MR. HOLWELL GETS THE WELCOMING CHEER
Dick heard the other make this accusation with a sinking heart. Could
it be possible after all Asa Gardner was guilty of taking the things
that had disappeared?
“Why, when you stop to think of it, Dan,” he told his informant, “while
a boy given to pilfering might carry off a watch if sorely tempted,
what earthly use would he have for Peg’s new aluminum frying-pan?”
This seemed to be a poser, and Dan shrugged his shoulders and made a
whimsical face. A new idea came to him, however, and almost immediately
he spoke up again.
“Well it’s just this way, Dick. My mother always said that taking
things as some people do becomes a disease with them. I’ve read of
wealthy women who steal things in stores. They call them kleptomaniacs.
That means they take all sorts of things when they see a good chance,
even if they haven’t the least bit of use for the same.”
“Then your mother thinks Asa was influenced that way when some people
called him light-fingered, and some of them said he was a common
thief?” continued Dick.
“Yes, that’s what she thought,” replied Dan. “You know I’ve got the
dearest mother of any fellow in all Cliffwood, and she hates to think
badly of any boy.”
“And we mustn’t forget that Asa hasn’t any mother--now,” added Dick
softly, as he cast a pitying look across to where the object of their
conversation was helping Sunny Jim gather together the breakfast dishes
and pans, and acting as though he really liked the work.
“I hate myself for suspecting him, Dick,” honest Dan went on to say.
“And so far as my losing that watch goes I don’t mean to push the thing
any further. Whoever took it is welcome to his booty, for all of me.”
“On my part,” said Dick, firmly, “I feel different about it. We can’t
go on this way, losing things, and even suspecting each other. The
mystery must be cleared up sooner or later. I’ll step over and get to
talking with Asa. Perhaps I can ask him if he happened to be up during
the night. I’d like it if we could go to Mr. Bartlett and tell him the
whole thing was straightened out.”
“Oh, what’s the use of going to Asa?” objected Dan. “He’s sure to deny
it. I wonder now,” he added, after a pause, “if there could be such a
thing as Asa, or any other fellow here, for that matter, being a sleep
walker?”
Dick gave a little whistle of surprise at hearing such a startling
suggestion.
“You certainly do have the most original ideas of any fellow going,
Dan,” he remarked. “Such a thing might happen, of course, but there’d
be small chance of it up here, with twenty boys in camp.”
“Except for my waking up at the time I did,” urged the other, “nobody’d
have known about Asa’s being on his feet in the dead of night. But
after you’ve had your little talk with him tell me what comes of it,
will you?”
“I certainly will,” promised Dick.
Shortly afterwards he joined Asa, and entered into conversation with
the boy. A little later on Dick came sauntering back to where Dan was
sitting, waiting for the summons to gather on the “campus” which had
not yet been given.
“Well, did he deny being abroad in the night, Dick?” eagerly asked the
other, taking care to speak in a low voice.
“Not a bit,” Dick told him. “I never even had to ask him. We were
talking about whether it would pay to keep the fire going at night when
Asa of his own accord remarked that it was still blazing feebly when he
felt so thirsty that he had to crawl out and go over to where we keep
the bucket of spring water with the dipper. And he added that while he
was not quite sure, because he had not got fully used to reading the
time of night by the stars, he thought it must have been somewhere in
the neighborhood of one o’clock.”
Dan looked thoughtful on hearing that.
“Tell you what, Dick,” he said presently. “I’m going to try to forget
all about my watch. Let it go at that. So Asa is trying to be a real
woodsman, is he? Well, I wish him luck then.”
With that he walked away, and Dick, looking after him, said to himself
that Dan Fenwick had a heart in his breast several sizes too big for
him.
Dick later on often found himself watching Asa Gardner when he fancied
the other was not noticing. He could see that the boy was not wholly
at ease for some reason. Still Dick would not allow himself to believe
that Asa was guilty.
“I can’t forget that day I saw him lying there on his mother’s grave
and promising her never to break his word if it killed him fighting off
the old temptation,” Dick kept telling himself again and again. “No,
Asa can’t be guilty, but all the same I’ll feel a heap happier when we
do find out who the thief is.”
Presently the boys were summoned into the big tent where Mr. Bartlett
carried out the usual short chapel service, for every camp of the Y. M.
C. A. is conducted on a religious basis.
“I am ready now,” announced the camp director, “to give you a part
of the duties of the day. At noon I shall have formed my plans for
the rest of the time, and by to-morrow we shall have gotten things to
running smoothly. In the first place this camp is going to be no place
for idlers. Every boy will have a share in the work and be expected to
do his level best in keeping the camp tidy, doing the chores, and, in
fact, whatever is given into his charge.
“Mr. Rowland, who will have entire charge of the athletic proceedings,
has arranged a splendid series of events that he expects will create a
healthy rivalry among many of the boys who are now with us. Prizes will
be given to those who excel in nature study, photography, swimming,
diving, rowing, life-saving feats, woodcraft, and a number of other
things along the same lines. And now if you listen I will read the
programme for this morning, so that every one may know just what he is
expected to do.”
