A LUCKY FIND
"Guess it's nothing serious, Garry," said Phil, who had followed Garry's
lead and stopped swimming long enough to see what the cause of the call
was. "It looks as though he had made a discovery of some sort."
The chums put on an extra burst of speed, and soon had reached the spot
where Dick was standing.
"What's all the commotion about?" inquired Garry half breathlessly, as
they clambered up on to the bank. "We thought you were calling for
help."
"I am truly sorry I frightened you, but I just found something that we
may need before our stay at the camp is done," and Dick led the way into
the woods for a few feet. "I got out on the bank to rest a bit, and
thought I saw signs of a camp having been here at one time or another,
so I nosed around and tucked away in the brush I found this," and
displacing some of the debris that had fallen around the object, Dick
disclosed a birch-bark canoe, made after Indian fashion.
"I should say that was a find," exclaimed Garry. "Now we can do all the
exploring around here that we want to, and if we find nothing here we
can portage the canoe across the woods to Dutton Lake and continue our
investigation."
They were disappointed, however, for on dragging out the canoe, they
found that a great hole had been torn in the bottom.
"Now wouldn't that jar you. I wish I had looked at it more carefully
before I called to you," said Dick in a disappointed tone.
"Let your Uncle Dudley take a look," ordered Garry. After a few moment's
investigation, he straightened up. "It can be repaired easily with what
simple tools we have and a little help from old Mother Nature. Our only
trouble will be a swim of about four miles. Two across to the point that
I noted when I looked through my glasses, and two back to where we want
to do our work, which had better be here."
"I think I begin to see faint glimmerings of what you intend to do,"
said Phil, as he scanned the end of the lake that came within his
vision. Phil had abnormally keen eyes, and could often see things that
the other boys required a glass to discern.
"Well, Sherlock, what do I intend to do?" asked Garry with a laugh.
"It seems to me, if my eyes don't fail me, that I can see a sort of a
white clump of woods about two miles distant, at least the sunshine
casts a brighter glare than it does on the green of the pines and
spruces. Now to me that spells b-i-r-c-h. Am I right?"
"Right again. That's just what I have in mind. Let's start. We ought to
be able to have a fine canoe by noon if we don't loiter."
They swam back to where they had left their clothes, and it was decided
that Phil should stay behind to guard their clothes, packs and rifles.
Garry got his hatchet and sheath off his belt, and tucked his knife
safely into the sheath of the axe blade. Then by knotting two of the
bandanna handkerchiefs that they customarily wore about their necks, he
made a sort of a strap affair and tied the axe securely on his back
between his shoulder blades. This left his arms perfectly free for
swimming, and then he and Dick set out with easy strokes for their
destination across the lake. They took plenty of time and occasionally
rolled over to float on their backs so that they could rest. At last,
after several resting spells, which were mainly for Garry's benefit, as
Dick could have done the whole distance without fatiguing himself in the
slightest, they reached the clump of birches.
Resting a few moments on the bank, they proceeded to strip a good
section of bark from one of the birches. This was a simple matter, as
all that was necessary to do was to cut a girdle around the tree a few
inches from the bottom, and another about three feet above. Then a
vertical cut was made between the two girdles, and after about twenty
minutes of prying the bark from the trunk with the knife, the two taking
turns at the task, they had the roll of bark neatly cut off.
"Now if we could only find a swampy place around here where there would
be some tamarack trees, we could get a couple of the crooked roots for
which the tamarack is noted, and that would furnish us with a rib for
the canoe. As it is, we will have to makeshift with that twisted birch
branch that I see, which Nature seemed to have put there for our
particular use today," and Garry proceeded to get the branch as he
spoke.
"We can roll this up and tie it with a strip of handkerchief, and push
it along with us on the return swim. Then it will be a small job to
repair the canoe."
"What are you going to use to attach it to the bottom of the canoe where
it is broken," asked Dick.
"I have something in my knapsack. For some reason or other, while in
Bangor, I bought a ball of extra fine linen cord, and one day while we
were in the woods at Sourdehunq I needed some shoemaker's wax, and
didn't have it, so last time we were in town I bought a piece. I never
expected to use it to repair a boat with, however, just bought the stuff
in case an occasion arose where we might need it. Now it will come in
handy," and as he finished, Garry slipped back into the water. The
return trip occupied somewhat longer, as the bark was a bit unwieldy as
they pushed it ahead of them.
