A NIGHT ALARM
By that strange destiny which oftentimes frowns on the good and lends a
helping hand to the evil, Randy experienced no very disastrous results
from the collision. The canoe rebounded a few feet, and the sail fell
from the mastpole into the water.
He was terribly shaken up, it is true, but far greater was the shock
when he realized what he had done. At first nothing was visible but the
upturned boat and a yellow dog paddling on all fours for the nearest
bank.
It was manifestly impossible that the dog could have been the only
occupant of the boat, and besides Randy had heard a shrill cry just
before the collision. He was much relieved therefore when a head shot
above the water a few feet below the boat.
This belonged to the little man, and an instant later his fat companion
came to the surface. The latter had lost his hat, and the top of his
head was as white and shiny as a billiard ball.
The little man sounded for bottom, and not finding it, swam vigorously
for shore. The fat man tried the same experiment, and being a good head
and a half taller than his companion, obtained footing at a depth which
brought the water almost to his chin. Having thus strengthened his
position, he spat the water from his mouth and turned his head around to
see what occult power was responsible for his misfortune.
When he saw Randy quietly sitting in the canoe a few yards above his
face purpled with rage.
"You'll pay for this outrage," he stuttered hoarsely. "I'll beat you
black and blue when I get hold of you. I'll give you six months in the
county jail at hard labor, you brainless young ruffian--you audacious
wooden headed idiot, you--"
Just then the angry gentleman's string of epithets was cut short in a
summary manner, for the wet folds of the blanket sail, which had somehow
managed to drift around the corner of the boat, slapped him on the
mouth, and the unexpected shock caused him to lose his balance and slip
under water.
Such an opportunity was not to be neglected, and with quick, furious
strokes Randy paddled around the upturned boat and headed down stream,
bent on escaping the promised chastisement.
The fat man came up directly beneath the sail, and consequently had to
go under for a second attempt. This time he was all right, and the
moment his head was out of water and his feet planted on the bottom he
caught sight of Randy, who was just gliding by at a distance of half a
dozen feet.
"Stop, you rascal, stop!" he yelled hoarsely.
Randy did not obey; he only paddled the faster.
The irascible old fellow glared at him in helpless rage for a second,
and then his face lit up with an awful smile as he saw the big fishing
pole floating on the water within reach. The line was fastened in some
way to the boat.
It was the work of an instant to snatch the pole and tear it free. Then
lifting it overhead the man made a furious stroke at the rapidly
receding canoe.
Whisk! whisk! came the elastic end with stinging force against Randy's
back and shoulders. Maddened by the pain he partially rose and leaned
forward. At the second blow he reeled to one side, stumbled against the
combing, and went out of the canoe backward without upsetting it.
His enemy was by no means satisfied with what punishment he had already
inflicted. He dropped the pole, and made haste to join the little man
and yellow dog on the bank.
"Ebenezer," he cried angrily, "pursue that young rascal. Chase him down
the creek. If you catch him I'll give you a five dollar bill."
More from fear of disobeying than from any hope of earning the reward,
the little man started off on a run with the yellow dog at his heels.
Just at this moment Ned and his companions reached the scene of the
disaster. The fat man stopped wringing the water from his trousers to
shake his fist at them.
"You're all alike," he growled, "all alike! I never saw a boy that
wasn't a born reprobate. I wish I had you out on shore; I'd teach you a
lesson."
Ned tried to explain that the upsetting of the boat was a pure accident,
but the angry man refused to hear him.
"Don't tell me," he muttered, "I know better."
Realizing that further argument would be futile, the boys made what
amends they could by chasing the two fishing rods and the hat, and then
lifting the anchors of the boat and pushing it to shore.
The fat man acknowledged these favors with a surly nod of his head, and
so threatening was his manner that the boys hastily retreated from the
bank, and paddled down stream, stopping on the way to recover the sail.
Meanwhile Randy had quietly swum down the creek some distance, pushing
the canoe ahead of him, and landed on the left shore. The boys could see
him plainly as he stood on a rock wringing the water from his clothes.
Having no inclination to swim the creek, Ebenezer had given up the chase
and was now returning along the right bank. When he came opposite the
boys Ned called out:
"Say, tell me who that stout gentleman is, will you?"
The little man hesitated before replying. "That's Judge Gibson, of
Carlisle," he said finally in a very impressive tone. "You fellers may
be glad you ain't sittin' afore him in the dock this minute--especially
that chap down yonder. O, my! wouldn't you get salty sentences though!"
A loud summons from the judge started the little man off in a hurry, and
the conversation came to an abrupt ending.
The boys soon joined Randy, and finding him in a decidedly bad temper,
they made as little allusion as possible to what had occurred. It was
evident from the way he shrugged his shoulders that the blows of the
fishing pole had left a good deal of a sting.
Not knowing what might be expected of Judge Gibson, the boys concluded
to be on the safe side, and as soon as Randy had changed his clothes
they paddled away from the vicinity.
About one o'clock a halt was made for lunch, and as the air was
disagreeably damp and cutting, Ned boiled a pot of coffee.
The cruise was resumed an hour later, and during the afternoon a close
watch was kept for suitable camping places. The indications all presaged
bad weather, and there was no doubt that rain would set in by
morning--if not sooner.
About four o'clock a camping ground was discovered that met with general
approval--a sheltered spot amid great pine trees on the right bank. In
the rear was a steep hill, and a limestone spring was conveniently
close.
The boys spent just one solid hour in arranging things to their
satisfaction, for their stay was likely to be a protracted one, and
they wanted everything snug and comfortable before the rain came.
The tent was staked with more than ordinary care, and then a ditch was
dug around all four sides and the dirt thrown on the edges of the
canvas. A stone fireplace was built between two trees and within easy
reach of the tent door.
A layer of fragrant pine boughs was spread on the floor of the tent, and
both front corners were piled with firewood. The arrangements were
completed by dragging the canoes to the top of the bank and removing all
that they contained.
"That is what I call snug," said Randy complacently. "I won't mind
staying here two or three days. How are we fixed for provisions?"
"Bread will run short to-morrow, but we have plenty of everything else,"
replied Ned. "No doubt there are farm houses near."
This satisfactory report encouraged the boys to prepare a more than
usually sumptuous supper. They washed the dishes by firelight, and just
as the last one was dried the rain began to fall--at first in pattering
drops, then in a steady, persistent sheet.
A great log was thrown on the fire, and after a short chat in its warm
glow the boys drew the tent flaps, and were soon sleeping soundly on the
soft pine boughs.
Some time in the night Ned awoke, and feeling thirsty sat up and reached
for the pail of water and tin cup which were always kept just outside
the tent door.
He took a drink and was in the act of putting the cup down when he heard
distinct footsteps outside. They passed the tent and went on toward the
creek. Whoever the nocturnal stroller might be he was taking no pains to
conceal his presence.
"Say Ned, is that you?" came in a startled whisper from the rear of the
tent.
Ned recognized Randy's voice.
"Are _you_ awake?" he exclaimed in surprise. "Don't make any noise. Some
one is walking about outside."
"I know it," replied Randy. "That's what wakened me. My gun is missing.
I had it right beside me, and now it's gone."
"By Jove! this looks serious," muttered Ned. "Wait a moment," he added.
"I'll take a peep outside. It's pitch dark and I can't be seen."
He quickly lifted one flap of the tent and crawled under. A few seconds
passed--full of terrible suspense to Randy--and then came a clattering
noise followed by a brief red flash and a stunning report.