The boys showed a keen interest in what the camp director was saying,
although Nat and his two cronies still looked disappointed, because
they did not fancy the idea of being bound down to iron-clad rules and
regulations when they had expected to loaf and to have a roaring good
time.
The vicinity of the camp soon took on a bustling atmosphere. Some
planks had been brought from the station on one of the wagons. These
some of the boys, who aspired to be amateur carpenters, managed to
fashion into a very good table, large enough to allow them all to be
seated at the same time, to replace the rougher one thrown together
when they first landed.
This could be moved at will, so that in case of bad weather they
would be able to take their meals under the shelter of the big tent.
Ordinarily, however, they preferred dining in the open, for the charm
of the thing appealed to the campers.
A number of rude benches had also been put together, so that things
would look quite comfortable by the time another meal was ready to be
served.
Being appealed to by several ardent fishermen, the camp director had
given them permission to make good use of the handy little minnow seine
made of mosquito netting. The bait thus secured could be kept alive in
a basin constructed near the edge of the lake, into which water from a
spring trickled.
Having taken all the bait they needed with a few hauls, the boys
were given the privilege of going out in one of the boats to try the
fishing. Certain localities were selected that appealed to their
instinct as places where the wary bass would be apt to stay during
these hot summer days.
When later on the fishermen returned it was discovered that they had
met with great success. Quite enough prizes had been taken to provide a
fish course for the entire party.
“Some of them are whoppers in the bargain,” remarked Peg Fosdick,
proudly, for he had been a member of the angling party. “Why, that big
fellow must weigh all of three pounds! And how he did jump and pull! I
thought he’d break my rod or line several times. I never before took
such a dandy bass.”
“This island is well named then, it seems,” observed Dick, with
something of satisfaction in his voice as he looked at the splendid
strings of fish. Dick himself dearly loved to spend an hour with hook
and line, and feel the thrill that always raced through his system when
a gamy fish had been secured, fighting frantically for freedom.
“Who’s going to meet Mr. Holwell this afternoon, sir?” asked Fred
Bonnicastle, as they sat around the new table that noon with one of the
camp heads at either end and eagerly devoured the lunch that Sunny Jim,
assisted by a couple of the boys, had prepared for them.
Harry Bartlett had been a boy himself only a few years back, and he
could easily understand what unasked question lay back of that remark.
“You may go, for one, Fred,” he told the other. “Take Asa along with
you. He seems to have taken a fancy to rowing, and has entered in that
class for a prize. The exercise will do him good in the bargain. I have
other duties I want the rest of you to attend to, there is so much to
be done before Camp Russabaga assumes the complete aspect we all want
it to wear when Mr. Holwell arrives this evening.”
Asa shot the leader a look of sincere gratitude, though he did not
say anything. As a rule Asa was not a talkative boy, and some of them
noticed that of late he had seemed to be brooding more than usual.
During the earlier part of the afternoon many things were accomplished,
for under the direction of the physical instructor the boys worked like
beavers.
“About time you were starting across to the landing, Fred and Asa,”
announced Mr. Bartlett, finally, as he consulted his watch.
The pair went off, heading for the mainland. Mr. Holwell had promised
to arrive on the train that reached the little station at four o’clock.
He would take a team to bring him to the camp, and hoped to be on hand
long before sundown.
It lacked a few minutes of five now, and dinner was being gotten ready,
though the fish would not be put on the fire or the coffee started
until just as the minister should arrive at the landing on the main
shore.
Asa persisted in doing the rowing across, and even asked Fred to let
him handle the oars on the return trip.
“You see I need all this outdoor exercise I can get,” he explained, and
the request was so unusual that Fred, of course, obligingly granted him
permission.
“I ought to be satisfied to act as the skipper of the craft, and take
my ease, Asa,” he went on to say, laughingly, as he lay in the stern,
and stretched his long legs out comfortably; “so just please yourself.
I’m always ready to oblige a willing worker.”
After a while those on the island heard a series of loud shouts, and
they managed to make out a team that had arrived at the landing. Mr.
Holwell then had not failed them, and every one in the camp felt
pleased at the idea of having him with them. When a man loves boys from
the bottom of his heart it invariably happens that they regard him with
something of the same sort of affection.
“There, he’s getting into the boat now!” called out Clint Babbett,
whose keen eyes were able to keep track of passing events across that
mile of water better than most of the others. “And say! it looks as if
he’s brought a heap of packages along with him.”
“Sure thing,” laughed Peg Fosdick, rubbing his stomach vigorously. “Mr.
Holwell was a boy himself once on a time, and he’s never forgotten
that a fellow gets as hungry as a cannibal every little while. I reckon
now he concluded that we’d underestimated our holding capacity, and
that we’d nearly starve unless he brought along a new lot of supplies.”
“There they start,” said Mr. Bartlett, presently. “When the boat draws
in near our landing be ready to give our honored guest the glad welcome
cheer.”
Closer it drew, under the steady strokes of Asa Gardner. Finally, there
arose a roar of voices, accompanied by the violent waving of hats and
handkerchiefs, that made the minister’s heart beat a little faster than
its wont with pleasure.