CONCLUSION
Paul was awakened by feeling something nudging him in the ribs. It was
Bobolink's elbow; and, thinking at first that it might be an accident,
the scout master made no move.
But again he received a severe jolt. And at the same time came a whisper
close in his ear:
"Paul! Are you awake?" Bobolink was saying, so low that any one six feet
away could not have heard his voice.
"What ails you?" asked Paul.
He might have imagined that the other had been taken ill, from over
feeding, perhaps, and wanted Paul, as the doctor of the troop, to give
him some medicine. But on second thought Paul realized that there was too
much mystery about the action of Bobolink to admit of such an
explanation.
"Listen, Paul," the other went on, still whispering, "there's some sort
of wild beast goin' to raid the camp!"
"What's that?" asked the scout master, a little sternly, for, knowing
the weakness of Bobolink in the line of practical joking, he suspected
that the other might be up to some of his old tricks.
And Bobolink must have detected an air of doubt in the manner in which
Paul spoke those two words, for he immediately resumed:
"Honest Injun, Paul, I ain't foolin'! Say, do they have panthers around
here? Because that's what I think it must be."
"Where'd you see it?"
As Paul put this question he was working his arms free from the folds of
his blanket. When he lay down, more through force of habit than because
he thought there would be any need of such a thing, Paul had placed his
shotgun on the ground beside him. And no sooner was his right hand at
liberty than, groping around, he took possession of it.
"Up in that big oak tree," Bobolink went on. "You watch where that limb
hangs out over the camp and you'll see somethin' move; or I've been
dreamin', that's all."
Paul did not have to twist his head very far around in order to see the
spot in question. He watched it as the seconds began to troop along,
until almost a fell minute had gone.
And Paul was just about to believe Bobolink must have been dreaming, when
he, too, saw the bunch of leaves violently agitated.
Undoubtedly some tree-climbing animal was up there. Paul felt a thrill
pass through him. Unconsciously, perhaps, his fingers tightened their
grip upon the shotgun, which was apt to prove a tower of strength in case
the worst that could happen came to pass.
Straining his eyes, as he partly lifted his head, Paul believed he could
just make out a shadowy form stretched upon the large oak limb.
He was more than puzzled.
Wild animals were not altogether unknown within the twenty-mile limit
around Stanhope. A bear might be seen occasionally--or at least the
tracks of one, for the timid beast knew enough to hide in the daytime in
one of the numerous swamps.
But this did not seem large enough for a bear, which would have surely
made a more bulky object clinging to the limb. Moreover, bears were not
reckoned bold, and no hunter had ever known one to come spying around a
camp. As soon as the trail of human beings is run across by a bear, the
animal always takes the alarm and hastens to its den, to lie low until
the danger has passed.
But Bobolink had mentioned the magic word "panther," and this caused the
other aroused scout to look more closely at the dimly seen object Sure
enough it did seem to be flattened out on the limb, much as Paul
imagined a big cat might lie.
"What'd we better do about it, Paul--give a yell and jump up?" Bobolink
asked, his voice quivering, perhaps with excitement, or it might be under
stress of alarm; for it was not the nicest thing in the world to be lying
there helpless with a hungry panther crouching above.
"Wait, and let's make sure," replied the careful Paul.
Some impetuous boys would have thought, the very first thing, of bringing
that double-barrelled gun to bear on the dark, shadowy figure, and
cutting loose, perhaps even firing both charges at once.
At such close range, less than thirty feet, a shell containing even bird
shot is apt to be projected with all the destructive qualities of a large
bullet. Paul knew all about this, and also had faith in the hard-hitting
qualities of his long tested gun; but he was not the one to be tempted
into any rash action.
"Be sure you're right; then go ahead," was a motto which Paul always
tried to practice. He had certainly found it worth while on more than one
occasion in the past, and it was likely to serve him well now.
And so he waited, ready for a sudden emergency, but not allowing himself
to be hurried.
He soon had reason to feel very thankful that his good sense had
prevailed, for presently the leaves were again set to shaking and, as
they parted, Paul saw something that gave him a shock.
