BACK IN CAMP
“Did you hit him?”
“What was it?”
“Say, we’d better get out of this!”
Tom, Jack and Bert thus cried in turn. As for Dick he said nothing,
and he did nothing, for he could not see to run in the darkness of the
cave, and the rush of air, following the shot from his gun, had put out
the match Tom was holding up.
“Show a light there,” called the marksman. “I think I plugged him all
right.”
Tom struck another match and held it high above his head. Dick stood
his ground, and Bert and Jack, who had started to run, came back to the
mouth of the cave.
“No, I didn’t get him. I can see his green eyes yet!” shouted Dick.
“Here goes for another shot.”
“Hold on!” cried Tom.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dick. “Don’t you want me to hit the beast?”
“I would if there was one there,” spoke Tom, quietly, “but there’s no
use wasting powder and lead on a stone wall.”
“A stone wall?” gasped Dick.
“Yes, that’s what you shot at. Look,” and Tom, advancing into the cave,
held up a piece of wood he had lighted as a sort of torch, against the
rocky wall of the cave. “That was what you thought were the glittering
eyes of some animal,” he went on, and he pointed to two shining
particles of mica in the rock. They were about the distance apart of an
animal’s eyes, and when the match was reflected from them Dick mistook
them for the orbs of a bear or some other beast. He had fired on the
instant.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” gasped the marksman.
“You’d have plugged him if it _had_ been anything,” said Tom, as he
held the little torch still closer to the rocky wall. Then they could
all see where the shot from Dick’s gun had flattened out between the
glittering bits of mica.
“Some shot, that,” complimented Bert, who, with Jack, had entered the
cave.
“I should say yes,” added Jack.
“And in the dark, too,” came from Tom. “Well, fellows, we’re here.
We’ve got a shelter, and now if we only had something to eat, we’d be
all right.”
“That’s so,” agreed Bert, as he and Jack lighted some dry sticks of
wood they had picked up on the floor of the cave. The place was now
comparatively light.
Dick lowered his gun, which he had been holding in readiness for
another shot if necessary, and as the torches blazed up more brightly,
he uttered a startled cry.
“What is it?” demanded Tom. “Do you see a bear?”
“No, but I see where there’s been a fire in here,” answered Dick, “and,
unless I’m mistaken, there’s something here to eat.”
“Get out!” cried Bert incredulously.
“Don’t raise our hopes,” pleaded Jack. “I’m half starved.”
For answer Dick went farther back into the cave where his companions
could see some boxes. Then came a cry of triumph.
“It’s all right fellows!” shouted Dick. “Someone has been camping here,
and they’ve left enough stuff so we won’t starve until morning, anyhow.
Here’s some canned meat, some crackers, a bit of stale bread, and a
coffee pot. There’s coffee too, if my nose is good for anything!”
“Hurray!” yelled Jack. “Hold me, someone, I’m going to faint.”
“Is it real food?” demanded Tom.
“It looks like it,” answered Dick.
“Then, fellows, get in some wood, strip some bark for torches and we’ll
make a fire and eat,” suggested Tom. “Is there anything we can get
water in, Dick?”
“Yes, here’s a battered pail. It may leak, but I guess it will hold
enough for coffee. And there are some tin cups, too.”
“Good! Bert, you get some water. We passed a spring just before we
found this cave. See if you can locate it. Jack, you and Dick sort this
stuff out, and I’ll get wood for the fire.”
Thus Tom soon had his little force busily employed. From the depths of
despair they had been transported to delight in a short time.
A quick survey showed that the cave had been used by campers, and that
within a day or two. There was enough canned meat and crackers left for
at least two meals, and with the coffee, a supply of which, already
ground, Dick found in a can, and with some condensed milk, the boys
knew they would not starve.
“This is great luck!” exclaimed Tom, as Bert came back with the pail of
water.
“It sure is,” assented Jack. “I wonder who has been here?”
“I shouldn’t wonder but what Sam and Nick were,” replied Tom.
“What makes you think so?” they asked him.
“Because there are two cups, two knives and two forks, and two tin
plates. That shows two fellows were here, and Sam and Nick are the most
likely ones I can think of.”
“Could this have been their main camp?” asked Dick.
“I hardly think so,” replied Tom. “I believe they just found this
cave--or maybe Mr. Skeel did--and they may have made this a stopping
place just to be nearer the old mill.”
“Or maybe they have been searching for the treasure in here,” suggested
Jack.
“It’s possible,” admitted Tom. “Well, anyhow, let’s see what sort of a
meal we can get, and then for a rest. I’m dead tired.”
It was a very primitive supper that they managed to cook over a fire
built in the cave. There was a natural ventilation to the place, so the
smoke did not annoy them much. They warmed some canned roast beef in a
battered skillet, opening the can with a jackknife.