When they returned to the spot where they had left Phil, the sun was
almost in the center of the sky, denoting it was near noon. They found
that Phil had improved the time while they were absent and had started a
fire and caught several good bass.
"Best fishing here I ever saw. I don't believe a line has been thrown in
this patch of water for years, the fish just jump at the bait," shouted
Phil with the true Isaac Walton enthusiasm.
"I also got a couple of pickerel that were so foolish as to leap at my
bait, and have enough for dinner and some to take back to the camp with
us tonight."
All were so eager to get at the business of fixing the boat, that they
hurried through lunch with extra speed. Then they sped through the woods
to the spot where the old canoe had been found.
As Garry prepared to repair the boat, he began to laugh at something
that seemed to be amusing him greatly.
"Let us in on the joke," asked Phil. "You are grinning there to yourself
like a Cheshire cat."
"I was just thinking that either Barrows is a fool or takes us for
brainless idiots. The idea of telling us that there was nothing in the
camp with which a boat could be calked, and there are only some hundreds
of square miles in the state just full of the finest thing in the world.
Nothing more than the pitch on the pine trees all around us."
"I noticed it this morning when the manager remarked about it, but
thought it just as well to keep my knowledge to myself," remarked Dick.
"All right, then, you fellows set to work with your knives and dig a lot
of those pitch lumps off the trees and then start a fire and melt it in
your drinking cup. It will spoil the cup, but we can easily get another
one," directed Garry.
The boys immediately set about doing his bidding, and as they worked,
Garry got out his knapsack and proceeded to rummage through it for the
linen cord and the shoemaker's wax. Having found them, he set to work to
wax the cord thoroughly, making it less likely to shrink. Next he
examined the broken rib of the canoe, and determined how much of the
birch branch he would need to repair it. He took his knife and shaved a
long diagonal slant on the piece of rib in the canoe, then matched the
slant on the piece of branch. Having fixed them so they would fit, he
took a piece of fishing line and wound it carefully around the joint,
starting several inches above where the two pieces joined, and
continuing for several inches onto the firm wood beyond the spot where
the repair was made. This is called "splicing." Most boys have spliced a
fishing pole or a broken bat in much the same way.
The rib having been spliced, the next step was the patching of the hole.
Garry got the birch bark, and laid it over the gaping rent in the bottom
of the craft, and marked a line around so that it overlapped the hole by
about four inches. The extra bark was then trimmed away, and he was
ready to sew it on. He took the awl blade of his knife and punched a
series of holes around, piercing both the patch and the bark of the
canoe. Having done this, he called for the hot pitch and poured it on
around the edge of the hole. Then he firmly laid the patch on, and as
the pitch cooled it formed a sort of a natural mucilage. Garry had
previously waxed one end of the cord so that it would be easy to stick
it through the holes, and working swiftly he threaded the cord in. When
the job was completed, he reversed his steps, so that the result was a
firmly sewn patch.
Nothing else remained to do but to daub hot pitch liberally over the
seam on both sides, and calk the edges where the patch was attached to
the craft.
"There," said Garry, as he stepped back and proudly surveyed his
handiwork. "That's a craft that will be as seaworthy, or rather as
lakeworthy, if there is such a word, as one could want."
"Um, let me see," mused Dick aloud, as he looked over the canoe.
"There's one other quite necessary thing to be done."
"Well, smarty, what is there to be done," asked Garry a trifle hotly.
"I was just wondering whether we would rig up a sail or have you a gas
engine in your knapsack with which to make this gallant ship navigate?"
asked Dick as he burst into laughter, in which he was joined, first by
Phil, and a bit later by Garry, when he saw that the joke was on him.
"Phil, you're the handy man with the knife, what say to a couple of
paddles?" asked Garry after the laughter had subsided.
"Have 'em for you in an hour. That's quick work, however, and I won't
promise you a very handsome product."
"We won't bother about looks as long as they will propel the canoe
through the water. That remark of Dick's about the sail, although it was
intended to be humorous, isn't such a bad idea either, only there is no
way that I can think of right now to make a sail. We'll browse around
the camp when we get back and see if we can dig up a bit of canvas and
make one of those lateen sails, you know those triangular shaped affairs
such as the boats in the Mediterranean use," said Garry.
