When Mike Murphy hurried off the opposite end of the porch of the
bungalow, his single purpose was to rid himself of Hoke Butler, who had
set his heart upon keeping him company for the day. It was a happy
thought thus to send the youth to collect an imaginary debt from Alvin
Landon, and it would seem could scarcely fail of accomplishing the end
in view.
“The spalpeen can thravel a good deal faster then mesilf, owing to the
lingth of his legs, but I’ve got too good a start for him to find me
among the traas.”
Mike still walked fast, often glancing behind and more and more relieved
that he failed to gain sight of a living person, or rather of him whom
he dreaded to see.
“Hello, Mike, where are you?”
The youth appealed to almost leaped from the ground, for the familiar
voice sounded much too near for comfort.
“I’m here just now,” muttered Mike, “but I don’t intind to stay. Worrah,
worrah, is there no way of shaking ye loose?”
The shout was repeated twice and then ceased. It looked as if Hoke
believed he was too far separated from his friend to reach him by
calling, though he was not likely to give up the search for some time to
come. Mike changed his course and in doing so came near losing himself.
It was impossible in the circumstances to go far astray, but he was
likely to waste a good deal of time.
Coming to a halt he took his bearings. He knew he was well to the
westward of the bungalow and not far from the lake. He was sure also,
after noting the position of the sun, of the course he should follow to
reach the body of water. His plan was to keep along shore until he came
to the western end of the lake, around which he would make his way if
necessary, returning by the northern bank which would take him past the
home of Dr. Spellman. The conviction, however, was strong with the young
man that he would not be called upon to travel that far before gaining
the knowledge which was drawing him onward as the steel draws the
magnet.
When he had traveled far enough to bring him to the lake and still
failed to catch the gleam of its surface, he halted once more and stared
around.
“If I’m lost agin I’ll hire some of the byes to lead me about by the
hand, fur I ain’t fit to travel alone—hello! there’s one of ’em, that
I’ll question without letting him know I’m a stray lamb.”
He had a glimpse of a moving body almost directly ahead, and knowing it
was one of the scouts he called:
“I wish to remark, me friend, that it’s a foine day; if ye agraa wid me
I shall be plaised to have ye signerfy the same.”
“Why, Mike, I’m so glad to see you again; you ain’t mad because I got
lost?”
“Oh, not a bit, as Jim O’Toole said whin the sheriff apologized for
shooting him on the wing.”
And Mike extended his hand to Hoke Butler as he came grinningly forward.
“How was it ye missed me?” asked Mike innocently.
“I’ll be hanged if I can tell; I hurried back after talking to Alvin and
ought to have found you, but somehow or other I didn’t.”
“Why didn’t ye holler?”
“I nearly split my throat calling to you.”
“Strange! I wonder if I’m getting deaf.”
“Gracious! I hope not; don’t say that or you’ll worry me awfully.”
“Did Alvin hand ye the five dollars?”
“Not a bit of it. Say, Mike, they must be blamed poor, for they had only
a Canadian quarter between them. I don’t think they amount to much.”
Mike couldn’t stand this slur upon his chums.
“Let me tell ye something that will make ye open yer eyes. Alvin
Landon’s father is one of the richest men in New York, and Chester’s is
almost as wealthy. They are worth millions upon millions of dollars, and
the byes have all the money they want, but they are not such fules as
you and me and don’t throw it away, though they give a good deal of it
to poor folks. So ye may rist aisy on that score, friend Hoke.”
“Gee! I never suspected that. They don’t put on any more airs than the
poorest of the Boy Scouts.”
“Which the same shows their sinse; they’ve always been that way and
always will be. But this isn’t tending to bus’ness. Do ye wish to keep
company wid me till night?”
“You bet! I’m going to stick to you like a burr; I hope you haven’t any
hard feelings on account of my losing you for a little while. I really
didn’t mean it.”
“It’s mesilf that has no hard feelings, but I was thinking that if we
don’t get back to the clubhouse till night ye will be obliged to lose
your dinner.”
“I don’t like that much, but I’ll stand it for your sake. I’ll even
things up at the supper table. A Boy Scout should learn to suffer when
it can’t be helped.”