Coffee they made in the dented pot, and then they had to take turns
eating, as there were only enough table utensils for two at a time. The
table was a box in which the stuff had evidently been brought to the
cave.
“Oh, but I feel better now!” exclaimed Jack, with a contented sigh,
when supper was over.
“So do I, and I’ll feel better still when I find my boat,” came from
Tom.
“We’ll have another hunt for her in the morning,” suggested Bert.
“And we may have good luck,” added Dick. “I think the finding of this
cave and the food means that our luck will take a turn.”
“It needs to,” said Tom grimly.
For beds they cut spruce and hemlock boughs, spreading them out on the
floor of the cave, and, though it was not like their comfortable cots,
they slept fairly well, not being disturbed. After a breakfast, on what
was left from the previous night, they held a conference.
“What’s best to do?” asked Tom. “I don’t want to always be giving
orders.”
“Sure, you’re the camp-captain,” declared Jack. “We’ll listen to you.
I should think you’d have to find the boat first, before we can do
anything else. We can’t swim back to our camp, that’s certain.”
“Well, if that’s the general opinion, we’ll have another try for the
boat, walking along the lake shore,” agreed Tom.
They set out, and retraced their route of the previous day, coming
finally to the lake. As the place where the river entered was quite
broad it was out of the question to swim it, or, rather, they did not
like to risk it, in such unknown waters.
So they followed the lake shore for a considerable distance farther
than Tom and Bert had gone the previous evening. They climbed a high
hill, that gave a good view of the lake, but, strain their eyes as they
could, they had no glimpse of the _Tag_.
“They’ve either got her well hidden, or else they have sunk her,” was
Tom’s despairing comment.
“Oh, maybe we’ll find her,” said Jack, more cheerfully.
“Say, I’ve just thought of something!” exclaimed Bert.
“What is it?” his chums asked him in a chorus.
“It’s this! That old hermit must have some sort of a boat. He never
could get on the other side of the lake, where we are camped, and over
here again as quickly as he does without crossing in a boat. I believe
he must have some sort of a craft hidden in the river near the mill.”
Silence followed Bert’s advancement of his theory, and then Tom
exclaimed:
“By Jove! old man, I believe you’re right. Why didn’t we think of that
before? Of course he has a boat! He never could get around the way he
does if he didn’t have. And it’s up to us to find it. Come on back.
We’ll walk along the river bank until we get to the mill. Then we’ll
look for the boat.”
Buoyed up by new hope, they started back, and, proceeding cautiously,
they soon were below, and opposite, the ancient mill.
“It’ll be on this side,” decided Tom, “and probably hidden under some
bushes. Look carefully, and don’t make much noise. We don’t want old
Wallace to chase us again.”
The river was far enough below the old mill so that ordinary sounds
made at the stream could not be heard at the structure. But still the
boys were cautious. They kept a sharp lookout, too, for any sign of the
old hermit.
Up and down the bank they went, peering under bushes, and in little
coves formed by water eddies. Suddenly Jack cried out:
“Here it is, fellows! An old tub, but it’s got oars, and we can row to
camp in it.”
They ran to where he stood beside an old skiff. It looked to be leaky
and unsafe, but it was a boat, and they would have almost welcomed a
wash-tub in their plight.
“Quick!” exclaimed Tom. “I think I hear someone coming. Get in and
shove off.”
They lost no time in embarking, and, when they were afloat on the
river, they found that the craft was better than she looked.
“I guess we can get to camp in this,” said Tom with a sigh of relief.
“And, on our way, we may see the _Tag_.”
“If we’re not caught before we get into the lake,” spoke Jack grimly.
Apprehensively they looked in the direction of the old mill. All they
heard was the rustle of the wind in the trees. The place seemed silent
and deserted.
“Say, things are happening all right!” exclaimed Dick. “I never
imagined camping was so exciting.”
“Oh, things generally happen where Tom Fairfield is,” remarked Jack,
with a laugh.
Dick was at the oars, and rowed rapidly down stream, being aided by the
current. In a short time they were far enough below the mill to make it
practically impossible for the old hermit to catch them.
“Unless he has our motorboat,” put in Bert.
“In that case I’ll let him capture us, and then I’ll take the _Tag_
away from him,” said Tom firmly.
Out on the lake they floated. It was a bit rough, but the skiff was a
broad and heavy one, and made a good sea boat. They took turns rowing,
meanwhile keeping a watch for Tom’s craft, but they did not see her.
“You don’t appreciate a motorboat untill you have to row!” exclaimed
our hero, as Bert relieved him at the oars.
“Oh, well, we’ll soon be in camp,” consoled Dick, and an hour later
they were opposite their tents.
“Everything seems all right,” said Tom, with an air of relief. “Now to
see if we’ve had any visitors.”