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[Illustration: THE JOLLY ROVERS WERE OFF AT LAST _Canoe Boys and Camp
Fires_]
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[Illustration: THE FIVE MILE WALK WAS A TRIFLE TO THE BOYS--Page 110]
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CANOE BOYS AND CAMPFIRES
Or,
Adventures on Winding Waters
BY
WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON
Author of "From Lake to Wilderness," "With Puritan and Pequod,"
"The Camp in the Snow," etc.
ILLUSTRATED
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
CLEVELAND--NEW YORK
Made in U. S. A.
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Copyright, 1907, by
Chatterton-Peck Company
PRESS OF
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
CLEVELAND
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCING THE BOYS 9
II. PLANNING THE TRIP 17
III. THE CRUISE BEGINS 23
IV. ADRIFT IN THE DARKNESS 32
V. DISAPPEARANCE OF NUGGET 40
VI. THE LOST FOUND 48
VII. BATTERS AND JOE 57
VIII. HOW THE DAY DAWNED 74
IX. A SAFE SHELTER 82
X. A TRAMP ACROSS COUNTRY 90
XI. SEARCHING FOR THE CAMP 99
XII. OVER THE CLIFF 107
XIII. WHAT CLAY SHOT 116
XIV. CAUGHT IN THE WHIRLPOOL 125
XV. RANDY'S PROPOSITION 133
XVI. A SHATTERED DELUSION 142
XVII. THE STORM BREAKS 149
XVIII. AT THE MERCY OF THE TEMPEST 156
XIX. ADRIFT ON A LOG 163
XX. MR. DUDE MOXLEY 170
XXI. A MYSTERIOUS WARNING 178
XXII. AN INSOLENT DEMAND 185
XXIII. A DARING ATTEMPT 192
XXIV. AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER 200
XXV. THE SIEGE BEGINS 207
XXVI. BUG'S PROPOSITION 215
XXVII. THE BURNING OF THE MILL 222
XXVIII. A GOOD DEED 229
XXIX. RANDY GOES SAILING 236
XXX. A NIGHT ALARM 243
XXXI. STORMY WEATHER 250
XXXII. THE BROKEN DAM 257
XXXIII. AN UNDERGROUND CRUISE 264
XXXIV. DESPAIR 270
XXXV. NUGGET DISCOVERS A LIGHT 275
XXXVI. HOME AGAIN 280
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CANOE BOYS AND CAMPFIRES
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCING THE BOYS
"I say, Ned, this is beginning to grow wearisome," drawled Randy Moore
as he tipped his chair against the wall, and crossed his feet on the low
railing in front of him. "Clay promised to be here half an hour ago," he
went on in an injured tone, "and if he doesn't come in a few minutes I'm
going to have a spin on the river. It's aggravating to sit here and do
nothing. I can count a dozen boats between the railroad bridge and Bushy
Island."
"I wouldn't mind being out myself," said Ned Chapman, "but we have
important business to transact to-night, Randy, and I think it would be
wiser to let boating go for once. I have everything planned out in ship
shape fashion, and it only wants the seal of approval from you and
Clayton."
"Oh! you have, have you?" exclaimed Randy with a sudden show of
interest. "That's good news, Ned. If Clay knew the momentous question
was to be settled at last, he would stir himself to get here, wherever
he is. I'll give him ten minutes' grace."
"You'll give him as many minutes as he needs," rejoined Ned. "There must
be some reason for his delay. It's new for him to be late. He's always
the first to keep an engagement."
"We'll know when he comes," said Randy wisely. "Stop talking now. I want
to count the boats. I never saw so many on the river before."
The two boys were sitting on a narrow balcony that projected from the
second floor of a neat but unpretentious boathouse. The rear end of the
edifice was built against the sloping base of the river bank.
From the park above a flight of steps, with a single hand rail, led down
to the main entrance, which was on the second floor. The other end of
the apartment opened on the balcony and faced the Susquehanna river.
From the lower floor, which held a number of boats and canoes, a plank
walk sloped to the water's edge, ten or fifteen yards away.
Randy Moore was the fortunate owner of this snug little piece of
property. The Harrisburg boys envied him his gun, his dog and his pony,
but they would have fairly bowed down before him if by so doing they
could have been put on the list of those favored ones who made free and
daily use of the boathouse.
A "luck fellow" was the general verdict concerning Randy, and it was a
true one. His father was wealthy and never refused to gratify any
reasonable desire of his only son. In consequence Randy was somewhat
spoiled and self willed, but in other ways he was really a sensible lad.
The fact of his own superior position in life never occurred to him in
relation to his companions. He gave himself no airs, and expected no
homage or adulation.
His chief fault was a strong and uncurbed will, and he unfortunately had
a quick temper. He was just sixteen years old, and was strong and hardy.
He had dark eyes and hair, and a pleasing, attractive face.
Randy's most intimate friend, Ned Chapman, differed from him in every
respect, and made an admirable foil for the other's impetuous
temperament. Ned's father was a merchant in moderate circumstances, and
he had just reason to be proud of his son's bringing up.
Ned was a steady, sensible lad, with very rigid ideas of right and
wrong. Not that there was anything "priggish" about him. On the
contrary, he was always the foremost in any undertaking that provided a
little sport.
He was intensely fond of outdoor life, and was an acknowledged authority
on everything relating to fishing, hunting, canoeing, and boating. But
he did not allow recreation to interfere with his studies.
He and Randy were pupils at the academy, and both stood high in their
classes.
Ned was a year older than Randy and half a head taller. He had brown
hair, grayish brown eyes, and a deeply bronzed complexion, the result of
living much in the open air and under the burning glow of the summer
sun.
His face wore an expression of habitual good humor, and he had a rare
command of his temper.
His grave displeasure was more dreaded than a passionate outburst would
have been.
And now that two of the characters have been introduced to the reader,
we must resume the thread of the story.
Randy's stipulated ten minutes had gone by, and five additional ones,
when a shrill whistle was heard in the rear of the boathouse.
Both doors were open, and when the boys turned in their chairs and
looked through they saw their tardy companion descending the steps that
led from the top of the bank.
"It's Clay at last," exclaimed Randy.
"And some one with him," added Ned, as a second figure came into view.
At that instant the lad in the rear slipped, plunged head foremost down
the remaining half dozen steps, knocking Clay to one side, and sprawled
out in the doorway like a flattened frog.
Ned and Randy sprang up and hurried through the room.
"Why, it's Nugget," they exclaimed in great surprise. "Where did you
come from, old fellow? We're awfully glad to see you."
Nugget, otherwise known as Nugent Blundell, rose painfully to his feet
and glared at the boys.
"Why don't you ask me if I'm hurt?" he demanded wrathfully. "I believe
you fellows greased those steps on purpose."
"See here, Nugget, you don't believe anything of the sort," said Ned.
"I'm sorry you fell, and I'm glad you're not hurt. Come, old fellow,
shake hands."
Nugget's face assumed a mollified expression, and he accepted a hearty
handclasp from Ned and Randy. Then he began to brush the dust from his
neat gray suit and patent leather shoes.
Meanwhile Clayton Halsey had been fairly choking with stifled mirth in a
dark corner of the room. He now came forward, trying hard to assume an
expression of gravity.
He was a short, thickset lad, with a beaming countenance, red cheeks,
blue eyes, and light curly hair. He was in the same class at the academy
with Ned and Randy, and their constant companion on all occasions. His
father was a prominent lawyer.
"What kept you so long?" asked Randy in a slightly aggrieved tone.
"That," replied Clay, pointing at Nugget. "He arrived in town this
afternoon, and came to the house after supper. I knew you fellows would
be glad to see him, so I brought him along. But what do you think?"
added Clay, winking slyly at Ned and Randy, "Nugget says he's going
canoeing with us."
This piece of information produced a startling effect. Ned puckered his
lips and gave a low whistle. Randy stared at Clay for an instant and
then burst into a laugh.
Why this avowal on Nugget's part was received in such a peculiar way
will be more clearly understood if a few words be said about that young
gentleman himself.
Nugget was a New York boy, greatly addicted to cream colored clothes,
white vests, patent leather shoes, high collars, gorgeous neckties, kid
gloves, and canes.
He was about seventeen years old, and was tall and slender.
He had gray eyes, a sandy complexion and straight flaxen hair, which he
wore banged over his forehead. A vacuous stare usually rested on his
face, and he spoke in a slow, aggravating drawl.
Nugget had made the acquaintance cf the boys during the previous summer,
which he spent with his uncle in Harrisburg. He was a good enough fellow
in some ways, but the several occasions on which he had been induced to
go on fishing and boating excursions, had resulted in disaster and
ridicule at poor Nugget's expense.
"What Nugget doesn't know about swell parties, and dancing, and operas
isn't worth knowing," Clay Halsey had said at that time; "but when it
comes to matters of sport he doesn't know any more than a two days' old
kitten."
The truth of this terse remark was readily appreciated by Clay's
companions, and their present amazement and consternation on learning
that Nugget wanted to go canoeing with them, can be easily conceived.
"Are you in dead earnest, Nugget?" asked Randy after a pause.
"Of course I am," was the aggressive reply. "I don't see anything funny
about it though. I haven't been very well lately, and father let me stop
school a month ahead of time, and come over here. I know he'll let me go
canoeing if I write and ask him."
"But canoeing is vastly different from the kind of trips you made with
us last summer," said Ned. "There is a good deal of hardship about it.
You remember what a fuss you used to make over the merest trifles."
"You'll have to wear rough flannels and old clothes," added Randy. "You
can't take kid gloves and patent leathers with you."
"And you'll have to sleep on the ground," put in Clay, "and eat coarse
food. No chocolate cake and ice cream about canoeing."
"Oh, stop your chaffing," drawled Nugget sullenly. "I understand all
that. I'm not as green as you think. If you fellows can stand it I can.
Besides I've been practicing on the Harlem River this spring. I paddled
a canoe from the Malta boathouse clear to High Bridge and back. And I
didn't raise a single blister."
"I'll bet you wore gloves," said Clay mockingly.
Nugget flushed with anger and confusion, but said nothing.
"It's time to stop that now, Clay," said Ned authoratively. "If Nugget
wants to go along I don't see any serious objections. No doubt the trip
will do him lots of good. But that question can be settled later. Give
us some light, Randy, and I'll show you what I've got here."
CHAPTER II
PLANNING THE TRIP
It was not yet dark outside but Randy lit the handsome brass lamp that
stood on the square oaken table, and the yellow glow shone into every
corner of the room.
The apartment was furnished in the manner most dear to the hearts of
boys. The polished floor was strewn with soft rugs, and the walls were
hung with pictures and amateur photographs. In the corners and over the
mantels were fencing foils and masks, fishing rods, baseball bats,
creels, and several pairs of crossed canoe paddles which showed traces
of hard usage.
When the boys had dragged chairs to the table and seated themselves, Ned
drew a little bunch of papers from his pocket, and opened them with a
flourish.
"When the question of a canoe trip came up a month ago," he began, "I
told you it would be better fun to cruise on some small stream than on
the Susquehanna. I knew what I was talking about, because I paddled the
whole distance last year, from Lake Otsego to the bay.
"I suggested the Conodoguinet Creek as the best cruising ground we
could find around here, and promised to get all the information about it
I could. I have kept my promise.
"Here is a map of the Cumberland Valley on a large scale, showing the
entire course of the creek, and all its windings. You can examine that
at your leisure. First I want to tell you what I have learned.
"Of course you knew that the Conodoguinet was about the most crooked
stream in existence. We have evidence enough of that near home. You
remember the big bend above Oyster's Dam--three miles around, and one
field's length across. Well, there are bigger bends than that further up
the valley.
"From the mouth of the creek to Carlile is just eighteen miles in a
straight line. By the windings of the creek it is ninety miles. The
distance was accurately measured and surveyed a number of years ago.
"Oakville is twenty miles beyond Carlile, and from there I propose that
we should start. The upper part of the creek is not quite so crooked,
but we are sure of a cruise of not less than one hundred and fifty
miles. The creek is navigable all the way from Oakville, and there are
not more than twelve or fifteen dams in the whole distance.
"The water is deep, and the current is swift in some places, sluggish in
others. The channel winds through heavy timber lands and between high,
rocky cliffs. The mountains are not far away. The fishing is splendid,
and woodcock and snipe are plentiful."
Here Ned laid down the bundle of notes from which he had been reading.
"It will be a delightful trip," he added eagerly. "The Susquehanna can't
compare with it. Instead of having to paddle our twenty or thirty miles
a day in the broiling sun, and camp on gravel bars or grass flats, we
can drift leisurely in the cool shade of the overhanging trees, stop
when we please and as long as we please, and take our pick of a hundred
beautiful camping places. In fact it will be a camping trip and canoe
trip combined.
"And what's more we will be the first to navigate the creek. No canoe,
or boat either, has ever made the winding journey from the head waters
to the mouth. It is unexplored territory, except to the farmers and a
few stray fishermen. You can take your choice now. Which is it to be?
The Susquehanna or the Conodoguinet?"
Ned put the papers in his pocket and sat down.
"I say the creek, by all means, boys," exclaimed Randy.
"Same here!" echoed Clay.
"Aw, yes! that must be a beautiful stream, don't you know," drawled
Nugget, in such a serio-comic tone that his companions burst out
laughing.
When quiet was restored the map became the center of attraction, and Ned
gladly pointed out places of interest and volunteered all sorts of
information. As the hours went by the boys waxed enthusiastic over the
proposed cruise. The details were mostly planned out, and then a long
discussion ensued over the choice of a name for the club.
Many titles were suggested and rejected, but finally Ned struck a happy
combination, and the organization was unanimously christened the "Jolly
Rovers."
At ten o'clock the boat house was locked up, and the boys climbed the
bank, and went down through the city to their respective homes.
Now that the cruise was a settled fact the Jolly Rovers threw all their
energies into needed preparations. In the evening, and between school
hours they were always to be found at Randy's boat house.
Ned looked forward to the trip with the keen delight of one who had
already tasted the joys of canoeing. Clay and Randy--who had not been
permitted to accompany Ned down the Susquehanna the previous summer--had
bright anticipations to be realized, while Nugget was just as eager as
his companions. It had required much persuasion and many promises on
Nugget's part to win the desired permission, and when the question was
finally decided the new member of the Jolly Rovers was put on a severe
course of training.
This embraced rowing, paddling a canoe, and swimming, and before the
month of June was over Nugget was fairly proficient in all three. He
purchased a second hand canoe which Ned picked out for him, and without
the knowledge of his companions he wrote to his father in New York for a
canoeing outfit.
The box duly arrived and was opened one evening in the boathouse. The
boys feasted their eyes on the array of treasures--fishing rods of
spliced bamboo, a portable set of camp dishes that fitted into each
other, a pair of brass lanterns, rubber blankets, and several other
articles that were of no practical use on a canoe trip.
In the bottom of the box were four shirts of the softest flannel, two
pairs of long black woolen stockings, and a canoeing suit of stout brown
cloth--knickerbockers, blouse, and a yachting cap.
It was a fine outfit, and the boys good naturedly envied Nugget his
luck.
The date of departure was fixed for the first week in July. When the
academy closed on the 25th of June little or nothing remained to be done
in the way of preparation--thanks to Ned's good generalship.
The four canoes lay in the lower section of the boathouse, radiant in
new coats of paint. In the big closet on the upper floor were packed the
varied assortment of dishware, lanterns, axes, bottles of oil, cement,
cans of white lead, strips of oiled canvas, rolls of blankets, a new A
tent, jointed poles for the same, and a bundle of iron stakes.
Such provision as could be taken along--oatmeal, rice, sugar, coffee and
flour--had been ordered from a grocer, to be packed in waterproof jars.
Ned Chapman had been very properly chosen commodore of the club, and a
couple of days before the start Randy's sister Mary presented the Jolly
Rovers with a pennant of crimson and gold satin. The proper place for
it was at the bow of the commodore's canoe, so it was yielded to Ned.
