The Y. M. C. A. boys on Bass Island : $b Or, The mystery Russabaga camp

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Title: The Y. M. C. A. boys on Bass Island : Or, The mystery Russabaga camp
Author: Henderley, Brooks
Language: English
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*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Y. M. C. A. boys on Bass Island : Or, The mystery Russabaga camp" ***
ISLAND ***

[Illustration: “STEADY NOW! KEEP HER HEAD STRAIGHT INTO THE WIND.”

_The Y. M. C. A. Boys on Bass Island_ _Page 57_]

The
Y. M. C. A. Boys
on Bass Island

The Mystery of Russabaga Camp

BY
BROOKS HENDERLEY
Author of “The Y. M. C. A.
Boys of Cliffwood,” Etc.

_ILLUSTRATED_

NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

BOOKS FOR BOYS

BROOKS HENDERLEY

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS SERIES

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS OF CLIFFWOOD;

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS ON BASS ISLAND;

(_Other volumes in preparation_)

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY Publishers New York

The Y. M. C. A. Boys on Bass Island

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE SCRUB BALL TEAMS 1

II. AN INVASION OF PIGS 10

III. THE BOY WHO HAD PROMISED 19

IV. MR. NOCKER SPRINGS A SURPRISE 32

V. A BRIGHT PROSPECT AHEAD 40

VI. MAKING CAMP ON BASS ISLAND 47

VII. IN THE GRIP OF THE SQUALL 56

VIII. THE FIRST NIGHT OUT 63

IX. THE RULE OF ORDER AND DISCIPLINE 72

X. THINGS BEGIN TO VANISH 79

XI. MR. HOLWELL GETS THE WELCOMING CHEER 86

XII. HAPPENINGS OF THE SECOND NIGHT 96

XIII. THE MYSTERY GROWS DEEPER 103

XIV. TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT 115

XV. DAN TELLS SOME WHOLESOME TRUTHS 123

XVI. WAS IT A WILD MAN OF THE WOODS? 129

XVII. DICK’S PROMISE 137

XVIII. SETTING THE TRAP 144

XIX. A DAY OF REST 148

XX. A MISSION OF MERCY 155

XXI. THE BROTHERLY SPIRIT 163

XXII. WHAT NAT SAW 169

XXIII. THE TELLTALE FOOTPRINT 178

XXIV. DAN’S NEW IDEA 188

XXV. THE BERRY PICKERS 199

XXVI. POACHING ON STRANGE PRESERVES 206

XXVII. A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN CAMPFIRE 214

XXVIII. WHEN THE PIT TRAP WORKED 222

XXIX. CLEARING UP THE MYSTERY 231

XXX. BREAKING CAMP--CONCLUSION 239

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS ON BASS ISLAND

CHAPTER I

THE SCRUB BALL TEAMS

“A dandy drive, Peg!”

“Good for a two-bagger, any day!”

“Look at him cover ground, will you?”

“Nobody’d believe Peg limps when he walks, to see him hustle like that
in a game of ball!”

“Look out, Peg, he’s going to get you at second!”

“Slide, Peg! Slide, old scout!”

Amidst a cloud of dust “Peg” Fosdick went down safely to second, the
ball arriving just as he clutched the bag with his outstretched hand.
Peg arose to his feet, brushed himself off, and waved a hand to his
cheering mates on the side that was just then at bat.

Cliffwood boys were having a glorious time on the green devoted to
outdoor sports. Still, after all, these were only two scrub teams;
for, somehow, up to the present time the bustling mill town on the
Sweetbriar river had never mustered up enough energy to put a regular
representative nine worthy of support in the field.

Neighboring places, such as Creston, Emoryville, and Barrtown, boasted
good teams, and the boys of Cliffwood often found themselves openly
taunted on account of their lack of zeal in the matter.

“But things are liable to change from now on!” declared one of the boys
on the bench, when casual mention of this lamentable fact was made.
“It’s time Cliffwood woke up from this Rip Van Winkle sleep, and made
its mark in the world.”

“That time is going to come right away,” asserted the pitcher of his
nine, a vigorous lad, Dick Horner by name, and who seemed to be a
leader among the boys.

“It’s as certain as can be, or my name isn’t Leslie Capes!” declared
the catcher, who was Dick Horner’s most intimate chum.

“Well, Cliffwood,” observed a third youth earnestly, “is a far
different town from what it used to be before Mr. Holwell, the
minister, and Harry Bartlett, leader of our local Y. M. C. A.,
organized the Boys’ Department.”

“That’s what nearly every one tells us, Elmer,” returned the sanguine
Dick. “And by the coming fall we hope to be able to put a decent
football squad in the field, to stand for our home town.”

“I’m mighty glad to hear that, Dick!” exclaimed still another of the
players, Phil Harkness by name. And then raising his voice to a shout
he went on to say: “Three balls and two strikes, Andy! Make Nat put the
ball over, and meet his fast clipper for a homer!”

Almost immediately following the giving of this advice came the crack
of the bat as it caught one of Nat Silmore’s speediest balls “on the
nose.” The boy on second sprinted for home because he knew that was the
play, there being already two out.

Away out in deep center Alonzo Crane made a vigorous effort to get the
swift liner. He was coming in on a gallop, hoping to take the ball in
his outstretched hands before it could touch the ground.

The onlookers saw Alonzo fairly hurl himself forward in a gallant
attempt to make the spectacular play. Then he fell, rolled over several
times, and arose finally with the ball held triumphantly above his head.

Nat and his side emitted a roar of applause, and with wild whoops
started toward the home plate, as though that play ended the inning.

“Keep on running to second, Andy!” yelled Leslie Capes, excitedly. “He
dropped the ball, and snatched it up again off the ground!”

“Sure he did! I saw him do it!” added Phil Harkness, indignantly, for
there were several players on the opposing side who, like Nat himself,
in times gone by, had been known to attempt just such sly tricks as
this; and Alonzo was one of them.

“Aw! what are you givin’ us?” shouted Nat, with one of his old-time
bullying frowns. “That was the greatest play ever seen on these
grounds! He snatched the ball right out of the air before it ever
touched the ground. And he held tight through all his tumble in the
bargain. Your man is out, Dick Horner, and you know it, too!”

There threatened to be a furious dispute, which would break up the
game; for each side acted as if determined to hold its ground.
Fortunately, just at that critical moment a gentleman came sauntering
along and approached the squabbling ball players, whose voices were
mingled in a warm discussion, while all sorts of accusations were
flying broadcast.

“What’s the trouble, boys?” asked the gentleman, who, to judge by the
cut of his coat, was a minister.

The clamor ceased immediately. Even the turbulent Nat shrank back a
little, as though unwilling that the Reverend Thomas Holwell should see
one of his old-time frowns on his face, for Nat was supposed to have
broken away from his former life, and to be marching along the narrow
road nowadays.

“Why, it’s this way, Mr. Holwell,” explained Dick, himself quieting
down considerably, for the minister was known to be the best friend
the boys of Cliffwood had, and his unexpected appearance had cooled
their ardor as nothing else could have done. “We say Alonzo dropped
that liner and snatched it up again, which wouldn’t count for an out.
Nat and his side all say he held it tight. So we’re up against a hard
proposition, because neither side will give in.”

“Oh! I think I can settle that dispute easily enough,” said Mr.
Holwell, with a cheery smile. “You see, I was taking home this pair
of opera glasses for my wife, after having had them repaired. As I
came along I chanced to be testing them, and as luck would have it, I
followed Alonzo as he ran forward to take that liner.”

“Yes, sir!” said Dick, eagerly. “And if anybody could know just what
happened at the time he rolled over you should, I guess.”

“Alonzo did drop the ball, though he snatched it up instantly,” said
Mr. Holwell. “I saw him do it distinctly. Of course he is just trying
to have some fun out of the occurrence. Isn’t that so, Alonzo?”

The boy in question turned fiery red, and his eyes fell under the
steady gaze of the minister.

“That’s what I was doing, Mr. Holwell,” he finally managed to say, with
a nervous little laugh. “I knew there was a fine chance to have some
fun teasing the other side, and I tried it. But I dropped the ball, all
right. I did my best to hold on to the crazy old thing, though.”

Dick and Leslie exchanged glances. They felt pretty certain that only
for the opportune arrival of Mr. Holwell, Alonzo would have stuck to
his story through thick and thin. Nat shrugged his broad shoulders, and
looked disgusted at such signs of what he would call weakness.

“Oh! well, if he owns up, of course the play goes,” he remarked, with a
sneer, and an ugly glance at Alonzo. “Get back in your places, fellers;
and Peg’s run goes. Andy, take second, and count yourself mighty lucky.
Anyhow, the rest of us really believed he held it tight.”

Mr. Holwell presently left the scene of action and walked on, with a
serious expression on his face. Some time before he and the young man
who served as leader to the town Y. M. C. A. had organized a Boys’
Department, which gave promise of doing a vast amount of good among the
younger element in Cliffwood.

There had been more or less trouble with Nat Silmore and several of
his followers, although just at present they seemed to be getting on
pretty well. Mr. Holwell knew boys “like a book,” however, and from
the little incident of the day he feared the “snake was scotched, not
killed,” as the saying has it.

While the boys are continuing their game after the sudden dispute had
been settled by an umpire whose decision none of them ventured to
question, a few words concerning Dick and his comrades may not come in
amiss, especially to such readers as may not have read the preceding
volume of this series, entitled, “The Y. M. C. A. Boys of Cliffwood.”

Dick Horner lived with his mother, grandfather and little sister Sue in
a neat cottage close to the bank of the Sweetbriar river. They had been
barely able to get along on the veteran’s pension and the proceeds from
a small investment. Suddenly bad news reached them to the effect that
part of their little property had been swept away.

As has already been related in the previous story, a splendid thing
happened for the Horners, and they were now comfortably fixed, so that
Dick need not worry concerning his future.

Some of his friends were Leslie Capes, Dan Fenwick, Phil Harkness,
Elmer Jones, Andy Hale, “Peg” Fosdick, “Clint” Babbett and Fred
Bonnicastle.

Among the new members of the Boys’ Club was Asa Gardner, a boy whose
reputation had not been very good in times past, for he had always
been called “light-fingered,” being prone to take things that did not
belong to him. His mother, whom Asa dearly loved, had died not long
before, and the boy was said to have solemnly promised her at the
last that he would never again surrender to his strange weakness that
had amounted to what is called “kleptomania”--an itching to take the
property of others when an opportunity arises.

Some of the boys were doubtful as to Asa’s ability to overcome his
faults; but Mr. Holwell stood by the lad, and stoutly backed him up.
Dick, too, had a certain amount of faith in Asa, for reasons of his
own, in spite of the fact that Dan Fenwick, who was more skeptical, had
more than once urged him to “keep an eye on that Asa.”

Dick had been enabled to do Old Jed Nocker, the richest merchant in
Cliffwood, a great favor, whereby he found happiness in the possession
of a grandchild, little Billy, together with his only son’s widow,
Tilly Nocker. Since that time Mr. Nocker had lost much of his former
cynicism regarding boys in general, and found numerous opportunities
to stretch out a helping hand to the growing Junior Department of the
local Y. M. C. A.

It was the unexpected home coming of Silas Langhorne, a brother of Mrs.
Horner, from the Alaska gold fields, that had brought contentment and
peace to Dick’s family. That was a strange and dramatic homecoming, for
an account of which the reader is referred to the previous volume of
this series. These summer days were happy ones in the Horner cottage,
and little seven-year-old Sue, Dick’s sister, went singing about all
the time.

The boys had settled down once more to their game, and the greatest
interest was seizing upon them, with the score a tie, when all of a
sudden Phil Harkness, out in center field, was seen to be waving his
arms excitedly as he gave vent to a series of shouts.

“Hey! look yonder!” they plainly heard him calling. “See all that
smoke, would you? It’s Bratton’s barn afire!”

CHAPTER II

AN INVASION OF PIGS

There is nothing under the sun capable of exciting a crowd of lively
boys as much as a fire. Consequently when the ball players saw the
smoke pouring from Bratton’s barn they instantly forgot all about their
game, even with the score a tie, two out, Dick to the bat, a runner on
third, and but a single hit needed to win for his side.

Helter-skelter they ran toward the scene, most of them shouting “Fire!”
as they went, and thus increasing the already growing confusion. The
clang of the suspended locomotive steel rim struck by a hammer added to
the din. People came running from every direction toward the Bratton
place, about which a crowd had already collected.

[Illustration: HELTER-SKELTER THEY RAN TOWARD THE SCENE.]

Silas Bratton was a character in Cliffwood. He had always been at odds
with everybody in the town, and seemed to delight in annoying others.
There are just such contrary people in nearly every community.

For one thing the man persisted in keeping a host of small pigs about
his place. The authorities made him confine them, but even at that
they were a constant source of trouble to the neighbors; which was
apparently just what Mr. Bratton wanted. He was always in some sort of
lawsuit with people, but, possessing means, he hired the best lawyers,
and usually came out of the affairs victorious.

“Wonder how it started?” gasped Leslie, as he ran alongside Dick and
Dan.

“Huh!” grunted Dan, always suspicious, “wouldn’t surprise me one little
bit if somebody just set it going. You know how they detest Bratton,
and lots of people will laugh themselves sick if his barn--yes, and
house too--goes up in smoke.”

“Better not say that again, Dan,” cautioned Dick. “It might get you
into a peck of trouble if some friend of Bratton’s chanced to hear you.”

The boys soon reached the scene of excitement. The smoke was pouring
out of the barn worse than ever. Perhaps it was a case of spontaneous
combustion, for oily waste and rags often take fire, especially during
the warm summer months. No one seemed to be bothering his head as to
what had caused the fire; it was enough for all to see that the tongues
of flame had commenced to spit through the billowing smoke, showing
that the conflagration was becoming serious.

When eighteen lively boys are suddenly brought upon the scene,
something is apt to be doing. Nat and a few of the others began
immediately to see a fine chance to have some fun out of the affair.

“Hey! let’s try to throw some water on the fire, fellers!” shouted Nat;
but those who knew him best surmised that it was the hope of finding
a chance for a prank rather than a desire to assist in saving Mr.
Bratton’s property that urged him on.

There was a rush forward, and many of the boys started to scale the
fence. One of the gates was thrown open, and immediately several
squealing pigs commenced to run down the road.

“Hi! shut that gate again, you fools!” shouted the owner of the
premises, who, in his excitement, was running back and forth, starting
to do one thing and then changing to another. “D’ye want to let all my
valuable pigs break away?”

“Here come the firemen on the run!” a voice was heard to call out, one
of the boys perched on top of the high fence being the alert scout to
convey the news.

Cliffwood firemen had made a good reputation for themselves in times
past. It was a volunteer department, but they owned a good engine, as
well as a hose cart and a ladder truck.

Galloping horses brought them quickly to the scene of the fire. When
they learned whose barn was in danger of being burned down, some of
the members of the department may have felt loath to work as hard as
usual, for they detested Mr. Bratton.

The foreman, however, who was the town blacksmith, would not allow any
shirking on the part of his followers. So the hose was run out, the
engine started up, and it was not long before a stream of water began
to fall upon the smouldering hay that had been the main cause of the
smoke.

Meanwhile, as seems necessary at all fires in country towns, some
of the men began to chop at the sides of the barn, and smash in the
windows--“to let the smoke out, and give the men who handled the hose
nozzle a chance to play on the seat of the fire,” it was explained.
Many who witnessed these energetic labors, however, could give a good
guess that there were other things back of the professional instinct.

While all this was going on, more and more of the grunting and
squealing pigs managed to get away, despite the apparent frenzied
efforts of the fire fighters to prevent their egress. They were darting
this way and that in every direction. Some ran between the legs of the
spectators, and girls screamed in real or imaginary terror as the agile
and alarmed little pigs appeared in their midst.

As the fire was already diminishing in vigor, and gave promise of
proving a disappointment so far as spectacular effect went, the boys
seemed bent on finding some outlet for their activities in chasing
wildly after the noisy little beasts, that usually eluded capture in a
remarkable way.

Many were the loud shrieks of laughter that arose when some one plunged
forward with outstretched hands, only to clutch thin air as the active
pig suddenly doubled, and eluded his grasp.

Dan had taken after an old sow that was giving vent to loud and ominous
grunts while running in a zigzag manner among the crowds. He must have
tripped at a critical second, for suddenly Dan was seen astraddle of
the broad-backed animal, trying to keep from tumbling, and evidently
much surprised at finding himself having a ride.

However, Dan soon tumbled off, selecting a soft spot for the feat,
and arose to his feet not much hurt by his adventurous ride. Boylike,
he immediately decided to stick to it that he had carried the trick
through purposely, to show what a fine rough-rider he would make.

About this time Elmer Jones tugged at the sleeve of Dick’s coat.

“Look at Nat and his bunch, every one of ’em trying to corral a
squealing porker,” he called out. “I wonder what he’s got up his
sleeve? I heard Nat tell Dit Hennesy he wanted every fellow to get a
pig apiece.”

“Oh! I shouldn’t be surprised if they expect Bratton’ll be offering
a reward for the safe return of his ugly pets; and it’ll be easy
money for their crowd,” remarked Leslie; and then burst into a roar of
laughter when one of the boys in question stumbled and fell flat, to
have a whole drove of the pigs scamper directly over him.

Dick and his chums would only too gladly have assisted in putting the
blaze out, because it would have been great fun for them. They had done
something of the sort not a great while back, when the house next to
that of Mr. Nocker had caught on fire, and precious lives were placed
in peril.

In the present instance it happened that there was really little or no
chance to play the part of heroes. The gallant fire fighters poured
enough water on the already damp hay to smother the last spark, and in
order to feel in part repaid for their lively run in the heat of the
afternoon were doing more or less smashing around. They felt confident
that all damages would be settled by the fire insurance companies with
whom so careful a man as Mr. Bratton undoubtedly held policies.

Mr. Bratton, indeed, seemed to be more concerned about the
disappearance of some two dozen of his pigs than any damage his barn
had sustained. Perhaps this was because the animals were not included
in the insurance; or it might be he suspected the fire to have been
part of a plot on the part of disputing neighbors to rid themselves of
a pest.

“Here, bring those pigs back to this other building! Do you hear me?”
he was shouting to some of the people who had managed to secure a few
of the alarmed pigs, though it was all they could do to hold them.

They resented the tone of authority conveyed by his manner and words,
and on that account two men immediately released their prisoners.

“Take them yourself, Silas Bratton!” called out one of these. “Since
when have we been in your employ?”

“Drat the pigs!” said one woman, with an expression of disgust on her
face. “When I first heard it was Bratton’s place that had caught fire I
began to hope I’d smell roast pork. But it seems the whole nest of ’em
must have come through scot-free. They’ll be chasing all over town.”

“Glad of it,” said another neighbor, smiling broadly. “I wish some
bad spirit would enter into the drove, just as it did long years ago
in Palestine, and cause the beasts to run down into the river to be
drowned. It’d be a good riddance of rubbish, say I!”

The excitement was gradually dying out. Some of the escaped pigs had
been recovered, but many of them had vanished. Perhaps strays would
be picked up here and there around Cliffwood for some time to come,
especially if the crusty owner thought fit to offer a reward for their
return.

“I guess our game is all knocked to flinders by this riot,” remarked
Leslie, as he stood and watched the firemen finish the last stroke of
their business by turning the stream of water into a hole that had been
cut in the side of the barn.

“Oh! we couldn’t get the boys together again after this!” declared
Peg, who was one of the group. “Three of the other side have
disappeared--Nat, Dit and Alonzo Crane. And say, let me tell you, every
one of them had a pig in his arms the last I saw of them.”

“That’s right,” added Dan; “and running off with the same in the
bargain. I wonder what’s in the wind? If they were meaning to camp out
soon I’d guess you’d get the smell of roast pork if you happened to
stroll near their hideout. But anyway, when it comes to playing all
sorts of practical jokes, Nat takes the cake.”

“There’s something up, you can depend on it,” asserted Leslie, firmly.
“We know Nat too well to believe he just wanted to save those porkers
for Mr. Bratton. Keep your eye on Nat, and you’ll hear something drop
before long.”

“Oh! bother Nat anyway,” said Peg; “he’s always doing something to keep
himself in the limelight. What interests me more than any of his capers
just now is trying to guess where we’ll land about that summer camp
we’re thinking of starting next week.”

