The Start Upriver
A few days after the victorious soccer game with Berkley the high school
closed for the Christmas vacation. With whoops of joy the boys and girls
poured out of the institution of learning and started home, eager for
the holiday and all the good things connected with it. A light snow had
fallen the night before, and the country was clothed with a blanket of
white.
“Tomorrow night Tim will sit up and try to see what Santa Claus looks
like,” Mac grinned, as the four boys walked down the main street. “He
always does, until Pa chases him to bed. He——”
Tim cut his speech short by neatly planting a hastily packed snowball
back of Mac’s ear. His brother returned the fire, and finally Kent and
Barry joined in, the fun becoming fast and furious. A group across the
street began to bombard them, and then the four chums turned on the
common enemy. In this manner, enjoying the sharp air and the
good-natured fun, the boys came to Barry’s door and stopped for a final
word.
“When shall we get started?” Tim asked.
“I think we ought to light out on the morning after Christmas,” Barry
said.
“I don’t know about that,” Kent objected. “We have to buy some
provisions and pack our sled, and we won’t want to do that on Christmas.
Let’s make it two days after the great holiday.”
The others agreed to this. “As far as I can see, nobody knows why we are
going,” Mac said.
“No, I think everyone believes that we are just going off on a camping
trip,” said Barry. “That is what we want them to think. After all, we
may not learn a thing about the mystery, and in that case our trip will
be just a winter camp.”
“But we’ll work like the dickens to get a line on the spook,” promised
Kent, as they parted.
Christmas Day was cold and gray, and late in the afternoon it began to
snow. For several hours the light flakes fell, and the boys were
beginning to worry. If the snow became too deep, their trip would have
to be put off, and it looked very much as though the ice on the river
would be covered in such a way that skating would be impossible. But the
day following the holiday a wind blew the snow into drifts and banks and
Kent reported that the river was clear enough to skate on.
Christmas Day passed off quietly, and the boys enjoyed it. There were
gifts and family gatherings and a cheery air in general. The next day
they busied themselves, preparing to go on their trip. In Kent’s barn
there was a wide, low sled, and they began to pack it with supplies and
food. Late in the afternoon they stood in a group and surveyed it.
“Guess everything is on there,” Barry said thoughtfully.
“I can’t think of anything else,” Kent admitted.
“Who is going to pull the sled at the start?” Tim asked, roping an ax
down firmly.
Kent winked at Barry. “Seems like you twins ought to pull it all the
way,” he said. “You are both the same size and would show up well in
harness!”
“We wouldn’t look any better than you would,” Mac retorted. “Let’s flip
a coin to see who pulls first.”
Several tosses of the coin indicated that Kent was to pull the sled
first, and the twins pounded him on the back in derision. Darkness was
now falling fast, and they separated for the night.
“What time are we starting?” Tim asked.
“We’ll get going at eight o’clock,” Barry decided. “There isn’t any
great hurry. We’ll hunt a little on the way up there and can camp out
tomorrow night.”
To the four boys, impatient to be on their way, the night seemed a long
one, but the day of the start finally came and they were ready to go.
Mr. Garrison had a final word with Barry.
“Here are the keys to the Bronson cabin, and this one is for the lodge,”
he told his son, as the latter laced up his high-top lumberman shoes.
“You can look around all you want to, but keep out of trouble. I’d
rather that you would not camp in the lodge unless there seems to be
some good reason for doing so.”
“All right,” Barry agreed. “But it will be permissible to look through
the place, won’t it, Dad?”
“Oh, surely. I want you to go through the lodge, but I think you’ll be
more comfortable in Bronson’s cabin. The lodge is a big, rambling place
and not easy to heat. Have a good time, and start back in time for
school again.”
Barry promised, and after bidding his family good-bye he was off on a
trot across the intervening yards to Kent’s barn. He found his
companions there, tying a few last minute articles fast. They greeted
him joyously.
“We were just going over to ask your mother if you were up yet!” Mac
hailed.
“She would have told you that I’ve been up a long time,” Barry smiled.
Kent slung his skates over his shoulder. “I guess we’re ready to go,” he
said. “Who’d we decide had to pull the sled?”
“You know who,” Tim answered. “It won’t be any weight to pull when it
gets on the ice.”
The mystery hunters set off for the Buffalo River, which flowed close to
the residential section of Cloverfield. It was a clear, cold day, and
their spirits rose with each step forward. The sun sparkled on the
snowbanks and the icicles, until all the landscape flashed with beauty.
All four of them rejoiced to be alive and able to go.
“I just feel like I could strike out and skate for hours,” Mac said.