With the exception of Randy's single barreled shotgun, no firearms were
to be taken along. The boys demurred to this at first, but were finally
won over by Ned's sensible arguments. Canoeists cruising through a
peaceful country seldom need weapons of defense.
CHAPTER III
THE CRUISE BEGINS
The first day of July fell on Thursday, and that afternoon the boxes
containing the dishes, provisions and other traps, and the four canoes
carefully wrapped in coffee sacking, were shipped to Oakville by
freight.
On the following morning the Jolly Rovers departed by the seven o'clock
train, and a ride of an hour and a half through the beautiful Cumberland
Valley brought them to their destination. The canoes were found to be in
good condition, and after a brief delay the services of a farmer and his
team were engaged.
The inhabitants of the little village gazed with wonder and curiosity on
the strange procession as it passed along the straggling street. The
boxes and the gayly painted canoes completely filled the bed of the
wagon. Nugget was perched on the seat beside the farmer, resplendent in
his brown uniform. He held the pennant in his right hand, and waved it
in the breeze from time to time.
The others marched with military precision behind the wagon. Randy bore
his gun on his shoulder, and Ned and Clay carried paddles. All three
wore knickerbockers and Norfolk jackets, and their faces were protected
from the sun by canvas helmets with large visors.
For two miles and a half the road wound through a hilly, open country.
Then it dipped into a wooded ravine, turned aside to follow a barely
perceptible path through a heavy forest, and finally ended at a fording
on the edge of the Conodoguinet.
"Here you are, boys," cried the farmer, as he pulled up his horses
within a few feet of the water. "I reckon you couldn't have a better day
for your start. The creek's in prime condition, too."
Nugget leaped down from the wagon and joined his companions. For a
moment or two the boys quite forgot the work that had to be done.
With exclamations of delight they gazed on the narrow blue channel as it
poured swiftly around a bend in the woods above and vanished from sight
beneath the crooked arches of a mossy stone bridge a quarter of a mile
below. The opposite shore was rocky and lined with pine trees, and over
their tops could be seen against the horizon the jagged crest line of
the Kittatinny Mountains.
"Come on now and get to work," said Ned finally. "My arms are itching to
take hold of a paddle."
"So are mine," exclaimed Randy. "Let's be off as soon as possible."
With the farmer's aid the canoes were speedily taken from the wagon and
placed on the grass close to the water's edge. They were built on
somewhat different lines, but all were serviceable and well adapted for
speed. The framework and the canvas were both light, and the average
weight was about eighty pounds, unloaded. The canoes were aptly named.
The Water Sprite belonged to Randy. It was light and graceful, and owing
to its flat bottom drew very little water.
Clay owned the Neptune, a broad decked craft, built somewhat on the
order of the primitive Rob Roy. The Imp was narrow and rakish, with a
low cockpit and a high bow and stern. Nugget regarded it with the
affection that one feels for a favorite dog.
The Pioneer, in which Ned had cruised down the Susquehanna, was a heavy
but neatly proportioned craft, and showed traces of wear and tear. They
all contained spacious hatches fore and aft.
The boxes were unpacked, and under Ned's supervision the contents were
judiciously distributed and stowed away in the different canoes. Then
the seats and back rests were arranged in the cockpits, and the canoes
were gently shoved into the water.
"Do you fellows expect to reach the river in them flimsy things?"
exclaimed the farmer when he saw the four canoes swinging lightly with
the current. "I reckon you'll repent it afore you get many miles from
here."
"Not much danger," replied Ned laughingly. "A good canvas canoe will
stand as much as a rowboat any time. There are no obstructions in the
way, are there?"
"I dunno," replied the farmer. "It's a wild and lonesome bit of country
that this creek runs through, and I've heard tell of bad water an'
whirlpools. The channel winds worse than any serpent. Why, it must be
all of two hundred miles to the Big River."
"I hope you are right there," said Ned heartily, as he climbed out on
his canoe and fixed the pennant securely on the bow. "Take your seats
now," he added to the boys. "Everything's ready for the start."
They obeyed with a rush and a scramble, and Nugget very nearly got a
ducking at the outset by thoughtlessly trying to stand up in the
cockpit.
Good wishes and farewells were exchanged with the friendly farmer. Then
four double paddles dipped the water and rose flashing with silvery
drops, four canoes skimmed gracefully out on the swift blue surface of
the creek. The Jolly Rovers were off at last.
When they were twenty or thirty yards down stream they turned and waved
their paddles to the farmer, who was still standing in open-mouthed
wonder beside the empty packing cases. Then a cross current, setting
toward the right shore, whisked them out of sight of the spot.
Randy struck up the chorus of a popular boating song, and the others
joined in with eager voices. Their jubilant spirits had to find a vent
somewhere.
What a glorious thing it was to be drifting haphazard with the rippling
current, free as the very air, and the birds that were singing sweetly
in the bushes! The narrow vista of the creek brought vividly to mind
the pleasures that lay in wait along the twisted miles of its
channel--the gamy bass lurking in the deep, shady holes, the snipe and
woodcock feeding among the reeds, the tent and campfire with the savory
odor of coffee and crisp bacon.
That less pleasant things than these were destined to fall to the lot of
the Jolly Rovers ere they should paddle from the mouth of the creek into
the broad Susquehanna, occurred to none, else a shadow had marred their
bright anticipations at the start.
Side by side the four canoes darted under the middle arch of the old
stone bridge, and then Ned took the lead, for it was not seemly that the
pennant should be anywhere but in front while the club was on a cruise.
The current soon became sluggish, and the channel wound between thick
woods, where the trees almost met overhead. The boys drifted along
leisurely, stopping now and then to explore some tempting nook.
At one place, where the water was deep and a great rock jutted from the
shore, they put their fishing rods together, and procured worms by
pulling up great clods of grass. In half an hour they caught a beautiful
string of sunfish and chubs.
About the middle of the afternoon Ned went up to a farmhouse that was
visible among the hills and came back with a pail of butter, a loaf of
bread and two apple pies. The boys had already lunched on crackers. So
they concluded to keep these supplies for supper.
They paddled slowly on, crossing from shore to shore as something new
took their attention. A sudden shadow, caused by the sun dipping beneath
the hill top, reminded them that evening was at hand. The banks were
closely scanned for a camping place, and an admirable one was soon
found--a grove of big trees, through which filtered a tiny stream.
The boys landed and dragged the canoes partly out on the grassy slope.
"The tent is the first thing," said Ned, as he lifted the big roll of
canvas from the cockpit of the Pioneer, where it had served as an
admirable seat.
Randy unlashed the poles from the fore deck of his canoe, and joined
them together.
This was a clever invention of Ned's. Each pole was in two parts, and
could be put together like the joints of a fishing rod. The ferrule of
the ridge pole, which had to endure the most pressure, was longer and
stouter than the others. The poles were very light but strong, and the
entire six pieces made no perceptible burden when lashed on a canoe.
Five minutes sufficed to raise the tent, and drive the iron stakes at
the four corners. Then what articles would likely be needed were taken
from the canoes and carried inside.
Ned hunted up two large stones, and placed them a foot apart. He laid
four iron rods across them, and proceeded to build a fire underneath.
"That's the best cooking arrangement ever invented," he said. "We used
it altogether on the Susquehanna last summer. If I prepare the supper
you fellows must do the rest. Clay, you clean those fish. Bring me the
salt, pepper and lard, Randy, and then peel some potatoes."
"Can I assist in any way?" drawled Nugget, as he emerged from behind the
tent, where he had been slyly brushing off his clothes and shoes.
"Why, certainly," replied Clay. "Clean these fish for me, that's a good
fellow."
Nugget rapidly opened and closed his mouth two or three times.
"I--I--really--I'm afraid--" he stammered.
"Let him alone, Clay," cried Ned sharply. "Clean the fish yourself.
Suppose you set the table, Nugget," he added kindly. "Arrange the plates
and knives and forks on some grassy level place, I mean."
While his companions were performing the duties assigned to them, Ned
went down to the stream and filled the coffee pot.
"This is spring water, as cold as ice," he exclaimed in surprise. "The
source can't be far away."
The sun was now out of sight, and it grew darker and darker as the
preparations for supper went on. Randy finished his own work, and helped
Nugget arrange the dishes on an outspread square strip of canvas. He lit
one of the lanterns and placed it in the center, and a few moments later
Ned made the welcome announcement that supper was ready.
The coffee pot and the pans of fried fish and potatoes were gingerly
carried over, and then the boys seated themselves at the four corners,
crossing their legs under them, tailor fashion.
The ruddy flames mangled with the yellow glow of the lantern, dancing on
the bright tinware, and casting the shadow of the tent far into the
forest. The brook rippled softly through the ravine, and away up the
creek the melancholy cry of a whippoorwill was heard.
"This is what I call glorious," said Ned, as he opened a can of
condensed milk and passed it around. "Nothing equals a life in the open
air, and no other sport has the same fascination."
"You're right there," stuttered Randy, with his mouth full, "I'd like to
live this way half the year round."
"It beats New York," said Nugget decidedly, as he raised a pint cup of
coffee to his lips. The next instant he uttered a howl of anguish, and
made a frantic grab at the pail of cold water.
"Was it hot?" asked Clay.
"Try it and see," retorted Nugget indignantly as he buried his nose in
the pail.
For a little while the silence was broken only by the clatter of knives
and forks. Then Ned said slowly, "It does a fellow lots of good to get
away from the rush and noise of town life. We are safer here to-night
than we would be at home. No peril can come near us. Our only neighbors
are the simple, kind hearted farmers--" he paused abruptly, and turned
his head to one side.
A strange rustling noise was heard back in the forest It grew more
distinct with every second, and the boys looked at each other with fear
and wonder. Then a gruff angry bark rang out on the night air, and the
elder bushes across the glade swayed violently.
CHAPTER IV
ADRIFT IN THE DARKNESS
Before the frightened boys could realize what was coming, a big yellow
dog shot into view and rushed at them with a ferocious snarl. Under
other circumstances the Jolly Rovers would have courageously faced the
foe, but the attack was so sudden as to preclude the possibility of
defense.
The supper party broke up in ignominious confusion. Ned bolted for the
nearest tree and went up the trunk like a cat. Randy fled down the slope
to the creek, and Clay sought shelter in the bushes on the far side of
the rivulet. Nugget stared hopelessly about for an instant, and then,
with a shrill cry of fear, he dived through the flaps of the tent.
The dog rushed across the table, tramping the dishes, and unfortunately
upsetting the coffee pot. The hot liquid scalded the brute's paws, and
snarling with rage and pain, he bolted into the tent after Nugget.
For a second or two there was a terrible outcry. Nugget's appeals for
help mingled with the dog's angry barking. Then the tent shook violently
and toppled to the ground.
At this interesting juncture the owner of the dog emerged from the
bushes--a burly farmer with a very stern cast of features. He carried a
lantern in one hand, and a short, thick club in the other.
The fallen tent first attracted his attention. It was wriggling about as
though endowed with life, and from underneath came strange, muffled
sounds.
The farmer lifted one end of the canvas, and gave it a vigorous jerk,
thus liberating the dog, who began to prance about his master. A second
pull revealed Nugget's legs thrashing wildly about on the grass. The dog
immediately made a dart at them, but the farmer caught him by the scruff
of the neck and dragged him back.
The boys had witnessed the whole affair from their hiding places, and
now they dropped from the tree, and came timidly forward. At the same
moment Randy crept out of the shadows and joined them.
The farmer caught sight of the boys and took a step toward them, still
keeping a tight hold on his dog. "What do you mean by trespassin' here,
you impudent young rascals?" he demanded savagely. "Get out of this as
quick as you can, or I'll give you a taste of this."
He shook his club menacingly.
"I'm very sorry if we have offended you," said Ned quietly. "We did not
suppose there would be any objection to our camping here. I don't think
we have done any damage."
"Damage!" growled the farmer. "No, I reckon not. You hain't had time
for that yet. It was only last night I run two thieving rascals off my
land. They hed a camp a little ways down the creek, an' fur two whole
days they were livin' at my expense, stealing applies, an' eggs, an'
chickens, an' whatever else they could lay their hands on. You people
are all alike. You don't have no regards fur a farmer's rights."
"I'm very sorry you have such a bad opinion of us," said Ned. "I assure
you we don't deserve it. If you will let us stay here to-night we will
go quietly away in the morning."
"No," snarled the farmer. "You can't stay. I won't have it. Pack up at
once and git out. And mind you don't stop anywhere within half a mile. I
own the land that fur on both sides of the creek."
Just then a diversion was created by the dog. He tore loose from his
master and rushed at Nugget, who had meanwhile crawled out from the
fallen canvas, and was standing with open mouth and eyes, listening
eagerly to the conversation.
"Here, Bowser," shouted the farmer sternly. "Come here, I say."
The brute reluctantly obeyed, while Nugget sought shelter in a young
tree.
The angry man turned to the three boys--for Clay had by this time joined
the others.
"Get out as quick as you can," he resumed. "I can't stand here all
night."
For an instant no one replied. Ned was bent on making another appeal,
and was thinking how he could best word it. The chances were that a
little persuasion would have induced the farmer to relent, and permit
the boys to remain where they were until morning.
But Randy's unfortunate temper blazed up just then, and made a breach
that was too wide to be healed.
"It's a confounded shame to turn us off at this time of night," he
muttered angrily. "I wouldn't treat a dog that way. If this is a sample
of country breeding I'm glad I don't--"
"Keep quiet, Randy," whispered Ned; "you're only making things worse."
The warning came too late.
"You audacious sauce box," cried the farmer. "I'll learn you manners.
Take that--and that."
He seized Randy by the collar, and cuffed him soundly on the ears three
or four times. Then he dropped him and turned to the others. "Now git
out o' here, or I'll treat you-uns the same way," he snarled.
Randy was boiling with rage, but he dared not open his mouth again. Ned
and Clay realized that further entreaty was now useless. Without a word
they began to pack up, and were finally assisted by Randy and Nugget.
The farmer stood at one side, watching the operation keenly. In a brief
space of time the tent and the unwashed dishes were tumbled into the
hatches. Then the boys pushed the canoes into the water, and took their
seats.
The farmer came down to the shore to see them off.
"Mind what I told you," he said; "no stoppin' within a good half mile."
"Don't say a word," whispered Ned.
His companions wisely obeyed, and in utter silence they paddled out from
the shore and headed down stream. Soon a curve in the channel hid from
view the dying embers of the campfire and the twinkle of the farmer's
lantern.
"Wouldn't I like to get square with that old curmudgeon!" exclaimed
Randy; "my ears sting yet. For half a cent I'd go back and trample down
his grain or break his fences."
"I wish you'd poison the dog," drawled Nugget. "The brute gave me a
horrid fright. The falling of the tent was all that saved me from being
chewed up."
"See here, Randy," said Ned in a grave tone. "If you had kept your
temper down and your mouth shut, things would have turned out all right.
A little reasoning would have pacified that farmer. I thought you had
more sense. You heard what the man said, didn't you?
"Two men--tramps or fishermen, probably--had been camping on his land,
and doing all the damage they could, and naturally enough he was
inclined to take out his spite on us. I don't blame him much. Such a
thing would rile any farmer. Most people have an idea that when they get
in the country they can do as they please, and for what these ignorant
fools do the innocent ones have to suffer. We are finding that out
ourselves just now."
"But the old brute might have seen that we didn't belong to that class
of people," growled Randy, "and besides he didn't pay any attention to
what you said."
"I had no chance to explain who we were," replied Ned. "You spoiled that
for me by your impudence. I have no doubt the man was fair enough at
heart. If we get in any more scrapes of that kind you must keep your
temper down. I'm speaking for your own good, Randy. This isn't the first
time your tongue has got you into trouble."
"It would be a good idea to keep his mouth tied shut except at meal
times," suggested Clay laughingly.
"If you say that again I'll hit you with my paddle," threatened Randy.
"I won't stand any nonsense from _you_, Clay Halsey."