“Well, we may have some news at the meeting to-night,” explained Dick,
“because Dr. Madison promised to run over and see about that Morley
Camp Mr. Holwell thought would suit us in every way.”

“I was hugging some hope to my heart we might get a chance to go up
to Lake Russabaga,” grumbled Dan. “Somehow I’ve always hankered after
that place since the time we ran up there on our wheels and stayed one
night, camping under the hemlocks.”

“It is a dandy place, all right,” admitted Dick. “For one, I’d like to
spend a week or so up there on Bass Island. But there isn’t much chance
of our getting there on this trip, I’m afraid.”

The fire being now a thing of the past, the boys started for home. The
last they saw of Mr. Bratton he was counting his pigs, and declaring he
would have the law on any one found guilty of trying to harbor one of
the escaped animals. More or less sly laughter was being indulged in by
the spectators, who seemed rather well pleased at the calamity that had
befallen their quarrelsome neighbor.

“You see none of the other nine has showed up to finish the game,”
remarked Dick, shortly afterwards, as they neared the ball ground; “so
we’ll have to call it a draw. See you this evening at the meeting,
fellows. So long!”

CHAPTER III

THE BOY WHO HAD PROMISED

One night a week the boys comprising the Junior Department of the local
Y. M. C. A. held a meeting in the room in the building Cliffwood’s
citizens had presented to the organization that was doing so much good
work for young men in the community.

On certain afternoons they were also allowed free use of the gymnasium.
A comparatively new swimming pool was enjoyed by many after they had
exercised. Then there was a bowling alley, and some of the more expert
among the boys ran up pretty high scores.

On the night after the ball game on the commons and the fire at the
Bratton barn, the boys commenced gathering before the time appointed
for the special meeting to take place. Little knots talked seriously as
they came together, for it was known that Dick meant to bring with him
a report of the success or failure attending their efforts to secure
the camping grounds owned by a Mr. Marley on the small lake named after
him.

“Some of you fellows,” Dan Fenwick was saying to a group around him,
“who didn’t happen to be at the ball game to-day will be interested to
know that Dick says we’re going to have a football eleven this fall, to
try to hold up the honor of Cliffwood with the rest of the towns around
this end of the woods.”

“Glad to hear that, Dan!” exclaimed one lad, warmly.

“Always said we ought to do something to show our colors,” added
another. “And it’s come all because of Mr. Howell and his scheme for
getting up this Boys’ Department of the Y. M. C. A. That’s done the
trick! You don’t run across many fellows loafing on the street corners
these nights. They’d rather be in here reading the magazines, or taking
part in some of the things that are going on every little while.”

“And there’s no reason,” a third went on to say, boldly, “why Cliffwood
shouldn’t have a hockey team, and a cracking good baseball nine next
season, to boot. We’ve got the stuff all right. With good backing we
might even hope to fetch a trophy home with us once in a while.”

“There’s Mr. Bartlett, going to call the meeting to order,” remarked
Dan.

At this speech every one of the boys settled down in a seat; for these
meetings were usually conducted with as much decorum and order as
those carried on by the older members of the Y. M. C. A. organization.

Harry Bartlett usually presided at these gatherings of the boys’ club,
but he took pleasure in frequently turning the meeting over to Dick,
who had been duly elected to the office. This evening as soon as the
meeting had been called to order he asked Dick to take the chair.

The secretary was just beginning to call the roll when there came
a series of squeals and grunts. At the same time three small pigs
were seen running wildly about the room, creating much excitement as
they darted back and forth under the chairs and amidst the legs of
twenty-odd boys gathered there.

Every one knew that Nat and his two cronies had liberated the pigs, for
they were standing in the doorway and laughing heartily at the frantic
efforts of the boys to catch the dodging pigs. All thought of business
was suspended until this duty had been accomplished, after which the
offending pigs were summarily ejected from the building.

Nat pretended to feel sorry over it.

“We meant to lug the little critters over to Mr. Bratton’s house,” he
went on to explain, “to find out if he meant to offer a reward for
their safe return. But now they’re loose again, and in the night nobody
could ever catch the slippery imps. We were goin’ to stop in and let
you know we’d be back this way before long, when they broke loose on
us. But it’s all right anyway, and no damage done, I reckon.”

Of course every one knew the incident was intended to be one of Nat’s
famous practical jokes, but since the excitement had now died down, and
Mr. Bartlett said nothing to the contrary, Dick concluded to forget it.

“The meeting will again come to order,” he called out, vigorously
rapping the table with the gavel, borrowed from the seniors. “The
secretary will start over again with roll call.”

This duty having been carried out, the regular business of the meeting
was next in order. It could easily be seen that all of the boys present
displayed more or less anxiety to hear the reports of certain of the
committees.

“I’ll ask the vice-president to occupy the chair while I make my report
as the committee of one to call on Doctor Madison and find out what our
chances are of getting Camp Marley.”

When Dick made this remark he vacated his seat, Leslie taking his place
temporarily. Every boy present leaned forward and glued his eager eyes
on Dick.

“It isn’t just the thing for the presiding officer of an organization,”
began the one who was on his feet, “to act on a committee; but in this
case it happens that I started the business with Doctor Madison, and
he asked me to drop in and see him this evening when on the way here.
He went out to Mr. Marley’s this afternoon as he expected. I’m sorry to
tell you he brought back bad news for us.”

Some of the expectant ones emitted groans at hearing this.

“It’s all off, then,” said Dan Fenwick. “I just thought things would
fall flatter than a pancake when the Cliffwood boys started to do
anything worth while. It’s hard luck, that’s what. We’re pursued by a
hoodoo, I believe.”

“Go on and tell us the worst, Dick!” urged Peg Fosdick.

“Yes, we can stand it all right, I should say,” added Elmer Jones,
grimly. “P’r’aps one knock-down may make us wake up, and think of some
other way of spending our summer vacation.”

“Mr. Marley sent word that we had made our application just three days
too late,” continued Dick, smiling sadly. “He’s promised the camp on
his lake to a party of fellows coming over from Emoryville. They belong
to the scouts there, I understand, and mean to stay most of the summer,
doing all sorts of stunts.”

As this meeting had been called especially to learn about the result of
their effort to secure a good camping ground, interest began to subside
as soon as Dick had made his depressing report. Most of the boys
looked gloomy. They had been counting so much on this outing that their
disappointment was keen.

“Remember this doesn’t mean that we’ve got to give the scheme up
altogether,” Dick told a group around him after the meeting had been
hastily adjourned. “There are more places than Lake Marley that can be
used for camping, though we’d like it a heap better if we could be near
the water. Let every fellow hustle, and try to get track of another
good site, so as to report to-morrow night when we have our regular
meeting here.”

Even Nat looked troubled, for he, too, had counted on having the
time of his life, if once the boys of the junior organization found
themselves in camp. Nat was always looking for new opportunities to
play some of his jokes, and he believed he would find many splendid
chances under the novel surroundings of camp life.

Asa Gardner walked part way home with Dick on this night, and Leslie
soon caught up with them. Asa was a pale lad who needed outdoor
exercise very much. He had been greatly depressed by the fact of their
failure to obtain permission to camp on the shore of Lake Marley.

“Oh! you don’t know how much I’ve been counting on getting a week or
two out in the open air,” he confided to Dick, as the three of them
walked along. “And besides, you promised to show me a whole lot of
things about living in the woods that I’d just love to hear about,
Dick. My mother told me I ought to stay outdoors all I could, for you
know I once had an older brother who died from lung trouble.”

“Well, don’t give it up yet, Asa,” Dick told him. “Some of us are not
going to throw up the sponge so easy as all that. Wait and see what can
be done. I’m glad that you seem to be enjoying the club. Mr. Holwell
takes a lot of interest in you, I notice. He told me only yesterday
that he expected to see the day when you’d be up among the leaders,
after you got well started.”

“Mr. Holwell is the best man living,” said Asa, warmly. “When he’s
talking to me I just seem to feel that I could do anything in the world
to please him. He makes you see things the way he does. If I ever do
amount to a row of beans it’ll be through Mr. Holwell, and not because
it was in me.”

“You’re wrong there, Asa,” said Dick, kindly. “It’s got to be in you
first of all, but he knows just how to draw it out. And any fellow who
does things the way Mr. Holwell advises is bound to climb the ladder,
as sure as he lives.”

Asa left the others soon afterward, as his home lay in a different
direction.

“I don’t know just what to make of that chap,” said Leslie, as he and
Dick continued on their way. “He used to be the sneakiest fellow
going, and was always getting things in his pockets that belonged to
others. Just couldn’t help it, I’ve heard people say, for he was like
one of his uncles who used to be a shady financier down around Wall
Street, New York City, and always grabbing things.”

Dick laughed a little at the queer conceit. Leslie was always saying
odd things calculated to make others smile, it seemed.

“Well, if Asa has really conquered that weakness,” Dick went on to say
soberly, “he deserves a heap of credit. Other fellows, who never knew
what it was to feel that itching come over them so they just couldn’t
resist a chance to take something, would never understand what the poor
fellow has been up against.”

“You seem to believe he’s really and truly reformed, Dick.”

“I certainly do,” returned the other boy, warmly. “And if you care to
hear why I’ll explain, though only if you promise never to breathe a
word of it.”

“Count on me to keep the secret, Dick. I’ll be as dumb as any oyster
you ever saw, so fire away.”

“Listen, then,” resumed the other, seriously. “One day about a week or
so ago I was sent on an errand, and crossed the town graveyard to cut a
corner. Somehow, when I was about half-way over, I thought I heard a
voice, and yet I couldn’t see any one at first. I confess I was filled
with curiosity, and looked around. Then I saw something move, and I
stepped that way as softly as I could.”

“Oh! then it was Asa,” interrupted Leslie, feelingly. “And the chances
are he was at his mother’s grave.”

“That’s where I found him,” said Dick, winking hard; “though I didn’t
let him know I was around. He was lying there with his arms outspread,
poor chap, and I guess he must have felt that his mother could hear
him saying what he did, for it was to her he kept talking, now and
then stopping to cry a little. I tell you, Leslie, it gave me a queer
feeling to hear him; and pretty soon I slipped away without his knowing
I’d been around.”

“What was he saying, Dick?” asked the other boy, with an intake of his
breath.

“As near as I can remember it,” replied Dick, “he said something like
this: ‘Oh, Mother! it’s hard to know you’re lying here all alone. But
I’ll never forget what I promised you, and I’m trying with all my might
and main to fight it out. I’ll win, too, Mother, I promise you I will!
But oh! if I could only see you once more I’d be so happy!’”

Leslie was silent for a short time after Dick said this. He was not
quite sure of his voice, which did sound a bit unsteady when he finally
spoke.

“I’m sorry now I ever believed Asa was bound to fall back again into
his old ways, Dick. But Dan keeps on saying mean things about him,
because once, you know, Asa stole something he valued a heap, and Dan
has never quite forgotten it. After what you heard I reckon he _will_
win out, and for one I’m going to help him all I can. The poor fellow
needs friends to back him, just as Mr. Holwell said.”

“That sounds just like you, Leslie,” remarked Dick, slapping his chum
heartily on the back at the same time. “And I’m with you every time. We
may be of some help to poor lonely Asa; and anyway he’ll feel stronger
if he sees that we believe in him.”

“Well, here’s where I have to say good night, Dick,” the other
remarked, a few minutes later.

“It’s early still, Leslie. Why not come with me over to Mr. Nocker’s
house. He’ll be expecting me after the meeting.”

“Hello! what’s in the wind now?” demanded Leslie, with a vein of boyish
curiosity in his voice.

“Oh! nothing much,” came the answer. “I promised to let the deacon know
how the meeting turned out, that’s all. You remember he’s taking a
whole lot of interest nowadays in everything that concerns boys, and
especially the fellows belonging to the Juniors of the Y. M. C. A.”

“That’s right; he is for a fact,” said Leslie, with a laugh. “It is one
of the latter-day miracles, my folks say. Time wasn’t so long ago when
Deacon Nocker seemed just to despise all boys. I guess it was because
he made a foozle of bringing up his own son, who got in trouble, ran
away from home, and left a wife and child when he died.”

“Well, we had something to do with making the old gentleman fall in
love with his own grandson,” chuckled Dick in turn. “For that, it seems
he’s never forgiven us, for he keeps trying to do us favors right
along.”

They continued walking, and presently turned in at a gate. The grounds
belonging to Deacon Nocker’s place were quite extensive. He was the
richest storekeeper in Cliffwood, and had been a surly old fellow until
recently, when a marvelous change for the better had come over him.

The deacon himself let them in, and his thin face was wreathed with a
smile as they shook hands heartily with him. People used formerly to
say that it felt like touching a snake to grasp the deacon’s cold hand.
But that was when his heart was chilly too. Nowadays he was smiling all
the day long, and really there was a vigor in the way he squeezed an
outstretched hand that amazed his fellow townsmen.

“Little Billy wanted to stay up when he heard you were coming over
later,” he was telling Dick, as he ushered the boys into his library,
where his daughter-in-law, Tilly, was seated, doing some sewing at the
table.

“I’m sorry he couldn’t,” remarked Dick, shaking hands with the pretty
mother of the youngster, and who always had a smile for this boy friend
who had done so much to assist her to make peace with Billy’s stern
grandfather.

“I have just come downstairs after putting him to bed,” she told
Dick. “I wish you could hear him at his prayers. He always insists
on remembering you after he mentions his ‘darling mother’ and his
‘grand-daddy.’ You’re Billy’s one hero, Dick. He will never forget
how you saved him from the fire,” she added, referring to an incident
already related in my previous story.

“Well, he’s a dear little chap, that’s a fact,” remarked the boy,
turning red with confusion as he always did when being praised. “But
we’ve only stopped in as I promised you I would, Mr. Nocker, to report
the poor success we’ve had so far in finding a suitable camp-site.”

The deacon raised his eyebrows, nor could Leslie believe that he looked
in the least sorry.

“Tell me how you came out with regard to that site on Lake Marley,”
requested the deacon.

“We had news through Doctor Madison that it has been promised to the
scout troop over in Emoryville,” Dick went on to say. “So far we seem
to be up in the air as to just where we can go. But, of course, we’ll
find some place or other.”

“When do you have your next meeting?” asked Mr. Nocker, as the boys
prepared to take their departure.

“To-morrow, sir, is the regular night for it,” he was told. “Every one
has been asked to pick up any information he can in connection with
another camp-site.”

“Well, I certainly hope that you will be successful in finding
something to suit you, boys,” the deacon said, as they reached the
door. “If I can be of any help, let me know, won’t you?”

“We certainly will, with pleasure, sir, and thank you for the offer.”

As Dick said this he and his chum strode toward the gate. Leslie was
muttering to himself in a peculiar way he had. A minute later he broke
out with:

“I don’t believe the deacon cares very much whether we get a camp or
not, Dick. He was chuckling to himself most of the time, and rubbing
his hands together like a miser. Perhaps he’s getting tired of playing
godfather to a pack of boys.”

“Wait and see,” said Dick, mysteriously, and soon afterwards the chums
separated.

CHAPTER IV

MR. NOCKER SPRINGS A SURPRISE

“Here we are again, right side up with care!” remarked Dan Fenwick on
the following night, as he burst into the meeting-room of the handsome
Y. M. C. A. building, accompanied by two other lads almost as noisy as
himself.

“And it looks as if we might have a cracking good crowd here to-night,”
added Elmer Jones, as he glanced around at the numerous occupants of
the chairs. “Here’s our new member, Humbert Loft, the nephew of our
high-brow town librarian who wanted us to read nothing but classics and
the dead languages, instead of splendid stories for boys written by our
favorite authors.”

“Yes, but who got beautifully left in the lurch when we started our own
circulating library, every book of which has had the approval of Mr.
Holwell, and is both clean and uplifting,” observed Peg Fosdick, who
made the third of the trio of newcomers.

“I understand,” Dan went on to say, exultantly, “there are more than a
hundred and thirty volumes on hand now, and Leslie’s Uncle Henry has
promised us another batch just as soon as he can run down to the city
and look them all over, to be sure they are of the right sort.”

“There are three of the mill boys here to-night--Eddie Grant, Ban
Jansen and Cub Mannis,” whispered Elmer. “I know Dick will be glad of
that, and Mr. Holwell too, because they get around so seldom. Eddie
said one night that they were usually too tired out after their work.”

“Mr. Holwell says he is more interested in getting those fellows here
than in any of the rest of us,” Dan remarked, confidentially.

“Oh, that’s something everybody knows!” exclaimed Elmer. “He says we’ve
got good homes, and are under the right kind of influence; but Eddie
and his crowd live in the slums, as you might say, and their only
place at nights is on the street corners or in saloons. It was largely
to keep them from temptation that Mr. Holwell first considered this
addition to the regular Y. M. C. A.”

“I understand that some of the mill hands are taking a
vacation--against their will,” observed Dan. “You see, every summer the
company picks out a week or so to clean up, and, of course, lay a part
of their force off. Now, like as not the boys have heard of our going
off on an outing, and hope to be able to join the crowd.”

“Say, I hope they do!” declared Elmer. “Those three fellows are all
right; and for one I’d like to know more of them. Yes, I’d be glad if
they could go along.”

“The only trouble,” continued Dan, “would be that it will cost us so
much a head to have a week or two in the woods. Some of these fellows
need every cent they earn; and that might prevent them from going
along.”

“Just leave all that to Mr. Holwell,” replied Elmer, confidently. “He’s
the one to think up some scheme to open the way. There come Dick and
Leslie. I must say nobody looks extra gay to-night. See how they all
fix their eyes on Dick, just as if they expected him to be a magician
and haul a camp-site from his bag as the magicians used to pull out
rabbits and such things.”

The meeting was soon called to order by Mr. Bartlett, who again put
Dick in charge. After the roll had been gone over the regular business
was taken up. Plainly every boy was nervous, for all paid less
attention to ordinary matters than customary.

“You see, every one wants to get down to that camping business,”
whispered Dan to his nearest neighbor on the left, who happened to be
the mill hand, Eddie Grant. “They’re hoping Dick has got wind of a
place where all of us can go for ten days or so.”

Eddie Grant sighed.

“I reckon it’s going to be too rich a treat for the likes of some of
us fellers,” he remarked also in a whisper. Dan could easily catch
the shade of bitter disappointment in his manner, showing that the
mill boys had been hugging a hope to their hearts that a way might be
provided whereby they could accompany the others of the Y. M. C. A.
boys on their outing.

When finally the ordinary routine of business had been brought to a
hurried conclusion Elmer Jones was on his feet with a motion.

“I move, Mr. President,” he said, with a broad smile, “that we proceed
to the most important matter that engages our attention just now and
hear the report of the committee appointed to find a camp-site for the
club.”

“Second the motion!” exclaimed Phil Harkness. “Although there’s little
need of it,” he went on, “because hearing the report of any committee
comes under the head of business.”

Dick knew the boys were anxious to learn whether he had met with
success. He hated to disappoint them, but it seemed as though nothing
else could be done.

“I took a whole lot of my time to-day running around, making inquiries
of different people who might know of something we could get,” he
announced. “But so far there’s nothing in sight worth having. Mr.
Truesdale said he wouldn’t object if we camped in his woods as long as
we behaved, and didn’t leave any fires burning when we went away from
camp. But you all know the Truesdale woods, boys.”

“Poor place, where they used to have the Sunday School picnics some
years,” ventured one boy. There was a look of disgust on his face as he
spoke, as though he were thinking it would be much too tame for them to
spend a whole week on the spot where children came to picnic.

“And too near town besides,” added Dan Fenwick. “When we camp out it’s
got to be far away from home, and in a regular wilderness. That’s what
makes it feel like the real thing. Huh! I’d as soon put up a tent in
our back yard, and stick it out there for a week, as go to that old
Truesdale wood.”

Dick laughed at the vigor of these replies, though he had fully
anticipated hearing something of the sort.

“Perhaps some one else has had the good luck to get track of a place,”
he went on to remark. “If so, don’t be backward about coming forward.
We’d like to hear what you’ve done, even if it was only to meet with
disappointment as I did.”

Clint Babbett jumped to his feet, saying:

“I tackled ever so many people during the day, and had two places
offered to me, but on conditions we couldn’t think of accepting. One
of these, would you believe it, came from a woman who insisted that
we build no fires while in camp, as she would do what cooking was
necessary.”

