Stolen Supplies
A complete recital of the boys’ doings on Cabin Island during their
first two days would be of small interest to any but themselves. Suffice
it to say that they enjoyed themselves just as any other group of boys
of the same age would in similar circumstances.
Cabin Island was located in a lonely cove, and, as it was some distance
away from Bayport, few ice-boats ever ventured so far down the bay.
However, this isolation did not mar the holiday. On the contrary, as Joe
expressed it, they could easily imagine that they were having their
outing in the remote Canadian wilderness, instead of but a few miles
from their own homes.
The storm that had welcomed them to the island, died down during the
night and when they awakened the next morning they found that there had
been a heavy snowfall, with deep drifts. To get down to the ice-boats
they had to break trail in real Northern fashion.
“This will spoil the ice-boating,” predicted Joe. But, to their delight,
they found that the high wind had swept clear great expanses of the bay,
and although there were certain areas where the snow was piled high, by
dexterous steering they could skirt these patches and keep to the open
ice.
The first morning, they spent clearing a path from the cabin to the
ice-boats in the little cove. In the afternoon, they went out in the
boats for a while, then returned to the cabin for a piping hot supper.
That evening, they sat about the fire, telling stories and chaffing one
another. They found that the keen winter air and the wholesome outdoor
exercise rendered them sleepy long before their accustomed bedtime and
they were glad to turn in shortly after nine o’clock.
“At home I’d raise a rare kick if any one tried to get me to go to bed
at this hour,” said Biff. “Now I’m mighty glad to hit the hay. Boy, I’m
tired!”
The next morning they explored the lower reaches of Barmet Bay, going as
far as a little village that nestled in a cove on the southern shore,
about three miles to the east of the island. After lunch, they decided
to make an exploration of the country along the shore. Leaving the
island, they went inshore by ice-boat, then donned snowshoes and went up
on to the mainland.
This country was heavily wooded in spots, and they spent an enjoyable
afternoon snow-shoeing far up on the hills, from where they could look
down and view the entire expanse of the bay, with Cabin Island looking
very small in the distance. To the west, however, they saw that clouds
were gathering, and although there was no wind, Frank remarked that he
was sure a storm was rising.
“I guess we’d better get back before we get caught in any blizzard,” he
decided.
Joe had been peering at Cabin Island, an intent expression on his face.
“Do any of you chaps see any one on the island?” he said.
All looked. The island seemed deserted.
“You must be dreaming,” scoffed Chet. “There’s no one there.”
“I can’t see any one now, but I’m sure I saw some one moving against the
snow down by the northern end of the island.”
“Perhaps it was some animal,” Biff suggested.
“It looked like a man. Of course, he was so far away that I can’t be
sure. I just caught a glimpse of him.”
“Well, we will find out when we get back.”
By the time they reached the boats again, Frank’s prediction of a storm
seemed to be in a fair way of being verified. The whole western sky was
black and a light breeze sent the snow skimming across the surface of
the ice.
“We’ll just about make it. Thank goodness, the wind is in our favor,”
said Frank, as he clambered into his boat.
They started off and made a quick run across the intervening stretch of
ice. It was already growing dark when they reached the island. The boys
could see the snowstorm approaching down the bay, sweeping toward them
like a gigantic gray veil. It was beginning to snow and the air was
filled with swirling white flakes.
“Just in time!” shouted Chet.
They put their boats in shelter for the night, then scrambled up the
path toward the cabin. Frank unlocked the door and they dashed inside.
“We’ll get a fire started and have a feed.”
“Feed!” declared Chet. “We’ll have a banquet. I’m as hungry as a bear. I
could eat my own boots, without salt and pepper.”
“You won’t have to. There’s plenty of grub.”
Frank began making up the fire. Chet went out into the kitchen to look
over the food supplies with a hungry eye.
A moment later he emerged, his eyes almost popping out of his head.
“It’s gone!” he gasped.
“What’s gone?” demanded Joe.
“The grub!”
“What?”
“Every speck!” Chet was almost tearful. “There isn’t a bit of food in
the kitchen.”
“There was plenty there this morning,” said Biff. “What happened to it?”
“Stolen. Come and see for yourselves.”
They all trooped into the kitchen.
Chet had spoken only too truly. All their food supplies had disappeared.