"No quarreling, boys," said Ned. "That's enough now. We'll let the
matter drop."
Clay subsided, and so did Randy. The latter stood a little in awe of
Ned's rebukes, and whether he felt the justice of this one or not, he
wisely made no more allusions to the farmer.
Indeed there were other things to think about now. The night was dark
and gloomy, and it was difficult to perceive the outlines of the shores.
The boys were tired and sleepy, but they feared to stop and hunt up a
camping ground, lest the farmer should come down and rout them out
again. A light would betray them, but without it they could do nothing.
There seemed to be no current at all, and in the dead sluggish water
half a mile meant a wearisome paddle.
"I'm awfully hungry," said Nugget in a plaintive tone. "I didn't have
ten bites of supper."
"We're all hungry, for that matter," returned Ned, "and sleepy as well.
We must find a camping place."
"You had better hurry then," observed Clay. "I believe it's going to
rain. The air feels sultry, and there isn't a star in sight."
Almost as he spoke a sullen peal of thunder echoed among the hills, and
an instant later a jagged flash of lightning blazed on the surface of
the creek.
The boys huddled a little closer together and nervously discussed the
situation. A storm was bad enough when they had a snug tent to shelter
them, but in their present plight, adrift on the water in pitch
darkness, there was no telling what disaster might happen.
"I wish I was home," said Nugget. "I'm awfully afraid of thunder and
lightning."
No one laughed at this candid confession. The occasion was too serious
for mirth.
"I hardly know what would be best to do," began Ned. "If there is going
to be much lightning we will be safer on the water than among the trees
on shore. But here comes a gale, if I'm not mistaken. That will make
things lively for us."
Ned's prediction was correct. The trees on shore suddenly began to
rustle and creak. The water was lashed into short, choppy waves, which
turned to white capped billows as the wind waxed stronger. It was
evident that this part of the creek occupied an exposed position.
"Keep your canoes trim," shouted Ned. "The wind will drop as soon as the
rain comes."
It is doubtful if his companions heard the warning. The force of the
tempest had already driven the canoes apart.
For two or three minutes Ned was tossed about at will, momentarily
expecting his frail craft to upset. He could see no trace of his
companions in the darkness, and when he shouted the roar of the gale
almost drowned his voice.
Suddenly he felt a severe shock, and then the canoe stood still. As he
partially rose, and peered to right and left, a dim object glided
swiftly by him. A second later it disappeared with startling abruptness,
and a frantic cry for help rang out hoarsely above the fury of the
storm.
CHAPTER V
DISAPPEARANCE OF NUGGET
Ned knew that the dim object must have been a canoe, but its sudden
effacement, and the loud cry for help, were mysteries too deep for
immediate comprehension. He shouted with all the power of his voice full
half a dozen times, but no answer came back.
Then a happy thought flashed into his mind. When he had satisfied
himself by shaking it violently that the canoe was firmly lodged on some
object--probably a rock--he leaned forward and took his lantern from the
hatch. By holding it low in the cockpit he had no difficulty in lighting
the wick.
The lantern was a bullseye, and as soon as Ned turned the flashing glare
on the surrounding darkness the mystery was solved. The Pioneer was
lodged in mid channel on a timber dam. The bow projected a foot or two
over the edge, but could go no further owing to lack of water. None was
running over at all at this point, and the slimy timbers protruded six
or eight inches above the level of the creek.
While Ned was making these investigations the wind ceased, and he heard
close at hand a steady roaring noise, like the furious patter of rain on
a tin roof. But it was not rain that produced the noise, though big
drops were even then beginning to fall.
A twist of the lantern to the left sent a luminous bar of light along
the breast of the darn, and revealed a jagged break, fully six feet
wide, through which the freed water poured with the speed of a millrace.
The chasm was barely a dozen feet from where the Pioneer had lodged, and
Ned's first thought was one of gratitude for his own escape. Then he
remembered with a thrill of horror what had happened a moment or two
before. Which of his companions had been carried through the break, and
where was the unfortunate lad now?
As Ned stood with the lantern turned on the fatal spot, a shout rang out
behind him, and the next instant the Water Sprite grounded on the edge
of the dam beside the Pioneer.
"I'm glad you lit that lantern, Ned," exclaimed Randy breathlessly. "I
came pretty near paddling back up the creek. But where are the other
fellows?"
Ned pointed to the broken dam and huskily related what had occurred.
Randy was horror stricken.
"I heard that cry for help, too," he said, "but I had no idea what it
meant. Are you sure one of the boys went through?"
"I saw the canoe plainly," replied Ned. "There was just one cry for
help, and after that I could get no answer when I shouted."
"We'll hope for the best," said Randy stoutly. "Perhaps he made the
plunge all right, and is half a mile down the creek by this time. Great
Cæsar! I hope both the boys didn't go through. No, there's a light now
on the left shore. It's either Nugget or Clay with a lantern."
"Paddle over and bring him back with you," directed Ned. "If he tries to
come himself he'll go through the break. Be sure to keep away above the
dam though, and when you return don't let my lantern mislead you,
because I intend to wade along the breastwork and have a look at that
hole. If you head for a dozen feet this side of the light you'll likely
land where you are now."
Randy promised obedience, and departed in haste. Ned watched him
anxiously until he was out of sight. Then he sounded the water with his
paddle, and finding it quite shallow he climbed carefully out of the
canoe.
Holding the lantern in one hand, and clutching the projecting edge of
the dam with the other, he moved along foot by foot, submerged to his
waist. It was well that he had this support, for his feet were on the
sloping, mud incrusted planks.
When the broken place was three or four feet away the water began to
deepen. Ned stopped and flashed the light on the lower side of the dam.
He saw little there to comfort him.
The fall was about six feet, and at the bottom of the long, glassy sheet
of water which plunged through the break at a frightful speed, great
foam crested waves began, and rolled and tumbled in awful confusion as
far as the gleam of the bullseye could reach. That a canoe could go
through such a place without capsizing seemed an utter impossibility.
There was no sign of one, however, in the quiet eddies on either side of
the raging channel, and with this dismal scrap of comfort Ned retraced
his perilous journey to the canoe. He had hardly gained it, and climbed
in, when Randy and his companion paddled their craft alongside. That
companion was Clay. Nugget, then, was the missing Jolly Rover.
"Discover anything?" demanded Randy.
"No. It looks bad for poor Nugget, boys. If the canoe had gone through
all right he would have paddled to shore, and been making a big outcry
by this time."
"He can't be drowned. I won't believe it," cried Randy. "See here, Ned,
isn't it likely that Nugget caught hold of the canoe when it upset, and
clung to it? The roar of the water would account for your not hearing
his cries."
"It may be," said Ned reflectively, as he dashed a tear from his eye.
"If that's the case we will soon overtake him--provided he doesn't let
go his hold. Let's have a look at the right hand corner of the dam."
"Yes, that will be the most likely place," added Clay. "The race is on
the other side. I nearly blundered into it."
The boys paddled to shore, following the line of the dam, and a brief
search with the lantern revealed an easy path by which the canoes could
be carried around.
There was no sign of a house, and Clay reported none on the opposite
side, so the mill was probably some distance below.
Under the excitement of the moment the boys scarcely felt the weight of
the heavily laden canoes. They carried them, one at a time, up a sloping
bank, and then down through the bushes to the water.
When they embarked, and paddled out through the quiet shallows to the
swift channel in midstream, the wind had nearly subsided and the rain
was falling in a desultory fashion which promised only a brief
continuance. In fact stars were visible here and there through rifts in
the black clouds. The storm seemed to have gone off in another
direction.
A short distance below the dam the water became very sluggish, and the
boys knew that if Nugget was ahead of them they must speedily overtake
him. So they paddled hard, forgetful of weariness and hunger, and at
frequent intervals shouted loudly and called their companion by name.
The lanterns were exposed to view so that Nugget could not fail to see
the light if he was anywhere near.
For half an hour the three heartsick lads paddled on steadily, and in
that time hardly a word was exchanged. They were in no mood for
conversation.
Finally the track of yellow light which shone ahead from Ned's bullseye
revealed a bit of an island in mid-channel--a strip of gravel and reeds,
with a few stunted bushes growing in the center.
Ned drove the Pioneer on the upper point and stepped out. His companions
did the same, and Randy asked wearily: "What are you going to do here?"
"Wait for daylight," said Ned. "It's the only thing we _can_ do. We are
a good mile and a half below the dam, and if the canoe was drifting in
that sluggish water, we passed it long ago. It has probably lodged on
some bar, or along the shore, and will be found in the morning."
"Then you think that Nugget is--is drowned?" asked Clay huskily.
Ned stooped and pulled the canoe up on the bar.
"I don't know," he said in a broken voice. "If Nugget was alive he would
surely have heard our shouts or seen the lights. We won't know anything
positively until morning. It could do no good to paddle up the creek
again in the darkness, so we had better wait here as patiently as we
can."
No objection was made to this plan, and the boys crawled in among the
bushes and sat down with Clay's lantern between them. The passing storm
had not cooled the sultry atmosphere, and no fire or blankets were
needed.
All seemed stupefied by the terrible misfortune that had happened,
though as yet they hardly realized its full significance. They purposely
refrained from talking about it, though each knew in his own heart how
wildly improbable was the hope that Nugget was still alive.
The hours of that dark, dismal night wore slowly on. There was plenty to
eat in the canoes, but no one was hungry now. A lantern was kept burning
at the upper point of the island, and from time to time one of the boys
went down to the shore and shouted till the echo rang far among the
hills. They must have known that it was but a hollow mockery, and yet
there was a scrap of consolation even in pretending that hope was not
entirely gone.
Ned insisted that his companions should lie down and sleep. This seemed
impossible at first, but after a while drowsiness and fatigue asserted
their sway. Randy went down to the canoes and returned with three
blankets. He and Clay wrapped themselves up, and chose a soft spot among
the bushes. In five minutes they were sleeping soundly.
Ned remained where he was for a long while, keeping solitary vigil over
his companions. Then he began to pace up and down the island, and
finally he pulled the blanket about his shoulders and sat down on the
upper end of the bar with his back against the side of the canoe.
It was his intention to remain awake, but unconsciously his eyelids
drooped, and after a feeble struggle or two he sank into a deep slumber.
He knew nothing more until he woke in the gray dawn of the morning. For
a few seconds his surroundings seemed familiar. Then the bitter truth
flashed into his mind, and he rose with an aching heart. He was stiff
and shivering, and the cool breeze that blew down the creek, scattering
the light, vapory mists over the surface of the water, made him keenly
conscious of the pangs of hunger.
He went up in the bushes and wakened Clay and Randy. They followed him
stiffly down to the shore, and after dipping their feet in the cool,
rippling water, all sat down on the grass and ate a few crackers. Ned
offered to build a fire and make some hot coffee, but the others
protested that they did not care for it.
The sun was just peeping above the horizon when the boys pushed their
canoes into the water and embarked on the dreaded journey up the creek.
Both shores were thickly timbered, and to make the search more thorough
Ned kept close to the right bank, while Clay and Randy followed the
left.
They paddled with leisurely strokes, maintaining a sharp watch on every
patch of reeds and every little inlet. In the first mile there was
nothing to reward the searchers--not the slightest trace of the missing
canoe or its occupant.
Then the channel made a sharp curve, and when they paddled around it
they saw, nearly half a mile above, a gray, weather worn mill, standing
in a grove of willows on the right hand shore. The dam was visible a
hundred yards or so beyond, and the sunlight was dancing on the foaming
torrent that poured through the break.
CHAPTER VI
THE LOST FOUND
Without lessening their vigilance the boys paddled on against the
increasing current. When the mill was very near Ned signaled the others
to join him.
They quickly crossed to the right shore, and the three canoes were run
into a quiet little nook close to the swirling mouth of the race. The
mill was twenty yards above, and a little to the right of it a cozy
frame house, overgrown with trailing vines, peeped above the willow
trees.
"I thought we had better stop here on account of the swift water," said
Ned. "We will go up to the dam on foot, and take a look at the deep
holes under the breastwork."
Before Clay or Randy could reply a man came briskly through the
trees--the miller beyond a doubt, for his clothes and hat were white
with flour. He greeted the boys with a smile and a cherry nod.
"I guess you're the chaps I was just starting out to find," he said.
"T'other young chap was getting anxious about you, and not much wonder.
He feared you were all drowned, and I guess you thought the same about
him. It was lucky I run across him this morning. You see I went down to
the creek at daybreak to look for a stray cow, and when--"
"Did you find a boy called Nugget?" interrupted Ned in great excitement.
"And a green and white canoe called the Imp?" shouted Randy, as he
tossed his cap into the air.
"That's about the way of it," responded the miller. "But come up to the
house and see for yourselves. You look as if you were nearly starved."
The boys needed no second invitation. With eager steps and light hearts
they followed their guide through the trees, and across the little
garden to the rear of the house.
The miller threw open the door, and they rushed in with cries of
delight. There sat Nugget at the kitchen table, making a fierce
onslaught on ham and fried potatoes. He was rigged out in a suit of
clothes three times too big for him, and his brown uniform was drying
before the fire.
The boys were so glad to see him that they first laughed and then cried
almost, while the miller and his wife looked on in wonder.
Nugget took things very coolly.
"Where did you fellows spend the night?" he asked, after the first
greetings were over.
"Where did _you_ spend it?" exclaimed Ned. "You gave us a pretty scare,
Nugget. We never expected to see you again."
"Let him spin his yarn while you're eating breakfast," interrupted the
miller. "Lizzie, set three more plates out."
A moment later the boys were attacking the food with keen appetites, and
as Nugget was now through, he proceeded to relate his adventures.
"When the wind came up and separated us," he began, "I got pretty badly
scared. I was afraid it would rain hard, so I took out my canvass apron
and buttoned it over the cockpit, close up to my waist."
"Good for you!" said Ned. "If I'm not mistaken that was what saved you."
"Perhaps it was," resumed Nugget. "I paddled on for a little while,
trying to find you fellows. All at once I heard an awful roar, and the
canoe made a jump as though it was going to stand on end. I gave one
yell, and the next thing I knew big waves were jumping all around me."
He paused to shiver at the recollection.
"And what then?" asked Randy breathlessly.
"Then I was more scared than ever," continued Nugget in a reluctant
voice. "So I crawled under the apron and snuggled up in the cockpit.
There was plenty of room, and the cushion made a nice soft pillow,
and--and--I fell asleep."
"Fell asleep!" ejaculated Ned in amazement. "You don't mean it?"
"Why, yes," said Nugget. "I was awfully tired, you know, and I couldn't
keep my eyes open. The next thing I remember is that man there helping
me out. It was daylight, and the canoe was in a little channel with
thick bushes all around."
The boys were not slow to appreciate the ludicrous side of Nugget's
adventure, and they laughed long and heartily.
Then the miller told how he found the canoe in a stretch of back water
that ran a few yards in from the creek, and how surprised he was when he
pulled the apron off the cockpit and saw Nugget fast asleep.
"I noticed that inlet," said Ned, "but I didn't see anything of the
canoe."
"Because I pulled it out in the bushes," replied the miller. "The
current has a natural drift toward the place, and clogs it up with
rubbish sometimes. The lad had a narrow squeeze of it when he went
through that hole in the dam. I intend to fix it as soon as the water
goes down a little."
"I don't want to go through any more such places," said Nugget. "I
suppose that apron was what kept the water out. I shipped a little bit,
though I didn't know it until this morning, when I found my clothes all
wet. My extra suit is in your canoe, Randy. I had dry shirts, though.
Say, wouldn't I look nice marching down Fifth Avenue in this rig?"
The boys laughed at the idea, and then drew their chairs away from the
table, and chatted for half an hour with the miller, relating all that
had happened on the previous night, and telling him of their proposed
trip to the Susquehanna. He, in turn, gave them much interesting
information about the creek, where to camp and where to fish.
