AN ADVENTURE ON ROBBER ISLAND
The way to the lonely cabin was not an easy one. There was no path, and
they had to scramble over rough rocks and across fallen trees and
through thick masses of brushwood. They forgot about the gully, and only
remembered it when they found themselves floundering in snow up to their
waists.
"For gracious' sake!" cried the senator's son, as he crawled out the
best way he could. "I fancied the bottom had dropped out of everything!"
"I remember this hollow now," answered Dave. "We haven't got much
further to go."
It was a clear December day and quite light under the leafless trees.
There were a few evergreens scattered about, but not many, and these
hung low with their weight of snow. All was intensely silent.
"This ought to be lonely enough to suit anybody," observed Henshaw. He
turned to Roger. "How would you like to come out here some dark night
all alone?"
"None of that for me," was the quick answer.
"Might meet a ghost," said Dave, with a smile.
"Talking of ghosts puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow. "A boy once
had to go through a dark woods all alone----"
"Shadow wants to get us scared," interrupted Dave. "Oh, Shadow, I didn't
think it of you! It's bad enough as it is," he went on, in seeming
reproach. "Don't you know this island is haunted by the man who
committed suicide here?"
"A suicide, Dave?" cried the school story-teller, forgetting all about
the tale he had been on the point of relating.
"Sure. That man tried to kill his wife and seven children, and then hung
himself from a tree not far from here. They say that twice a month his
ghost appears."
"It's about time for the ghost now," added Roger, scenting fun. "Listen!
Didn't I hear a groan!"
"Must have been that," went on Dave. "There it is again!"
"I--I didn't hear anything," faltered Shadow. He was not an excessively
brave lad at the best.
"It's getting pretty dark," continued Dave. "That is when the ghost
shows itself, so I've been informed. If we---- Look! look!" he yelled,
pointing over Shadow's left shoulder.
The story-teller gave a leap forward and glanced around hastily. Dave
was pointing to a clump of bushes.
"Wha--what did you see?" asked Shadow, in a shaking voice.
"I don't know. It was tall and white----"
"The ghost! The ghost!" yelled Roger. "It's coming for us!" And he began
to run back.
Shadow gave a scream of terror and started to run also. As if by
accident, Dave allowed his foot to trip the boy up, and down went the
story-teller of the Hall on his face in the snow.
"Hi! hi! Don't leave me behind!" he bawled, as the others all ran.
"Don't leave me!" and he scrambled up and tore along through the
brushwood as if possessed. The others speedily halted and set up a shout
of laughter, at which Shadow looked very sheepish.
"I--I only ran for the fun of the thing," he explained, lamely. "I knew
all along there wasn't a ghost."
"Shadow shall lead the way," said Dave. "Go ahead, old fellow."
"I--er--I don't know the path," was the quick excuse. "You go on." And
Shadow dropped behind once more and stuck there during the remainder of
the trip.
The cabin was built of rough logs. It had been put up by some hunters
years before, but the sportsmen, owing to the scarcity of game, did not
come to the place any more. It was in a dilapidated condition, and the
snow had driven in through the broken-out window and open doorway.
"Not a very cheerful place," observed Dave, as he led the way inside.
"Let us light a torch, so we can see things."
They procured several pine sticks and soon had them lit, and holding
these aloft surveyed the scene. All was very much as it had been during
their former visit.
"Nothing new, so far as I can see," was Roger's comment.
"Here are some footprints in the snow," came from Messmer. "We didn't
make those."
"Those are the footprints of some animal!" cried Dave. "Maybe there's a
bear here after all." He smiled as he made the remark.
"Looks to me more like the tracks of a horse," answered Henshaw. "Maybe
somebody came over here from the shore on horseback."
"You want to be careful--it may be a wild beast after all," observed
Shadow, nervously.
At that moment came a queer sound from outside of the cabin, which
caused all of the lads to start. Messmer, who had the best of the
torches, dropped it, leaving them almost in darkness.
"Why, I declare----" began Dave, when a form darkened the doorway and
the next instant a big, bony mule entered the old cabin and stood among
them. Some of the boys were frightened and started to retreat.
"It's only a mule!" cried Dave. "I don't think he'll hurt anybody. But
how in the world did he get here?"
"His halter is broken," declared Roger. "He must have run away from
somewhere."
"I know that mule," declared Shadow. "He belongs to Mike Marcy."
The man he mentioned was a farmer, living in the Oakdale district. Marcy
was a close-fisted fellow who never wanted the schoolboys to have any of
his fruit, and Dave, through no fault of his own, had once had
considerable trouble with the fellow.
"I think Shadow is right," said Dave. "I saw that mule around Marcy's
place. If he ran away we ought to take him back to where he belongs."
"Perhaps you'd have some fun trying to ride him," suggested Henshaw.
"Oh, pshaw! anybody could ride that mule," declared Roger. "Why, riding
a mule is as easy as riding a horse. All mules don't love to kick."