"Oh! what d'ye think of that, now? It's the wild man of Cedar Island!"
gasped Bobolink, actually sitting up in his excitement.
And Paul had already made certain of this fact as soon as his eyes
fell upon the hairy face seen among the branches. The shudder that
passed through his frame had nothing to do with fear. Paul was only
horrified to realize what might have happened had he taken Bobolink's
suggestion for the truth, and fully believed the figure in the oak to
be a savage panther.
"We'd better let Mr. Jameson know," Paul remarked, as he also sat up and
cleared his legs of the blanket.
"Yes, he'll know how to get him down. I bet you, Paul, the feller went
and swam across from the island. But how would he guess we were here?"
"Oh! he could see the boats in the day time; and don't forget we've had a
fire burning all night, so far," said the scout master.
When Mr. Jameson came out of the tent, in answer to Paul's low summons,
and learned what had happened, he readily agreed to influence the wild
man to come down. The poor fellow had learned to look on Mr. Jameson as
a friend, and, realizing that he had abandoned the island, doubtless it
was his desire to see him again that had induced this visit.
He proved to be harmless, and upon being given food ate ravenously. Later
on it was discovered that he had launched a log and made his way to the
mainland by means of this crude craft, with a branch for a paddle.
Mr. Jameson declared that he would take the stranger to Stanhope when the
vehicle came for the professor, and do all in his power to learn just who
he was, as well as get him safely back among his friends.
To dispose of the wild man of Cedar Island once and for all, it might be
said right here that Mr. Jameson kept his word. The name John Pennington
served as a clue, and in the end he learned that was his name. He had
lost his mind through an accident and, though his case was deemed
hopeless, occasionally he was apt to have little flashes of his former
cleverness. He was returned to the sanitarium from which he had escaped,
and the boys never heard of him again. But the memory of the wild man
would always be associated with Cedar Island.
On the following day Paul and Jack managed to get around to the outlet,
for the scout master was anxious to learn what the chances of their
leaving the lake, when they were ready, might be.
They found that, just as had been believed that shoulder of rock and
earth had been shaken loose by the tremor of the earth at the time of the
big shock, when the professor was experimenting with some new explosive.
In falling, it had indeed dammed the outlet, and the storm coming so soon
after, of course the water in the lake had risen at a frightful rate. In
the end the obstruction had commenced to disappear; but luckily for all
concerned, it had held fairly well until much of the water had escaped,
when finally it had given way.
The channel was as good as ever; indeed, Paul seemed to think that
it offered fewer impediments to a passage now than before all this
had happened.
That eased the minds of the scouts, and they could go back again to their
camp with good news for the others.
A carriage came that day for the professor, and his assistants managed to
carry him across country to the road; just as they had undoubtedly done
the two big boxes of material that came from Mr. Stormways' mill that
other day.
He shook hands with each and every scout before leaving, and promised to
remember them always for what they had done. When he came to Paul, he
clung to his hand, and there were tears in the eyes of the little
professor as he, said:
"I honestly believe that you saved my life, my boy, and I trust that
through your ability I may be spared a few more years. And depend on it,
I'm never going to let you get out of touch with me, Paul Morrison. I
hope to live to see you a great surgeon, some day."
The scouts filled out the balance of their vacation at the lake, and
considered that they had had some of the strangest experiences that could
happen to a group of boys; but although at the time they could not
suspect it, there were still more interesting things in store for Paul
and his comrades of Stanhope Troop of Boy Scouts. What these were, you
will find related in the next volume of this series, to be called, "The
Banner Boy Scouts Snowbound; Or, A Tour on Skates and Iceboats."
When the time came for them to start back, it was with more or less
anxiety that they came to the canal connecting the waters of the two
rivers flowing parallel for a few miles, and only a short distance apart.
But they need not have borrowed trouble, for the Bushkill was still
higher than usual at this season of the year and all through the
disused canal they found plenty of water, so that neither of the boats
stuck in the mud.
In good time, then, the Banner Boy Scouts arrived home, to thrill the
lads who had not been fortunate enough to accompany them on their trip
afloat, with wonderful accounts of all the remarkable things which had
happened to them while in camp on Cedar Island.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat, by George A. Warren