Ten o'clock came before any one realized it, and the boys prepared to
depart, in spite of their host's earnest invitation to stay for a day or
two. Nugget changed his clothes, and started for the inlet with the
miller, while the others embarked in their canoes, after thanking the
miller's wife for her hospitality.
The inlet was half a mile down the creek. The boys reached there first,
and were joined by the others two or three minutes later.
Fortunately Nugget's paddle was not lost. He had found it stranded along
the shore while on his way to the mill that morning.
The boys lingered a moment to shake hands with their kind hearted
friend, and thank him for his services.
"That's all right," said the miller, "only too glad to oblige you. Be
sure and stop when you pass here again. My name is John Kling."
"We'll spend a week with you next time," returned Ned, as he grasped his
paddle.
"Please have the dam mended before then," drawled Nugget.
The miller laughed and waved his hand, and amid a chorus of "good-byes"
the Jolly Rovers paddled away from shore. The shadow of misfortune was
forgotten, and the future was full of bright anticipations, as before.
The birds sang among the leaves, the fish leaped in the ripples, and
the sunlight danced on the blue water.
The little island, where the boys had spent such a wretched night, was
soon far behind, and they entered upon a more beautiful stretch of
country than they had yet seen. The water was very sluggish, and on each
side were great hills densely covered with pine and spruce trees.
The temptations to stop were so frequent that by mid-afternoon the boys
were scarcely five miles from the mill--that is to say by water. It was
probably less than half that distance in a straight line.
"I'm really hungry again in spite of that big breakfast," said Clay.
"Can't we stop and have lunch?"
"I second that," cried Randy.
The others were of the same mind, and as a very pretty spot happened to
come within view about that time, they paddled across to it and landed.
Closer inspection only added to the charms of the place.
It lay on the right shore, at the mouth of a deep, dark ravine. A beach
of smooth pebbles sloped back to a grassy bank three or four feet high,
and on the plateau above were a dozen or more massive girthed pine
trees, whose fragrant needles carpeted the ground. A fair sized brook
gurgled through the center over a bed of mossy stones, and emptied into
the creek.
"We might travel a good many miles and not find such a place as this,"
said Ned. "Suppose we stay here for a day or two. Tomorrow is Sunday
and we would have to stop then anyhow."
This suggestion was adopted without a dissenting word and the boys
became enthusiastic over the prospect. Randy wanted to begin fishing at
once, while Nugget proposed an exploration of the ravine. A few sensible
words from Ned cooled their ardor, and they started in with a will to
arrange the camp.
The tent was staked in a carefully selected spot, and then the canoes
were unloaded and placed on the beach in a row, bottom up, so what
little water was in them might drain out.
While Nugget and Clay carried the provisions and other articles up to
the tent, Ned and Randy washed the dirty dishes of the night before.
Then the blankets were put to air on a stout line stretched between two
trees, and a great heap of firewood was collected.
"That's all for the present," said Ned, as he finished tying the pennant
to the front tent pole. "You can do a little fishing now if you want to.
Don't venture far away from the camp, because I'm going up the ravine to
look for a farmhouse."
Randy declared that he was tired and would rather stay by the tent, so
Nugget and Clay prepared their rods and went down the creek a short
distance to a jutting point of rock. With a diminutive hook they caught
a couple of minnows, which they used for bait.
For a long time their patience was unrewarded, but finally Nugget had a
strike, and after a severe struggle he landed a fine bass that could
not have weighed less than a pound. Clay caught a smaller one, and after
that the fish stopped biting.
At sundown they put up their rods and went back to camp. Ned had just
returned, bringing with him a pair of dressed chickens and a pail of
milk.
"These will make us a good dinner to-morrow," he said. "I had a hard
time finding the farmhouse. It was more than a mile away, and the path
led through the woods for nearly the whole distance. I suppose you are
pretty hungry by this time. If you all pitch in and help we'll soon have
supper."
In a short time the fire was blazing merrily. Ned was as good as his
word, and the _menu_ he set before the boys that night was a tempting
one. It included fried bass, ham and eggs, and baked potatoes, with milk
and pie for desert.
As the night was warm all indulged in a delicious swim after the supper
dishes were cleared up. At nine o'clock they turned in and tied the tent
flaps shut. Even this precaution was felt to be unnecessary, since the
very loneliness of the place was a protection against harm.
Randy, who occupied the proud position of log keeper to the Jolly
Rovers, sat up for a while to jot down the events of the cruise in a
blank book. He finally extinguished the lantern with a sigh of
satisfaction, and was soon sleeping beside his companions.
Sunday dawned bright and clear, but the boys did not get up until nine
o'clock. The pine needles made a couch that was hard to leave. The day
was observed in a spirit of proper regard. Its monotony was somewhat
alleviated by the dinner of fried chicken, but all were glad when night
came.
CHAPTER VII
BATTERS AND JOE
Ned was up with the sun on Monday morning. He pulled the tent flaps wide
open, so that the cool air would stream in and awaken his companions.
Then he threw a towel over his shoulder and marched down to the mouth of
the brook to wash his face and hands.
But this laudable purpose was quite driven from his mind by the
discovery which greeted his eyes when he arrived there. On the spit of
jutting sand which had formed at the junction of the creek and the brook
was the deep imprint of a boat's keel, and close by were half a dozen
large footsteps.
They looked quite fresh, and had evidently been made by two persons.
Some were long and pointed; others square toed, and shod with nails or
pegs.
As Ned gazed on these evidences of a nocturnal visit, he felt pretty
much as did Robinson Crusoe when he discovered the print of naked feet
on his island.
It was impossible to tell where these strangers had been, since the
gravel beach and the grassy soil beyond it left no traces.
Ned washed his face and hands and returned to the tent with a troubled
mind. The boys were awake by this time, and he told them of his
discovery.
"Hullo! that explains something," exclaimed Clay. "I got awake last
night, and struck a match to find the pail of water that was standing
outside the tent. I thought I heard a noise down by the creek, but I was
too sleepy to bother about it, and went back to bed."
"Then you must have scared these fellows off," said Ned. "That accounts
for nothing being stolen. Everything of value was in the tent, however,
and I don't suppose they cared to meddle with the canoes."
"Do you think these are the same men that the farmer chased off his
land?" asked Randy.
"Very likely," replied Ned. "I'm sorry now that I didn't inquire more
about them. The best thing we can do is to break camp and put about ten
miles between us and this place."
"That would be cowardly," exclaimed Randy. "We have no reason to be
afraid of these fellows. They'll get a warm reception if they meddle
around camp again. Let's stay here for one day anyhow. We won't find
many prettier places, and besides, I'm anxious to do some hunting and
fishing."
Clay seemed disposed to side with Randy, while Nugget favored both sides
of the question. He wanted to go, and he was just as anxious to catch
some more bass down at the point of rocks.
Ned hesitated for a moment. He knew that it would be the more prudent
plan to break camp at once, but the same time he was not inclined to
insist upon it, and thus incur the ill will of his companions.
"I see that the majority is against me," he said good naturedly. "But if
we get in any kind of a scrape you fellows will shoulder the blame,
that's all."
The boys appeared to be satisfied with this arrangement. They trooped
off to the brook to wash, while Ned turned aside to make the fire.
After breakfast Randy shouldered his gun and started down the creek in
search of snipe or woodcock. Clay and Nugget caught a pailful of minnows
and departed for the point of rocks, for this was the time of day when
the bass would probably bite best.
Ned did not accompany them. He had the true appreciation of outdoor
life, and was never happier than when doing odd bits of work around the
camp. He occupied himself in this way for an hour or two--arranging the
interior of the tent, hanging the blankets out to air, stacking the wood
neatly by the fireplace, and scrubbing the frying pans and the outside
of the coffee pot with sand and gravel.
He was scooping out a little fish pond at the mouth of the brook when
Randy returned.
"What luck?" he asked, looking up from his work.
"Not a thing," answered Randy in a disappointed tone. "The snipe are all
on the other side of the creek. I'm going after them now in my canoe. I
tramped along the shore for at least a mile, Ned, and I didn't see a
trace of anybody, either on this side or on the other. Our midnight
visitors must have cleared out for good."
"I hope they have," said Ned. "What luck are the boys having?"
"Four bass, and one of them is a big fellow. Help me up with my canoe
now, will you?"
Ned rendered the desired assistance.
"Don't stay too long," he told Randy.
"I'll be back inside of an hour," was the reply, as the other paddled
swiftly down the creek.
Ned finished the fish pond to his satisfaction, and feeling a little
tired, he climbed up the slope and threw himself down in a clump of high
grass behind the tent. He was gazing dreamily up the creek with his head
resting on his outstretched arms, when a boat containing two persons
came suddenly into view around the bend.
Ned crept a little deeper into the grass, where he could see without
being seen. The boat was now out of sight behind the trees, but when it
reappeared a moment later, directly opposite the camp, a single glance
satisfied Ned that it was not the same craft which had landed at the
mouth of the brook during the previous night.
This was a rude affair known as a "flat." It was long and narrow, with
square ends and sides, and from its cranky motion evidently had no keel.
The occupants were young fellows of twenty or thereabouts. They were
roughly dressed, and their general appearance was by no means favorable.
They stopped paddling in amazement when they caught sight of the camp,
and after a brief conversation, which Ned did not catch, they ran their
craft on shore a few yards below the mouth of the brook.
Ned shifted his position, and watched their movements curiously. The
strangers evidently intended to pitch a camp of their own, for they made
frequent trips up the slope, carrying blankets and tin pails, and
various other articles. Then they chopped down a number of fine shoots,
and constructed, in a brief space of time, a snug lean-to between two
big trees.
Having placed their things in this--casting suspicious glances all the
while at the tent--they went back to the boat, climbed in, and paddled
swiftly down the creek.
Ned rose to his feet, and looked after them in amazement. As the boat
vanished around the sharp curve that the creek made immediately below
the camp, he noticed for the first time a bait box trailing on behind.
"I understand it now," he muttered. "Those fellows are out for a fishing
trip, and they're going down to the rocks to set their lines. I hope
they won't get into a row with Clay and Nugget."
The possibility of such a thing made Ned uneasy. He stood in perplexity
for a moment or two, and had just made up his mind to go down and look
after the boys, when the sound of loud, angry voices reached his
hearing.
He hesitated no longer, but leaped down the slope and ran at full speed
along the beach. Bursting through a covert of reeds and tall bushes, he
emerged within a few yards of the rocks.
On the outermost bowlder, close to the swirling current, were Nugget,
Clay, and the two strangers. The flat was drawn out on shore.
As Ned put foot on the nearest rock the taller of the strange lads
struck Nugget violently on the arm with a paddle. Clay immediately hit
the cowardly fellow in the breast, and in the struggle that followed the
latter lost his balance and rolled backward into the swift current. His
companion pounced on Clay, and they came down together on the rock,
while Nugget stood by, holding his injured arm and shouting for help.
Ned took in the situation at a glance. He saw that the lad in the water
was a poor swimmer, and could make no headway against the current.
Without stopping to count the cost he threw off his coat, and ran to the
edge of the bowlder.
"Bring the boat quick!" he shouted to Clay and his assailant, who had
fallen apart and were glaring wrathfully at each other.
Then Ned put his arms together and dived head first into the foaming
water. He came to the surface half a dozen yards below, and struck out
vigorously for the struggling lad, who was by this time on the point of
exhaustion.
Ned was an admirable swimmer, and absolutely fearless in the water.
"Keep cool, and don't struggle," he shouted, as he reached the fellow
and put on hand on his collar.
The other had sense enough to obey, and both floated down stream
together.
It was out of the question for Ned to reach the shore immediately with
his heavy burden, and as Clay and the other lad were slow about
launching the boat, the affair might have ended seriously. But just at
that time Randy came paddling up the creek in his canoe, and spied the
drifting figures.
He was soon alongside, and as the stern of the Water Sprite swung toward
them, Ned and his companion each threw an arm over it.
Then Randy paddled for the shore, and landed about sixty feet below the
rocks.
Clay and the other stranger reached the spot in the boat just as Ned and
the lad he had so nobly rescued, waded out on the beach. The latter
shook the water from his clothes and hesitatingly approached Ned.
"I dunno' how to thank you for what you did," he said sheepishly. "I'm
mighty sorry I hit that chap. Me and Joe were downright mad because
you'uns were fishing thar in our place. You see we come here from the
mountains every now and then, and ketch a lot of bass, and sell 'em back
at Newville. I reckon it ain't our place anyhow, an' you'uns can fish
thar as much as you please. My name is Jim Batters--Batters they allus
calls me--and that's my brother Joe there."
"I'm glad to know you, Batters," said Ned, holding out his hand. "You
are welcome to your fishing ground. We are going away to-morrow anyhow.
As for the quarrel--we'll just let that drop. You had better go up to
camp now and dry your clothes."
Batters was not satisfied, however, until he had apologized all around,
and made Joe do the same. Nugget had arrived by this time, and he
declared that his arm no longer pained him.
Then the whole party went up the creek, some on water and some on land.
The two mountaineers were tall, lanky youths with expressionless faces,
surrounded by shocks of yellow hair.
They wore homespun clothes and high boots. They were speedily on
intimate terms with Jolly Rovers, and gladly accepted Ned's invitation
to dinner. They asked many curious questions, and lost themselves in
admiration over the canoes.
Ned told them about the nocturnal visitors of the previous night, and
inquired if they had seen anything of the men. Both stoutly replied in
the negative, but a swift, covert glance that passed between them did
not escape Ned's attention.
During the remainder of the day he remembered it more than once. When
dinner was over they all went down to the rocks, and Batters and Joe
proudly displayed their skill at fishing. In two hours they caught
fifteen large bass. For bait they used crabs and lizards, which they had
brought from the mountains.
In the evening Randy entertained the country lads with a mouth organ
performance, and at ten o'clock the visitors went to their camp on the
other side of the brook.
It had been a long day, and the Jolly Rovers were glad to get to bed.
They were too drowsy to think about the possibility of another visit
from the mysterious boat, and in a very few minutes all were sound
asleep.
About midnight--as nearly as he could judge afterward--Ned sat up with a
start, firmly convinced that some danger was at hand. As he listened
with a wildly throbbing heart, soft footsteps cracked on the pine
needles outside, and then the tent flap was torn open, revealing against
the lingering embers of the campfire the semblance of a human form.
"Hi! you chaps in thar!" whispered a gruff and unfamiliar voice. "Get
awake, quick!"
The words had a soothing affect on Ned's fears, and satisfied him that
the visitor--whoever he was--had come in the guise of friendship. He
drew a match from his pocket and rubbed it on his trousers. It ignited,
and revealed the pale face of Batters, framed between the tent and flap.
"Great Cæsar! Is it you?" exclaimed Ned. "What's wrong?"
"Hush! not so loud," whispered Batters. "Put that light out, quick!"
Ned obeyed in haste.
"Now rouse the other chaps, and do it quietly, so they don't make no
noise."
This was a pretty stiff order, and Ned had some fears for the result.
Happily all went well, and in two or three minutes an audience of four
trembling and well nigh panic stricken lads was sitting in the darkness,
listening to Batter's ominous tale.
"Joe waked me up a little while ago," he began, "an' said there was a
strange boat, an' two men in it, down by the mouth of the run. I tole
Joe ter stay an' watch our stuff. Then I sneaked along the shore an'
seen the fellows sittin' on the beach along side the canoes.
"I didn't dare go close enough to hear what they was sayin', so I come
right up to the tent. I reckon you uns had better make a move afore the
canoes get carried off. I'll do what I kin fur you. If we all take
paddles and run out yellin' an' screachin' mebbe the fellars will get
scared and make tracks without showin' fight."
This proposition rather staggered the boys.
"The thieves probably want more than the canoes," said Ned. "It's very
likely they are right outside the tent now. I hardly know what we ought
to do."
"Let's give them our money and watches, and anything else they want,"
suggested Nugget. "If we don't they'll surely cut our throats."
"Keep quiet!" whispered Clay savagely. "If you don't I'll throw you out
of the tent."