At that a shout went up, nor did the chairman attempt to quell it,
for he, too, was shaking with laughter, as was also the amused Mr.
Bartlett, sitting near by.

“What d’you think of that, now?” cried Dan Fenwick. “Camping out for
a whole week, and not allowed to light even one fire to sit around in
the evenings! Say, I can see twenty hungry fellows marching up to that
woman’s door three times a day for a cold hand-out!”

“She’d get sick of her bargain in no time. She’d find we’d eat her out
of house and home,” laughed Peg Fosdick.

“There’s no doubt,” interrupted Dick, seriously, “but the woman
thought she was giving us boys a big help, but it only goes to show
how little some women know what a boy’s heart hungers for. It takes a
man to understand a boy, my mother says. Why, even girls in these days
wouldn’t stand for that sort of camping out.”

Several others got up to tell how they had prosecuted an earnest
search, but absolutely without success. No one seemed to know of a
suitable site for a boys’ camp within a reasonable distance of town.

As the chances grew less encouraging, some of the boys began whispering
among themselves. It really looked as though the plan on which they had
set their hearts would have to be given up.

Dick was holding the meeting from being adjourned, though Leslie could
not see the sense of further discussion, since no one had been able
to offer any real hope of success. Still, had any one watched Dick
closely, he would have discovered that the acting chairman cast many
anxious glances toward the door of the room, and that his nervousness
was really taking on the form of keen disappointment.

Then it came to pass that the door was quietly opened and some one
slipped into the room. No one but Dick saw him enter, for all were
engaged just then in a warm discussion as to whether it might not be
wise to accept the kindly meant offer of Mr. Truesdale, and make the
best of it.

Dick smiled now, as though a heavy load had been taken from his mind.
Certain suspicions he had allowed himself to entertain were evidently
in a fair way of becoming actual realities.

It was no other than Deacon Nocker who had so silently entered. He
stood listening to what was being said for and against the Truesdale
woods. Dick could see the smile on his thin face, and he noticed the
way he kept nodding his head as he followed the arguments advanced.

“I guess it’s as good as settled,” was what Dick was telling himself;
though, in reality, he had no means of knowing what kind of offer Mr.
Nocker was going to make to the boys of the Y. M. C. A. to whom he owed
so much happiness.

“Allow me to say a few words, boys,” remarked the deacon, presently, at
which there was a craning of necks, and many eager looks cast in his
direction. “Most of you may not know that I own all the land around
Lake Russabaga, including a famous camp-site on Bass Island. I’ve come
here to-night to make you an offer, which pleases me much more than
it can any of you. Now, if the proper arrangements can be made for
transportation, and your parents are willing you should go so far from
home, I want the Y. M. C. A. boys to camp up there on the prettiest
lake in the whole State. I hope you’ll accept my offer, which comes
direct from my heart!”

CHAPTER V

A BRIGHT PROSPECT AHEAD

Dick was laughing now. He had had good reason to suspect that Mr.
Nocker intended to help them.

Everybody was looking happy after hearing the wonderful offer which the
deacon had just made. Led by Dan Fenwick, the boys raised a shout in
which the name of Mr. Nocker was plainly distinguishable.

The deacon held up his hand as though he had something more to
communicate, so Dick, as chairman of the meeting, knocked on the table
with his gavel to bring the wild cheering to an end.

“There are a few things I want to say to you, boys,” began the deacon,
evidently enjoying the sensation of being so heartily cheered. “The
first is in connection with the expense you will all be under, if
you accept my offer. Lake Russabaga is a good many miles away from
Cliffwood, and the railroad fare will amount to considerable.”

“We’ll be glad to stand for that, sir!” announced one boy, quickly.

“I have no doubt but the majority of you can spend the money required
without feeling it,” continued the deacon, with a quick look toward the
three mill boys who were leaning forward and listening eagerly. “But
there may be a number who would like to go, and yet who could not spare
the money to pay their expenses. I have a little plan to help them out.”

The interest of Eddie Grant and his two companions increased. They
seemed to understand that Mr. Nocker had them especially in mind.

“There are some extensive patches of blueberries growing about my
property on the lake,” continued the deacon. “Every year up to now I
have given permits to certain people to pick all they wanted, and send
the results down to the canning factory here in Cliffwood. This season,
although the crop I am told is an extra large one, no one has applied
for permission to pick it. So I propose that as many boys as wish may
spend a portion of their camp time gathering blueberries. I will make
arrangements to get them down here, and each boy will be credited with
his earnings, which will go to repay the money I agree to advance on
tickets and other expenses.”

At that Eddie Grant jumped to his feet with a vim.

“There are some of us here, Mr. Nocker,” he exclaimed, eagerly, “who
want to go on this trip, but didn’t feel that we could afford to spend
the money that we’ll need a little later for clothes or somethin’.
We’ll be mighty willin’ to pick berries, or do anything like that, to
help pay our share of the expenses. Isn’t that so, boys?”

“It sure is!” answered one of his mates, and the other nodded his head
vigorously, being too agitated to use his voice.

“Well,” continued the deacon, with another smile of satisfaction as
though he truly enjoyed being the messenger of good news. “I’ll leave
it to you to decide. If your treasury doesn’t hold enough ready cash
I’d be willing to help out, or start a collection to tide over.”

“Oh! we couldn’t stand for that, sir!” exclaimed Leslie Capes,
quickly. “Nearly all of us can raise the amount needed; and your plan
will settle the share of those for whom the expense would be too
great. Taking up a collection sounds too much like charity. We’ve got
something left from the proceeds of our minstrel entertainment, for
one thing, that could be loaned to any member in good standing, to be
repaid after we came back from the camp. None of us who hasn’t the
money would mind working for it, but I’m sure I can speak for all and
say not one of us wants it given to him.”

“There’s another thing I want to mention,” called back the deacon from
the open door just before he vanished, “and that is, if you conclude
to accept my offer and camp on Bass Island up at Lake Russabaga, you
must beware of that thief!”

The boys stared at each other on hearing this, especially since the
deacon did not stay to explain what he meant. After he had withdrawn
there was considerable discussion as to what his mysterious words
signified.

“What sort of people live up that way, anyhow,” one boy asked, “for him
to tell us to look out for that thief?”

“If there’s a thief loose up there why haven’t they caught him before
now?” another demanded.

“P’r’aps that job is being held off for the Y. M. C. A. boys to
tackle,” suggested a third with a grin that told how gladly he would
enter into the game if it should really turn out that way.

“It strikes me as a rather poor sort of place for respectable boys
to camp in, if there’s such a low character loose in the vicinity. I
really will have to think it over before deciding to accompany the rest
of you.”

That came from Humbert Loft, a nephew of the librarian whose constant
nagging of the town boys, in his desire to have them select only
standard works suited to much older heads, rather than the juvenile
books they yearned to read, had been the cause of much bad feeling, and
had resulted in the boys starting a library of their own.

The peculiar ways of Humbert were well known to the others, so that
his present lofty remark did not cause much surprise. Most of the boys
indeed could not bear his superior airs, and thus far his associations
had not been of a character to give him much joy.

Dick alone stood by him whenever the others started to tease the
librarian’s nephew, who had imbibed the notions of Mr. Loft himself.
Dick could not agree with the ideas which Humbert advanced, but still
he believed he could catch traces of the more natural boy underneath
this veneering. Dick hoped that some time or other Humbert might throw
off his sham of superior polish and come out as Nature intended boys to
be, perhaps rough and careless, but good-hearted, and meaning well even
when disposed to be full of boyish pranks.

Asa Gardner in particular heard the remarks made by Mr. Nocker with
great joy. As he had told Dick, he often dreamed of enjoying the
pleasure of camping out, of which he had read many times; and now that
it began to look as though a chance had come for him to experience the
sensation he felt very happy.

“The outdoor life is the thing for me,” he remarked to Elmer Jones
after the meeting had been adjourned by the temporary chairman.

“Well, for that matter I’m just as crazy about such things as any
fellow could be and keep out of the asylum,” remarked Elmer. “I’ve
had a few chances to camp out and have managed to pick up some of the
tricks of the trade. But there’s a heap I don’t know yet, and I mean to
learn it all as fast as I can.”

“But besides the fun of the thing,” continued Asa, seriously, “it’s
bound to do me lots of good, you know. My mother told me to keep
out-of-doors all I could, because--well, my lungs are a little weak,
I guess. You know my brother was taken off that way, and it kind of
scares me sometimes when I have a cough.”

Elmer, big and strong, who never had known a sick day in all his life,
could still feel for a boy who had not enjoyed such robust health.

“Couldn’t do anything better than to live out-of-doors all you can,
Asa,” he went on to say. “They’ve found that fresh air is the best
thing going for weak lungs. In fact they’ve stopped giving medicine,
and just keep patients in the sunshine and the air all the day, as well
as get them to sleep in the open too.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing for a year now,” continued the other,
eagerly. “I have a sleeping porch alongside my room, and all last
winter I never spent even one night indoors.”

Elmer looked at him with more respect on hearing this.

“And we had several big blizzards at that,” he remarked. “Then you must
be in good trim for camping, because you’re used to the night air. But
we’re all of us a heap glad we are really going so far away from home,
though we’ll miss our moth----”

Elmer stopped suddenly, because he remembered that Asa had lost his
mother. He saw the other turn white and gulp hard; but as Elmer walked
away just then nothing further was said on the subject.

The boys found it hard to separate that night, there was so much to
talk over. Suggestions were made of every kind as to what supplies they
ought to take with them and whether this or that would be the right
thing.

“Before we leave here, boys,” said Dick as they prepared finally to
depart, “it strikes me it would be only fair to give three cheers for
Mr. Nocker, one of the best friends the boys of Cliffwood ever had.
That is, if Mr. Bartlett doesn’t object.”

The cheers were given with a will, and as the windows of the room were
open the man, who happened to be passing, could plainly hear his name
mentioned with hearty vigor as the score of lusty voices rang out. And
Deacon Nocker felt a warmth in his heart as he listened, such as that
organ had never known before.

CHAPTER VI

MAKING CAMP ON BASS ISLAND

A few days later, when a train stopped at the small station of Rockton,
a crowd of boys accompanied by two older persons and a smiling colored
man, jumped from the cars. They seemed to carry innumerable packages,
and not a few had in addition knapsacks fastened to their backs.

Besides this, from the baggage car an astonishing amount of stuff was
thrown, consisting of tents and cots and blankets.

Most of the provisions had been properly packed at the store. But Dick
saw to it that such things as eggs were carried by some of the boys,
since they would not stand much rough handling. They expected, however,
to secure further farm products from some farmer not a great distance
away from the camp on the shore of Bass Island.

Then the train began to puff again, and the score of boys, together
with Harry Bartlett, Mr. Asa Rowland, the physical culture director at
the Y. M. C. A., and “Sunny Jim,” the negro cook, found themselves left
at the small station.

“They say it’s all of four long miles to the lake,” remarked Peg
Fosdick, taking a look over the camp duffle that had been thrown in a
great pile alongside the track.

“Oh! if you think that would be too long a tramp for your game leg, Mr.
Bartlett would let you ride on one of the two wagons we’ve hired to
haul the stuff over,” Dick told him. To this, however, Peg protested,
saying:

“Huh! what d’ye take me for, Dick? If I’m not good for a little hike
like that I ought to have stayed at home and be tied to mother’s apron
strings. I was only wondering how much of this stuff I could hoist in
case those wagons failed us, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t bother about that,” called out Leslie just then. “From the
cloud of dust rising along the road over yonder I reckon our teams are
coming now.”

His prediction turned out a true one, and it did not take the eager
boys long to get their possessions loaded. There was more or less
merriment as this labor was in progress; and many were the comments
made concerning the piled-up wagons.

“Looks just like a gypsy outfit on the road,” suggested Clint Babbett.

“Now it would be a good thing for everybody who cared to do it to put
his bundle aboard one of the supply wagons,” Dick suggested. “Four
miles is something of a walk on a hot day like this, and it’s going
to feel like a bag of lead before you get there. We can take turns
carrying those precious home-laid eggs.”

“If we get settled in camp this afternoon we’ll be in good fix for our
first night out,” asserted Elmer, after they had started on the tramp,
stringing along the dusty country road.

“We ought to have the camp in pretty good shape for Mr. Holwell, if he
keeps his promise and comes up to see how we’re getting on to-morrow,”
added Dan. “We must let him see that we know how to go about things in
a way to make ’em look clean and neat. As Mr. Bartlett says, we don’t
mean to stand for any shiftless ways in Camp Russabaga!”

“That name sounds good to me,” remarked Dick, instantly. “If the rest
of you are of the same mind let’s begin and call it that from now on.”

“Camp Russabaga it is!” exclaimed Peg, with his customary enthusiasm.
“There could hardly be a name that’d suit me better.”

“It’s just the ticket all around!” added Asa.

“I should call it quite euphonious!” observed Humbert Loft, who after
all had decided to risk having his feelings hurt many times by his
rough comrades, and from sheer curiosity had concluded to accompany
them on the camping trip.

The campers plodded along just ahead of the heavily laden wagons, and
as is the case when a number of lively boys get together, there was so
much laughter and conversation that none of them noticed the passage of
time.

“We’re getting near the lake, fellows!” suddenly called out Fred
Bonnicastle. “I’m sure I had a glimpse of something that looked like
water just then. Yes, it lies yonder--between the two big oaks.”

“And not over half a mile away at that!” added some one else,
hopefully, for feet were commencing to drag.

“It’s surely lonely enough up this way,” remarked Leslie. “Not a sign
of a cabin around.”

“I heard there were one or two shanties on Bass Island that the berry
pickers stay in when it storms, the best picking being over on the
island,” answered Peg Fosdick. “We can make use of them for a storage
place.”

“And, too, if any finiky chap doesn’t like the idea of sleeping under
canvas, he’s at liberty to fix himself a bunk where he’ll have a real
roof over him,” put in Dan.

He looked at Humbert when saying this. The “superior” boy colored a
little and hastened to say:

“Oh! as for me, I’ve quite made up my mind that when I’m in Rome I
shall do as the Romans do. My uncle advised me to forget that we came
of an old and honored New England family when associating with----Oh! I
mean that I want to do just as the rest of you think is best.”

“He came mighty near calling us common folks!” whispered Peg, gloomily,
turning to Elmer, who chanced to be alongside the limping one. “I
reckon that is about what he really believes us to be. I hope His
Majesty isn’t going to be contaminated while he’s up here in camp with
the common herd. ‘Those who touch pitch will be defiled,’ I heard Mr.
Holwell say only last Sunday.”

“I’m real sorry for Humbert,” Elmer told him in reply. “He’s so very
nice that this rough-and-ready world isn’t good enough to hold him. He
ought to be in a glass case, it strikes me.”

The idea caused Peg to laugh aloud. Possibly Humbert may have suspected
that he had something to do with their merriment, for he turned and
looked at them almost reproachfully, which caused Peg to say in a low
tone:

“Oh! well, I suppose he just can’t help it. He’s been fed with soft
pap all his life, and had to associate with that lofty Loft uncle of
his who really believes all boys should be forced to read nothing but
standard works.”

It was not long before they came in sight of Lake Russabaga. The
spectacle was so inspiring that the boys broke out into a loud cheer.

“What a whopping big sheet of water it is!” exclaimed Elmer Jones. “It
must be a whole lot of miles across there to the further shore that
looks so dim in the distance.”

“And that island about a mile from this side must be the one we’re to
camp on--Bass Island,” suggested Peg, his voice filled with delight.

“Dick says we’d better be hurrying along!” called out Leslie. “You
understand we’ll have our hands full ferrying all this stuff across
there; and from the clouds gathering along the horizon Mr. Bartlett
seems to think we may have a thunder-storm before many hours pass by.”

“Get a move on, everybody!” cried Clint.

In due time the boys and the two teams reached the shore of the lake.
Here the loads were hurriedly taken off, after which the drivers were
paid and the teams started back, for neither of the men liked the looks
of the clouds, and both prophesied rain before long.

“Where are the two boats we were to use when up here?” asked Mr.
Rowland, who was a fine specimen of physical manhood.

“Dick and Elmer have gone to get them,” replied Leslie. “Dick knows
where they are hidden away from one summer to another. I only hope they
don’t leak too much, that’s all. It’d be pretty rough to have one of
them sink under us when half-way over.”

Leslie said this aloud so that Humbert might hear it, his object being
to give that “mother’s darling,” as Dan called Humbert, cause for
alarm. He accomplished his intention, for Humbert was seen to look
long and anxiously out across the waters of the lake, and then heave a
tremendous sigh.

The two boats were soon brought around, having been easily found.
They were not, as Fred Bonnicastle said, “things of beauty and a joy
forever.” In fact, the boys considered them very rough looking, being
rudely made, and old in the bargain. They leaked a little, but that
defect could no doubt be remedied when Dick and some of the others
found time to get to work on them.

By adjusting the loads properly and doing a little bailing
occasionally, the boats could be safely ferried across to the island.

Two good loads were sent off, with a number of the boys along to get
things started ashore. They were under the charge of Mr. Bartlett and
the physical culture director, and had orders to put up the tents and
fasten them with extra care, as there could be no telling how much
wind would come if the storm finally descended on them, and it would
be necessary to have some shelter both for themselves and for their
provisions.

When later on the boats returned only two boys came with them, the rest
of the party staying on the island in order to get the camp started.
Another load was sent off, and with it went a second detachment of the
boys, as well as the smiling black cook. All this took considerable
time. No one dared mention such a thing as stopping to eat until
everything had been safely transferred to the island where the camp was
to be pitched.

“There’s only enough stuff left here for a single load now,” called out
Dick, as both boats started off for the third time. “Send one of them
back with a fellow to row. I’ll be waiting here to clean up.”

It was almost half an hour later when he discovered the boat
approaching the shore. Dick was somewhat surprised to see that the boy
who wielded the oars was Asa Gardner; and he also noted that the boy
had a pretty fair stroke. His cheeks were rosy for one of his usually
pale complexion. His eyes, too, sparkled as though Asa was enjoying the
experience as far as it had gone.

“You’re surprised at seeing me, I know, Dick,” Asa said, as he drew in
to the land. “I just begged Leslie to let me bring the boat back, and
he agreed. The others are working like beavers to get the tents up and
everything safe before it starts to rain. Do you think we’ll be caught
in the storm, Dick?”

There was a little vein of anxiety in the boy’s voice, Dick fancied,
as though Asa might already be repenting of his temerity in venturing
across the wide waste of waters on such a risky errand.

“Let’s get the stuff packed aboard as soon as we can,” said Dick, as he
took up a bundle of blankets and tossed them into the skiff. “The storm
is likely to hold off another hour, but then it may catch us half-way
over. But you said you could swim, didn’t you, Asa?”

“Oh! yes, pretty well,” replied the other.

A few minutes sufficed to complete the packing. Dick wanted things to
be securely fastened in case they met with a heavy sea.

“Now we’re off,” he said, as he entered the boat. “I’ll start rowing,
because you must be tired, Asa. If it should get very rough I may have
to call on you to take an oar to help out, for two are better than one
at such times, you know.”

“I’m willing enough,” said the other, seating himself amidst the load.

Dick threw considerable power into his work. He knew there was more
or less danger of being caught far out from land in the storm, and
that, considering that their boat was old and leaky, did not present a
flattering outlook.

Just as he feared, they had gone little more than half the distance
across when a loud peal of thunder followed a brilliant flash of
lightning.

“It’s coming, Dick! The squall!” cried Asa. “I can see it racing over
the water!”

CHAPTER VII

IN THE GRIP OF THE SQUALL

“We’re in for it, I’m afraid, Asa!” said Dick, as he saw what the other
had reference to, for the wind was coming in their track, and promised
to drive the boat toward the island rather than from it.

“Tell me what to do, Dick, and I’ll try to follow it out!” Asa
exclaimed.

His face was deathly white, and his lips quivered as he spoke. Still
Dick could see that the boy had a pretty good mastery over his fears.
Indeed, with such a dismal prospect staring them in the face, even a
more seasoned camper than Asa Gardner might have displayed nervousness.