While he was talking, Phil had already set to work to make a pair of
paddles. "Now you chaps watch me, and after I have fixed one with the
axe, or as much as one can do with an axe blade, I'll get to work with
the knife," he said.
Phil selected spruce about five inches in diameter and felled it to the
ground.
"I hate to spoil a perfectly good tree, but in this case certainly
necessity knows no law."
He chopped off two sections a little over five feet in length, and then
proceeded to hew one swiftly into a board. This took some little time,
despite the fact that he worked at top speed every moment. His last work
with the axe was to fashion very crudely the handle.
"Now I am going to whittle just the top and a place where the hand will
come in contact with the neck or shaft of the paddle. To try and smooth
it up would take too long, and all that really needs to be smooth are
the places where we will have to hold it. If it was left rough we would
soon accumulate a crop of blisters. While I am whittling, you chaps can
fashion that other section into form as I did."
After he had whittled enough, Phil sprang to his feet and said, "If I am
not mistaken, I saw an old bottle near the remains of a campfire, and
that will be just what I want." He sped away to where he had seen the
vestiges of some fisherman's fire, and soon found what he required. He
smashed this against a stone, and with the fragments scraped the spots
he had whittled smooth and free from lumps.
The second paddle was not long in the making, but the entire job had
taken well over three hours. "We have about three hours before it is
time to eat, and we might as well put our canoe to the test, and see if
it works," announced Dick.
"Time to eat! Don't you ever think of anything but eating?" demanded
Garry.
"Yes, sir; when I'm not thinking about time to eat, I'm thinking about
what to eat," responded Dick promptly.
"Say, Phil, he's hopeless. What say we make for that outlet at the far
end of the lake. We might just as well do that as anything, since we
have no real plan of action. Then tomorrow we can make a complete tour
of the lake, and thus get a comprehensive idea of the whole body of
water."
The canoe was launched, and the boys climbed in. Garry and Phil elected
to paddle, leaving Dick to sit in the middle.
"If that patch will hold Dick up, you can be sure it's a good job,
Garry," laughed Phil, as they pushed off.
"So that was why you chaps were so kind as to do all the paddling. I'm
to be the happy little subject of the experiment. Well, if I get a
ducking there is some consolation in the fact that you two will follow
suit," said Dick good naturedly.
Garry had done a fine bit of work, however, and the craft proved to be
all that they hoped it would. They made it dance through the water and
were delighted to find that they could make much better speed than in
the ordinary wooden canoe. The only thing necessary, however, was to
keep perfectly quiet, as the balance of a bark craft is a much more
precarious thing than that of a solid factory made canoe.
It took them but a short time to reach the outlet, and they beached
their boat and started on a tour down the stream, which was a shallow,
weedy affair.
Their early scout training, and their need of vigilance during their
patrolling of the woods when on duty as fire rangers had made their
powers of observation especially keen, and it was second nature almost
for them to note signs of trail that would be unseen by one unversed in
the lore of the woods and forests.
They had walked about a quarter of a mile, when Phil's exclamation made
them pause.
"There's fresh trail there, or I'm no good at sign reading any more,"
remarked Phil. The boys gazed at the ground and quickly saw that Phil
was right.
With no wasted words, they turned and followed the slightly outlined
trail. It took only a few minutes for them to reach a crude log shack,
one that had evidently been constructed early that summer, as the fresh
cut logs showed.
The door swung loose on crude rope hinges, and after debating a moment
they decided to enter: They found practically nothing in the way of
furniture. There were no bunks, but a pile of boughs had been thrown in
each corner, and a rough table had been built in a corner of the hut. On
this reposed several dirty tin dishes. The remains of the food were
still fresh, showing that someone had eaten there within the past day or
so.
"That means that they are apt to be back at any time, and so we'd better
light out. It may be some camper and it may be some enemy. I am inclined
to think it the latter, for a camper would have taken some pains to make
things just a little bit more comfortable," said Garry. "I think,
however, we will plan to keep watch of this place and see who happens to
occupy it."
"Well, I can tell you right now that it is someone from the logging
camp. One of those who are mixed up in the trouble there. Look under
that table on the floor!"