At this awful threat Nugget subsided and buried his head in his blanket.
Meanwhile Randy, whose temper was beginning to rise at the thought of
being robbed, had quietly reached for his gun, and was fumbling with it
under cover of the darkness.
An unlucky move dashed the stock against his lantern, and the crash of
broken glass followed. At the same moment Batters called in a loud
whisper, "Here they are. I see them movin' among the trees."
At this startling news a wailing cry broke from Nugget, and an instant
later a gruff voice called distinctly:
"Come out of that one at a time, young fellars. Move lively, an' you
won't be harmed."
There was dead silence for a few seconds, and then the command was
repeated in a more peremptory tone.
"They ain't got no shootin' weapons," whispered Batters; "only short
sticks. I can see 'em by the firelight."
On hearing this, Randy was seized with a sudden access of courage. Gun
in hand, he dashed by his companions to the front of the tent.
Batters saw the glint of the weapon and made a futile grab at it.
"Don't do no shootin'," he whispered hoarsely.
The warning came too late. Randy stepped out from the flaps and raised
it to his shoulder.
"Make tracks, you villains," he shouted, "or I'll put daylight through
you." (This was a favorite expression of Randy's purloined from the life
of Kit Carson.) Then, as retreating footsteps were heard, he lowered the
weapon a little and pulled the trigger.
The thunderous report was followed by a yell of pain, and two voices
hissed out dire threats of vengeance as the baffled men went hastily
down the slope.
As Randy turned toward his companions Batters sprang at him and wrenched
the weapon from his hands.
"Didn't I tell you not to shoot?" he cried. "Now you've gone an' hit
Bug. I kinder feared it might be him, but I wasn't certain. That's him
swearin' this very minute. Oh! I'll fix you for this."
Pushing Randy to one side and dashing the gun on the ground, Batters
vanished in the darkness, yelling at the top of his voice, "Bug! Bug!
it's me!"
The boys were overcome with terror and amazement. Who in the world was
Bug, and why should Batters be so anxious about him?
"Why did you do that?" demanded Ned sternly. "If you have shot any one
don't expect us to shield you."
Randy did not reply. He staggered into the tent and rolled over in
helpless mirth.
"It--it was--a salt cartridge," he finally was able to gasp. "I
had--three or four of them. I read how to make them--in a book. Didn't I
pepper their legs nicely though.
"I don't care what it was," exclaimed Ned angrily. "You ought to be
ashamed of yourself. You'll break up this trip yet with your
foolishness."
Randy sobered down in a moment or two, and when he joined the others
outside the tent he was disposed to take a less humorous view of his
smart performance. A light was visible at the mouth of the brook, and
four figures could be seen around it.
Joe had evidently joined his brother. The conversation that was carried
on was for the most part inaudible, but now and then a threatening
sentence could be heard, or a few words of entreaty.
"Serious trouble will come out of this," said Ned. "For half a cent I'd
deliver you over to those fellows, Randy. The worst of it is that they
were going away when you fired."
"Dodging behind trees, that's all," replied Randy.
"Not a bit of it," exclaimed Ned angrily. "They were running toward the
creek."
As Clay stoutly backed up this assertion, Randy lapsed into sullen
silence. He was more frightened than he chose to let appear.
After what seemed a painfully long interval to the waiting boys, Batters
came softly out of the gloom and stood before them.
"I reckon there ain't no more danger," he said. "It wasn't Bug what was
hit; the other fellow. He's sittin' down thar on the stones now, a
pickin' lumps of salt out of his legs with a knife blade. He's mad as
blazes too, an' me an Bug had all we could do ter keep him from comin'
back here.
"I tole Bug how you saved my life, an' when he heard that he put his
foot down an' swore you chaps shouldn't be harmed. Bug ain't bad at
heart, he ain't. As soon as the other fellow gits all the salt out
they're both going away. They hev a camp somewhere's down the creek."
"But who are these men, Batters, and what do you know about them?" asked
Ned.
The lad hesitated for a moment.
"I reckon I might as well make a clean breast of it," he said in a
pitiful tone. "Don't you-uns think bad of me an' Joe though, cause we've
been brung up different, 'deed we have--."
"Look here, Batters, you needn't tell us if you don't want to,"
interrupted Ned sympathetically.
He had an inkling of the true state of affairs, and wished to spare the
lad what was evidently a painful recital.
"No, I'd better tell," responded Batters. "It's just this way. Bug is
big brother to me and Joe, only he's about six years older than us. You
see when he was a little chap dad an' mammy lived down near Middlesex,
an' Bug he got in bad company. When dad moved up to the Gap, Bug was
toler'ble bad, an' since then he's been gittin' worse.
"He was in Carlisle jail twict fer stealin', an' in summer he jest lives
shiftless like along the creek, helpin' hisself to the farmers' stuff.
Now he dassent come home no more, for dad says he won't own him fur a
son. Mammy cries heaps an' says her heart's broke.
"You see dad an' mammy are honest, if they are poor, an' they made me
an' Joe promise we'd never take nothin' what don't belong to us. Mammy
says she wants us ter grow up the right way, an' not be bad an'
wuthless like--like Bug--."
Here Batters broke down and began to cry softly. His sad little
tale--alas! only too common in all walks of life!--had deeply moved his
hearers, and more than one of the boys had tears in their eyes.
Ned walked over and threw his arm around the weeping lad.
"Don't cry, Batters," he said softly. "Some day Bug will find out his
mistake and begin to do better. We don't think any the less of you and
Joe on his account. Stick to your mother, and do what she says, and
you'll be sure to grow up the right kind of men."
Batters was consoled by this boyish sympathy. He wiped his eyes and
looked gratefully at Ned.
"Here, take this," said Nugget, holding out a handsome pocket knife.
"It's got four blades, and a corkscrew, and a file."
Batters looked doubtfully at the treasure. Randy had just lighted a
lantern, and the rays flashed on the mother of pearl handle.
"I want you to have it," said Nugget, "my father will send me plenty
more from New York."
The temptation was too much. Batters took the knife with a smile, and
incoherently tried to thank the donor.
All at once the creaking of oars was heard, and a moment later Joe
joined the party.
"They've gone," he announced. "T' other fellow got tired pickin' the
salt out. Bug tole him he ought to be glad cause now he was well
seasoned. Then the fellow jabbed at Bug with a knife. Missed him
though."
"Well, I'm 'glad the affair is over," said Ned. "We'll be able to get
some sleep now. Batters, suppose you and Joe come in our tent? There is
room enough."
Batters hesitated and gave an awkward hitch to his trousers.
"I reckon you'd better not do any more sleepin' here," he said uneasily.
"Bug pulled me aside, and said I should tell you-uns to light out afore
daybreak, 'cause the other fellar will surely come back an' lay fur the
chap what shot him. I dunno where Bug picked him up, or who he is. He
looks like a tramp, with his dirty beard and wicked eyes. H's a mighty
bad man when he gits riled, Bug says. It's a pity that chap shot him,
'cause they were both running away."
"I know that," replied Ned, "and I'm awfully sorry it happened. It was a
mean, contemptible trick under the circumstances. But what had we better
do now?"
"Well, I reckon it would be better to pack up and start," advised
Batters. "You see Bug and the other fellar have a camp about two mile
down the creek. You can slide right past it in the darkness, and if you
keep on fur a good ways the fellar what was shot won't find you again.
Bug tole me they didn't intend to go much further down the creek. You
needn't be afraid to travel by night, 'cause there ain't any bad water
near here, an' the first dam is twelve mile away."
Ned was inclined to act promptly on Batters' suggestions, and It goes
without saying that the others were of the same mind--especially Randy,
who had conceived a mortal fear of Bug's companion.
It was between one and two o'clock when the boys began the work of
breaking camp, and as Batters and Joe rendered useful assistance, the
heavily laden canoes were in the water half an hour later. The start was
made in darkness and silence. Ned thanked Batters for the important
service he had rendered that night, and added a few words of comfort and
sympathy.
Hands were shaken all around, and hopes expressed of meeting again. Then
the Jolly Rovers paddled noiselessly away in the gloom, and Batters and
Joe went up the beach to their shelter of pine boughs.
CHAPTER VIII
HOW THE DAY DAWNED
It was with no pleasant sensations that the boys found themselves for
the second time adrift in the darkness. Not that they had any fears of
the journey that lay before them; that was a trifling matter compared to
the loss of sleep and the indignity of being routed out of their snug
beds through no fault of their own.
There was no open complaint, however, and for ten or fifteen minutes the
silence of the night was disturbed only by the low swish of the paddles,
as the four canoes moved abreast down midstream.
"This thing is getting monotonous, and I hope it won't happen again,"
remarked Ned finally, in a very grave voice. "If you fellows had
listened to me this morning we would be sound asleep this minute in some
place down the creek, instead of floating here in the dark with a forced
paddle of ten miles ahead of us."
"It's hard luck, that's a fact," muttered Clay.
"No luck about it," retorted Ned. "It's pure recklessness, and Randy is
chiefly to blame."
"No more than the rest of you," growled Randy. "I wasn't the only one
that wanted to stay."
"I don't mean that," said Ned, "though of course the trouble began
there. I refer to your foolish act a little while ago. If you hadn't
fired that salt cartridge the men would have gone quietly away, and we
could have remained where we were until morning. Now you have made a
bitter enemy, and if he don't give us future annoyance it will only be
through the intercession of Batters' brother--provided he has enough
influence over his companion.
"I feel glad in one way that we stayed. Batters and Joe are good hearted
fellows, if they _are_ rough on the outside, and it was a pleasure to
become acquainted with them. I hope their brother Bug will turn over a
new leaf some day, and be allowed to go home.
"But that wasn't what I started in to talk about," resumed Ned after a
brief pause. "The fact is, Randy, that you must be more careful in
future. You have been to blame for every one of our scrapes so far, and
if you intend to keep this up we may as well abandon the cruise and go
home. This is the second warning I've had to give you. The other one
don't seem to have done much good."
"I think you are getting pretty meddlesome, Ned Chapman," exclaimed
Randy in a sullen tone; "when I want any advice from you I'll ask for
it."
"Don't give way to your temper, now," returned Ned quietly, "I'm talking
for the common good, and you know it in your heart."
"Ned's right," exclaimed Clay. "This cruise has been a chapter of
misadventures from the start, and every one of them lies at your door."
Randy drove his paddle into the water with furious strokes, and was soon
a dozen yards ahead of his companions.
"I'll give you fellows a chance to get out of the dumps," he called back
angrily. "I hope you'll be in a better humor when we meet again."
Then he drove the canoe forward so rapidly that the dip of the paddle
was soon faint in the distance.
"Let him go," said Ned. "He can't come to any harm, and it will give him
a good chance to cool down. That's the main trouble with Randy. Up comes
his temper at the least word of rebuke, and though he knows that he is
wrong, his self will and anger won't let him admit it. I believe he will
take this warning to heart though."
Clay and Nugget did not reply. The former's conscience was a little bit
uneasy, for he knew that his imprudent utterance had started Randy off
in anger.
The three boys paddled on silently for a while, and then Nugget managed
to ground the Imp on a concealed ledge of rocks. It required the united
efforts of his companions to dislodge it, and even then it was a labor
of nearly five minutes' duration. A canvas canoe must be handled very
carefully when among the rocks.
About this time the moon came out from a bank of fleecy clouds, and the
light--feeble though it was--enabled the boys to make better speed, and
to keep a watch ahead for shoals.
A moment later they wished with all their hearts that the moon was on
the other side of the globe, for a bend in the channel revealed a fire
on the right bank, a short distance below. The flames were partly
screened by a fringe of bushes, but not sufficiently to prevent the
ruddy light from flashing far across the water.
"That must be Bug Batters's camp," whispered Ned.
"It will be a ticklish operation to get by if the men are on the watch.
We can manage to, though, if we are prudent and don't lose our heads.
Don't breathe a word or make any noise with your paddles. Just stick
close to me."
Ned headed for the left bank, which was thickly wooded, and paddled
slowly and noiselessly along the very edge. The others followed his
example, and in a short time the three canoes were directly opposite the
fire. Two dark figures squatting beside it could be plainly seen. The
dancing reflection of the flames revealed the boat pulled partially out
of water, and stretched far beyond mid channel.
It was a thrilling moment. Discovery at first seemed inevitable, for the
men were facing the creek. But as no alarm came, and the canoes crept
deeper into the friendly gloom, the boys began to breathe more easily.
They did not relax their caution until the fire was two or three
hundred yards in the rear. Then Ned signified that the danger was over
by paddling boldly and swiftly toward mid-channel.
"I hope we have seen the last of Bug Batters and his companion," he
said, "and I really believe that they won't give us any more trouble."
"I'm glad to hear you say so," replied Clay. "That's my opinion, too. If
we put about ten miles between us and them we ought to feel safe."
"Better make it twenty," remarked Nugget uneasily. "Then we will be
twice as safe."
"Oh, that won't be necessary," laughed Ned. "I say, fellows, it must
have been a pretty stiff ordeal for Randy to go by that fire, within
sight of the man he peppered with salt."
"Well, I should say so," returned Clay. "When we catch up with him we'll
ask him how he felt."
"But that won't be for some time to come," said Ned, "unless we move a
little faster. Try to keep up with me, and don't lag behind."
He started off with short, quick strokes, and after a brief race the
others settled down abreast of him.
The moon outlined the limits of the creek very distinctly, shining first
from one side, then from the other, as the channel followed its tortuous
course. The water continued deep and fairly swift, and during the next
hour and a half the boys must have paddled no less than six or seven
miles.
Nothing was seen of Randy, but this fact was easily explained, since he
had gained considerable on his companions at the start, and had
moreover a light and easily running canoe.
Presently the sky to the eastward became faintly streaked with gray, and
the close night air was succeeded by a fragrant and delicious breeze.
Dawn came on apace, heralded by the singing of birds, and the splashing
of fish in search of the early insect. The mist began to rise from the
water, and in some distant barnyard hungry cattle lowed.
"There is some compensation in night travel," said Ned. "It will be a
treat to see the sun come up. Two or three miles more and then we'll
hunt a snug camping place, and have a plunge in the creek, and a good
breakfast on top of it, and sleep until afternoon. I don't feel very
tired just now, but I'm ravenously hungry."
"So am I," echoed Clay and Nugget in one breath.
As the daylight advanced the boys paddled on with light hearts. In the
long level stretch that was now ahead of them no sign of Randy was
visible. As the next bend--an unusually sharp one--drew near, a dull,
roaring sound was heard.
"That must be a bit of swift water," observed Ned; "I hope it's long
enough to give us a good spin."
"But won't it be dangerous?" asked Nugget uneasily.
"Of course not," replied Clay. "There couldn't be any danger on a small
stream like this, and besides Batters told us everything was smooth for
twelve miles ahead."
It is more than probable that when Batters made this statement he had in
mind his own safe and bulky craft, which could have stood any amount of
rough usage without upsetting. But this version of the matter did not
occur to the boys. They confidently paddled on, hoping to find a stretch
of swift water that would give them a lift on their journey.
Just at the commencement of the curve a spit of rocks and trees jutted
out from the right shore. As the boys were whirled swiftly around this,
the first brief glimpse of what lay beyond proved far from satisfactory.
The creek narrowed to half its former width, and the greater part of
even this contracted channel was rendered unnavigable by a long bar of
gravel and grass, over which an inch or so of water crawled sluggishly.
The main channel--only half a dozen feet wide--headed abruptly to the
right, and swept at breakneck speed in a perfect half circle under the
outwardly projecting base of a steep and wooded hill. Here and there the
bushes hung down to meet the madly tossing waves, and swayed violently.
It was already too late to turn back, and it was equally out of the
question to cut across the swift rushing current and gain the shallow
bar. Speedy disaster would have resulted from _that_ step.
Ned was half a canoe's length in advance, and without a second's delay
he swung the bow of the Pioneer around to meet the curve of the channel.