“He’s got considerable nerve, anyway,” Dick said to himself, when he
saw his companion gritting his teeth, and clenching his hands. Raising
his voice he went on to say: “I guess two pairs of arms would be better
than one just now, Asa; so drop down on that other thwart and take this
oar.”

The boy did as he was bidden.

“Now, what’s the game, Dick?” he asked, as soon as he had clutched the
oar after it had been hastily placed in the rowlock by his comrade.

“We must turn around in a hurry, because that big wave might swamp us
if it came up over our stern,” he was told.

The boys hurriedly got the boat around so that the bow pointed toward
the shore from which they had so recently come, though toward a
point farther along the coast line. None too soon was the manoeuver
accomplished. The squall rushed across the half mile of water with
wonderful rapidity. It carried a “white bone in its teeth,” as a
mariner would say, for a line of foam showed directly in the wake of
the first rush of wind.

“Steady now! Keep her head straight into the wind, and don’t worry any;
we can hold our own as well as we want. Now, row hard, Asa!”

With those words they commenced to work their arms. The boat started
directly at the foamy track of the storm, met the wave, and plunged
into it.

Both boys were immediately drenched with the spray, but much to Dick’s
satisfaction Asa held firm, continuing to labor fiercely. The boat
reared up and pitched like a bucking bronco, but as its nose was headed
directly into the waves it could not capsize, as would have been the
case had they been caught beam on.

Perhaps Asa Gardner had never been in a position of real peril before.
He certainly showed considerable grit, Dick thought, for with set teeth
he was straining himself to the utmost while tugging at his oar; nor
did he once “catch a crab” by missing his stroke and falling backward.

“Take it easier, Asa!” shouted Dick, for the storm was making such a
din around them by this time that ordinary talk was next to useless.

“But it’ll drive us along if we don’t look out!” cried the other in
return.

“Just what I want it to do!” returned Dick reassuringly.

Asa complied with the orders he had received. Nevertheless he was
undoubtedly puzzled to understand what Dick was planning to do.

“But won’t we be washed out there into the middle of the lake, Dick?”
he asked, unable to grasp the other’s plan. The very thought of being
sent scudding before that howling summer storm into the waste of waters
terrified Asa.

“Not necessarily,” Dick snapped out. “From the way we’re going I’m in
hopes of striking Bass Island. There’s a long cape or spur that juts
out on this side, you may have noticed. When we get to that we’ll try
to draw in behind it!”

“Oh!” exclaimed Asa, and it was evident that he grasped the scheme his
companion had arranged on the spur of the moment.

The crisis could not be very far away, that was sure, because since
they had relaxed their efforts they were being carried swiftly along,
always with the bow of their boat pointed directly into the wind and
waves.

Many times the billows, growing higher the further they were driven
from the shore, would smash against the prow of the boat and scatter
spray over the occupants. But Dick cared nothing for that. Getting wet
was a small matter beside being swamped, with their lives placed in
danger.

“We’re close to the island!” cried Asa, presently, bracing himself for
the expected command to row furiously again.

“Yes, and that’s the spur I spoke of,” added Dick. “When we are a bit
nearer we must start to work. I’ll turn the boat in a little right now,
so as to be ready.”

“I can hear the fellows yelling like mad,” continued the other boy.

Dick heard the shouts too, but paid little attention to them. He
realized that Mr. Rowland and the boys who were racing like mad to get
out on that jutting cape could not do the least thing toward assisting
those who were in peril. If he and Asa managed to reach shore it would
have to be through good luck, seconded by their own desperate efforts.

The cape was close by. Indeed, it would have been an easy thing for
a boy to have thrown a stone from its extremity to the boat. Dick was
carefully keeping track of things, and he knew just when it was time
for them to begin pulling with might and main.

“Now, go for it, Asa!” he suddenly called out.

Both strained every muscle. And there was need of their greatest
exertions, for the wind and waves combined made a foe worthy of their
respect. The old boat seemed like a cork on the surface of the agitated
lake.

Just as Dick had calculated, they were now fairly well able to hold
their own when taking the waves on their starboard quarter. All the
while, however, progress was being made toward the island. If only they
could manage to get far enough along they would soon begin to feel the
advantage of that projecting arm, or cape, for behind it the waves were
far less boisterous.

It was a lively affair while it lasted, and Asa for one would never
forget his experience as long as he lived. Though the rain had stopped
the thunder still rolled heavily, while the beating of the waves
against the land added to the clamor. The waves rushed past the heaving
boat with a sharp hissing sound that Asa compared to that made by angry
serpents in fear of being cheated out of their intended prey.

The terminus of the little spur of land could be seen now, for they
had actually been carried past it. Much progress had also been made
in pushing toward the land, and Dick for the first time began to feel
satisfied that they would accomplish the object of their hard labors.

The other boys, together with the physical instructor, reached the
outer shore by now. They were still shouting, and were wildly agitated,
the boys, at least, under the false impression that those in the boat
had missed their aim, and were now in deadly danger of being carried
away toward the center of the big lake.

Indeed, Dan Fenwick was hurriedly disrobing as though to leap into the
water in an attempt to assist his chums, though, in fact, this would
have been a most foolish venture, nor would Mr. Rowland have allowed
him to attempt it.

Dick already felt the terrible strain lessening. He knew they must be
getting the benefit of the shelter offered by that projecting cape,
against which the waves were dashing angrily.

“It’s all right, Asa; take it a little easier now. We can make the land
without much trouble. Just keep pulling steadily, that’s all.”

Being short of breath Dick jerked out these sentences, but his
reassuring words were like balm to the disturbed mind of the boy at his
side.

Presently they began to draw nearer the land, a fact that gave the
observers the first hint as to what Dick’s plan had been. Cries of
alarm changed to ringing huzzas, and several boys could be seen waving
their soaked hats in triumph as they pushed through the wet undergrowth
to be in a position to meet the others when they landed.

Asa began to recover in a measure from his state of fear. Dick
understanding just how he must be feeling, talked confidently to him.

“I must say you did your part well, Asa,” was the way he spoke. “You’re
bound to make your mark if you keep on trying. It’s in you I can see
well enough. I wouldn’t want a better and pluckier comrade in a boat
than you proved to be.”

When the two lads finally drew in to land the thunder was muttering in
the distance, the wind had begun to die down, and there was a rift in
the clouds overhead. Like many summer squalls, the storm had been of
brief duration, and was already of the past.

Still Asa shuddered as he cast a look out toward the main lake, and
thought of what might have happened to them except for Dick’s clever
handling of the situation.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FIRST NIGHT OUT

Asa was very thankful to be on land again after his recent adventure.
He was shivering with cold, and Mr. Rowland realized that the first
thing to be done was to push around to the place where the tents had
been raised, and get some fires under way.

“Here, everybody turn in and make for the camp!” he called out, when
he could get the happy boys to stop shaking hands with Dick and the
shivering Asa. “We want warmth, and we want it right away, too. Fire
brigade to the fore. Show us what you can do about getting a blaze
started.”

Laughing and joking, now that all danger was past, the boys hastened
toward the spot where they had pitched their camp. This was at the
place used by the berry pickers and what few fishermen came to the lake
for sport.

“The first thing necessary,” said Mr. Bartlett, who was serving as camp
leader, “is to get a good fire going.”

“We were smart enough to have a lot of fine dry wood thrown into one
of the two shanties, Dick,” announced Leslie with a vein of pride in
his voice.

“That was clever of you, I must say,” remarked Dick. “Let’s make a
number of fires, for we’re all pretty well soaked, and it’s going to be
some job, believe me, drying everything after that ducking. Sha’n’t we
have several, Mr. Bartlett?”

Presently the first blaze began to crackle. Then others took hold, and
in ten minutes there were four good fires burning merrily.

“Now strip off those wet clothes, boys,” ordered Mr. Rowland. “Here are
your bags, and if you carried out the directions I gave you the other
day, you both have dry stuff in plenty for a complete change, and shoes
as well. Keep near the fire, and exercise your arms all you can.”

Asa was looking blue about the lips, and shivering just as you have
seen a hungry and cold dog do when begging to be let in at the door on
a wintry day. It was evident that only his will power was keeping him
up.

As Dick was stronger and was, as well, hardened to such things, he
could stand it and not suffer.

Mr. Rowland had Sunny Jim get one of the several coffeepots, and soon
had some water heating on a fire in order to make some hot coffee.

“Nothing to beat hot coffee when you’ve been ducked and feel shivery,”
Dick said to Asa, after they had got their wet garments off and, under
the directions of Mr. Rowland, were rubbing themselves briskly all over
with coarse huck towels before starting to dress again in dry clothes.

Already the pinched blue look was leaving Asa’s lips, and a touch of
color had appeared in his pale cheeks. His eyes had a sparkle, too, as
though the excitement of his recent adventure still possessed him.

In the end all managed to get thoroughly dry. The sun was shining once
more, and this helped to make things look cheerful again.

“I move we have a bite to eat before starting to work again at the
camp!” Dan Fenwick was heard to say. To this suggestion unanimous
assent was given, for like all boys they were made up mostly of
appetite.

“A few slices of ham wouldn’t go bad!” exclaimed Phil Harkness,
smacking his lips.

“And a few cans of those Boston baked beans strikes me as extra prime!”
added Clint Babbett.

So it was ordered by Mr. Bartlett, and before long a delightful odor
began to steal about that vicinity, causing some of the boys to groan
dismally, and declare they were almost famishing for want of lunch.

“Why, it’s nearly two o’clock I want you to know,” asserted Andy Hale,
reproachfully. “And I had my breakfast at six this morning, because I
was afraid I might be late and find the rest of you gone.”

In time the call came to gather around a rough table those boys first
on the island had put together.

“Any way will do this time,” Mr. Bartlett announced; “but by another
meal we must have some system arranged. This camp is going to be
systematically conducted, you understand, and not be Liberty Hall,
where every boy can go as he pleases.”

“Yes,” remarked Dick. “Mr. Holwell is coming up to-morrow, too, and we
want him to see that we can behave ourselves, and not act like a lot of
savages.”

The hungry crowd devoured every scrap of food that had been prepared,
and drained both coffeepots to the dregs. There was considerable
merriment shown during the first meal on Bass Island, and everybody
agreed that the prospects for an enjoyable stay looked promising.

Afterwards they rested a little while, and then the camp leader set
them all certain tasks. Several commenced to patch the roof of one of
the cabins, which was found to be in a leaky condition. Others aired
such blankets as had got wet--those which had been in the bundles
carried in the boat at the time the storm overtook the voyagers.

Still more of the boys were engaged in cutting wood. Here Eddie Grant
and his two chums showed that they were quite at home, for they had
long ago learned to use an axe as well as most wood-choppers. In fact,
Eddie confessed he had actually spent a winter in a logging camp
assisting the cook, and in that way learned many things that promised
to be useful now.

Leslie and Dick were looking over the stock of provisions, so that
their supplies might be kept track of, the camp leader having delegated
this task to them.

“There may be wild animals around here, for all we know,” Dick was
saying, “and on that account we’ll make sure to keep things safe. It
would be mighty disappointing if we woke up some morning and found that
a bear had carried off our entire stock of smoked hams and bacon, or
spilt the bags of flour so we couldn’t have the flap-jacks Sunny Jim
has promised to make for us at breakfast time.”

“By the way, Dick,” remarked Leslie, lowering his voice as he glanced
toward the spot where several of the boys were carrying in armfuls
of wood, Humbert Loft among the number, though he carefully brushed
himself off each time, “Humbert is showing signs of being a boy after
all.”

“Did he turn to and help when you landed, and found so much to do?”
asked Dick.

“Just what he did, as well as he could with his dainty ways. You see,
Dick, it’s got to be second nature with him to be eternally brushing
himself off. He hates the sight of dirt, which is just the opposite of
some boys. But then Humbert has been made a sissy by his uncle and his
aunts. He should have been called Geraldine or something like that.
Still, I will say he did a heap better than I ever thought he would.”

“Give him half a chance, Leslie,” urged Dick. “In spite of his superior
airs and high-flown language I think he’s a boy after all. What you saw
was a glimpse of the real nature showing under all the veneer they’ve
plastered on him. For years this thing of ‘cultuah’ as he calls it has
been drilled into the poor chap, so that he just can’t help it if he
acts the way he does.”

“Well, I certainly hope he wakes up real soon then,” asserted Leslie;
“because some of the fellows say they won’t stand for his lofty
ways much longer. A ducking a day would wash some of it out of him,
according to my notion. My father says that true culture brings
simplicity, and what Humbert’s got is snobbery.”

The afternoon wore on, and much was accomplished. It is true the camp
did not present such a trim appearance as Mr. Bartlett intended should
be the case; but then they would have most of another day before Mr.
Holwell arrived.

Supper was prepared amidst much confusion, which would also have to be
remedied.

“‘Too many cooks spoil the broth,’” the camp leader quoted, “and I’ll
arrange it so that those who know something about the business of
getting up meals will have regular turns helping Jim at the job.”

“What about the greenhorns, sir?” asked Asa Gardner.

“For the moment they get off scot-free,” laughed Mr. Bartlett. “But
they will have to act as scullions and wood-bearers to the cook. That’s
the penalty for ignorance. The one who understands things always gets
to the top of the heap, and the one who doesn’t know beans, except when
he tastes them, has to do the drudgery in this world. So if you’re
wise, Asa, hang around when the meals are being prepared and pick up
all the information you can.”

“I certainly mean to, sir. And I want to say right now that I’ve eaten
twice as much supper as I would have done at home. It was just bully!”

“Oh! you’ve come by your camp appetite in a hurry it seems,” laughed
Dick.

They sat around for a long time afterwards, chatting, and singing some
of their school songs. For the first evening Mr. Bartlett meant to be
easy with the campers, he told them. The real discipline would begin in
the morning.

It was a novel experience for some of the lads who had never camped
out before. The fretting of the water along the shore; the mysterious
murmur of the soft wind through the tops of the pines and hemlocks;
the cries of certain night birds, such as an owl and a heron and a
hawk, foraging for food; gave them an excuse for looking half fearfully
around at times, and wondering if the darkness were peopled with
all manner of strange creatures. And the boys had not forgotten Mr.
Nocker’s remarks about watching out for a thief.

“What did he mean by looking out for a thief?” asked Leslie.

“I don’t know,” answered Peg. “Maybe we’ll find out some day.” And they
did--as we shall learn later.

Then came the moon, a little past her prime, peeping over the hills far
to the east, and looking down upon them, as though questioning in a
mild way their right to the occupancy of that island camp.

It was all very romantic, and even Asa Gardner confessed that he liked
it. The day, however, had been a strenuous one for all of them, and
several of the boys could already be detected slily yawning when they
thought no one was looking; so Mr. Bartlett concluded it would be wise
for them to think of taking to their blankets.

Before the order was given for retiring at nine o’clock, however, Mr.
Bartlett announced the programme for the early morning.

“At sunrise reveille will be sounded, when every boy is expected on the
campus, as we shall call this open space here. Mr. Rowland will put you
through the usual United States Army setting-up exercises. After that
the flag will be raised on the flagpole we’ve prepared, and will be
saluted. Then comes the morning bath and swim in which all are expected
to join. After breakfast we will have a brief chapel service in the big
tent. At that time I expect to announce the programme for the first day
in camp. And now good night to you all, boys. I hope every one of you
will sleep well.”

After a little confusion, all sounds gradually died away, and only the
crackling of the fire could be heard, together with the wash of the
waves against the rocks. Camp Russabaga was asleep.

CHAPTER IX

THE RULE OF ORDER AND DISCIPLINE

When the boys were talking of retiring Asa Gardner, who had been
hovering near, approached Mr. Bartlett and Dick.

The former, of course, knew more or less about the strange lad whose
past had been of a character to make him unhappy. Dick had managed to
explain to both the young men who were in charge of the camp how Asa
was fighting his battle manfully, and consequently they sympathized
with the boy.

“Do you want to ask me anything, Asa?” inquired Mr. Bartlett, kindly.

“Just a little favor, sir,” came the hesitating reply, for Asa was
easily confused, realizing as he did that people looked on him in a
different way from what they did ordinary lads.

“Then don’t hold back,” urged the young man, “for you’ll always find
that both Mr. Rowland and myself are willing to accommodate any of you
when it can be done without disturbing the ordinary routine of the camp
too much.”

“It was only this, sir,” continued Asa. “According to the programme
mapped out by Mr. Rowland, and which he read to us, I’m selected to
sleep to-night in the cabin along with three other fellows.”

“And what objection do you have to that, Asa? I think Mr. Rowland
picked out those who were to occupy the cabin with a purpose in view,”
the camp leader remarked, kindly.

“I’m sure he did, sir, for he said as much,” Asa admitted. “But you
see it’s this way with me. I’ve been feeling a heap better ever since
I took to sleeping on that porch they enclosed with wire netting. It’s
been nearly a year now since I started to try that sort of thing, and
I’ve got so used to it I’m afraid I’d feel awfully choky and queer if I
tried to sleep in a room again.”

“I reckon there’s a whole lot in that, too, Asa,” said Dick, with a
quick glance at the camp leader, who nodded in approval. “I’ve heard
people say they couldn’t bear to go to bed inside four walls after
sleeping outdoors for a long time. They complain that it seems to
smother them.”

“Just so,” added Mr. Bartlett, “and I suppose that’s why gypsies
who used to come to Cliffwood trading horses and telling fortunes
said no winter’s storm could ever drive them to seek shelter in a
house-dweller’s place. I’ll make arrangements to have you exchange
places with one of the boys in a tent, Asa. And I’m glad you spoke of
it in time. Remember, both Mr. Rowland and I will be pleased to oblige
any of you boys when the request is as reasonable as yours.”

“I don’t suppose there’ll be any danger out here on this big island,
sir?” remarked Asa, a little uneasily, Dick noticed, as he glanced
around at the moonlit vicinity, and shivered.

“Oh! there’s very small chance that the island holds any wild animals
larger than raccoons and squirrels,” replied the camp leader.

“Besides, Asa,” Dick added, “you must remember that even a wildcat is
afraid of fire, and as a rule shuns the presence of human beings. The
chances are we’ll not be disturbed in any way while camping on Bass
Island.”

And so it came about that Asa found a place in one of the tents, where
he could make himself comfortable near the entrance, and breathe all
the free night air he wished.

Dick slept close to the opening of the tent he occupied in company
with three other campers. Mr. Bartlett had constituted him a sort of
assistant campmaster, to take charge whenever both he and the physical
instructor were absent. Besides this, everybody knew that Dick was
better acquainted with certain matters connected with outdoor life than
most of the other boys, since he had long made woodcraft a study.

Once, during that first night on the island, on awakening from a sound
sleep, Dick crawled softly out of the tent and took a look around. It
was a beautiful night, such as filled his boyish heart with delight.

The moon, almost full, was climbing up close to the zenith, and sent
down a flood of bright light on the slumbering world below. The soft
night breeze continued to whisper among the tops of the tall pine
trees. The gentle waves washed the rocky shore of the big island with a
soothing murmur never to be forgotten.

Just as the sun began to peep above the eastern horizon a gun was fired
and a bugle reveille followed immediately afterward. Those of the boys
who were not already up came dashing out of the tents and the cabin,
prepared to enter upon the duties of this, the first full day in camp.

They found both Mr. Bartlett and the physical instructor ready for
them, while Sunny Jim, who was never seen without a broad grin on his
face, had begun to bustle around amidst his pots and pans as though
making arrangements for starting breakfast.

“Every one in camp with the exception of our cook will be expected to
join in the programme for the early morning!” called out Mr. Rowland,
who was a splendidly built young man, the possessor of several medals
won in athletic matches. “The first of these will be the setting-up
exercises, to start your blood into full action, after which we will
have a dip in the lake.”

A number of the boys did not know the least thing about swimming, and
were more or less timid about entering the water. Mr. Rowland soon
gave them to understand there was nothing to be afraid of. He intended
that there should be no skylarking, no ducking, no horse-play among
themselves.

“We expect to have swimming classes,” he told them as they gathered
around at the edge of the water, clad in their bathing trunks only. “A
life saving crew will be organized, and no boy will be allowed to go
beyond certain bounds on penalty of having his privileges curtailed,
or even cut off altogether. There will be no accidents in the water at
Camp Russabaga if we can prevent it. Now listen while I lay down the
law, and then every one of you must enter the water.”