“I’ve found out the same,” replied Mike with a significance which his
companion did not catch; “I hope we shan’t starve to death.”
“No danger of that,” remarked Hoke, not absolutely certain that some
such calamity did not threaten them.
Mike Murphy like a philosopher made up his mind to accept the
inevitable. It seemed to be decreed by fate that he should have this
young man as a companion throughout at least this day, so what was the
use of kicking against it? Besides, it was not impossible that where
there was so much eagerness on the part of Hoke to help, he might be
able to do so in the strange task Mike had laid out for himself.
One pleasing fact about the intruder was that he never lost his way. He
pointed out the direction in which the lake lay and Mike took care not
to let him know he himself had believed that an altogether different
course led to it. Pausing on the shore they looked out upon one of the
most beautiful and romantic bodies of water to be found in a region
which abounds with them. Both saw the canoe laden deeply with three men
which was heading for a point to the westward of Dr. Spellman’s home.
The boys studied it closely, but the distance was too great to identify
the old man, and his companions were strangers.
Mike had told young Butler nothing of his experience of the day before,
nor did he do so now. Whatever Hoke was able to do in the way of aid he
could accomplish as well while ignorant as if he knew everything.
“Would it be too far, Hoke, for ye to walk wid me round the end of the
lake to the spot where the canoe wint from sight?”
“It’s a pretty good walk, Mike, but it’s nothing so long as I am with
_you_. I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do to please you.”
“I could, but I’ll not mintion it,” grinned Mike as they resumed their
course with Hoke in the lead.
The forenoon was half gone when they came to the western end of the lake
and changed their course so as to follow the curvature that would take
them to the northern shore. All the time they were in sight of the
water, which they examined at intervals in quest of other boats. While
the home of Dr. Spellman, as we remember, was invisible from the lake,
it was easy to locate it by the thin wisp of smoke which filtered
through the tree-tops. The same could have been said of Uncle Elk’s
cabin had there been any fire burning.
“I am thinking, Mike,” remarked Hoke some time later, “that if you
intend to go clean round the lake we haven’t any time to throw away.”
“We kin take all day and the night, should the same be nicissary, but
there’s no call to hurry and if ye find yersilf growing weary, ye have
me permission to turn back whin the notion takes ye.”
“We have gone so far that I don’t see much choice in taking either
direction. I say, Mike, isn’t that something queer ahead of us?”
“I’d like to know where ye could be without something qua’ar being ahead
of ye,—begora! I belave ye are right,” added Mike in surprise. An
object loomed up which he had not seen before nor had he heard any one
speak of it, though he and others had been in the neighborhood more than
once.
At a point where the undergrowth was plentiful and less than a hundred
yards back from the shore, were the ruins of what probably had once been
a fisherman or hunter’s cabin. Long before the present time, some party
had erected these rude quarters as a refuge during cold or stormy
weather only to abandon them for more inviting protection. The ruins
were simply four walls of logs hardly a dozen feet square and less than
half as high. If there had once been a roof, it had disappeared long
since. No door was visible from where the boys stood.
“It reminds me of the Castle of Donleigh, which I niver obsarved,”
remarked Mike after they had stood for some minutes.
“I think some one started to put up a cabin such as Uncle Elk did, but
changed his mind before he built a roof. Maybe it was Uncle Elk
himself.”
“Aither him or somebody ilse; let’s look further.”
Instead of going nearer, the two slowly circled the ruins, keeping a
little way from them. When the circuit was completed the surprising fact
became known that nothing in the nature of a door had been made by those
who laid the logs. Manifestly the structure had been abandoned before it
was half finished.
“It’s easy to raise yourself high enough to look inside,” suddenly
remarked Hoke; “I’m going to have a peep. Wait here till I come back.”
He ran to the side of the pile, with Mike slowly following. The latter
gripped his shillaleh firmly, but was moving so slowly that he had not
passed a third of the distance when Hoke inserted the toe of one foot in
a lower crevice, sprang lightly upward and seized the topmost log with
both hands. This raised his head above the barrier, and in the same
minute Mike saw a hand thrust forward from the inside, grasp the collar
of his companion’s coat and violently yank him out of sight.