"Paddle toward the left!--the left!" he shouted hoarsely to his
companions. "Keep your heads down when you come to the bushes."
Ned had no chance to say more. His own affairs required his undivided
attention. With a dizzy jerk he swung into the half circle, rising and
falling with the huge waves. A few tremendous paddle strokes deflected
him to the left, and fortunately he cleared the outer fringe of bushes.
Just when the worst seemed to be over the Pioneer ran broadside on a
submerged rock, tipped instantly, and out went Ned head over heels.
He was dragged clear to the bottom of the rapids before he could gain a
foothold. Then, waist deep in water, he grabbed the Pioneer as it
drifted by him, and waded with it to a narrow landing place at the base
of the hill.
Even less fortunate was Nugget. The dizzy whirl of the current and the
jolting motion of the waves so terrified him that he dropped his paddle
and clutched the combing with both hands. Then, as the bushes directly
ahead caught his eye, he threw up his arms and seized them.
The next instant the canoe was whisked from under him, leaving him
clinging to the frail support, shrieking with terror and bobbing up and
down on the waves. He remained in this position only a few seconds.
Clay's canoe struck him obliquely, and the concussion caused it to swing
broadside and upset. Both lads were rolled over and over to the foot of
the rapids, where Ned helped them and their canoes to shore.
CHAPTER IX
A SAFE SHELTER
For a moment the three wrecked Jolly Rovers could only stare blankly at
their dripping clothes, and at one another. The whole thing had taken
place so quickly that they did not as yet realize the extent of the
misfortune.
Finally Ned and Clay broke into a hearty laugh, while Nugget sat down on
a rock and wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Hullo, there!" cried a familiar voice, as Randy appeared from behind a
patch of bushes a few yards down the shore. "Great Cæsar! what a mess
you fellows are in!"
"Thanks to you," replied Ned. "Why didn't you come up the creek and warn
us?"
"That's just what I was on my way to do, 'pon my honor it was. I
couldn't get here a minute sooner. I upset in that beastly place myself,
and was carried down below those bushes. Look at that!" Randy pointed to
his muddy feet and wet clothes. It was evident that he was speaking the
truth.
"Well, what's done can't be undone," said Ned. "We must make the best
of it. I'm afraid, the water has spoilt a good deal of our stuff."
"You can count yourselves lucky if your canoes aren't injured," rejoined
Randy. "The rocks tore the keel nearly off of mine, and it leaks like a
basket."
"Then we are in for a long delay," exclaimed Ned vexatiously. "It's
unfortunate just at this time, when we ought to be four or five miles
farther down the stream."
"You won't think so when I show you the place I've found," replied
Randy. "We could camp there for a month, and no one would be any the
wiser. It's over on the left shore where the current first landed me. I
had a look at the spot and then waded to this side with the canoe."
"The first thing is to get dry clothes on," returned Ned. "The morning
air is too cool for comfort."
"Down below here is just the place you want then," said Randy. "A big
gravel bar. The sun shines on it beautifully."
This statement brought a smile even to Nugget's face, and without delay
the boys proceeded down the creek.
As it was impossible to get any wetter they waded, pushing the canoes
ahead of them. The gravel bar was twenty yards below, in mid-channel,
and sure enough the first rays of the sun fell full upon it.
The canoes were speedily denuded of everything they held, and the gravel
was soon strewn with water soaked bread, crackers, blankets, fishing
rods, writing paper, and envelopes. The other provisions, being incased
in jars, were uninjured; and so also were the extra clothes, thanks to
the oiled canvas bags in which they were wrapped.
The boys quickly made the change, and stretched out their wet garments
to dry. The canoes were placed bottom up to drain, and after satisfying
himself that the Water Sprite was damaged beyond immediate repair, Ned
suggested that Randy should point out the place he had discovered.
The latter was only too willing, and when the boys had followed his
instructions by rolling their trousers above their knees, he led them
through the shallow water toward the left shore.
As they advanced nothing was visible but the low bank, densely covered
with bushes and young timber. Randy was several yards in advance, and
all at once he stooped and disappeared. The others followed his example,
and when they had waded with bent backs under a heavy screen of bushes,
they were amazed to find themselves in the mouth of a good sized stream.
The water was knee deep, and flowed gently over a bed of sand and
pebbles. For a distance of sixty or seventy feet inland the stream was
three or four yards wide; then came a deep circular pool fed by a
brawling waterfall that dashed impetuously down a mossy incline of
rocks. On all sides were inviting clumps of bushes, and slender trees
bending over their weight of foliage, while from branch to branch swung
foxgrape vines.
Near the head of the pool was a grassy open spot shaded by half a dozen
monster shellbark trees--a perfect little Eden. In fact the whole scene
was so entrancing to these lads, who well knew how to appreciate
Nature's most charming moods, that they stood still with the cool water
surging against their knees, to look and listen.
The sunlight filtered obliquely through the leaves, gleaming here and
there in the dark thickets like stray gold, and shimmering on the eddies
of the pool. The air was fragrant with the scent of wild flowers, and
from every direction came the music of birds and the busy chattering of
squirrels.
"I knew you fellows would fall in love with the place," said Randy.
"Just think of spending two or three days here--or maybe a week. There's
nothing to prevent it. Under those shellbark trees is a grand place for
a tent, and here is water enough to float fifty canoes. The bushes
completely hide the entrance, and when we are all fixed snug I'll defy
Bug Batters or any one else to find us in a month. What do you say, Ned?
Do you think it's necessary now to go farther down the creek?"
Ned drew a long breath.
"I think this is the most beautiful spot I ever saw," he replied. "I'll
stay here a week if the rest are willing."
The rest _were_ willing--emphatically so. Clay immediately began to
indulge in visions of trout fishing farther up the stream, which must
have its source in the mountains. Nugget declared it was a good place
to rest, while Randy expressed an opinion that game was plentiful in the
vicinity.
Having waded to the edge of the pool, where the water deepened abruptly,
the boys returned as they had come, and were soon back on the gravel
bar. They were too hungry to go to the trouble of making a fire, so they
breakfasted on damp crackers and dried beef, and found them very
palatable, too.
Then, as the sun had already dried the things, the canoes were loaded
and pushed up the mouth of the stream. The boys took good care to remove
every trace of their presence from the bar, and to deftly rearrange the
screen of bushes after passing through.
The tent was soon staked under the shellbark trees, and the canoes were
carried out beside it. The Jolly Rovers now felt as safe as though they
were fifty miles down the creek. Being pretty well exhausted by the
interruption of the previous night and by their long paddle, they made
pillows out of their blankets, and went to sleep on the grassy floor of
the tent.
But it is not an easy matter to turn day into night, and so the boys
found it. Ned awoke about noon, and threw the flap open so that the sun
could stream into the tent--as much of it at least as came through the
thick foliage. It was sufficient to rouse Randy and Nugget. Clay was
missing, but as his fishing rod had also disappeared, no alarm was felt
over this fact.
Of course, dinner immediately suggested itself, so Ned started to make
the fire, while Randy inspected the supplies to see what was available.
"Damp crackers and cold meat are about all we can count on," he
announced dismally. "There are only a half a dozen potatoes here. You
might boil some oatmeal, though."
"We must get along with what we have," replied Ned. "This afternoon some
of us must make a foraging expedition. We can't be very far from a
farmhouse."
The fire was soon blazing merrily, and just as Ned placed the coffee pot
on the bars, a cheery whistle rang through the woods, and Clay appeared
at the head of the pool.
"See what you lazy fellows have missed," he exclaimed, holding up a
string of speckled brook trout. "I caught all those in the last two
hours, and tramped more than a mile up stream to get them."
The boys were delighted at this unexpected addition to their dinner, and
the spotted beauties were soon ready for the frying pan. Hunger made a
piquant sauce, and the crackers, meat and fish vanished in short order.
"I intend to let you fellows wash the dishes this time," said Ned, when
the meal was concluded. "I'm going after supplies. We certainly need
them badly enough. Did you see any signs of a farmhouse when you were up
the stream, Clay?"
"No indeed. The woods are thick in every direction, and I have no doubt
they stretch clear to the mountains. It's awfully wild and lonesome
along the stream."
"No use in trying that direction then," replied Ned. "I think I'll go
down the creek in my canoe."
"Let me go with you," said Randy. "You may have a big load to carry back
you know."
Ned hesitated an instant, and then gave his consent. He really preferred
to be alone, but he saw that Randy was very sorry for his recent ill
conduct, and wanted to make what amends he could.
Clay loaned Randy his canoe, and promised to repair the Water Sprite
during the latter's absence. Then the foraging expedition paddled out
into the creek, equipped with tin pails and canvas sacks.
Clay and Nugget were at no loss to find occupation. It required a good
half hour to wash and dry the dishes, and after that a big stack of
firewood was piled up. Then the Water Sprite was placed across two logs,
and Clay proceeded to make the needed repairs. Having screwed the keel
firmly in place, he thrust cotton under its whole length with his knife
blade, and then put on a plentiful coating of white lead.
"There!" he exclaimed, as he surveyed his own work with satisfaction.
"That canoe won't leak a drop in the morning. I say, Nugget, let's go
fishing a little while. It's only five o'clock, and the boys won't be
back for an hour or two yet."
Nothing could have pleased Nugget more. He made the proviso, however,
that Randy's gun should be taken along.
"I don't know what you're afraid of," said Clay; "but I'll humor you
anyhow."
He shouldered the weapon, first looking to see that it was loaded, and
started up the stream. Nugget trudged behind with the two fishing rods.
Half a mile from camp the boys stopped by a deep pool that presented a
very tempting aspect. The bushes and trees were dense all around it.
"This is where I caught my first fish this morning," whispered Clay, as
he put a nice fat worm on the hook and dropped it in the water.
Almost instantly the line tightened, and the slender rod bent. Clay gave
a quick pull, and something shiny whizzed through the air, landing with
a dull flop some yards behind the boys.
"That was a big fellow," exclaimed Clay. "It flew clear off the hook.
Get it for me, Nugget, will you? I want to catch another."
Nugget obligingly dropped the hook he was baiting, and crawled on hands
and knees into the thicket.
A few seconds later he burst out, yelling wildly for help, while a
crackling of bushes behind him told plainly that something or someone
was in close pursuit.
CHAPTER X
A TRAMP ACROSS COUNTRY
Nugget dashed by Clay without stopping, and crossed the stream, close to
the lower end of the pool, in two or three frantic leaps.
Clay was frightened himself, but observing that the rustling noise in
the thicket had ceased, he boldly stood his ground, taking the
precaution, however, to exchange his fishing rod for the gun.
"What's wrong?" he demanded, turning warily toward Nugget, who was on
the opposite side of the stream with one hand clasping the low boughs of
3 pine tree.
"There's some wild animal in there," cried Nugget hoarsely. "It looked
at me with its shining eyes, and then growled. Shoot it quick, before it
comes out."
Just then the rustling in the thicket recommenced, and with wonderful
celerity Nugget disappeared into the heart of the tree.
But the creature, whatever it might be, was going in the opposite
direction from the pool. This emboldened Clay, and without hesitation he
started in pursuit, paying no attention to Nugget's appealing cries.
Guided by the threshing of bushes he pushed on for ten or twenty yards.
Then it suddenly occurred to him that the animal might be a wildcat or
even a bear, that had strayed down from the mountains. A close encounter
of this nature was by no means to Clay's liking. He stopped, and was
just about turning back, when he saw a dark object passing through a
break in the thicket about thirty feet away.
The shadows were too deep to afford a good glimpse of the animal, but
Clay did not hesitate. Drawing the gun to his shoulder he took quick aim
and fired.
When the smoke cleared the creature had vanished, but from a distance
came a queer grunting noise mingled with the hasty crashing of the
bushes.
"I believe that was a bear," muttered Clay, "and unless I'm greatly
mistaken I put a few shot into his hind quarters."
He stood listening until the sounds had died away, and then retraced his
steps toward the pool, satisfied that no more trouble was to be
apprehended from the unwelcome prowler.
Nugget was still in the tree, and came down very reluctantly, even when
he knew what had happened. Then the boys shouldered their fishing rods
and hurried back to camp, arriving there just as Ned and Randy paddled
up the mouth of the stream.
Clay's adventure--which he related with conscious pride--caused somewhat
of a sensation. Randy and Nugget wanted to break camp at once, and Clay
was more than inclined to side with them.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Ned. "I don't believe it was a wild animal at all,
and even if it was it would hardly come near here again after being shot
at."
"Then what could it have been?" demanded Clay a little sharply.
"Some stray domestic creature, as likely as not," answered Ned.
Clay did not reply. He was far from unwilling to accept this version of
the affair, though he still had his doubts.
The others were reassured by Ned's words, and when the fruits of the
foraging expedition were taken from the canoes all else was forgotten
but supper.
"Won't we have a feast?" said Randy. "Just see here, fellows. Fresh,
yellow butter, a pail of milk, three pies, two loaves of bread, a cup of
cheese, a picked duck, and potatoes and apples! We had a time to get
them, though--a mile and a half down the creek, and half a mile over the
fields."
It was nearly dark when supper was ready, and the meal was eaten with
such slow enjoyment that nine o'clock arrived before the last of the
dishes were washed and put away. Then the tired boys went to bed, after
securing the tent flaps with more than usual care.
No alarm disturbed their sleep that night. Wednesday dawned clear as a
whistle. Before the sun was fairly up the boys took a plunge in the cool
depths of the pool, and the result was such a crop of voracious
appetites that Randy predicted another foraging expedition before the
day was over.
After breakfast Ned sat down on a stone, and spreading a lengthy paper
on his knees, began to study it intently.
"What have you there?" asked Randy.
"A map of the Cumberland Valley," replied Ned. "Do you know, we almost
forgot about our mail arrangements? It's a good thing I remembered it
this morning. If this stream we are camping on now is Otter Run--and
according to the-map it is--then West Hill is only half a dozen miles
due east of us.
"That is the first place we were to expect letters, and we won't get any
nearer to it than we are now. I think I'll walk over. You may go with
me, Clay, if you like. The distance is too much for Nugget, and it's
Randy's turn to stay in camp."
No objection was made to this arrangement, and all hurriedly produced
paper and pencils and sat down on the grass to write letters home.
"I'm asking for a cake," said Randy. "Where shall I have it sent?"
"Carlisle," answered Ned. "We will be there next week. Tell them to make
it a big one."
"And not to forget to put icing on it," added Clay.
"Oh, that goes without telling," said Randy laughingly. "They know what
I like."
In half an hour all the letters were sealed and addressed. Then Ned and
Clay brushed off their clothes and put on neckties, greatly to Randy's
amusement.
"What are you laughing at?" exclaimed Ned. "Don't you know that we may
be invited out to dinner at West Hill? I wish I had a dress suit with
me."
"What a pity you haven't," said Randy mockingly. "Nugget will lend you
his yachting cap."
"Of course I will," said Nugget in all seriousness. "Say, Ned," he
whispered, coming up close, "I--I have a white shirt in my bag and a
dotted vest. I thought they might come in handy. You are quite welcome
to them, you know, if--"
Nugget's indiscreet confession went no further. Ned rolled on the
ground, choking with laughter. He actually couldn't help it.
Clay and Randy had heard every word, and poor Nugget was finally obliged
to take refuge in the tent.
"This won't do," said Ned, struggling to keep a sober face. "We must be
off. I hope you won't get in any fresh scrapes while we are away, Randy.
You had better stay about camp. You may look for us back some time this
afternoon--not later than four o'clock."
"Oh, I won't have time to get in mischief," laughed Randy. "It will take
all day to write my log book up to date. I haven't touched it since
night before last."
It was about half past nine o'clock when the boys started. They paddled
across the creek and landed at the foot of the hill. Randy accompanied
them in the Water Sprite, so that he could tow the canoe back with him.
"Just you fellows sing out," he said. "I'll hear you and come across."
"All right," returned Ned, as he commenced the steep ascent of the hill,
with Clay at his heels.