Three of the boys looked glum at hearing this talk. As may be easily
understood they were Nat Silmore and his two cronies, Dit Hennesy and
Alonzo Crane. They had finally decided to accompany the campers in the
hope of finding numerous chances to enjoy a joke at the expense of
their fellows. It appeared now as though they had deceived themselves
and had made a great mistake, and this realization caused them to look
“sour,” as some of the boys expressed it, understanding what was the
matter with the trio of tricksters.

The flag was already flying in the morning breeze, and it really looked
as if the camp had been inaugurated after the customary manner. All
over our land similar camps organized by enthusiastic members of the
numerous Y. M. C. A. organizations are being conducted along the same
lines. Some of these are run during the entire summer, detachments of
young fellows coming and going from time to time, and all benefiting
greatly through their brief stay in the open, under strict and sanitary
rules.

Sunny Jim had been bustling around preparing breakfast. With that broad
smile on his ebony face he looked as though he meant to do his part
toward making the camp a success. The boys knew him very well, since
Sunny Jim had been a character in Cliffwood for many years. They were
also aware of his reputation as a first-class cook, and anticipated
being treated to many a sumptuous feast while they were in camp.

Some of the boys dressed more rapidly than others, and among the clever
ones were Dick, Peg Fosdick and Dan Fenwick. Peg, having a notion that
he would like to learn all he could about camp cooking as practised by
an experienced man like Sunny Jim, hovered around the fire, watching
and offering to assist whenever he saw the chance.

Breakfast was almost ready, and some of the other boys could be
seen thrusting their heads out from the tents to sniff eagerly the
delightful odors that permeated the camp.

It was just at this time that Peg, who had been looking around and
asking hurried questions of the colored cook, was heard to call aloud
indignantly:

“Say, I just want to know who’s gone and hid away that new aluminum
frying-pan I brought along. I borrowed it from our cook at home just
because it was so big and nice and shiny, as well as light. I carefully
put it on this nail here, and Jim says he never once touched it, yet
you can see it’s gone. Did anybody glimpse a sign of it around?”

“Here, who’s started to playing tricks in this camp so early?” called
Dan Fenwick, indignantly. “My nickel watch was in my vest pocket when
I undressed, but it’s disappeared like smoke. Mr. Bartlett, make the
fellow own up who took it, won’t you please?”

CHAPTER X

THINGS BEGIN TO VANISH

“Are you fellows joking, or is all you’re saying true?” demanded Phil
Harkness; while the others began to crane their necks and stare at Dan
and Peg.

“Honest Injun, the frying-pan has cleared out, and if it doesn’t turn
up, why Sunny Jim and I will have to do the best we can with these
common sheet iron ones,” Peg grumbled. “And that isn’t the worst of
it, either, because just think what’ll happen to _me_ when I get home
again.”

“And you can see for yourselves that my vest pocket doesn’t show a sign
of my little nickel watch,” added Dan, with a shrug of his shoulders
and a quick look around, as though a suspicion had suddenly clutched
hold of him.

“But Dan,” interrupted Elmer Jones, “seems to me that before we crawled
into our blankets I saw you hang your watch on to that nail driven
through the tent pole.”

“Well, come to think of it, that’s just what I did do,” admitted the
mourning Dan. “But you don’t see any watch on that nail right now, do
you?” and he rubbed his eyes vigorously as though trying to discover
whether they could be playing a trick on him.

Everybody agreed that the nail was destitute of any such appendage as a
dollar nickel watch. Mr. Bartlett looked serious, but allowed the boys
to talk it over.

“Well, there’s no use mourning for lost things when breakfast is nearly
ready,” declared good-natured Fred Bonnicastle. “Mebbe the watch is
just having a little joke of its own, and will turn up later in some
pocket of your clothes, Dan.”

“I’m as hungry as a wolf!” called out Clint Babbett.

“Huh! I could eat my weight, and then not half try,” ventured Nat
Silmore.

If the truth were told, Nat spoke up in this boyish way simply because
he fancied some of the others were commencing to cast queer looks in
his direction.

Dan did not say anything more but he did much thinking. Dick Horner
was bothered. At first he concluded that it must be some boyish prank,
and that presently the culprit would confess his guilt with shamefaced
looks, realizing that after all it did not pay to play silly jokes,
especially in a camp where strict discipline was to be maintained.

The more Dick thought it over, however, the less inclined he was to
view it in such a simple light. So far as the vanishing watch was
concerned that might pass current, for every one knew how much Dan
thought of the present from his father on his last birthday; but when
the disappearance of the cooking pan was considered, what boy would be
silly enough to hide that?

That the subject was in the minds of most of the campers was evident,
for while they were enjoying breakfast the thing came up again. It was
Peg who introduced it by saying:

“Seems to me Mr. Nocker knew what he was saying when he warned us to
beware of that thief up here on Bass Island. Looks as if we ought to
chain things down good and tight every time we go to sleep, because
they do seem to have a queer way of walking off.”

Humbert Loft was seen to curl his lip, and those close to him heard him
give a scornful sniff while he observed in his drawling, affected way:

“It’s simply shocking, that’s what I think. Why, right now every
individual in this camp is really under suspicion of being a vulgar
thief! I never dreamed that I should find myself amidst such dreadful
surroundings. I imagine some of my ancestors would turn in their graves
with horror if they knew a Loft had the finger of suspicion pointed at
him.”

He looked as though his appetite had been taken away by the thought.
The boys, however, being no respecters of persons, only laughed.

“The walking’s good between here and the station, Humbert!” remarked
one.

“And there’s sure to be a train for Cliffwood before night, you know,”
another told him in a mocking tone.

Humbert turned red, but for all that there was a glint of defiance in
his eyes, Dick noticed, when he flung back his answer.

“Oh! I suppose we’re all in one boat, boys, and if you can stand it I
ought to be able to do so. On the whole, I’ll reconsider your offer of
some of that bacon, Eddie. Perhaps it may start my sluggish appetite,
who knows?”

“But who can it be, hanging around here and stealing everything he can
lay his hands on?” persisted Phil Harkness.

“Might be some lunatic that’s escaped from the asylum and is hiding in
the woods and brush on the island!” intimated Peg.

The suggestion met with some favor, several of the boys agreeing that
there might be a grain of truth in such a thing.

The two camp leaders were amused, as well as puzzled, by all this talk,
and waited to see what would come of it.

“I’ve read a lot about the queer things people out of their minds keep
on doing,” Andy Hale asserted. “But it seems to me if a crazy man were
hanging around up here our grub would be the first thing he’d tackle.”

“Well,” Clint observed, sagaciously, “he might have done that if we
hadn’t been wise enough to stack about all of the grub in the other
cabin, and fasten the door.”

Dick said nothing, but did considerable thinking. For once he was ready
to admit that the mystery of the night gave birth to unusually puzzling
questions that would have to be solved if they hoped to enjoy their
outing on Bass Island, and he resolved to talk the matter over with Mr.
Bartlett and Mr. Rowland as soon as he had an opportunity.

“We might set some sort of trap for the rascal, and make him a
prisoner,” suggested Andy Hale, thoughtfully. “Now I reckon I could
manage to fix up a deadfall such as they trap bears with in the Maine
woods.”

“But that’d be apt to hurt the poor fellow, or even kill him,”
protested Clint Babbett.

“With a rope and a bent sapling I can show you how they trap alligators
in some countries,” spoke up another boy eagerly. “I was reading about
it only last week, and actually tried it on our dog. Why, when the
sapling was released the noose in the rope tightened around both his
hind legs, and the first thing I knew there was poor old Carlo hanging
head down, and yelping to beat the band. I had to cut the rope in a big
hurry because he acted like a wild thing.”

“How would that sort of thing go, Dick?” asked Leslie, with a wink at
his chum.

“Well,” replied the other, with one of his smiles and a glance toward
Mr. Bartlett, “I hardly think any of us would want to be so cruel as to
hang a human being up by the legs, with his head down; and especially
if, as we suspect, he should be one who was out of his mind and not
responsible for what he did.”

Somehow in all the talk that flew around concerning the important
subject Dick could not but notice that there were two of the boys who
seemed to be tongue-tied.

These were Dan Fenwick and Asa Gardner.

Dick could easily comprehend why Dan should keep silent, because, as
the loser of the watch that had so strangely vanished, Dan was feeling
more or less morose. And then again, when Dick considered what the past
reputation of Asa Gardner had been he felt that there was some reason
why the new boy should not seek to draw attention to himself.

Asa certainly looked troubled. He listened to all that was said,
turning his eyes from speaker to speaker, but uttering not a word
himself. When any one addressed him, merely asking him if he would
have another cup of coffee or a little more bacon, Asa always gave a
violent start and drew in his breath with a sigh before replying one
way or the other.

Breakfast was finally finished and the boys hung around waiting for Mr.
Bartlett to read the programme for the day.

He and Mr. Rowland were busy with the details of that programme, and
Dick had not yet found the opportune moment for speaking to the camp
leader. Dan came over to Dick’s side the first favorable chance he had.

“I want to speak to you about something queer, Dick,” he remarked, as
he threw himself down and looked carefully around, as though to make
sure some one he had in mind was far enough away not to overhear what
he expected to say.

“All right,” Dick told him, “fire away. I can be keeping up my work on
this home-made broom of twigs which we’ll have to use to sweep with. Is
it about your watch?”

“Just what it is, Dick,” the other went on to say, gloomily. “In a
nutshell then, I happened to wake up in the night, and saw some one
walking between me and the fire. And Dick, it was Asa Gardner!”

CHAPTER XI

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.

CHAPTER XII

HAPPENINGS OF THE SECOND NIGHT

When Mr. Holwell stepped ashore to shake hands heartily all around he
looked very happy indeed.

“I’m delighted to be with you, boys,” he told them again and again, in
his sincere way that always drew young people to him.

“The feeling is mutual then, sir,” spoke up Peg Fosdick, bluntly;
“because we’re just tickled half to death to see you up here at Camp
Russabaga. And now, you assistant cooks, suppose you get busy with
dinner. Mr. Holwell will be awfully hungry after his journey, and Sunny
Jim can’t do it all by himself.”

The camp director, accompanied by Dick as his assistant, took the
newcomer around to show him what had been accomplished. As Mr. Holwell
had never set eyes on the big lake before he was greatly impressed with
the picture he saw in the dying sunlight.

“Wait until sunset, sir,” said Dick, eagerly, “and if it’s anything
like we had last evening, with the whole sky painted in colors, you’ll
surely say you never saw the equal of it.”

“I want to remark right now, Mr. Bartlett, that your boys have done
exceedingly well to get this camp in the condition it is. I’ve been
in camps before now, and, as a rule, the campers are a happy-go-lucky
set, willing to shirk work so as to have what they call a good time.
But here everything seems to have a place, and to be where it belongs.
Order is a fine thing for any boy to learn; and cleanliness comes next
to godliness.”

The minister watched the preparations for the meal with kindling eyes.
His memory took him back a good many years to the times when he was a
boy himself; and he could appreciate the enthusiasm with which Sunny
Jim and his helpers went at their pleasing task of getting the good
things to eat ready for the table.

And then that dinner--what a royal one it turned out to be! After the
simple and earnest grace the meal was served. Mr. Holwell showered
unstinted praise on everything that came before him. The fish were
broiled to a turn, the coffee was real ambrosia fit for the gods, the
potatoes had been baked just right, the succotash made him constantly
feel like asking for more. And, winding up with a dish of rice and milk
and sugar, he declared it to be better than any pudding he had tasted
for years.

“I think Mr. Holwell is getting his camp appetite in order right away,”
suggested Peg, who, of course, was delighted to have the culinary
efforts praised in this fashion.

“To tell the truth,” admitted the minister, frankly, “I consider that
I showed most wonderful sagacity in fetching along additional supplies
with me, because if I stir up any more appetite than I seem to have
to-night there’ll be a terrible drain on your stock of provisions.”

“Oh! we know where there’s a farm only two miles away,” said Phil, “and
to-morrow half a dozen of us have been detailed by Mr. Bartlett to
tramp over there and get all the eggs and fresh butter and such things
we can lug back with us.”

“And as long as those dandy bass are willing to take our minnows,”
added Peg, “we ought to keep the wolf from the door, somehow or other.”

After the meal they piled high the campfire, and when the dishes had
been looked after every one sat around in various attitudes, either
taking part in the brisk conversation or listening to what Mr. Holwell
and the camp leaders said in the way of congratulation and advice.

Finally, several were discovered surreptitiously yawning, and Dick
realized that the bed hour had arrived. So interesting had the talk
been that none of them had paid any attention to the flight of time.

“Where am I going to sleep?” asked Mr. Holwell, when Harry Bartlett
explained that nine o’clock was the hour set in the camp for retiring.
Moreover, they had put in a strenuous day from before sunrise, and
consequently all the boys were tired.

“We have provided a cot in the tent we occupy, Mr. Holwell,” explained
the physical director. “Some of the boys have made us a small table for
our few toilet articles, shaving things, and such. Besides, we have a
couple of folding chairs. Only for a shortage of tents we should have
been glad to give you one to yourself, sir.”

The minister shook his head vigorously at that.

“I am glad you didn’t,” he told them, smilingly. “I am no tenderfoot
when it comes to camping, you will find; for in days that are past I
wandered over many parts of the world, and even faced many perils.
I have slept in the igloo of an Esquimau, as well as under the
haircloth tent of a desert Bedouin. I would never stand for being given
accommodations that differed in any degree from those of the boys.”

When they heard him say that, some of the campers felt like shouting
their appreciation, only this early in the outing they had come to
understand that boisterous ways must be kept under control.

Somehow or other, there had been so much to talk about while they sat
around the bright crackling fire after supper that no one had thought
to mention the little mystery of the first night of their stay on Bass
Island.

Dick remembered about it when he was undressing, and was half tempted
to break rules by crossing over to the tent where the three gentlemen
were to sleep, with the intention of speaking to Mr. Holwell.

“What’s the use?” he asked himself on second thought. “It would only
bother him more or less, and perhaps make him have a sleepless night;
because I’m sure he’d begin to think something about poor Asa. In the
morning I’ll watch my chance and tell him about it.”

Accordingly, Dick held his peace. His tent mates were Leslie Capes, Peg
and Andy Hale, all congenial companions, and Dick expected considerable
enjoyment during the nights they would be together.

Talking aloud was prohibited after half-past nine, so that if any
fellows like Nat and his cronies, who had their quarters together,
wished to converse they would have to do it in whispers.

Mr. Bartlett had laid down strict rules, and the penalties for breaking
these would fall heavily on the heads of the offenders. Curtailing all
privileges might cause the guilty ones to repent of having been so
rash.

For once in their lives Nat, Dit and Alonzo found it necessary to do as
they were told; and they were already regretting their step in deciding
to accompany the campers on the outing.

Dick had purposely chosen a particular spot near the exit when
arranging his blanket. He did this for several reasons. In the first
place he liked the idea of attending to the fire in case he happened
to wake up during the night, just as all old woodsmen and hunters were
in the habit of doing, Dick understood. Then again, if there came any
sort of alarm, and he wished to get out in a hurry, it would be more
convenient for him than if he had to stumble over several boys who were
beginning to sit up and get in the way.

Truth to tell, about this time the mysterious events of the preceding
night began to take hold of his mind. Much to his chagrin, for some
little time Dick could not banish them, try as he would.

“Here, this will never do,” he finally told himself after he had turned
over as many as four different times, his thoughts busy all the while.
“Just forget everything but the one fact that you’re sleepy, and it’s
getting pretty late.”

Resolutely holding his mind in check after that, the boy finally
succeeded in falling asleep though it required considerable force of
character to control his feverish thoughts.

Several hours must have crept by when Dick chanced to awaken. One of
his arms felt numb from the weight of his body which had been resting
on it.

“I suppose I might as well throw a log on the fire while I’m about it,”
he told himself, as, yawning, he commenced to push aside his blanket
and crawl forth. “And a few swallows of that cool water wouldn’t go bad
either, for I’m thirsty after all that salty ham I ate.”

The moon was well up in the heavens when he crept forth from the
shelter of the tent and was shining just as brilliantly as on the
preceding night. Without making any sort of noise calculated to disturb
even a light sleeper Dick crossed over to where the flickering fire lay.

As he did so something caused him to glance beyond, and he felt a
thrill as he believed he caught a glimpse of a crouching moving figure
over by the bushes.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MYSTERY GROWS DEEPER

“Why, it’s gone!” muttered Dick, immediately afterwards, for the object
that he had seen so dimly had now vanished.

He stepped over to the red ashes and threw on some small stuff that,
taking fire immediately, blazed up brightly and allowed him to see much
better.

“I wonder if it slipped into those bushes, or went around another way?”
he asked himself.

Was it one of the campers he had seen slipping along in a bent-over
attitude, or could it have been a shadow moving? Dick’s heart was
thumping against his ribs, for he was more or less excited over the
occurrence, especially after what had happened on the preceding night.

[Illustration: “WHY, IT’S GONE!” MUTTERED DICK.]

“I’d like to see if anybody is missing from his blanket,” he continued
to mutter, “but to do that I’d have to wake the whole bunch up, and
there would be the mischief to pay. Perhaps I fooled myself after all,
and just imagined I was seeing things.”

So concluding to let the matter rest until morning came, Dick proceeded
to toss a couple of big pine-knots, that would burn for several hours,
on the fire. Then he glanced dubiously around him once more, after
which he returned to his blanket.

But not to sleep immediately, for his brain was too excited for that.
Indeed, the boy lay there, turning from side to side, until the morning
star had arisen above the horizon and shone in upon him, which fact
announced that it was three o’clock.

After that his tired brain allowed him to forget his troubles for a
time; and when he opened his eyes again the first peep of dawn had come.

Dick crawled softly out and proceeded to get into some clothes. There
was no need of arousing everybody in the camp at such an early hour,
and he knew very well that if he chanced to awaken some of the noisy
ones there would be no further peace until the last sleeper had been
dislodged.

He was building up the fire a little later when Leslie appeared in his
pajamas, stretching himself, having evidently just awakened.

“Always the first to be on deck, Dick; there’s no getting ahead of
you,” he said. And then he added: “But why are you looking over our
cooking outfit that way? Peg made sure to hide the aluminum kettle he
brought along, if that’s what you miss. He said it was bad enough to
lose his frying-pan without having the kettle follow it.”

“I had forgotten,” remarked Dick, relieved, and it was evident that he
had feared the unknown thief had paid the camp another of his nocturnal
visits.

“Looks as if we might have another good day,” continued Leslie, as he
began to change from his pajamas to his “work clothes,” as he called
the old suit he had been wise enough to wear on this outing.

“I certainly hope we shall have a bright day,” Dick observed, “because
Mr. Rowland has a programme laid out that fills in the whole of it for
everybody.”

“I can see that they mean the boys sha’n’t rust out while we’re up here
on Bass Island,” chuckled Leslie. “They believe with the ant that every
shining hour ought to be improved, because there’s always lots to do.”

“Oh! it isn’t that alone,” he was told, calmly. “As Mr. Holwell says,
boys have just got to be doing something all the time or they’ll think
up mischief; so it’s policy to chain that restlessness to good works.
Most of us seem to like it first-rate in the bargain.”

“Haven’t heard the first whine so far,” admitted Leslie. “Those boys
from the mill are certainly doing great stunts. They never had a chance
before really to camp out decently, with plenty to eat along. And then
there’s Nat and his cronies behaving like human beings for once, though
I shouldn’t be surprised if they did manage to break out before we get
home again.”

“Let’s hope not,” said Dick.

Several other boys now made their appearance. They were not in the
habit of getting out of bed at such an early hour at home; but in
camp the surroundings were so entirely different that they could not
get to sleep again, once they opened their eyes at daybreak and heard
whispering going on outside. Besides, they expected the bugle to sound
at any minute now.

Then again with some of them it was a case of hunger, for those
terrible appetites had taken complete possession of them, and hardly
had they disposed of one meal than they began to talk of what they
would like to have for the next one.

Eddie Grant and Ban Jansen, being the assistant cooks for the morning,
were soon helping Sunny Jim. Peg hovered near them, having first of all
hastened to where he had secreted his aluminum kettle which he brought
back to the kitchen department with considerable satisfaction, if the
grin on his face meant anything.

“Gave us the go-by last night, it seems, Dick,” he observed, as he
flourished the shiny article in which their rice had been cooked on the
preceding night.