The shelves had been swept clear. The lads gazed at the empty kitchen in
consternation.
“Well, what do you know about that?” breathed Joe.
“Old Mother Hubbard had nothing on us,” muttered Biff.
Frank’s face was serious.
“I guess you were right, Joe, when you said you saw some one on the
island. Some thief has been here while we were away. That’s a mighty
mean trick. He hasn’t left us even a loaf of bread.”
“And a fine chance we have of getting any to-night, either,” Biff
pointed out. “We can’t get back to town in this storm.”
The boys were disconsolate. The prospect was cheerless. After an entire
afternoon in the open their appetites had been whetted to razor edge.
“Take off your boots, Chet,” said Joe, with a feeble attempt at a joke.
“You can have your chance at eating them now.”
This effort fell flat. The boys were in no mood for jesting now. The
loss of their food supplies was a serious matter.
“I wonder who could have done it,” said Chet.
Frank shrugged.
“Looks like some of Hanleigh’s work.”
“But why would he try to steal our supplies? What good would that do
him? Perhaps it was only some sneak thief who chanced in here and saw a
chance to make a good haul.”
“Perhaps. But I imagine it was Hanleigh. He knew we were here.”
“Wants to get us off the island,” remarked Joe. “Perhaps he figured that
if he stole our food, we’d have to clear out.”
“We’ll show him.”
“But in the meantime,” moaned Chet, “I’m hungry.”
“Looks as if you’ll have to go without eating until morning. We can go
down to that little village and buy some more food then.”
Chet patted his empty stomach.
“But I can’t wait until then.”
“You still have your boots,” Joe reminded him again.
Then a thoughtful look crossed Chet’s face.
“Just a minute!” he shouted, and ran out of the room.
“What’s he up to now?” demanded Biff.
They soon found out. Chet returned with one of the packsacks from under
his bed.
“I just remembered. When we were unpacking the grub I forgot to take
everything out of this packsack. Look!” He delved into it and produced
half a loaf of bread, three tins of sardines, a can of salmon and a
small quantity of tea in a canister.
The others raised a cheer of delight.
“Hurray!” shouted Biff. “We won’t starve after all.”
“You _forgot_ to unpack it, did you?” said Frank pointedly. “I’ll bet
you didn’t forget. You just cached that grub away in case you might get
hungry some time during the night.”
“Now what good would a can of sardines do me in the middle of the
night?” asked Chet.
“I know you. Never knew of you taking any chances on running out of food
yet,” Frank told him. “Well, this time it worked out all right. We’ll
help you get rid of your little supper, Chet.”
“There isn’t very much.”
“Enough to keep us from starving, at any rate.”
Soon, with a blazing fire casting a glow through the cabin, with the
lamps lighted and with the table spread, the lads felt more cheerful.
The meal was not at all what they had anticipated as a conclusion to
their day, but their appetites were too keen to admit of any
fault-finding.
“I suppose this means we go without breakfast,” groaned Chet, as soon as
he had finished the last sardine.
“That’s right! Start worrying about breakfast the moment you’ve finished
your supper,” said Biff. “I never saw such a hungry wolf in all my
life.”
“I’m not hungry now, but I’ll be hungry in the morning.”
“Then wait until morning before you start talking about it.” Frank got
up and went over to the window. “Another wild night. If it weren’t for
this storm we could have made the run to the village and back to-night,
with more food.”
“I hope the storm dies down by morning,” muttered Chet gloomily.
“If it doesn’t, you’ll probably die of starvation.”
“Just wait until I lay my hands on the fellow who played this dirty
trick on us, that’s all. Just wait!”
“It was Hanleigh, I’m sure of that,” Frank said. “I’d give a lot to know
why he’s so anxious to get us away from this island!”
“He won’t freeze us out now. We’ll stay here to the last minute,” said
Joe firmly. “And after this, believe me, we’ll keep an eye on the
supplies.”
“You bet we will!” declared Chet. “From now on, I appoint myself guard
of the food supply—providing we get some more food for me to guard.”
The lads finally went to bed, although Chet had to be silenced on a
number of occasions when he persisted in inquiring as to the probability
of reaching the village and returning next morning before their usual
breakfast time. Before slumber claimed them all, however, Frank
expressed the common thought when he observed:
“Just wait until we meet Mr. Hanleigh again!”