Reaching the summit they turned and waved their hands to Randy, who was
slowly paddling toward camp, far below them.
Of the camp itself not a vestige could be seen, even from this
elevation.
Then the boys set their faces toward the east, and strode briskly
through the pine forest that covered the level plateau. For a mile or
two the land was very rugged and lonely. Then open fields began to
appear here and there, and an occasional farmhouse nestled amid orchards
in a valley, or standing boldly against the sky from a hill top.
Such implicit faith did Ned place in his map that he shunned the roads,
and did not think it worth while to stop at any of the farmhouses to ask
information. With a view to reaching the village in the most direct
manner, he cut straight across country, skirting fields of grain and
corn, it is true, but taking everything else as it came--hills, ravines,
orchards, and meadows.
And all this time the boys were making one of the most foolish blunders
that can well be imagined--taking into consideration, of course, the
peculiar nature of the creek and the constantly shifting scenery
through which they were passing. Later on, when the consequences of
their thoughtlessness stared them in the face, they wondered how they
could have been so blind.
When the farmhouse bells began to clang from distant points the boys
knew that it was half past eleven o'clock.
"We have surely covered six miles in two hours," said Ned. "West Hill
can't be far away. No doubt we will see it from that next ridge."
But when the ridge was gained no village was in sight. Something else
was visible, however--a narrow country road, running at right angles to
the direction from which the boys had come; and nailed to the fence was
a sign post, inscribed in crooked black letters as follows:
To West Hill
3 Miles.
There was nothing for it but to go on, and that they did in a weary,
dispirited manner.
"The map can't be wrong," said Ned, "the trouble is that we veered a
little too far south in our course. We'll make a nearer cut of it on the
return trip. Walk a little faster, Clay; it will be a tight squeeze to
reach camp by four o'clock."
It wanted a little less than three hours to that time when the boys
reached the little cluster of six houses which comprised West Hill. The
signboard had probably told only half the truth in regard to
distance--as country signboards usually do.
The postoffice was, of course, combined with a produce store. At this
time of day its only occupants were the proprietor and a grizzled old
farmer puffing at a corncob pipe.
The letters were soon mailed, and in response to Ned's inquiry he was
handed a weighty hat box addressed to Randolph Moore, and a batch of
half a dozen letters.
"I'll bet a dollar that's a cake," said Clay. "It will tickle Randy."
"It wouldn't tickle him if he had to carry it about nine miles," replied
Ned ruefully, "and the box says 'handle with care,' too."
However, the cake could not be left behind, and the boys agreed to carry
it by turns.
"How far is Otter Run from here in a straight line?" inquired Ned of the
storekeeper.
"'Bout eleven mile," was the reply. "Ain't that kerect, Bowser?"
"It's mor'n that by road," said the old farmer, taking his pipe from his
lips. "It's a good thirteen mile to Tanner's Dam, an' the run comes in
just below the mill race."
The boys exchanged glances of dismay.
"That map fooled me after all," muttered Ned. "The camp can't be
anywhere near Otter Run."
He then explained the situation to the two men, describing as minutely
as possible the location of the camp. Both wagged their heads dubiously.
"I can't fix it to a sartainty," said the storekeeper.
"Nor kin I," observed Mr. Bowser. "There air heaps of jest sich runs,
an' high hills an' bits of bad water--same as you chaps tell about."
It was evident that no positive information could be obtained, so the
boys said "good day," and left the store.
"Under the circumstances we won't risk making a bee line for camp," said
Ned. "If we had any landmarks to go by it would be different."
"Then must we go back the way we came?" asked Clay.
"Exactly; we have nine weary miles to tramp. I'm sorry, but it can't be
helped. Just think of a good supper and a snug bed, Clay, and you won't
mind the distance so much."
"It's this confounded box that worries me," muttered Clay. "I believe
I'd sooner carry a feather bed. The crazy thing jerks when I stick it
under one arm, and if I hug it to my breast it hits me on the chin every
few seconds. It's so heavy that the cords cut my hand if I try to carry
it that way. I wish I could balance it on my head."
Clay did not exaggerate the perverse and obstinate nature of that hat
box. It changed bearers no less than six times before the mendacious
signpost was reached, and then its victims were so exhausted that they
had to lie down on the grass and rest.
CHAPTER XI
SEARCHING FOR THE CAMP
It was already past three o'clock when the boys resumed their tramp,
abandoning the road and heading across country along the same course by
which they had come.
For the first two or three miles they did not pay any special attention
to the scenery around them; they were kept busy climbing fences and
hills, and taking care of the refractory cake box, which became more and
more of a burden every moment. Finally as they were descending a long
wooded slope, Ned was amazed to discover that the mountains, instead of
being straight ahead, lay off to the right.
"That's a funny mistake," he said. "I wonder how long we have been
moving parallel with the creek instead of toward it? Some of those snaky
ravines we passed through must have turned us around without our knowing
it."
"I hope we haven't lost the path," returned Clay. "Nothing about here
looks familiar to me, but then I didn't pay much attention to the
scenery this morning."
"Neither did I," replied Ned uneasily, "and I'm afraid that's just where
we made a big mistake. If we had only noted some landmarks as we came
along, we would not be in this fix now. It really is a pretty serious
fix, Clay. You see we can't tell how long we have been traveling in this
wrong direction. The only thing we can do now is to head straight for
the mountains, and run the chances of striking the creek in the vicinity
of the camp."
"That's true," assented Clay. "I hope we'll reach it before dark. Randy
and Nugget will be pretty badly scared if we don't."
They started off again, headed this time in the proper direction. Of
course the mountains were visible only at rare intervals, and this added
to the perplexity of the situation, since it is very difficult to keep
on a straight line unless some guiding point is constantly in view.
It was soon evident that the boys were far astray from the path they had
followed that morning. The country was more lonely and rugged--a
continual succession of steep hills and dense bits of forest. Few
farmhouses were visible, and those only at a distance.
The sun sank lower and lower as they trudged wearily along. The many
miles already covered that day were beginning to tell on them severely.
They were hungry, too, having eaten nothing since breakfast.
"I wish we had bought some crackers and cheese at the store," said Ned;
"I thought about it when we were nearly a mile away, but it was too late
then to go back."
"We have Randy's cake," replied Clay. "I'm going to break into it if we
don't soon reach camp. I don't remember when I was so hungry as I am
now."
"Wait a little while," said Ned. "The creek surely can't be far away.
The chances are that it lies beyond that next hill."
The hill to which he had reference was a good half mile distant, and the
pine trees on its crest loomed sharply against the blue sky. Ere
reaching it the boys were destined to be deprived of their burden in a
very aggravating manner--and just when they had begun to appreciate its
value as a means of satisfying their hunger.
As they emerged from a copse of hazel bushes on a narrow country road, a
big black dog bounded from the step of a little cabin a few yards away,
and came at them in a most ferocious manner. The boys darted across the
road and into a clover field through a broken place in the fence.
The dog followed, paying not the least attention to the loud commands of
a woman who stood in the cabin door. When Ned wheeled around the brute
was within a dozen feet of him, growling savagely, showing his fangs and
teeth, and coming on at a pace which meant business.
Shouting had no effect whatever, and as not a stick or a stone was
within reach, the boy's situation was far from pleasant. But he had the
cake box in his arms, and on the impulse of the moment he lifted it over
his head with both hands and dashed it with all his might at the
advancing brute.
It struck him fairly on the nose, breaking open with the force of the
blow, and turning the angry snarls into a shrill yelp of pain. Ned did
not wait to see the result, but dashed across the field to overtake
Clay.
When they turned and looked back from a safe distance, the dog was
greedily devouring the broken cake.
"We won't be troubled with that any more," said Ned. "I had to do it, or
the brute would have bitten me. I don't think Randy will blame me much."
"It means good-by to our supper though," replied Clay, "and from the way
that dog eats, his appetite won't be more than half satisfied when he
finishes the cake. We had better be moving on."
This was prudent advice, and the boys made quick time across the field,
not feeling thoroughly safe until they were in the shelter of the woods.
The ground now began to ascend, and a few moments later they gained the
top of the hill and saw the silvery thread of the creek shining far
below them.
It took some time to descend, owing to the steepness of the slope, and
the rocks and bushes that obstructed the way. When they finally reached
the water's edge the duskiness of twilight had come, and they knew that
darkness would follow in a short time.
"I haven't the faintest idea where we are," said Ned uneasily; "of
course we are above the camp, no doubt of that; but just how far, is the
important question. I feel like kicking myself for making that awful
blunder to-day. It would be a nice thing if we had to tramp all night."
"You don't think the camp is that far away?" exclaimed Clay in alarm.
"Oh, no," replied Ned reassuringly. "We'll probably strike it before
long. The only thing we can do is to follow the creek until we reach
it."
Ned's words were far from expressing what was really in his mind. He
knew that the camp might be very close in a straight line, and yet miles
away by the tortuous windings of the creek. And the latter was the only
possible course to take. If they attempted the former they would almost
certainly become hopelessly lost.
It was soon evident that the worst might be expected. In the deepening
gloom the boys hurried along the shore as fast as their weary feet would
take them. Then the blackness of the night settled down on the water and
the forests, and they were compelled to move cautiously; for trees and
bushes were thick, and here and there a ravine had to be crossed, or a
brawling stream.
Ned bravely kept up his spirits, and did his best to cheer Clay.
"It can't be much farther," he would say now and then; "keep your ears
open for the roar of those rapids. That will tell us when we are near
camp."
But the night lengthened without bringing the welcome sound, and at last
the boys found their progress abruptly barred by a steep bluff that fell
abruptly into the water. It was not the hill that lay in the vicinity of
camp, else the rapids could surely have been heard. The night was very
still, except for an occasional noise in the forest that made the boys
start.
They were confronted now by two equally unpleasant alternatives--either
to remain where they were until morning, or to make a detour around the
hill, and try to reach the creek on the lower side.
They chose the latter, and started up through the woods hand in hand.
They might have foreseen what would happen. The night was very dark, and
after floundering about through the bushes they became hopelessly lost,
and knew not which way to turn in search of the creek.
Clay was quite in despair, but Ned persuaded him to move on, and after
tramping for ten or fifteen minutes without the least idea which way
they were headed, they reached a fence that separated the woods from an
open field. As they mounted the top bar and perched themselves there for
a short rest, Ned uttered a cry of delight, and pointed out a flickering
yellow gleam far across the field.
"Hurrah! that must be the camp," exclaimed Clay, springing impetuously
from the fence. "Come on; let's run for it. I don't feel a bit tired
now."
"Not too fast," cried Ned warningly. "You're jumping at a rash
conclusion now, Clay. That light is in the window of some farmhouse. It
stands to reason that it can't be at our camp."
Clay stopped and retraced his steps.
"I was dead sure it was the campfire," he said dismally. "I thought our
troubles were over."
"Perhaps they are," replied Ned slowly. "We'll go up to that farmhouse
and find out exactly how the land lies. If the camp is not far off,
we'll borrow a lantern and push on--otherwise we'll ask for a place to
sleep until morning."
This arrangement was thoroughly satisfactory to Clay, and the boys
started briskly across the field. They found an orchard at the farther
end, and after passing through this and rounding the corner of the barn,
they saw the house in front of them.
It stood in a good sized yard inclosed by a picket fence. The light was
in one of the upper front rooms, where some late retiring member of the
family was no doubt preparing for bed.
"It won't do to make any racket," said Ned, "because there may be a dog
around. We'll go quietly in and rap on the door."
The boys softly opened the gate and entered the yard. In spite of the
utmost caution their feet made a crunching noise on the gravel path, and
the consequence was that before they were half way to the house a dog
began to bark furiously. Worse still, the sound came from between them
and the fence, so that escape was cut off.
"This way," cried Ned, dashing toward the corner of the house. "We may
find shelter in the outbuildings."
He had taken but a dozen steps when his feet clattered on some loose
boards. These gave way with a crash, and after a brief drop through
empty space, he plunged into ice cold water, going clear under the
surface.
The noise of the splitting wood that followed warned Clay of his danger.
He stood stock still, trembling in every limb.
The dog did not appear to be coming any nearer, and his shrill barking
was now mingled with the clank of chains. All at once Clay comprehended
the situation. The brute was fastened to his kennel somewhere near the
gate, and was therefore powerless to do harm.
Clay's presence of mind quickly returned. He drew a match from his
pocket and struck it on his shoe just as a feeble cry for help came
apparently from the bowels of the earth.
As the blaze flared up Clay saw the partially covered mouth of a well
just in front of him. The gap between the planking showed where Ned had
fallen through.
Clay was terribly alarmed, but he had sufficient presence of mind to
kneel beside the orifice and hold the match down.
"Are you hurt, Ned?" he cried huskily. "Can you hold out for a moment or
two?"
"I'm all right so far," came the reply in a feeble, chattering voice. "I
can't stand it long, though. The water is over my head, and I'm holding
on to the cracks in the wall. Waken the family, quick!"
CHAPTER XIII
OVER THE CLIFF
Ned's last injunction was quite unnecessary. The loud outcry of the dog
had already roused the family.
Heads were poked from two or three windows, and a shrill feminine voice
was shouting: "Get the gun, pap, get the gun!"
Meanwhile Clay continued to call for help at the top of his voice,
finally drowning out the ferocious barking of the dog, and after what
seemed an interminable length of time the door of the house opened and
the farmer appeared on the threshold, attired in shirt and trousers.
He had a gun in one hand and a candle in the other. Behind him were two
good sized lads armed with clubs, while the flutter of a petticoat was
visible on the stairway.
"Hurry! hurry!" cried Clay. "There's some one down the well."
The farmer crossed the yard with provoking calmness, holding his gun
ready for use.
"Why, it's only a boy!" he exclaimed, on catching sight of Clay. "What
are you doing here, you young rascal?"
"Don't stop to ask questions now," implored Clay. "Get my friend out of
the well, or he will be drowned."
The farmer uttered an exclamation, and peeped through the broken boards.
Then he seized the bucket that was suspended by a windlass over the well
and quickly lowered it.
"Catch hold down there," he shouted gruffly.
"All right, go ahead," came the sepulchral response, a moment later.
The farmer and his two sons threw their weight on the handle of the
windlass, and after considerable creaking and groaning Ned was brought
to the surface and helped out on the ground. His face and hands were
blue and his teeth chattered violently.
"Bring the poor fellow right in," called the farmer's wife from the
porch, where she had witnessed the whole affair. "I'll go light the
fire."
"The rascal don't deserve it," muttered the farmer, but nevertheless he
led the boys into the house, and thence to a large room containing a
stove, a table, a huge settee and half a dozen chairs. A lamp was
burning on the mantel, and a pleasant faced old lady was bustling about
the stove.
Ned's wet clothes were quickly stripped off, and he was rolled in
blankets and made to lie down on the settee. Presently the old lady
brought him a bowl of steaming camomile tea, and after he had swallowed
most of the nauseous mixture he began to feel quite himself again. Then,
seeing that the farmer was suspicious and anxious for an explanation,
he insisted on talking, and related the whole story in such a clear and
concise manner that his hearers were thoroughly convinced.
The farmer thawed out, and showed himself in his true colors--a genial,
kind-hearted old man. He told the boys his name was Adam Plunkett, and
laughingly apologized for mistaking them for thieves.
When Mrs. Plunkett heard that they had eaten nothing since breakfast she
immediately began to set the table--in spite of the fact that it was
then half past ten o'clock. Ned refused to be treated as an invalid any
longer, so Mr. Plunkett gave him a suit of clothes to wear while his own
were drying.
The food was soon ready, and the famished boys did it full justice.
"I reckon you'll want to go to bed now," said Mr. Plunkett; "you must be
worn out after all that tramp. In the morning I'll tell you how to find
your camp. I recognize the place from your description. It's about five
miles and a half from here by road, and a good bit further by the
creek."
The boys gasped with amazement. It was hard to realize that they had
strayed so far out of their way.
"I'm afraid our companions will be greatly worried," said Ned. "That's
all I'm thinking about."