“I hope we won’t be troubled any more by having our things disappear,”
was all Dick remarked, for somehow he did not feel altogether certain
that the crisis had passed by.

Just then the loud notes of the bugle sounded, for Harry Bartlett had
practised the various army calls and had them down to perfection, from
the “reveille” to the “assembly” and “taps.”

Once again the boys went through the customary manual drill, while Mr.
Holwell, ready for his morning bath, stood and watched the display with
considerable interest.

“I can see that you mean your boys shall get the full benefit of their
outing up here, Mr. Rowland,” he told the athletic trainer as all
started down to the brim of the lake to enjoy a brief plunge. “I can
easily understand now what wonderful benefit any lad is sure to get
from a few weeks spent in one of the many Y. M. C. A. camps spread all
over this broad land, especially if they are being conducted on the
same principles you and Mr. Bartlett have instituted here.”

“Oh! this is only a very small edition, sir,” laughed the other, who
had had considerable experience in Y. M. C. A. camps. “I’ve been in
camps where there were as many as a hundred and fifty boys and young
fellows coming and going all summer.”

“When you have time,” said the minister, eagerly, “I wish you would
tell me more about how these wonderful camps are conducted. As you say
our attempt is only a small beginning, but if all goes well next season
we can have this camp running for two months. Mr. Nocker has become
greatly interested in the matter, and offers to erect a few buildings
up here, such as an ice-house, a dining hall, and the like, though
tents would still be used for sleeping purposes.”

“I am delighted to hear that, sir,” said the athletic instructor,
warmly. “From what I have seen I believe this to be one of the finest
movements ever started to give boys the right kind of outdoor life
under clean and religious surroundings. They can have all the fun
necessary, and at the same time build up both their bodies and their
minds in a healthy fashion. Now if you will watch I can show you some
of the work of our life-saving corps. You will see that with such
well-trained helpers there will be no danger of even the most timid or
awkward bather incurring any risk of losing his life.”

Mr. Holwell was deeply interested.

“Tell me more about the life-saving crew, and what requirements they
must be able to meet before they are fully qualified to serve as
members in good standing,” he asked the athletic director, as they
stood, after coming out of the water themselves, watching all that went
on.

“I shall do so with pleasure,” replied the other, his eyes sparkling.
Truth to tell, that was the very thing he took the keenest interest
in. “You see the crew in one of the big Y. M. C. A. camps is really an
auxiliary branch of the United States Volunteer Life-saving Corps. To
become a member a boy must pass through a stiff test. This consists of
swimming one hundred yards, using three different strokes; swimming
on the back without the use of his hands; swimming one hundred yards,
starting with his clothes on, and removing them while doing it; diving
into water about eight feet deep for a ten-pound rock, and bringing it
to shore; knowing how to handle a boat, and being familiar with its
different parts, as well as tying various sailor knots.”

Mr. Holwell looked surprised.

“Quite an education in itself, I should say,” he remarked.

“Oh! that is only a beginning,” continued the other. “The candidate
must show himself capable of rescuing a drowning person, and must
actually carry him to safety. He must be able to break a ‘death-grip’
so as to be in a position to keep himself from being dragged down by a
frantic victim of cramps. He must also know the best way to resuscitate
a person who has apparently been drowned. When a young fellow can pass
this strict examination with flying colors he receives a certificate
from headquarters, and is entitled to wear the official badge.”

“And that whistle which you have just given three times, calling the
boys up out of the water--does that stand for anything in particular?”
asked the minister, as the entire party hurried to their tents to rub
down and dress.

“Yes, indeed, sir,” he was told. “That is the emergency whistle when
we are in camp. Whenever it is sounded every life-saver runs for the
shore, ready for business. It is on this account that scores of big
camps are held every summer without a single drowning. Parents may feel
perfectly safe in allowing their boys to spend a term at such well
protected camps.”

“I shall never hear three blasts from a whistle again,” said Mr.
Holwell, “but that I shall think of this time up here.”

“Indeed, sir,” continued Mr. Rowland, “I understand that some of the
young volunteer life-savers on returning to the city after a summer
in the woods, confess to having a shock whenever they hear a whistle.
When the emergency call sounds, no matter whether in the midst of the
swimming hour or at dead of night, the rule is to drop everything and
run.”

Dick had noticed that Asa Gardner seemed to be enjoying himself
greatly when in the water. He was turning out to be a clever swimmer.
Evidently, the boy had included this in his programme when he decided
to take all the open air exercise he could. Dick mentioned the fact to
Peg while they were dressing as fast as they could, urged on to speed
by the odor of breakfast that was in the air.

“Why, yes,” the other boy remarked, immediately, “that fellow acts as
if he had sprung from a fish family.”

“What makes you say that?” demanded Dick, smiling at the same time on
account of the queer way Peg had of describing things.

“Oh! only that he seems to go fairly wild when he gets in the lake,”
was the reply. “Eddie Grant says he really believes Asa can stay under
water longer than any fellow he ever knew. And did you see him dive
off that high tree stump overhanging the edge of the deep hole? He
turned a complete somersault in the air, and struck the water as clean
as a knife. Mr. Rowland complimented him on his feat, though he also
cautioned Asa to be careful not to overdo it.”

“Yes, Asa is improving right along,” confessed Dick. At the same time
he could not help wondering deep down in his mind whether the strange
boy could be as successful in overcoming his one terrible fault as he
seemed to be in regaining his health. For somehow Dick could not quite
forget about the shadowy figure that had vanished from his sight on
the preceding night, not far from the tent where he knew Asa had been
quartered.

“I never thought he had it in him,” admitted Peg; “but I’m ready to say
Asa is beginning to pick up considerably, and show the stuff he’s made
of.”

It was kind of Peg to say that, for, truth to tell, as Dick well knew,
the other had had good reasons in the past for looking on the lonely
boy with anything but friendly feelings. But then Peg could never hold
anything against another who showed signs of being sorry for faults.
Peg believed in giving every one a second, yes, even a third, chance to
make amends.

After finishing his dressing and coming outside again, Dick looked
toward the tent which Mr. Holwell occupied. He knew the minister must
be dressing, for he had seen him peer out once. Perhaps he was shaving,
for he had laughingly said on the previous night that he hoped they
did not have any iron-bound rules in the camp prohibiting brushing the
hair, or using a razor during the whole stay, such as he had heard was
the case with some outing parties.

Just then Dan came along, and stopped to exchange a few words with Dick.

“To-morrow being Sunday, I expect we’ll be pretty quiet up here,” he
observed; “so we ought to do all we can to-day. The fellows who go
fishing will have to try to get a double quantity, if we think to have
a course dinner to-morrow. I’m one of the six selected by Mr. Bartlett
to go over to that farm we heard about. If we can buy a few chickens or
ducks or anything in that line, don’t you think we’d better go prepared
to dicker?”

“Not a bad scheme, Dan,” Dick told him. “And don’t forget that while
there are just twenty-one of us all told, besides Mr. Holwell, Mr.
Bartlett and our physical director, we’ve got the storage capacity of
twice that number.”

“Oh! we’ll take on all the supplies we can stagger under, make up your
mind to that, Dick. But here comes Mr. Holwell straight this way, and,
tell me, doesn’t he look kind of queer? I wonder if anything could have
happened to _him_ in the night.”

Dick almost held his breath as the minister hurriedly drew near them.

“A ridiculous thing has happened to me, Dick,” remarked the minister,
as he reached them. “The very first night I’m in camp I have been
guilty of the fault of carelessness. To tell you the truth, I am unable
to find my gold watch this morning, though Harry Bartlett thinks I
wound it up as usual, and hung my vest upon a nail driven part way into
the tent pole.”

Dick felt as though a cold hand had clutched his heart. He and Peg
exchanged anxious looks, but before either of them could say a word
Mr. Holwell went on.

“I wouldn’t care so much, you understand, boys, only it was presented
to me years ago by my people in a church of which I formerly had
charge, and consequently I value it many times over its intrinsic
worth. But, of course, I have mislaid it. I’ll go back once more and
turn things over. The chances are I’ll find it where I placed it. On
account of my strange quarters and having no regular spot for it, I
must have dropped it down at random and don’t know just where.”

CHAPTER XIV

TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT

Dick knew it would not come out that way. He seemed to “feel it in
his bones” as he told Leslie afterwards, that the terrible mystery
with which they had been confronted on their first night in camp, was
closing around them with even a tighter grip.

When Mr. Holwell had left them to hasten back to his tent Dick and Dan
looked at one another with blank expressions on their faces.

“Whew!” gasped the latter. “Say, Dick, this is what I call piling it on
thick.”

“It begins to look like a bad business I must admit,” returned the
other, trying to grasp the situation fully.

“All these things couldn’t just happen by _accident_, you see,”
continued Dan, as if arguing with himself. “Mr. Holwell is a careful
man, and wouldn’t be guilty of leaving so valuable a watch around
loose, so it could be mixed up with the bed clothes in his tent. I tell
you we’re up against a real old-fashioned mystery, and no mistake.”

“There’s something queer going on around this camp, for a fact,” said
Dick, and taking advantage of the fact that they were alone for a brief
time he confided to Dan what he had seen during the night on coming
suddenly out of his tent.

The other was deeply impressed by the story. His eyes grew round with
wonder and curiosity.

“Let’s go over to Mr. Holwell’s tent and see if we can help him hunt,”
he proposed presently. “I used to be a master-hand at finding lost
things, and mebbe my luck may hold good in this case.”

“I certainly hope it will, Dan. Nothing would tickle me more than to
have you unearth that watch somewhere in his tent. All the same I don’t
believe it can be done.”

“Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk, anyhow,” said Dan with
philosophy.

When the two boys reached the minister’s tent they met Mr. Holwell,
accompanied by Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland, coming out. The
minister looked a little grave and deeply puzzled, though on seeing
the expression of anxiety on the faces of the two lads he smiled
encouragingly.

“We haven’t been able to find it so far, boys,” he remarked. “Suppose
you step in and root around a bit. Young eyes are sharper than older
ones. I hope it turns up, because I should very much dislike to lose
anything that was endeared to me by so many precious memories.”

Although Dick and Dan turned everything upside-down, they failed to
discover any sign of the lost watch. Breakfast was soon announced and
they were forced to abandon the search.

Some of the other boys had noticed that something unusual had happened.
The doings of Dick and Dan had struck them as suspicious, especially
after their previous experience.

Accordingly, Harry Bartlett, knowing that there was no use of trying
to keep things secret, announced the new catastrophe that had befallen
Russabaga Camp. It came like a thunderbolt upon the assembled boys, who
exchanged puzzled and anxious looks, as though a great fear had fallen
upon them.

Conversation languished after that. It was as though a wet blanket had
been suddenly cast upon them. Every one was busy with his own thoughts,
wondering if it could be possible that the dreadful finger of suspicion
pointed anywhere in his direction.

Mr. Holwell it was after all who, laughing as though he did not have a
care in the world, started to raise their spirits.

“Come, this will never do,” he told them. “You look as if you had lost
all interest in life. We mustn’t let a thing like this spoil the whole
outing. Doubtless in good time the mystery will be cleared up. And now
let’s talk of all our good friends here, Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland,
have planned to do to-day.”

By degrees he had the boys looking much more cheerful, though when they
got together in clumps after the meal, the conversation was naturally
almost wholly of the last strange happening.

Nat and his two cronies were seen talking earnestly. Some of the
others could hazard a pretty good guess as to what must be troubling
the trio. This was a time when a person’s past reputation was going to
come back to haunt him. Nat, aided and abetted by Dit and Alonzo, had
engineered numerous dubious enterprises in times that were gone, some
of them of a questionable nature. And now being reproached by their
consciences, they felt that the others must of a certainty be eyeing
them with suspicion. Alonzo showed signs of wanting to desert the camp
at once, being only restrained from doing so by the stronger wills of
his companions, who realized that this action would look too much like
guilt.

Altogether it was not a very happy lot that proceeded to take up the
various duties laid out for that morning, and in doing which they had
expected to enjoy themselves hugely.

After the excitement had died down the six who had been selected to
visit the farm went off in one of the two boats. And while the chosen
fishermen were making deft use of the mosquito-net seine in order to
secure minnows for bait, Dick found an opportunity to have a little
talk with Mr. Holwell.

Eddie Grant, Ban Jansen and Cub Mannis, with tin pails in their hands,
hurried past, looking as though they meant business.

“We have found where the blueberries are as thick as clover in a
field,” called Ban. “It’ll be an easy job filling these pails by noon.
Never saw such big berries as there are on this island. It’ll be a
picnic getting stacks and stacks of ’em, and we can pay our way easily
as we go.”

Mr. Holwell looked at Dick on hearing this, as though he did not quite
understand. Accordingly, the boy hastened to explain that Mr. Nocker
had proposed that boys belonging to the association who wanted to go on
the camping trip and could not spare the ready money to pay for their
share of the expenses should earn enough while on the island by picking
the blueberries that found a ready market in Cliffwood.

“That’s a very good scheme,” declared the minister, smiling. “And it
shows that our friend, Mr. Nocker, knows more about boys than some of
us gave him credit for. Of course he could have offered to pay the
way of Eddie and the rest, but after all it’s the wise thing to do to
make boys feel that they have earned things, and are not objects of
charity.”

“Of course,” Dick went on to explain, “that sort of thing is unusual,
and will break in on some of the customary rules that govern all Y.
M. C. A. camps. But Mr. Bartlett says that after all this is only a
beginning, and on that account we can’t expect to do everything with
perfect regularity.”

“Another year,” said Mr. Holwell, “it may perhaps be different. We
will find some way whereby a score or two of the mill hands can spend
a week or two up at a regularly organized camp. And when we get things
to working smoothly, such an outing is bound to be of great benefit to
everybody concerned. I’m in it heart and soul, and so is Mr. Nocker.”

“I want to talk with you a little more, sir,” said Dick, boldly, “about
this queer disappearance of your watch. I wish now I had gone to Mr.
Nocker and asked him to explain what he meant when just before leaving
the meeting that night he warned us to beware of the thief up here in
Bass Island.”

“Did he say that?” demanded Mr. Holwell, quickly. “Then there must have
been a reason for it. Others who have camped here, fishing parties,
perhaps, have lost things. And Dick, what you have told me actually
raises my spirits considerably, even if it does not promise to bring
back my missing property.”

Dick could understand. The kind-hearted minister must have been
oppressed by some of the same dreadful thoughts that ever since the
first raid had been tugging at his own heart-strings. He feared that
one of the boys might be guilty, and the very suspicion caused him
unhappiness. It would be so much easier to bear if in the end the
culprit proved to be some outside person, possibly a crazy man who had
escaped from his keepers, as Peg had suggested.

Long and earnestly did the minister and Dick converse while sitting
there. Dick found much encouragement from what the gentleman told him.
He even took occasion to mention the suspicions that had oppressed
him concerning Asa Gardner; but Mr. Holwell shook his head as though
determined not to harbor such himself.

“I have studied boy-nature for many years, Dick,” he said, with
feeling; “and I know how hard a fight poor Asa is doubtless putting
up against the strange weakness that used to dominate him. The memory
of his dead mother will cause him to be victorious in the struggle, I
fully believe; and just now he needs all the encouragement he can get.
And you are the one best fitted to stand by him as a faithful friend.”

“I’ll willingly do everything I can to help him along,” said Dick, with
a look of determination on his young face. “I’ve known times myself
when I needed a friendly hand to help me along, but never one half so
much as he does. There go Nat and his two chums into the woods. Mr.
Bartlett must have given them permission to explore the island.”

“I wonder if they are thinking of hunting up Eddie’s crowd, and helping
pick berries,” remarked Mr. Holwell. “It would be a kindly thing if
some of the other boys would lend a helping hand. The berry pickers
will find it no easy task to collect enough at a few cents a quart to
pay their expenses.”

Although Dick did not say so, he was of the opinion that Nat and his
cronies were hardly the kind of boys to be anxious about anything
excepting their own welfare.

CHAPTER XV

DAN TELLS SOME WHOLESOME TRUTHS

“How is Humbert Loft getting on with the rest of the boys?” asked
Mr. Holwell, glancing over to where the lad in question was talking
earnestly with Dan, who had changed his mind about going with the
“foraging party,” on account of a bruised heel, caused by a shoe that
chafed him.

Dick shook his head as though he rather despaired of weaning the nephew
of the town librarian from his stilted and unpleasant ways.

“He’s been well drilled at his home, sir, I’m afraid,” he went on to
say, “by that uncle of his who knows about as much about real boys as
he does of Egyptian mummies, and perhaps a good deal less. I’ve talked
with him a number of times, but everything he says is just an echo of
what Mr. Loft has been telling us right along.”

“Then you don’t really believe these lofty ideas are his own, but
acquired from association with older people?” asked the minister,
looking amused, for he personally had no sympathy with the principles
of the pedantic librarian.

“Why, Mr. Holwell, it’s impossible for a boy to think as he claims to
do, unless he was brought up among a lot of stuffy people who filled
him with their ideas. A boy to be natural is just bound to want to read
stories that are full of action. We all think that the writer who can
give us healthy adventure, and perhaps put some good, strong traits
into his characters, is doing us all the good we’ll stand for.”

“My opinion exactly,” said the minister, heartily.

“Still,” went on Dick, “Humbert has waked up some and is taking to the
water and to swimming like a fish; so, you see, there may be hope for
him in other things as well.”

“Let us hope so,” the minister said with a smile.

“I hope you have told Mr. Loft how we boys feel about our reading,
sir,” ventured Dick, boldly.

“Oh! many times when we have been warmly discussing these same
matters,” came the reply. “But it seems as useless as water dropping on
a stone. In the course of ages it may wear the stone away, but neither
of us is likely to live to see the day. Mr. Loft is very bigoted, and
has a false idea concerning boys and what they ought to read.”

“Still, he seems to be more civil to us nowadays,” observed Dick, with
a gleam of amusement in his eye as he spoke.

“H’m! for a very good reason,” laughed Mr. Holwell. “Since you and your
comrades started the Boys’ Library, with a select list of books, all
approved by myself, Mr. Henry Fenwick, and several other gentlemen who
love boys, Mr. Loft has been reading the handwriting on the wall. He
begins to fear that if he keeps on thrusting his classical ideas of
boys’ literature upon the patrons of the town library he may lose his
job. So he believes it good policy to quiet down.”

“Let’s wander over a little closer to where Dan and Humbert are
sitting, sir,” suggested Dick. “I’d just like to hear what they are
saying, because from the way Dan is laying the law down I expect it’s
about books and Mr. Loft’s ideas for boys. Dan, you know, is head and
heels interested in that library of ours; and he fairly despises Mr.
Loft. I’ve heard him call him a ‘human icicle’ many a time.”

“Just as you say, Dick,” consented Mr. Holwell, smiling at the
apt designation given by Dan, for, regardless of the librarian’s
intellectual gifts, it seemed to fit him.

When the two sauntered near the place where the boys were talking, Dan
was getting up as though to leave. He did not notice the presence of
Mr. Holwell, but was shaking his forefinger in Humbert’s face. That
individual looked worried, as though he felt the crushing force of the
arguments Dan had been heaping up before him.

“I tell you, Humbert Loft,” they heard Dan say with emphasis, “boys
can’t be treated as if they were machines. Boys have feelings, and they
know what kind of reading they want every time. Their books have got
to have a certain amount of good, lively, healthy adventure in ’em, or
else nobody’s going to bother spending his time over ’em.”

“But my uncle says----” began Humbert feebly, when Dan interrupted him.

“Oh! what does your uncle know about boys, tell me? I guess when he was
a baby they must have fed him on Latin verbs and Greek nouns. All he
thinks of is stuffing us boys with ‘standard literature,’ as he calls
it, when we’re just shouting for things that appeal to our boy natures.”

“But what he wants boys to read are the books that all cultivated
people consider the finest fruits of human endeavor!” urged Humbert,
desperately.

“Who says they ain’t?” demanded Dan, with a reckless disregard for all
rules of grammar that must have chilled the other boy’s heart. “But
they never were meant for boys’ consumption. When we get older we’ll
gradually drop reading boys’ stories, and some of us may take up the
classics, while others will get out in the busy world and go to work.”

“I don’t know--I’m only telling you what my uncle thinks about it,”
pleaded Humbert, weakly.