“It’s a dandy day for a snow fight like we had at the high school last
year,” Kent observed. “In fact, a fellow would feel like doing about
anything on a day like this.”
“Except being at home with the mumps or something,” Tim chuckled.
“There is the old river,” Barry said, as they came in sight of the
Buffalo. “Now we can get into real action.”
They sat on a rotted log beside the river and put on their skates. It
was a cold job, and more than once they paused to blow on chilled
fingers. But at last the skates were adjusted and the campers were ready
to swing up the river toward Lake Arrowtip. They clumped down the side
of the bank and slid out on the ice, cutting a few circles by way of
warming up. Kent hooked the rope of the sled to the belt of his
Mackinaw.
“I guess we’re about ready,” he nodded, and with a ringing sound the
runners of the skates slid forward and they were away on their journey
upriver.
For over a mile they kept up a fast pace and then moderated it somewhat,
settling down to an even gait that would take them a long way from home
if maintained for any length of time. They passed a few skaters and one
group of high school boys in particular, with whom they paused to chat.
From them they gleaned the information that Carter Wolf and some of his
friends had started on their trip, going in a roundabout way by motor
truck.
“They’ll find it a rough journey over any of these roads to Lake
Arrowtip,” Barry commented, as they resumed their skating.
“I’d rather go this way or even to hike it,” Kent nodded.
“I guess Wolf would rather go the most comfortable way,” Mac observed.
“I’ll bet the truck was heated in some way. I’m even surprised that Wolf
will go camping in the winter time.”
Leaving Cloverfield far behind them, the boys followed the little river
into the deep woods. In the forest the stream became narrower, but there
was room for all of them, and they had gone seven miles before it became
necessary to leave the ice sheet and take to the shore. They came at
last to a place where a log was frozen broadside into the ice and a mass
of refuse spoiled the smooth, glassy surface.
“First detour,” sang out Barry. “What do you say we hike some and see if
we can bring down a rabbit?”
The others were agreeable, and they took to the shore. The trees were
sufficiently far back from the banks to allow them to proceed. Pulling
the sled was harder, and Barry relieved Kent of it. They tramped along,
and just before noon Mac took a shot at a squirrel, but missed.
“Bum shot,” he exclaimed, in disgust.
“You needn’t lament over that,” Kent consoled. “It would be quite a job
to bring that lightning dodger down with a rifle.”
At noontime they halted and made temporary camp. The twins cut into the
wet wood and hewed to the center for the dry heart of it. The other two
boys scraped away the snow and piled some rocks for a fireplace. After
some fanning and blowing, the damp wood caught fire and blazed up.
Kent searched among the articles on the sled and then straightened up.
“Say, look here. Did anybody think to bring coffee?”
The other three boys looked at one another blankly. “I didn’t,” Barry
admitted, and the twins admitted the same.
“We can live without it,” Mac pointed out.
“Sure we can, but you know how good it tastes on a camping trip,
especially in winter. We haven’t even got cocoa along. And I was sure
that the sled was fully packed! Is there any place that we can get it
along the line?”
“We could swing away from the river a little bit and get it at Fox
Point,” Barry said.
“We’ll do that, then. I guess we can go without it for a few days. Come
on and get your plates out.”
The journey was resumed immediately after dinner, and they skated for a
few miles. Then some rocks made it necessary for them to go around, and
they walked some more. Chancing to see an old mill on a branch of the
river, they explored it, and before long nightfall was upon them and
they stopped to make an overnight camp. Two small camping tents were set
up and sleeping bags spread out. Then they made a fireplace and gathered
a supply of wood. By the time that the fire was going it was pitch dark,
and the flames flashed up into the inky blackness like living tongues,
throwing the black tree trunks into bold relief against the white
background of the snow-covered earth.
“Fellows, this is just right!” Tim exclaimed, looking around him with
delight. Barry and Kent were bent over the fire, and Mac was coming in
with a load of wood on his shoulder.
“It’s colder camping than we are used to,” Kent remarked.
Mac threw his load of wood on the ground. “Boys, we may be able to get
some coffee,” he said. “There is another campfire just a short distance
over there.”
The others looked up with interest. “Where?” Barry and Kent asked in
chorus.
Mac pointed in the direction from which he had brought the wood. “Just a
little way over there. I was chopping wood on the top of a knoll, and I
could see their fire through the trees.”
“We could go over there and borrow some coffee,” Tim said.
“It would be nice to know who our neighbors are,” Barry commented.
“Unless,” said Kent, slowly, “those neighbors happen to be Carter Wolf
and his particular friends. If so, the less they know about our
whereabouts, the better for us.”