"Roger shall have the honor of riding him home," said Messmer. "Think of
what a reward Mike Marcy will give you," he added, with a grin.
"Catch Marcy giving a reward," said Dave, laughing. "Why, he wouldn't
fork over so much as a sour apple."
"He'd want to charge Roger for the ride."
"We can take the mule to the Hall and let Marcy come and get him,"
suggested Messmer.
In a spirit of mischief Shadow had taken his stick and rubbed it over
the mule's hind legs. There was a sudden snort and up came the beast's
feet. Bang! crack! bang! they sounded on the wall of the dilapidated
cabin, and Shadow leaped for his life.
"Look out, he's in action!"
"Clear the deck for his muleship!"
"He'll have the cabin down next!" called out Dave. "Take care!"
The mule continued to kick, and, standing at his head, Dave and Roger
tried in vain to quiet him. Then of a sudden came a crack of another
kind and the wall of the rotted cabin fell outward and the roof began to
sag.
"Out of this, all hands!" yelled Dave, and let go the mule. Roger did
the same, and both ran out through the open doorway. Shadow was already
outside, and Messmer and Henshaw started to follow. Then the mule
turned, knocking Messmer down, and made a dash for liberty.
The cabin swayed and groaned and began to settle rapidly. Henshaw leaped
out in the nick of time, one heavy log scraping his shoulder. Messmer
was half dazed by the sudden turn of affairs, and before he could arise
some of the roof beams began to settle across his back.
"Help! help!" he wailed. "The roof is coming down on me!"
His cry of assistance struck terror to the hearts of some of his
friends, and for the moment they did not know what to do. Dave was the
only one of the party who remained cool, and he rushed in and caught
hold of one of the falling timbers.
"Prop them up!" he called. "Put your sticks under them--anything! If we
don't, Messmer may be crushed to death!"
Roger came forward first and the others quickly followed, the mule
being, for the time, forgotten. They took their heavy sticks and set
them up under the falling timbers, and Henshaw rolled in a stone that
chanced to be handy. These things kept the roof from coming down
further, but poor Messmer was held as if in a vise and could not be
extricated.
"We've got to pry the logs up a little," said Dave. "Here is a log to
work with," and he pointed to one which had fallen out of the side wall.
Only one torch remained lighted, and this had to be swung into a
livelier blaze, so that they could see. Then they had to start
operations with care, for fear they might do more harm than good.
"If th--the logs co--come down on me they will ki--kill me!" gasped the
unfortunate lad under the ruins.
"We'll not let them come down," answered Dave. "Keep perfectly still
till I tell you to move."
Messmer did as directed, and Dave and the others inserted the loose log
under one end of the ruins. A flat stone was used for the fulcrum, and
they bore down slowly but steadily until the larger portion of the ruins
was raised several inches.
"It's coming!" cried Dave. "Don't go too fast. Can you loosen yourself
now, Messmer?"
"A little. Go a bit higher," was the reply.
They went up two inches more, but now the log began to crack, for the
strain upon it was tremendous. Messmer heard the ominous sound, and,
with a twist, loosened himself and began to crawl forth. Dave caught him
by the arms.
"Out you come," he said, and gave a strong pull. And out Messmer did
come, and a moment later the lever snapped in two and the ruins settled
back into their former position.
"I--I think I've had a narrow escape," faltered the lucky youth, when he
could speak. "Much obliged to you, Dave, for hauling me out."
"Talk about a mule kicking!" declared Henshaw. "He brought this cabin
down quick enough."
"The old place was about ready to fall down," answered the senator's
son. "I think I could have shoved it down myself, had I tried. But I
wonder what made the mule start kicking so suddenly. He acted as if a
hornet had stung him."
"I guess I was to blame," replied Shadow, sheepishly. "I rubbed him in
the rear with my stick. He didn't appreciate the handling."
"By the way, where is his muleship?" cried Dave, looking around in the
semi-darkness.
"Guess he's taken time by the forelock and run away," answered the
senator's son.
They looked around, but could see nothing of the animal. Some marks were
in the snow, losing themselves on the rocks, and that was all.
"It's time to get back to the Hall," observed Henshaw. "I am not going
to lose time looking for a mule. Come on."
"We can send Mike Marcy word that his mule is on the island," suggested
Dave. "That wouldn't be any more than fair. If left here alone the
animal may starve to death."
"Mules don't starve so easily," answered Shadow. "I am not going to look
for him any more," he added.
They were soon on their way back to the shore where they had left the
_Snowbird_. The short winter day was drawing to a close, and it was
getting colder. They walked briskly, for they feared the wind would be
against them on the return to Oak Hall, and they did not wish to be
late for supper, for that, at the very least, would mean a lecture from
Job Haskers.
Henshaw was in the lead, and presently he came out on the shore, looked
around in dazed fashion, and uttered a cry of dismay. And not without
good reason.
The ice-boat had disappeared.