“Stop and think for a minute, will you?” continued Dan, still waving
that threatening forefinger back and forth. “If every boy in Cliffwood
were built on the same model as _you_, Humbert Loft, what a terrible
desolation there would be in that poor town. Why, with not a single
boy playing ball, or giving a shout when he felt real good, the people
would think the end of the world had come. Isn’t that so, Humbert?”

Humbert smiled in a sickly fashion.

“Why, I guess it would seem pretty queer,” he admitted, slowly.

“And another thing, Humbert,” finished Dan as a clincher, “since you’ve
been up here with us I’ve noticed that you begin to show some interest
in our doings. I really believe you’re beginning to find your real
self, and that when we go back to Cliffwood you’ll be a different sort
of fellow. Think it over, won’t you, and just join in with the rest of
us in our fun? Forget your uncle, and remember that you’re a living,
breathing boy, not a mummified classic.”

With that Dan tore away to do something he had in mind. Mr. Holwell
touched Dick on the arm, and the two of them retreated without
Humbert’s being aware that his heart-to-heart talk with Dan had been
overheard.

“See him shaking his head, and then smiling, sir,” said Dick, with
considerable interest. “I really do believe those sledge-hammer blows
Dan gave him have made an impression on Humbert. Given a week or ten
days up here, and he may throw off the heavy load he’s been carrying so
long, and act like a regular boy for once.”

“We’ll hope so, Dick,” returned Mr. Holwell. “But while Humbert is
growing less pedantic and dropping some of his foolish pose, I trust
the rest of you will pick up a genuine love of books. The love of good
books is always a joy and sometimes a solace when other things fail
one.”

The morning passed away, and those in the camp found many things to do
under the supervision of Mr. Bartlett and the athletic instructor.

It must have been all of half-past eleven when Dick heard the sound of
hasty footsteps in the woods near by. Then several figures burst into
sight, hurrying toward the camp, and making extravagant gestures as
they stumbled along. At the same time they cast frightened looks over
their shoulders, and Dick heard Nat Silmore cry:

“This here island’s no place for our camp, fellers. There’s a terrible
wild man loose on the same, and he roared at us something fierce. We’d
better get away from here while the going’s good, I tell you! Wow! I’m
nearly all in.”

CHAPTER XVI

WAS IT A WILD MAN OF THE WOODS?

“What’s all this you are telling us, Nat?” asked Mr. Bartlett, with a
show of interest, while the boys of the camp crowded around the trio of
newcomers, and Mr. Holwell and Mr. Rowland stood listening not far to
one side.

Dit and Alonzo seemed pretty well exhausted. They sank down on a log,
panting as if they could hardly catch their breath. Despite the color
in their flushed faces they looked alarmed, as well as sheepish on
account of having given way to their fears.

“Why, we certain sure did see _something_, Mr. Bartlett!” urged Nat,
with emphasis. “The woods happened to be kind o’ gloomy right there, so
we couldn’t be dead sure what it was, but he made a horrible drumming
sound, and waved his arms above his head. Ugh! did we run? Well, to say
we tore along’d be hitting it closer.”

“And I reckon the wild man chased after us for a little, too,” Dit
Hennesy managed to say between his gasps. “Leastwise I could hear
something comin’ back of us, and it made me smash into a tree, I was
that worried.”

He put a hand up to his forehead, where they could see that a lump had
made its appearance. This at least was evidence that the boys were not
trying to play one of Nat’s customary practical jokes. Bumps like that
have a way of telling a story of their own. Bumps seldom lie.

“What makes you think it was a wild man?” asked Harry Bartlett, trying
to get all the information possible from the boys.

“Oh! well,” replied Nat, slowly, “he just seemed to act wild, I reckon.
When we glimpsed him he was squatting down, and as soon as Dit here let
out a whoop he commenced growling at us something fierce.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alonzo, thinking he ought to add the weight of his
testimony to that given by his two companions, “it was a wild man as
sure as anything. And right away, sir, there were three wild boys
tearing through the woods like fun. As luck would have it we came in
the right direction, and didn’t get lost. Whew! I’d hate to spend a
night alone on this island with _that_ thing roaming around loose!”

The camp director and Mr. Holwell walked aside, Dick going with them.

“What do you think about it, Mr. Holwell?” asked the boy.

“They evidently did see something that frightened them,” admitted the
gentleman. “But whether it was an animal or a crazy human being remains
to be found out later. When boys are suddenly thrown into a bad scare
they can easily mistake a hog, or even a harmless calf, for a monster.”

“But if there is some sort of strange creature loose on Bass Island,”
pursued Dick, eagerly, “mightn’t that explain the thefts that have been
taking place?”

“True enough, Dick,” answered Harry Bartlett, “and for one I earnestly
hope that may turn out to be the case. It gives me a heartache to think
of suspecting any boy among us of being a thief.”

Several other boys joined them just then. They were all trying to
figure out how much dependence could be placed on the story told by Nat
and his cronies. In times past they had cried “wolf” so often that now
no one felt like believing them, though, in fact, there might be real
cause for alarm.

“Huh!” said Dan, skeptically, “like as not they were looking to see
what the chances were to leave the island when they could hook one of
the boats, and then got scared at their own shadows. It’s nearly always
the way with bullies like Nat.”

“But why should they want to desert us, Dan?” asked Mr. Holwell.

The other shrugged his shoulders in a way that stood for a great deal.

“Oh! well, sir,” he went on to say, “I don’t want to accuse any one,
you understand, and right now I’m not hinting that Nat had a hand in
those thefts; but you see they think we suspect them, and that makes it
disagreeable here for them.”

“To tell the truth,” said Elmer Jones, “I never thought they’d tag
along with us up here, in a regularly organized Y. M. C. A. camp,
because they’re always in fear of being lectured on account of their
ways. But they came, and now they feel uneasy when this queer mystery
is afoot.”

“We mustn’t make them feel that they are suspected,” said the minister.
“So far they seem to have behaved themselves fairly well, and I have
been allowing myself to hope that by degrees those boys may see that it
pays to be decent. I would like to show them that there’s more genuine
fun to be gotten out of the clean method of living than in the way
they’ve usually carried on. Besides, we mustn’t forget that none of
those boys has the best of home influences back of him.”

“There comes the boat with the bass fishermen!” called Dan just then,
as a shout was heard from the water.

“They act as if they had met with at least fair success,” said Mr.
Holwell, who could read boys like the printed page of a book, though
for all that he confessed that he found something new every day to
study in their make-up.

“And unless my eyes are deceiving me,” remarked Harry Bartlett,
“there’s the other boat pushing out from the shore across the lake.”

“Just what it is,” added Clint Babbett, who possessed keen vision. “And
say! let me tell you they’ve got a load of stuff along with them. Must
have about cleaned that farmer out of eatables.”

There was more or less excitement as the boats came in, one after
the other. The fishermen had succeeded beyond their most ardent
expectations, and showed a splendid catch of bass, several of which
exceeded in weight the largest taken on the preceding day.

When those from the second boat landed they proudly exhibited the
results of their visit to the farm. There was butter, beautiful golden
in color, and many dozens of eggs, some of them from ducks, though it
was pretty late in the summer for these fowls to be laying, Mr. Holwell
observed.

“And here’s six of the finest spring chickens you ever saw,” said Phil
Harkness, one of the foragers, exultantly. “They had just fixed them
for market, and were only too glad to sell them to us.”

“The farmer’s wife treated us to all the buttermilk we could swallow,”
observed Fred Bonnicastle, another of the returned pilgrims. “She said
we could have gallons of it if only we had some way of carrying it back
with us, which we didn’t--only _in_ us.”

Lunch was prepared with the customary breezy accessories in the way
of directions called back and forth. Mr. Holwell seemed just the same
as usual. If he felt his late loss keenly he knew how to hide his
feelings, so that he might not cause the spirits of his boys to droop.

One lad, however, said nothing. This was Asa Gardner. Dick could not
help noticing that the boy heaved a deep sigh every little while, when
he thought no one was noticing him.

“He certainly looks unhappy,” Dick told himself, as once more
suspicions began to force themselves into his mind, though he hurriedly
put them aside, remembering the promise he had made to Mr. Holwell to
believe in Asa and help him all he possibly could.

The three berry pickers had returned with full buckets. They reported
the supply of berries as literally inexhaustible. Still it could be
seen that they were beginning to wonder where the fun of their outing
was to come in if they had to spend most of their time in doing this
sort of work.

“On Monday,” Dick told Mr. Holwell and Mr. Bartlett, “I’ll give some of
the fellows a tip, and see if many hands won’t make light work. We’d
all like to pick berries for a while, I expect, and every quart will
count so much to their score. And I’ve an idea Mr. Nocker means to see
that they get a price for those berries that no one ever had before.”

“That’s the right spirit to show,” Mr. Holwell remarked as he placed a
hand affectionately on Dick’s shoulder.

It happened that a little while after lunch Dick wandered down to the
landing to take a look at one of the boats which had been reported as
leaking again. He believed he knew of a way in which it could be mended
so as to stay dry and serviceable.

He turned the boat upside-down; and, while stooping over examining the
bottom of the flat craft, he heard some one coming. Turning his head
he saw it was Asa Gardner. Like a flash it struck Dick that the other
wanted to say something to him in secret, and was taking this chance
when no one else was near.

A chill gripped Dick’s heart. He seemed to feel that something dreadful
was coming, though he could not guess its nature as yet.

Asa drew alongside.

“Dick,” he said, and the other boy noticed how his voice trembled.

“Yes, what is it, Asa?”

“I’ve been waiting to catch you alone, because I’ve got something to
say to you that I wouldn’t like anybody else to hear, especially Mr.
Holwell.”

Dick felt the chilly sensation again; but he looked up smilingly.

“All right, Asa,” he said, cheerily, “here’s your chance to tell me
what’s bothering you. If I can do anything to make you feel easier just
make up your mind I want to help you. Now, what’s gone wrong?”

Asa’s eyes were growing wet, and evidently he labored under great
emotion.

“It’s just this, Dick,” he said, weakly, “I never should have dared
come along with a bunch of decent fellows like your crowd. I ought to
have known I just couldn’t keep from falling back into my old ways,
that have got such a terrible grip on me. And Dick, there’s only one
thing to be done--send me home right away!”

CHAPTER XVII

DICK’S PROMISE

Dick could hardly believe his own ears when he heard Asa make this
terrible confession. He gripped the other boy by the shoulder almost
fiercely.

“Look here, Asa Gardner, do you mean to tell me that it was you who
took those things in the night--Dan’s watch, the aluminum frying-pan,
and last of all the gold watch which your best friend Mr. Holwell
thinks so much of?”

Asa groaned, and drooped pitifully in his grasp.

“I don’t know for sure, Dick, but I’m awfully afraid I did,” he said,
huskily.

“That’s a queer way to put it,” Dick told him, sternly. “Anybody ought
to know if he were guilty of doing such a mean thing as that. You’ll
have to explain yourself, Asa. Do you remember taking those things?”

“No, no, that’s the strangest part of it, you see, Dick,” pleaded the
boy. “But they disappeared, and I was in the camp both nights.”

Dick began to breathe a little easier.

“But that isn’t any proof at all, Asa, that I can see,” he hurriedly
remarked. “How could you take them, and not know it, tell me?”

“I wish I could, Dick, but then nobody else here would be low enough to
steal except me, and so I’ve figured it out that I must have done it in
my sleep, just because the old habit was so strong. While I was awake
I could fight it off, but you see once I lost my senses my grip was
broken, and I must have done it. Oh, I must!”

“Well, that’s a funny thing to tell me, I must say,” Dick replied. “You
haven’t the least remembrance of doing it, yet you’re ready to take all
the blame on your shoulders because once on a time you had a weakness
that way. Brace up, Asa; you never took Mr. Holwell’s watch, I tell
you.”

It was wonderful to see how new hope seemed to come immediately into
the heart of the erring boy. The look of misery began to die out of his
face, and through the tears gathering in his eyes Dick could see a new
sparkle--that of hope.

“Oh! it’s kind of you to say that to me, Dick!” he exclaimed between
his sobs, for he was completely aroused and could not control himself,
though he tried hard to do so. “Tell me who did take the watch, then,
that Mr. Holwell, the finest man on this whole earth, thought so much
of?”

Dick laughed breezily, more to cheer the poor fellow up than because he
considered it a joke.

“I wish I could tell you, Asa,” he said, quickly. “But so far it’s a
mystery that has yet to be solved. But I’m dead sure you hadn’t a thing
to do with the robbery, if that’s what you mean.”

“There was one favor I meant to ask you, Dick, if you thought I hadn’t
better leave the camp,” continued Asa, presently, when he could master
his emotion.

“All right, let’s hear it,” he was told encouragingly.

“To-night, and every night after this I want you to let me sleep next
to you in your tent. Yes, and Dick, if only you’d fix it with a cord
of some kind so that I couldn’t move about without your knowing it
I’d feel easier. Then if another robbery was committed I’d begin to
understand that I couldn’t be doing these terrible things in my sleep.”

“I’ll think it over, Asa,” the other told him. “Though I’m sure nothing
like that is going to be needed to prove your innocence. Besides, since
we’ve heard of Nat and the other fellows meeting with some sort of
strange man in the woods, Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland
begin to believe the secret of the robberies will be solved when we run
across the wild man.”

Asa winked hard to clear his eyes from the tears.

“You’ve made me feel a whole lot easier, I tell you, Dick,” he said,
and he persisted in squeezing the other’s unwilling hand with boyish
fervor. “I hope and pray that it may come out that way. I’m trying as
hard as I can to keep my promise to my mother, and she knows that it
would nearly kill me if I found that I was going back to those old ways
in my sleep.”

“Cheer up, Asa, and don’t let any of the other fellows see you looking
as if you had lost your last friend. Mr. Holwell believes in you, and
so does Harry Bartlett, and so do I. You’re going to be all right and
as good as the next one. Sure! you can sleep alongside of me if you
feel like it. But about that cord you mentioned, I hardly think it’ll
be necessary.”

Asa wandered off until such time as he could recover from his emotion
and Dick continued his examination of the boat’s bottom. After all, he
was glad the other had spoken as he had, because somehow it seemed to
clear the air.

“And,” he told himself, humorously, “I’m beginning to get a hunch that
before a great while we’ll find some way of explaining this mystery. If
that was a wild man Nat and the others saw, surely he must be a lunatic
who’s escaped from some asylum. We may be the means of capturing him,
and restoring him to his quarters. He’ll be frozen to death if he has
to stay on Bass Island all winter.”

The idea pleased Dick exceedingly, and when he once more joined the
others by the fire some of the boys wondered what could have happened
to make him appear so cheerful again.

He took the first favorable opportunity that arose to get Mr. Holwell
aside. Asa had not yet returned to the camp, though they could see him
sitting on the end of a fallen tree that jutted out over the water,
possibly a hundred yards further along the shore of the island.

“I had a pretty bad scare a short time ago, sir,” was what Dick started
to say, which caused the gentleman to start, and look at him strangely.

“Have you been seeing things too, Dick?” he asked. “Would the wild man
become so bold as to approach our camp in broad daylight?”

“No, but I’ve been _hearing_ things that gave me a bad turn at first,
though it came around all right pretty soon,” and with that Dick
repeated what Asa had said to him near the boat landing when they were
alone.

Mr. Holwell was of course stunned at first, but as Dick went on with
his story his eyes grew moist, and he shook his head as though he felt
exceedingly sorry for the boy whose past haunted him so persistently.

“Poor Asa,” he said, later on, when he had heard all, “it must be
terrible to feel as he does, and be compelled to fight so desperately
to keep from doing things that other boys have no fear they will be
tempted to do. I give him all credit for his gallant fight, and if he
wins, as I firmly believe will be the case, I shall be proud of him.
You must continue to help him in every way you can, my boy.”

“I certainly will, sir,” declared Dick, with a strong remembrance of
the moist eyes Asa had turned on him when he made that humiliating
confession that after all had proved to be only a dreadful suspicion,
and not a reality.

That was a busy afternoon, all things considered. Some of those who had
been out fishing in the morning decided they had had enough angling
for one day. Besides, they knew very well that others were desirous of
testing their skill against the game qualities of the black bass of
Lake Russabaga.

So it came about that Dick Horner had a chance to be a member of
the quartette that left camp with dark designs against the finny
inhabitants of the inland sea. They carried a goodly number of live
bait in a pail constructed for that purpose, and also some artificial
minnows, as well as trolling spoons to fall back on in case the other
supplies were exhausted.

Mr. Holwell had entered into the work with almost as much enthusiasm as
any of the boys.

“To-morrow being Sunday,” he explained as he worked, “we will do just
as little manual labor as possible. My flock in town will have a supply
in the pulpit, for they have given me a little holiday. And if you boys
care to hear it I expect to give you a sermon I wrote for some lads of
my acquaintance many years ago, though it touches on truths that are
just as pertinent to-day as when it was first delivered.”

Dan had not gone off with any of the others, but at the same time he
failed to mingle with those in the camp. They could hear him pottering
away close by, now hammering, and again coming back for bits of stout
twine or rope. Nobody but Mr. Bartlett knew what Dan was about.

All this naturally aroused something akin to curiosity among the boys,
and as the afternoon wore on many guesses were indulged in as to what
Dan Fenwick could be doing. Finally, one of his companions, more daring
than the rest, sauntered over his way to ask him pointblank what it was
he kept working on so industriously. Andy Hale, for it was he who had
approached Dan, presently came hurrying back, with a half grin on his
face, at the same time laboring under partly repressed excitement.

“Hey! would you believe it?” he announced as he arrived near the fire.
“Dan up and told me he was building a cage to trap that wild man Nat
saw in the woods.”

CHAPTER XVIII

SETTING THE TRAP

Of course when Andy made this surprising report the rest of the boys
were of a mind to rush over in a body to joke Dan, and perhaps make fun
of his labors. Mr. Holwell, however, dissuaded them.

“Better leave Dan to finish his trap, boys,” he told them. “He’s a busy
fellow these days it seems, and deserves success if anybody does. If
he needs any help you’ll hear him call for it. In the meanwhile don’t
thrust yourselves where evidently you’re not wanted.”

Accordingly, all dropped back into their comfortable seats, and took it
out in speculating as to what the worker could have in mind when his
ambition led him to want to trap a real wild man of the woods.

Dan did not show up in time to take part in the customary preparations
for dinner. There were plenty of recruits, however, for with hunger
urging them on the campers showed an eagerness to hasten the getting
of the evening meal. Sunny Jim grinned more broadly than ever when he
found his tasks so cheerfully lightened.

They managed to hold themselves in check until Mr. Holwell had asked
the customary blessing. Somehow this influence for good was felt even
by those lads who had never known such a custom in their own homes.
It seemed especially well suited to the leafy canopy overhead, the
gurgling waters lapping the shore near by, and the sense of freedom
around that brought them closer to nature and to God.

Dan made his appearance about the time they were half through, and
the twilight shadows were stealing timidly out of the recesses of the
mysterious woods.

Many curious looks were cast in his direction, but somewhat to his
surprise no one ventured to joke him about his ambitious labors. Dan
himself, when the edge had been taken from his appetite, introduced the
topic voluntarily.

“Course you fellows are wondering what I’m up to,” he said, with a
grin. “Well, I got a little idea into my cranium, and have been working
the same out, with the aid of a hatchet, a hammer and some nails. In
fact, I’ve set a trap hoping to coax the escaped lunatic to go in,
after which it’ll drop and hold him for us.”

“But what will you bait it with, Dan?” demanded Peg, with seeming
innocence, “because you know my aluminum frying-pan is gone, and we
haven’t got another shiny watch in the camp nowadays.”

“Oh! that’s easy,” said Dan, carelessly. “I reckon now that even a
crazy man is liable to get hungry right along. I’m going to bait the
trap with some sort of food that I think ought to draw him on. Just
wait and see, that’s all.”

The evening passed in the usual occupations. Some of the boys busied
themselves in one way and some in another. Some had writing to do; some
worked with pictures they had taken during the day, and which were to
be developed at night time.

Already the keen spirit of rivalry had taken complete possession of the
campers. The prizes that had been offered to those coming in with the
best flashlight photograph, the cleanest score in nature study, the
highest marks in knowledge of woodcraft, and numerous other courses
laid out by Mr. Rowland, may have had something to do with their
perseverance.

