questioned Dave.
"I did," was the reply. "What's left of that snake is over yonder," and
Mr. Porter pointed with his hand. "I'm looking around here to see if
there are any more of them, but I rather fancy that is all there is."
The charge from the shotgun had fairly torn the reptile to pieces, for
when Dunston Porter had fired the snake had been coiled up, evidently
ready for an attack.
Arming themselves with clubs and stones, the boys joined Dunston Porter
in the hunt for more reptiles, but their search was unsuccessful; and a
little while later all returned to the bungalows.
"Did you find any other snakes?" asked Jessie, after she had been told
about the one that had been killed.
"No, and I don't think there are any others," answered Mr. Porter.
"Well, I hope there are not," put in Laura, "but if there are I wish you
had found them."
"We can't find what isn't there," said Luke, with a grin.
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," burst out Shadow.
"Wow!" ejaculated Roger. "Here comes another!"
"Oh, say! this is a good one," pleaded the would-be story-teller. "It's
about an old college graduate who was a regular fiend for football. He
would undergo almost any hardship for the sake of getting to a game.
Well, one time there was a great contest on between two of the big
colleges, and although old Bixby nearly broke his back to get there, he
didn't arrive until late. 'Say, how is it going?' he puffed to a
gate-keeper. 'Nothing to nothing, middle of the second half,' answered
the gate-keeper. 'Is that so?' returned old Bixby. 'That's good! I
haven't missed anything,' and he passed in." And at this anecdote there
was a general laugh.
In the afternoon while the young folks were enjoying themselves in
various ways around the bungalows, they heard the put-put of a motor,
and looking out on Mirror Lake, saw the craft belonging to the
moving-picture company manager approaching, loaded with the furniture
that had been borrowed.
"Here they come with our things!" cried Ben. "Looks like a house moving;
doesn't it?"
They saw that the boat was in sole charge of Mr. Appleby, and as the
craft drew closer the moving-picture manager gave them a cheery hail.
"Going into the moving business instead of moving pictures, eh?" cried
Dave.
"I thought I might as well bring this stuff back while I had a chance,"
answered the manager, and soon brought his motor-boat to a standstill
beside the dock. Then the boys made short work of taking the furniture
back to the bungalows.
"I've got news for you, Mr. Porter," announced the moving-picture man,
after the job was finished. "I've seen that young rascal, Link Merwell."
"You have!" exclaimed Dave, eagerly. "Up at your camp?"
"That's it."
"Did you make him a prisoner?" asked Phil.
"I didn't get the chance. He was evidently on his guard, and as soon as
I told him what I knew, and that I was going to hand him over to the
authorities, he ran straight into the woods, and that was the last any
of us saw of him. He even left his suitcase and a light overcoat
behind."
"Well, it's too bad he got away," returned our hero. "I thought sure if
he had the audacity to show himself here we'd get a chance to capture
him."
"I was foolish not to make him a prisoner as soon as he appeared,"
answered Thomas Appleby. "But I didn't think he would run away in that
fashion, leaving his outfit behind. Besides, what he'll do in the woods
behind our camp is a mystery to me. I asked old Tad Rason if there were
any roads back there, and he said not within a couple of miles; so
Merwell stands a good chance of losing himself completely."
"Great Scott! Supposing he should get into the woods and be unable to
get out again!" burst out Roger.
"Well, such things have happened," answered Luke. "I heard only last
winter of a man who was lost in the Maine woods."
"Yes, and Tad Rason told of two brothers who were lost up here in the
Adirondacks for over three weeks," returned Mr. Appleby. "When they were
found they were almost starved to death and next door to crazy."
"If anything like that should happen to Link, he will have nobody to
blame but himself," announced Roger.
"Did he know we were up here?" queried Dave.
"He knew you were somewhere in this vicinity, but he did not know that
the camps were so close to each other. I think if he had imagined such
to be the case he would have steered clear of this vicinity."
"Was that young actor, Ward Porton, with him?"
"I really don't know whether they came together or not. Porton showed up
about two hours before Merwell arrived. Of course, they may have
separated just before the camp was reached--Porton not wanting to appear
in the company of a fellow you had told him was a crook."
"Is Porton at your camp now?"
"Yes. But he doesn't intend to stay very long. He says he has something
else in view, although what it is I don't know. To tell you the truth,"
and Mr. Appleby lowered his voice a trifle, "I think he is sweet on Miss
Ford, and as she doesn't care for him at all and has told him so, it has
put his nose out of joint."