"A little worry won't hurt 'em," asserted Mr. Plunkett cheerfully.
"It'll do 'em good, and make them more glad to see you in the morning."
This bit of philosophy had its effect on the boys, and the last trace
of anxiety vanished when their host conducted them to the room they were
to occupy. It was the typical country "spare bed-chamber." Home spun
carpet covered the floor, and on the walls were cardboard mottoes in
walnut frames, a sampler yellow with age, and portraits of George and
Martha Washington. The bed was a huge four poster, and stood so high
that the boys had to give a spring in order to climb in.
They fell asleep almost instantly, and found it difficult to get up in
the morning when the farmer banged on the door with his heavy fist.
Mrs. Plunkett had a delicious breakfast ready when the boys came down
stairs, and after they had eaten their fill the farmer carefully
instructed them how to reach their camp--or rather how to reach a
certain point on the creek which was less than a quarter of a mile above
the rapids.
The boys had read the character of their hosts sufficiently well to know
that it would be regarded as an insult if they should offer them money.
So they thanked them profusely for their generous treatment, and said
"good-by," promising to stop if they ever chanced to be in that vicinity
again.
After a good sleep and a good breakfast the five mile walk was a trifle
to the boys. They had no difficulty in following the directions, and
about half past ten o'clock they turned aside from the road and entered
a piece of woods.
Ten minutes later they stood on the bank of the creek, listening to the
familiar sound of the rapids below them. The steep hill began at this
point, making it impossible to follow the shore, so they began the
ascent and reached the crest after a pretty stiff climb. The camp was
now directly opposite, though entirely concealed by the huge shellbark
trees.
"Let's give them the yell," said Ned. He placed his hand to his mouth
and uttered a regular Indian war whoop that woke the echoes for a long
distance. Clay did the same, and they both stopped to listen.
A minute went by in silence, and then another. No glad shout of welcome
rang out from the trees. No graceful canoe parted the fringe of bushes
that concealed the mouth of the run.
What was the matter? Were the boys sleeping so soundly that the signal
could not rouse them? This seemed the only possible explanation, so Clay
and Ned shouted more vigorously than ever, and kept it up until they
were hoarse.
Not a sound came back. The silence of the morning was absolutely
unbroken.
The boys looked at each other with pale and frightened faces. They dared
not even whisper the terrible thoughts that were in their minds. Then,
by tacit consent, they scrambled down the ragged face of the hill, and
at great peril to life and limb gained the bottom in three or four
minutes.
They partly undressed to wade to the gravel bar, for the water was more
than waist deep. Here they stopped a moment to put on their clothes, and
then, with trousers rolled high up, they waded to the mouth of the
stream, and pushed eagerly through the screen of bushes.
The scene that met their gaze filled them with dread and amazement. _The
glade was deserted. Every vestige of the camp had disappeared._
For a moment the boys could scarcely believe the evidence of their own
eyes. They hurried forward and inspected every foot of the ground.
Absolutely nothing had been left behind. The downtrodden grass, where
the tent had stood, was the only evidence to show that a camp had
recently been here.
"This is a bigger mystery than I can see through," said Ned as he bent
over the blackened stones of the fireplace. "The boys must have left
here some time yesterday, for these ashes are cold. It looks as though
they had to leave in a hurry, too, for if they had any time to spare
they would surely have placed a message where we could see it. I have
examined all the trees and bushes, and there is no sign of any."
"It's a bad business," replied Clay. "The boys would not have broken
camp without some cause. I only hope that Bug Batters and his companions
had nothing to do with it."
The same fear was in Ned's mind just then, and it was very natural that
it should be. How else could the disappearance of the boys be accounted
for?
"We can't tell anything about it," he answered evasively, "and it would
be very foolish to jump at the worst conclusions. It will be our best
plan to start down the creek at once, and I have no doubt we'll find the
camp before very long. It's not at all likely the boys have moved far
away."
"But they may have concealed themselves somewhere," said Clay, "and
besides we don't know which bank they are on."
"We'll keep a sharp lookout on both sides," replied Ned. "If we shout
every now and then I don't think we can miss them. We had better start
right away. I'm getting tired of wandering about the country in this
fashion. It will feel awfully good to climb in a canoe again."
Clay warmly assented to this, and after a last lingering glance at the
shady thickets and the eddying surface of the pool, the boys plodded off
through the woods.
For a time they experienced no difficulty in following the edge of the
creek, and thus scrutinizing the opposite shore as well as the one they
were on. Occasionally they shouted; first at rare intervals, then more
frequently as they advanced farther along the creek.
At the expiration of an hour and a half they had traveled three or four
miles, and rounded a couple of large bends without getting any response
to their calls, or finding the least trace of the missing boys.
Then a precipitous hill blocked the way, extending a considerable
distance along the creek, and leading sheer to the water from a
variable height of forty to sixty feet.
"No use in going around it, Ned. We'll follow the crest so we can watch
the opposite shore."
They easily gained the summit, and found a sort of open path between the
edge of the thick pine forest and the verge of the cliff. It was half a
dozen feet wide and had quite a downward slope. There was quite an
element of danger connected with the ascent, since it was slippery with
a coating of pine needles. The boys did not think of this, however. Of
course they kept close to the trees, but as their gaze was fixed on the
opposite shore, which was in plain view far below them, they could not
pick out their footing as carefully as they should have done.
Pine needles are treacherous things, even on level ground, and when Clay
happened to step on a particularly thick bunch his foot slipped and he
was thrown quickly on his side. Before he could realize his danger he
slid to the verge of the precipice--where there was nothing to stop
him--and vanished from sight.
Ned was horror stricken, and had to clutch the nearest tree for support.
Half a dozen seconds passed, but the splash that he dreaded to hear did
not come. Then he made his way cautiously to a rock that jutted from the
cliff half a dozen-feet from where Clay had fallen. Ned threw himself
flat on his breast and peered down.
Clay was twenty feet below him clinging to a bunch of stout bushes that
grew in a crevice of the cliff. His feet rested on a tiny ledge no more
than six inches wide, and below him was a clear drop of thirty feet to
the dark surface of the creek.
Ned realized his utter inability to render aid, and his agony found vent
in a sharp cry.
Clay turned a white, pitiful face upward.
"You can't help me," he gasped hoarsely. "The bushes are tearing loose.
If the water is deep I stand a chance. Try to get--"
His feeble voice was smothered by a sharp ripping noise, and the next
instant he plunged downward, attended by a shower of dirt and stones.
CHAPTER XIII
WHAT CLAY SHOT
We must now take the reader back to the previous morning, and see what
befell Randy and Nugget after their companions had started for West
Hill. Nugget amused himself until dinner time by fishing at the mouth of
the run, and caught a number of sunfish and chubs.
When he returned Randy had just finished entering the events of the
cruise in the log book. Then they started in to get dinner, and Randy
proved himself no novice in culinary affairs by frying a delicious
panful of fish and boiling some excellent coffee.
The distasteful work of washing the dishes was duly performed, and then
they began to consider what they should do next. Randy wanted to go away
up the stream for trout, but Nugget was unwilling to trust himself in
the woods after his experience of the previous evening, and was equally
determined not to remain alone in camp.
This obstinate conduct roused Randy's temper, and indications pointed a
lively quarrel.
"I never saw such a coward," he exclaimed angrily. "You're a nice fellow
to go on a canoe trip, I must say."
"I'm not a coward," returned Nugget hotly. "I'm not afraid of you,
anyhow, and if you call me any more names I'll show you something."
Randy laughed scornfully, and was about to make a bitter reply when a
trampling noise was heard in the woods behind the tent, followed by a
violent agitation of the bushes. A few seconds later a big brindle cow
appeared on the scene, followed by a small boy shouting "Hi! hi!" at the
top of his voice.
The cow was evidently in no mood to listen to argument; she pranced at
the tent with lowered horns, knocked it flat, and trampled with dirty
hoofs over the clean canvas.
Then she rushed at Nugget with a vicious bellow, and after pursuing him
a few yards in the direction of the creek, she suddenly changed her
mind, and charged on Randy and the small boy, who were standing by the
edge of the pool. The latter escaped by dodging nimbly to one side, but
Randy was not agile enough, and as the cow brushed by him her revolving
tail lashed him smartly over the face, and tumbled him into the pool.
He emerged dripping wet, and mad as a hornet, just in time to see the
cow retreating in the direction she had come, with the small boy in
pursuit.
"Look here," cried Randy, "what do you mean by letting a vicious animal
like that run loose? Look at that tent, and look at the condition I'm
in. For half a cent I'd get my gun and shoot the brute."
The boy stopped at the edge of the bushes and looked back. He was quite
a little fellow, with sunburned legs and face.
"That cow has more right here than you-uns," he said sullenly. "My uncle
Dan owns this land. He knows you-uns are here, and he's comin' down
pretty soon, too. He says you-uns will be sorry you shot that calf afore
he gits done with you."
Randy stared at the lad in amazement, and then a sudden light broke on
his mind.
"That explains the bear story," he muttered, and then added to Nugget,
who had just ventured to come forward: "You fellows have got us in a
pretty mess. It was a calf that Clay shot last night. I'm glad it's not
my fault this time."
"A calf!" exclaimed Nugget. "I don't see how it can be possible. It had
shiny eyes."
"The calf was shot, anyhow," said the boy. "It got astray yesterday
afternoon, and our hired man found it this morning. It ain't hurt very
bad, an Uncle Dan thinks it'll get well. That's the reason the cow is so
cross, 'cause she can't have the calf with her. She broke the fence down
this morning an' got into the woods. I'll have a hard time gittin' her
home again."
"You say your uncle is cross about the calf?" asked Randy.
"He's hoppin' mad," said the boy. "He's going to give you all a
lickin', an' then hev you locked up for trespassin'."
"But suppose we explain to him that it was all a mistake, and offer to
pay the damages," continued Randy, "wouldn't that satisfy him?"
The boy shook his head.
"Uncle Dan ain't that kind. When he gets mad nobody kin stop him, I
reckon he'll lick you chaps pretty hard."
"I reckon he won't," said Randy, decisively. "Not if we know ourselves.
Pitch in and help, Nugget; we must light out of this as quick as
possible."
Nugget was only too willing to lend his aid, and the tent was speedily
rolled up, and deposited in the cockpit of the Pioneer, where it
belonged.
"Uncle Dan may be here any minute," said the boy. "You-uns had better
wait."
"Say, you'd like to see us licked, wouldn't you?" inquired Randy. "I'm
sorry we can't oblige you by staying. Here is a dollar for your uncle to
square up the damage to the calf. Just say to him that it was a mistake,
and that he needn't come after us, because we are going straight through
to Harrisburg."
The lad pocketed the money, and after looking on for a little while in
silence he went away to hunt the refractory cow.
The boys worked with feverish energy--not forgetting to keep a sharp eye
on the woods--and in scarcely more time than it takes to tell everything
was in the canoes.
"It goes hard to leave here," said Randy, "but it can't be helped. It
would be a nice ending to the canoe trip if we got locked up for
trespassing. I hope the dollar will satisfy that man."
"What are we going to do about Ned and Clay?" asked Nugget.
"I'll attend to that," replied Randy, as he stepped into the Water
Sprite and tied its stern to the bow of the Pioneer.
The other two canoes were arranged in the same way, and then the boys
paddled quickly out of the stream.
They first crossed to the other side of the creek, where Randy wrote a
short explanatory note for Ned and Clay, instructing them to follow the
creek down about three or four miles.
"It won't be safe for us to stop short of that distance," he remarked as
he pinned the big white document to a tree at the base of the hill.
"The boys can't miss this when they come down to the water. They ought
to be here in about two hours."
Having arranged their means of communication, Randy climbed back into
the canoe, and led the way down stream. Progress was necessarily
tedious, since the current was sluggish, and each had an additional
canoe in tow. They felt more at ease when they had passed round the
first bend, and after paddling for two or three miles--as nearly as
could be judged--they began to search for a good camping place.
They did not find one that suited their requirements for some time, but
finally, while drifting along the base of a precipitous cliff, they came
to a good sized cleft or hollow. It was half a dozen yards wide. It
sloped gradually upward, narrowing as it went, until it terminated in a
ravine which seemed to continue on to the top of the hill.
The beach was hard and stony ground, with a few stunted bushes, but
there was ample room for a tent, and moreover on each side was a sheer
wall of rock towering forty feet in the air.
The boys landed, and with much difficulty dragged the canoes out of the
water.
"This place just suits us," said Randy. "There is no danger of the
farmer finding us here, if we _are_ on his side of the creek. And we
need not be afraid to keep a fire going, because these rocks will shut
out the light."
It was now half past four o'clock, and when the tent had been pitched--a
difficult piece of work for two persons--and the canoes unloaded, the
boys began to prepare a good supper in readiness for Ned and Clay.
Six o'clock came, and then seven, but the anxiously expected ones did
not appear on the other side of the creek.
Randy and Nugget were too hungry to wait any longer, so they ate their
supper by twilight. When it grew a little darker they built a roaring
fire at the edge of the water. There was an abundance of driftwood
farther up the slope, which had been left there at various times by the
high water.
When nine o'clock came the boys were seriously alarmed, and all sorts of
dreadful possibilities occurred to them. They found it impossible to
sleep, and all through the long hours of that night they sat about the
fire, constantly piling on wood, and keeping a huge blaze going to guide
the missing ones to the camp.
The first glimmer of dawn found them worn out by sleeplessness and
despair. It was impossible to maintain their vigil any longer, so they
stuck the pennant in the sand close to the edge of the water, and
crawling into the tent, went to sleep side by side.
A cannon shot could hardly have wakened them then. The sun rose higher
and higher until its direct rays beat fiercely down upon the tent from a
cloudless sky above, but still they slumbered on.
The heat finally became intolerable, and Randy turned drowsily over and
opened his eyes. As he sat up with an effort, struggling to clear his
mind, he heard a tremendous splash, and then a loud, shrill cry.
He was thoroughly awake now, and jerking Nugget to an upright position,
he turned and ran out of the tent. He gained the shore and looked up
stream.
A thick mass of bushes was drifting leisurely along the base of the
cliff a dozen feet above, and something behind it--as yet invisible--was
making a great commotion in the water.
Then a head appeared, and a pair of struggling arms, and to his joy and
amazement Randy recognized Clay. The lad's strength barely sufficed to
reach the shore, and Randy helped him out on land just as Nugget came
running from the tent.
Clay staggered up the slope and dropped down in the bushes.
"I fell off the cliff," he stammered with chattering teeth. "Ned is up
there; call to him."
Randy and Nugget shouted with all their might, and a reply was heard
instantly. Then Ned appeared far up on the cliff and waved his hand. He
vanished at once, and a moment later came impetuously down the ravine,
leaping rocks and bushes in his haste.
His face was paler than the boys had ever seen it, and tears stood in
his eyes. He hurriedly clasped hands with Randy and Nugget, and
approached Clay.
"Are you hurt, old fellow?" he asked huskily. "That was a wonderful
escape. I thought it was all up with you."
Clay smiled faintly.
"I'll be all right in a little while. I'm suffering from the shock,
that's all. I don't think there is a bruise on me."
A fire was quickly made, while Ned explained to his companions the
catastrophe that had happened on the cliff. Then Clay was stripped and
rubbed down with a coarse towel, and after his dry clothes were on he
declared he felt as well as ever.
A good dinner was prepared, and when all were seated around the flat
rock that served for a table, Ned produced the packet of letters and
gave a minute account of the wanderings and adventures which it had cost
to obtain them. The story of Randy's cake provoked much laughter, and
Randy assured Ned that he had done the proper thing under the
circumstances.
Then the other side of the story was told, and listened to with even
greater interest. Clay was chaffed unmercifully about the calf, and
Nugget also came in for a goodly share of ridicule.
The failure of the boys to find Randy's letter was a mystery at first,
but Ned finally suggested that it had been blown into the water, which
was no doubt the case.