HENNY'S CAVE
Skinny did not quite comprehend this rather whimsical boy. But here
was a prize he had every intention of keeping. He no longer worried
about Danny. That dreadful affair which had cost him sleepless
nights was at last over. Danny had triumphed (if you call it
triumph) and gone upon his dubious way. All that remained of that
fearful nightmare was Skinny's love and admiration of the checkered
hero.
Danny was far away and safe. His genius for beating any game would
carry him through every difficulty. There was one place where he
would always be safe and that was in the stout little heart that beat
beneath the the shabby and faded shirt of his little half brother.
There Danny dwelt, but nobody knew it. Only Skinny wished that they
would take that dreadful notice from the bulletin-board.
But now he had a new worry. He feared that he would lose this scout
of the white scarf, just as he had lost his prize canoe. Because he
knew that prize canoes and tall scouts with white scarfs were not for
him. He made no complaint that his canoe had been absorbed into his
patrol, even if he himself had not been absorbed into it. He had
never quite comprehended the glittering romance of his induction into
scouting and that fine patrol.
But he did want to "keep in" with Danville Bently. And he lived in
mortal fear of losing him, even as he had lived in mortal fear of
Danny's being found out during that awful fortnight of his presence
in camp. He saw that Danville was admired, that the whole camp was
puzzled at his choice and he feared that any moment this splendid,
picturesque boy would be lured into the maelstrom and be lost to him.
Particularly he was afraid of the Vermont Eagle, Howell Cross. What
had he, Skinny, to offer as against the delights of comradeship with
that crack patrol! He slept hardly an hour that whole night, fearing
that something might happen to ruin his sponsorship of Danville's one
remaining test for first class rank. His high strung nature was all
worked up with fear and expectancy. Again his "hands felt as if they
were asleep kinder, all tingly," the same as when he had plunged into
the lake, and when he had lifted the white pennant. Because, you
see, the whole thing was too good to be true. That night they
"kidded" him at camp-fire, but he did not mind. He went up to Elks'
cabin and lay restlessly all night, waiting for the morning.
He did not dare to approach Danville at breakfast where he sat with a
group from Tent Village. But after breakfast he went down to the
lake and there was Danville waiting. Again his hero of the white
scarf had not failed him.
"I thought maybe I only dreamed it," said Skinny.
"I guess it will turn out to be a pretty strenuous dream," Danville
answered. "Well, are we all set?"
"Sure, and I got Chocolate Drop to make me some sandwiches; see?
He's a good friend of mine."
"One cook is better than a dozen scouts; huh?"
"Sure, but are you going to join Howell Cross's patrol for the
season?"
"Don't you know I've got a patrol of my own?"
"That's what I can never remember, because kinder you seem all by
yourself, as if there weren't any fellers like you. Do they all wear
white scarfs and belts like you?"
"Yep. Come on now, for the big parade."
"I'll show you," said Skinny eagerly.
Henny's Cave was an ideal destination for scouts making the fourteen
mile hike specified in Test Four. It was exactly seven miles distant
through the woods and supplied en route much material for the
required written description. An observant scout would not miss the
crooked willow tree with the two trunks a few yards east of the path.
If his hearing was keen he would find Spook Falls down in the hollow,
and note this crystal cascade as one of the things observed. But few
were the scouts who saw in the chewed and broken branches at one spot
a clue to the location of a beaver dam a quarter of a mile or so off
the trail.
The cave itself was an interesting natural phenomenon with a rocky
entrance as well concealed as that of any pirate's lair. Inside it
was as large as a small room, dank and dark. But if you directed a
search-light here and there against its wet, rocky walls you would
see scores of names and initials scratched upon the surface to prove
that the weary artists had achieved their seven mile hike and might
claim credit for Test Four. The verification was usually enough for
the presiding powers.
It was nearly noontime when Danville and Skinny approached this
romantic destination after their long hike over mountains and through
dense woods. "I'm glad I don't have to write up the account of it
with my feet," said Danville. "This is some spooky place; I bet
ghosts live here. Let's take a look inside and then we'll sit out
under this tree and eat."
"You have to stoop down and crawl under that rock," said Skinny, "and
then you walk between those two others; it's really one big rock
that's split; then you're on the inside. In the middle it's water so
you have to step around the edge, but there's plenty of room where
it's dry. There's lots of little red lizards inside. If you catch
one by the tail it's good luck."
"Not for the lizard."
"No, for the feller that catches him by the tail."
"You got a flash-light!" Danville asked.
[Illustration: HE LED THE WAY, CRAWLING ON HANDS AND KNEES.]
Of course Skinny had no flash-light; he had nothing mentioned in the
alluring scout equipment list. But he did try to "be prepared" in
his humble way and he had a metal shaving-stick box containing a few
matches. This gloomy cave was his exhibit and he proudly led the
way, crawling on hands and knees under the slab of overhanging rock
which was a sort of vestibule leading under an uprooted tree. Part
of this great root (enough to keep the fallen tree alive) still had
anchorage in the ground, but the sun-baked tentacles of the rest of
it hung in air like some outlandish whip-lash curtain and through
this mass the visitor must crawl, assailed by these lifeless,
dangling pendants. This grotesque approach opened upon a cleft
between great rocks, or the parted halves of one great rock, and here
the explorer could walk erect through a passage roofed by the great
tree that had fallen over the top of the cleft. It was an intricate
entrance to the dank, secluded chamber within, an earthly and rocky
dungeon where one's voice sounded strange to one's own ears.
Probably the disturbance caused by the breaking apart of that great
rock had forced open this tiny apartment in the dense hillside, who
shall say how many years ago? Nor did any one know who Henny was,
whose name was perpetuated in this gloomy retreat. There was a
legend that he had lived on a farm and had been buried alive here in
a quick transformation of the uncertain walls. Enterprising scouts
had searched for his bones, but there seemed to be nothing left of
the unknown Henny save only his name. Of course, the place was one
of Captain Kidd's many safe deposit vaults, but no vestige of his
fabulous treasure was ever found by Temple Camp excavators.
"_Great Scott!_" said Danville as he looked about in the darkness,
and gropingly felt for the dank walls. "Gives you the shudders; I
feel as if I were buried alive. Where are you anyway!"
"Here I am," said Skinny, delighted at Danville's reaction to the
place. "Look out where you step, there's all water. The ground
slants up in one place and it's dry there. Wait till I light a
match."
To Danville the feeling of confinement in this gruesome hole was all
but unnerving. It needed only the warning that it was not safe to
move in the darkness to give him the feeling that he was indeed
buried alive in this ghostly, stifling place. One little glint of
uncertain light he did see, cheerful reminder of the bright world
without, and this was the only beacon to show where the intricate
entrance was. It was a mere speck of light leaking through under
those weird tree roots and through the rocky passage.
"Wait till I strike a match," said Skinny.
"_Hsh, listen!_" whispered Danville. "Did you hear a sound?"
"No, you always kind of hear noises in here," said Skinny.
"No, but I heard something moving. I thought it was you, but you're
on the other side of me. Hurry up, your matches won't last anyway.
I wish we had a candle or something."
Just as he said this there was a slight rustling near him like the
sound of paper being crumpled. He knew that Skinny had no paper.