"When you spoke to him about Merwell did Porton stand up for the
fellow?" continued our hero. He was anxious to learn if possible just
how close the companionship of the pair had been.
"He didn't have much to say after I told him all I knew," responded
Thomas Appleby. "Previous to that, he remarked that you might be
mistaken regarding Merwell--that Merwell had said that Jasniff and
somebody else were guilty of the jewelry robbery."
"Humph! he can't put it off on anybody else like that!" cried Phil. "We
know beyond a doubt that he and Jasniff committed that crime."
"Perhaps I ought not to blame Ward Porton for sticking up for Merwell,"
answered Dave. "Link is a mighty slick talker, and he probably told his
story to suit himself and got Porton to swallow it. Just the same,
Porton is very foolish to chum with him."
"I'll be rather sorry to lose Porton, for he is a clever fellow in the
movies," went on the manager. "He wanted to leave in a few days, but I
persuaded him to stay for a week at least, so we could finish several
dramas in which he is an actor. After he is gone I'll have to get some
one to take his place. Any of you young fellows want to have a try at
it?" and Mr. Appleby looked full at Dave.
"Oh, I don't know," returned our hero, slowly. And then he saw that
Jessie's eyes were turned upon him and that they showed she was
troubled. "I don't think I care to take the matter up. You see, I came
here for a rest and a good time."
"I wouldn't mind taking a hand at it!" cried Luke.
"You can count me in, too!" added Shadow. "I'd like first-rate to see
myself on the screen in a moving-picture show," and his eyes lit up in
anticipation.
"Well, you fellows come down some time and we'll talk it over,"
concluded the manager. "I've got to get back now. We are getting ready
to put on quite an important drama to-morrow, and we have got to
rehearse a number of scenes. If you folks want to come up and look on,
you'll be welcome," he added, to the crowd in general.
When the moving-picture manager had departed, the boys set out to fish
along the brook that flowed into Mirror Lake. While getting ready for
the sport the conversation drifted around once more to Link Merwell.
"If he is in this vicinity, Dave, you can make sure he'll try to get in
on us somehow before he leaves," remarked Phil.
"I don't see what he can do," returned Luke.
"Oh, a fellow like Link can do lots of things!" burst out Ben. "Why, he
might even try to burn down the bungalows!"
"Do you think he's as bad as that?" questioned Shadow.
"Yes, I do!" was the flat answer.
Fishing in the vicinity of the lake was not very good, so the boys
pushed further and further up the brook, until they reached a point
where there was a little waterfall and a pool of considerable size. Here
fishing was better, and soon they had quite a number of specimens of the
finny tribe to their credit.
"Come on, Dave, let's go up a little farther," pleaded Phil. "I'd like
to see what this brook looks like beyond the falls."
"All right, I'll go," answered our hero. "What about you fellows?" he
asked, of the others.
"I'll stay here and rest," announced Roger. "I'm tired of scrambling
over the rocks."
"So am I," agreed Ben. Shadow and Luke also said they would remain in
the vicinity of the pool.
Dave and Phil found it no easy task to follow the brook, which wound in
and out among the rocks and brushwood. At one point they had to do some
hard climbing, and once the shipowner's son slipped and came close to
spraining an ankle.
"Say, I don't believe I'll go much farther, after all," declared Phil.
"This is rough and no mistake!"
"It is better walking a little farther on, Phil," announced Dave. "Come
on, don't give up this way! Maybe we'll find some extra large fish up
there."
Once more they set out, and soon found themselves in a small clearing,
backed up by a cliff fifteen or twenty feet in height, and overgrown
with brushwood and trailing vines.
"Hark! What was that?" exclaimed Phil, as both came to a halt
preparatory to casting their lines into the stream.
"I think it was a shout," answered Dave. "Maybe the others are calling
to us."
"No, I think the call came from up on the cliff, Dave. Listen, there it
is again!"
Both strained their ears and soon heard another cry. This time it was
much closer.
"Stop! stop! let me alone!" Such were the words that floated to their
ears. "Please don't hit me! Let me alone!"
Dave and Phil looked at each other curiously.
"Who can it be?" questioned the shipowner's son.
"I don't know, but I guess we had better try to find out," answered our
hero.