EARS THAT HEAR
It was a desperate business, but he had succeeded--so far. He was
not going to jeopardize his success now by an ill-considered move.
So he resolved to rest on the bench till the last distant flicker
disappeared and he could feel certain that every one in camp had
retired. Then he would follow the path down through the woods.
He removed his hat and took an empty cigarette box from inside the
crown. There were no cigarettes left in it, but a certain devilish
instinct of caution had prompted him to save the little pasteboard
folder with removable matches that had accompanied his forbidden
purchase. Then he took off a shoe and withdrew from it a damp and
soiled slip of paper containing a memorandum which he read by the
light of a match. _Martha Norris Memorial Cabins. Up path from fire
turn left--second cabin_. He knew the words by heart, but scanned
them finally before crumpling the paper and throwing it away.
As he dropped it under the bench he saw a little square of white
lying on the ground and picking it up found it to be an unopened
letter. It was close to one of the legs of the bench and almost at
the foot of the post supporting the mail box. He struck another
match and read the typewritten address on the envelope: _Temple Camp,
Black Lake, Greene Co., New York_. In the corner was an imprint:
_Bently's Family Hotel, Wave Crest City, Florida_.
He now made a discovery which was destined to give a turn to his
fortunes and start an altogether singular series of adventures. He
found that the heavy dew had dampened the envelope and melted the
glue of the flap so that the envelope lay limp and open in his hand.
He could not forbear to examine a missive which lay thus exposed.
The thought occurred to him that the letter could not have lain long
on the ground without being discovered by those who frequented the
spot. It had probably been brought by the rural carrier that very
afternoon and dropped by the messenger who had emptied the box to
take its contents down to camp. In the dim light of his few
remaining matches, he read the letter.
Wave Crest City, Fla.,
June 27th, 1927.
Board of Councilors,
Temple Camp,
Black Lake, N.Y.
Gentlemen:
This is to notify you that my son, Danville Bently, who was to have
spent the month of July at your camp will not be able to begin his
vacation with you until August second. He is to accompany his mother
and myself to Europe.
We are closing our place here for the summer season to travel abroad
and I have taken the liberty of assuring our boy that the reservation
made for him for July (for which check was sent to cover) may be
shifted to August without prejudice to your summer arrangements.
He is looking forward with high anticipations to his promised month
at your famous camp and we have arranged for him to return with his
older brother on a steamer which will arrive in New York on August
first, so that his trip with us may not interfere with his scouting
activities.
Will you kindly wire me upon receipt of this whether the check
forwarded in recent communication may be applied to accommodation for
August instead of July? If that is satisfactory he will report on
August second.
I sincerely hope that this will be agreeable to you as he would
suffer a very keen disappointment if compelled to forego this first
season at a scout camp.
Very truly yours,
Roswell T. Bently.
As he followed the path down into the woods he had no other thought
in regard to this letter than to see that it was delivered into the
proper hands. He knew well enough how he was to accomplish this
without making his presence known to these strangers. The faintest
glow of the distant fire still burned and by this tiny beacon he saw
that to reach the site of the camp-fire he must leave the beaten
path. He now began to pass isolated cabins, the scattered advance
guard of the growing camp. They were all in darkness, but in one he
heard laughter and singing. Now he passed a row of tents; there was
a dim light in one of them and a figure silhouetted on the canvas.
As he passed the light went out. He moved silently, cautiously
pausing now and again. There was no sign of life.
Presently he was shockingly made aware of the need of stealth.
Pausing before a cabin in front of which was planted a staff with a
white pennant he saw a figure appear suddenly in the doorway.
"No, you don't," said the apparition.
"Did he get away with it?" some one within asked.
"Not so you'd notice it," said the figure in the doorway.
"What's the idea!" the newcomer asked.
"The idea is you didn't get away with it," laughed the boy in the
doorway. "Just keep away from that pennant." And he disappeared
within.
Here was a strange business. They evidently slept with one ear open
at Temple Camp. But why should they think he intended to take
something! Why should they suspect him? Was there anything about
him that enabled strangers to discern his secret? At all events he
must be careful in this uncanny place.