There was more, however, than this desire for gain urging the boys on.
Most of them really yearned to improve themselves along certain lines,
and to be adjudged first in their class would be considered proof that
they had met with success.

So there was hardly a boy in the camp aside from Nat and his two sombre
cronies, Dit Hennesy and Alonzo Crane, but found himself entering into
the spirited rivalry that would act as a spur to achievement.

When finally “taps” was sounded on Mr. Bartlett’s cornet, Asa was given
a place next to Dick, Andy Hale being transferred to another tent,
though no one thought to ask why this was done. If the boys talked it
over at all they must have reached the conclusion that Asa was growing
nervous about sleeping in a tent further removed from the fire at a
time when there was a creature of an unknown species prowling about on
Bass Island.

By degrees the camp fell into an utter silence, though occasionally
some one, who may have been lying on his back, would begin to breathe
louder than his mates liked, whereupon he was punched in the ribs, and
made to roll over.

It must have been well on toward midnight when the sleepers were
suddenly aroused by a tremendous crash not far away; and immediately an
exodus from the several shelters began. Boys, clad in various patterns
of pajamas, all looking a bit frightened, gathered about in groups.

CHAPTER XIX

A DAY OF REST

“It’s a terrible storm coming, like as not!” Elmer Jones was
exclaiming, as he started to unwrap a rainproof coat he had been
thoughtful enough to provide for such occasions.

“Sounded more like a house falling down to me!” called Clint Babbett.

“I was dreaming of two railroad trains coming together, just when that
smash came,” announced Leslie Capes.

“And I was heading straight for the falls of Niagara, and could hear
the water roaring like everything,” confessed Nat Silmore.

Dan had not said a word up to then, and Dick, glancing toward him,
could see a proud look beginning to take possession of the other’s face.

“You’re all wrong, fellows!” exclaimed Dan, unable to hold in any
longer. “You’ve got another guess coming, I tell you. Don’t you
remember that it was over there that I set my trap? Well, she worked
all right, and mebbe I’ve got our wild man safely caged at this very
minute!”

The announcement created great excitement.

“Hey! let’s hurry and get some duds on, so we can go and see!” called
Peg, who was hopping about on one foot, as he had stubbed a toe in the
haste with which he rushed forth from his sleeping quarters.

“How about that, Mr. Bartlett?” asked Dick, seeing the camp director
among them, he having hurriedly slipped on a bath robe before making
his appearance.

“We ought to get there with as little waste of time as possible,”
replied Harry Bartlett, looking interested. “If it should turn out
that the trap has done what Dan intended, the poor fellow may be hurt
in some way, and it would be cruel for us to wait until morning to
investigate.”

“Whew! from the racket I should say something fierce had happened!”
declared Phil Harkness, as he hastened back to where his clothes hung
suspended from nails driven into the pole of sleeping tent Number Three.

There was some hurried work done about that time, as every lad wanted
to get himself in readiness as quickly as possible. Many hands quivered
with excitement, and buttons were much more difficult to fasten than
ordinarily.

One by one the boys assembled by the resurrected fire, some still
hurriedly fastening their garments. It was an excited group that
collected around Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett, the physical director and
Dick, as camp leaders.

“Hadn’t we better take something along with us, to defend ourselves in
case he turns out to be ugly?” asked Dick.

“Yes, I suppose that would be only a wise provision,” returned Mr.
Holwell, “for one never knows what a crazy person may do. They are also
possessed of enormous strength as a usual thing. Get any sort of club
you can find, boys.”

There was an immediate hustling around on the part of the half-dressed
campers. Some managed to find suitable cudgels. Others picked up
anything they could see that promised to prove useful in an emergency.
Peg appropriated the camp hatchet, Ban Jansen the axe, while Andy Hale,
in lieu of anything better, armed himself with the stout iron rod which
they used across the fire when hanging a pot over the blaze.

Mr. Rowland had lighted the lantern. Others found blazing brands from
the fire, which they made into serviceable torches by whirling them
swiftly around their heads.

“Now come along,” said the camp director, smiling as he glanced around
and noted the unique character of the procession ready to trail after
him.

“I’d give a dollar, sure I would, to have a snap-shot of this bunch
right now,” declared Clint Babbett, who was becoming quite an expert
photographer, and aspired to win a prize by taking flashlight pictures
at night time of little wild animals in their native haunts.

Indeed, they certainly did look comical as they passed from the camp
and headed toward the spot where Dan had set his great trap. He bravely
acted as pilot of the expedition, since none but he knew just where
they were going.

Presently, from his cautious actions, the rest understood that they
were very close to their destination.

“Can you glimpse the trap yet, Dan?” asked Peg, eagerly, lowering his
voice as if afraid lest he start the prisoner into making new and
desperate efforts to escape from the toils.

“And is he inside?” inquired Fred Bonnicastle, with a gasp that told of
his interest.

“I can just begin to see the thing,” announced Dan, slowly, and Dick
thought he could detect the first shade of growing disappointment in
the other’s voice.

A few more steps, and then Dan spoke again.

“Hey! what does this mean?” he grumbled.

“Didn’t the trap work after all, Dan?” asked Peg, in a grieved tone.

“Work!” snorted Dan, huskily. “I should say it did. Only the maniac was
too much for me after all. He’s gone and busted my trap to flinders.”

Groans of disappointment welled up from numerous throats, and there
was a quickening of footsteps as all drew closer to the spot where the
wreck of the clumsy contrivance lay scattered around.

They stood and stared at the ruin. Dan shook his head, and drew in his
breath with a faint whistle that expressed intense astonishment.

“Say, he must have been a buster of a man!” he finally exclaimed,
bending down to examine some stout limbs that had been actually broken
in two as though by a mighty force. “He just got as mad as hops when it
dropped around him, and smashed things right and left. But, fellows, he
carried off the bait all right, I notice.”

“That shows he has an appetite after all,” remarked Mr. Holwell,
considerably amused at the happening, though at the same time feeling
that the situation bordered on a grave one, with such a terrible
denizen of the woods visiting their camp so frequently.

“After this he’ll be feeling kind of peeved at us for hurting him, I
guess,” ventured Peg.

“Well, if it comes to the worst,” Phil remarked, “we can some of us sit
up each night, and stand our turn on guard.”

“That sounds pleasant, I must say,” observed Elmer, with a half laugh.

The party once more returned to camp, and Mr. Bartlett told them not
to sit around talking matters over, but to get back to their blankets.
Indeed, the night air felt rather chilly, and the boys were not loath
to take this advice.

“Plenty of time to talk it all over in the morning,” the camp director
told them. “Perhaps by that time we may run across some sort of clue
that will put us on the track of the poor fellow. It strikes me we
ought to do our best to make him a prisoner while up here. If, as we
suspect, he turns out to be a lunatic, it would be little short of a
crime to leave him here to freeze in the winter time.”

One thing Dick noticed, and this was that while most of the boys
thought the visit from the wild man almost a tragedy one of their
number seemed to be particularly pleased over it.

This was Asa Gardner, who, from the time they first gathered after the
alarm was given, had been smiling contentedly. Dick could give a pretty
good guess why.

“Asa knows now,” Dick told himself, “that it couldn’t have been his
fault those things disappeared from our camp. He was lying beside me
sound asleep when the alarm came. So he figures that after all it must
have been this strange being who crept into our camp and stole the
bright things that caught his attention. Well, I’m glad for Asa’s sake,
that’s all.”

Some of the boys were nervous as they lay down. They half anticipated
a further visit from the unknown. The remainder of the night passed,
however, without further annoyance.

Sunday morning found the boys up early, and taking their cold plunge.
Mr. Holwell joined them, for from boyhood days a dip in the water on a
fine summer morning had always been a delicious treat for the minister.
The usual morning exercises were dispensed with, for Sunday is always
conducted on strictly religious lines in every genuine Y. M. C. A. camp.

After breakfast had been eaten and everything cleaned up about the
camp, the campers assembled to enjoy a little song service, after which
Mr. Holwell had promised to deliver his famous “boys’ sermon.”

Asa Gardner sought out Dick. Plainly the sensitive boy was feeling much
better than when he had had his last interview with his friend, Dick, a
fact the latter was pleased to note.

“You’re coming around to my way of thinking, I guess, Asa?” he remarked.

Asa turned his eyes up toward Dick.

“Yes,” he said, softly, “I believe it’s going to come out all right
now, Dick, for my dear mother came to me in my dreams last night, and
she told me I would win the fight! Oh! I’m so glad, so glad, and I owe
a heap to you, that’s right!”

CHAPTER XX

A MISSION OF MERCY

To some of the boys the day seemed unusually long. Their restless
spirits chaffed under the strain of doing nothing save looking after
the fire, lying around talking, roaming through the woods at that end
of the island, reading, and at noon eating the meal that had been
prepared.

Possibly except for the restraining influence of Mr. Holwell and Mr.
Bartlett and the knowledge that they would forfeit certain privileges
if they broke the posted rules of the camp, Eddie Grant and the two
other mill boys, perhaps Nat Silmore and his chums also, might have
gone off in one of the boats to fish.

But to Dick and some of the others that was a day long to be
remembered. Mr. Holwell talked more about his early struggles and
difficulties than they had ever heard him do before. They learned that
he had had a most adventurous career up to the time he decided to
follow the ministry for a calling.

It was about three in the afternoon, and some of the boys were sighing
over the fact that the day still had several more hours to run, when
there came a sudden interruption of the Sunday quiet that enveloped the
camp.

“Listen!” exclaimed Dan Fenwick, jumping up. “Some one’s coming through
the brush back yonder. Lickety-split, too!”

All could hear the noise made by the hurried passage of some body; and
more than one boyish face lost much of its usual color as the lads
exchanged uneasy glances.

“What if it’s the wild man?” ventured Andy Hale, thus voicing the alarm
that had begun to hammer at every heart.

“Wow! get your clubs, everybody, and stand ready to repel boarders!”
snapped Peg, immediately pouncing on the handy camp hatchet.

“Hold on, fellows,” Dick called out. “It’s a man, you can see, and he
looks to me as though he might be more frightened than we are. See,
he’s waving his hands.”

“Why, seems as if I ought to know that man!” exclaimed Fred Bonnicastle
just then. “Yes, sure as you live, it’s the farmer we got the butter
and eggs from.”

“Say, I bet you he’s run across the monster that gave us the scare the
other day!” ventured Nat Silmore. “Now, mebbe you’ll believe what we
told you.”

The farmer soon reached the camp. He was breathing hard, but tried, as
best he could, to talk. It was to Mr. Holwell he addressed himself, for
he saw that the minister was older than any of the rest and looked as
though he might be in charge.

“I thought you were camping on the other site,” he stammered; “so I
landed at the wrong place. Oh! I want somebody to go back with me and
try to stop the bleeding, or I’m afraid the poor lad will not last
long, and I never could get to town, for my horse is sick.”

“What does this mean, my friend?” asked Mr. Holwell, laying a kindly
hand on the agitated farmer’s arm, to calm him, for he was very much
excited.

“My little boy managed to cut his foot frightfully with the axe,”
explained the man, drawing a deep breath; “and I’m a poor hand at
anything like binding up a bleeding artery. My wife has done the best
she knew how, but in spite of the rags she tied around his leg it keeps
on bleeding. Say you’ll come back with me, please, and do something for
my poor little Josh!”

“To be sure we will!” cried the minister. “It’s Sunday, but the better
the day the better the deed. One whom we love and worship went about
doing good on the seventh day of the week. I’ll be ready in a minute,
my friend. Dick, I’d like you--yes, and Leslie also, to accompany me.
Perhaps Mr. Rowland will come with us, if you, Harry, can get along
here with both of your assistants gone.”

“To be sure, Mr. Holwell. We are all under your direction and at your
disposal, you know.”

Some of the other boys would have been glad to go along, but evidently
Mr. Holwell thought he had enough helpers.

“We’ll use one of our boats,” he said as they gathered, ready to depart
on their mission of mercy. “We’ll save considerable time by not pushing
through the woods to where you landed, sir. Later on you can recover
your skiff.”

Accordingly, they started. Dick rowed across to the mainland, and
as the lake chanced to be very still he found little difficulty in
making fast time. Leslie was fairly itching to take a turn, but Dick
laughingly declared he could do his rowing on the way back.

Upon landing they pulled the boat up on the shore, and then, with the
farmer acting as pilot, the expedition of relief set forth. Their pilot
knew every foot of ground in that neighborhood, and followed a trail
that the boys, thanks to his advice, had used in coming back from their
visit to his farm in search of provisions.

Now and then the worried father would turn to Mr. Holwell, and the
piteous look on his face always brought forth words of hope and cheer
from the kind-hearted minister, who knew full well how the man was
suffering.

After a short time the party reached the farm. The man hurried them
across by way of a short-cut, meanwhile shouting to his wife that he
had brought help.

She met them at the door, a pleasant, motherly looking woman, though
just then white of face, and evidently suffering greatly.

“Is he still alive, Mother?” gasped the farmer.

“Yes, but the wound still bleeds in spite of everything I can do to
stop it!” she told him. Then her eyes fastened on the minister, whose
calling she could guess from his white cravat and clerical clothes,
donned because of the day. “And oh! sir, I do hope you can do something
to help save our boy, even as the Master whom you preach went about
doing good for those in trouble,” she pleaded.

“We will do everything possible,” said Mr. Holwell, quietly. “I know
very little about surgery myself, but Mr. Rowland, here, has some
surgical knowledge, and I’ve heard it said that one of these boys
has done things that have won him warm praise from Doctor Bowen in
Cliffwood. Please take us to the lad, Madam.”

They found Josh in a bad way, and looking ghastly white, for he had
indeed lost a large amount of blood. It was Leslie Capes of whom the
minister had spoken so highly as they entered the house. Mr. Rowland
had before this discovered Leslie’s dexterity and ability, and motioned
to him to go ahead with the work, standing back ready to give instant
help if necessary. Without a second’s delay Leslie undid the rude
bandages with which the anxious parents had swathed the limb, and
exposed the gash.

It was indeed a serious wound, and if no help had come, within another
hour or so the boy would probably have died from loss of blood.
Dick himself could see that neither of the parents knew the first thing
about anatomy, or where to place the knot when they tried to form a
tourniquet that could be twisted, and by pressure on the artery cause
the bleeding to cease.

The two boys set to work with a vim that pleased Mr. Holwell and Mr.
Rowland exceedingly, and it was pitiful to see how the distracted
father and mother followed every little move the amateur surgeons made.

First of all Leslie constructed a new tourniquet, and managed to stop
the loss of precious life fluid. Then he had the mistress of the house
fetch him warm water and a basin, and washed the boy’s foot and leg,
after which he bound the limb up.

“You must hurry over to your nearest neighbor, Mr. Jones,” he told the
farmer, “and borrow a horse, so as to go to town for a doctor. That
artery will have to be sewed, and I’m not quite able to tackle such a
job yet, though I hope to do it in time. This tourniquet will prevent
the blood from coming, though it isn’t good to keep it on for more than
a few hours.”

“Then you think he’ll pull through all right, do you, Doctor?” asked
the mother, so filled with gratitude that she gave Leslie a title that
he was proud of ever afterwards.

“Not any doubt about it,” he told her, so warmly that the man and his
wife turned and looked into each other’s eyes, and then cried for sheer
joy as they embraced each other.

Mr. Holwell saw to it that the farmer hurried off to the neighbor’s
house, which lay a mile or so further on. He could get a horse there,
and reach the nearest town.

Of course none of the party felt like returning to the camp until it
was known that the doctor had been reached; so they spent the rest of
that never-to-be-forgotten Sunday afternoon on the farm. The good woman
of the house bustled about from time to time when she dared leave her
boy, and saw to it that the visitors were well looked after, pressing
fresh buttermilk upon them, apples and cake and everything that she
thought the heart of a genuine boy could wish for.

Finally, when it was getting along toward sunset they heard an
automobile coming, and upon sighting it discovered that the farmer, as
well as a fat little man with a professional air, occupied the seat of
the runabout.

When the physician looked at Leslie’s work he smiled and patted the boy
patronizingly on the head.

“Keep on doing this sort of thing, son,” he observed, “and some of
these days you are bound to be a good surgeon. I never saw a finer bit
of work done, and I’ve been an army surgeon in my time, too, during the
Spanish-American war.”

Mr. Holwell said that since they were no longer needed it would be wise
for his party to take its departure, especially since the trail led
through the dark woods, and they had some two miles to cover before
arriving at the lake. So, overwhelmed by the gratitude of Josh’s
parents, they presently started forth.

In the gloaming they covered the last half mile of their journey, and
the thoughts of the kind-hearted minister were very pleasant ones as he
considered that he had been given a gracious opportunity to follow in
the footsteps of Him who delighted in going about, Sunday or week-day,
doing good to all who were in distress.

“There, you can see the light of our campfire over the water!” said
Leslie, presently. “And we’ll soon be in the boat pulling across. My
turn to row, remember, Dick, if you please.”

CHAPTER XXI

THE BROTHERLY SPIRIT

“Tell us all about it, please!” was the way the party was greeted as
the boat drew to shore.

“Will little Josh get over his hurt, do you think?” asked Ban Jansen.

“And did Leslie, here, show what he could do along the line of first
aid to the injured?” demanded Elmer Jones. “I’ve seen him do stunts
that took my breath away, and I just guess he ought to be able to stop
an artery from bleeding.”

“That was just what he did, I’m proud to say,” the minister announced.
At this there were whoops of delight, and many heavy slaps dropped
on Leslie’s back as they started up to the camp, where Sunny Jim had
supper ready.

While they sat around the supper table the story was soon told,
interrupted from time to time as some one wished to learn a few more
particulars. Mr. Holwell and their physical director could not say
enough about the work of the boys who had accompanied them.

“I’m constantly being reminded,” the minister went on to remark, “of
the fact that boys of to-day are away ahead of those of my generation
in a good many ways. They are learning to do all sorts of things
calculated to make them better citizens of our glorious republic when
they grow up. I take it that there are myriads of lads who are capable
of stanching a bleeding wound just as Leslie did this afternoon; of
bringing back the breath of life to a boy who has apparently been
drowned; and in fact of doing a dozen similar deeds of incalculable
value.”

“How about another trap, Dan?” asked Andy Hale, as they sat around
later on that Sunday evening.

Mr. Bartlett had given them a short talk that he thought they might
appreciate, since it was not at all in the nature of a sermon. It
really interested even such indifferent fellows as Nat and Dit and
Alonzo, who had never had thrust upon them the idea of looking upon any
one day of the week as differing from the rest.

“Yes, that’s so, Dan, what do you expect to do about it?” Peg added.
“Are you ready to cry quits with one knock-down?”

“I don’t know just yet,” admitted Dan, shaking his head dubiously. “I
might try to get up another sort of scheme, but let me tell you it’s
no joke to make a trap able to hold a giant like that. Why, he broke
oak limbs as if they were paper. He must be a terribly strong man, if
that’s any sign.”

Dan was deeply puzzled. Dick did not wonder at it either; and if he had
been asked he would have found it difficult to suggest a plan whereby
the mysterious prowler could be secured without hurting him to any
extent.

The campers spent a quiet evening. There was considerable singing, but
Mr. Bartlett saw to it that the choruses were all of a character suited
to the day. The entire group of boys joined in, and they made a volume
of sound that carried far across the lake, and might even have been
heard miles away on the other side of Bass Island.

Then Leslie, who had a splendid tenor voice, obliged them on request
with a number of songs that were old favorites with Mr. Holwell.

“I must say,” remarked that pleased gentleman, “I have never heard them
sung better, or under more romantic surroundings than here and now. I
assure you all I shall write this little camping trip down as one of
the most enjoyable experiences of my whole life. I am glad to be with
you, boys, glad to feel that all of us are here to have a good time,
and to be helpful to each other.”

Even Nat and his pair of cronies seemed to be fairly satisfied. As for
Eddie Grant, Cub Mannis and Ban Jansen, they frankly admitted they had
never in all their lives enjoyed anything one half so much.

“Mr. Bartlett has promised to let some of us go off with you in the
morning, Eddie,” remarked Dick, casually, as they sat together during
the evening, “to see if we can beat you three filling a bucket apiece
with blueberries. It’s too bad that you should have to spend so much of
your time while up here doing that sort of thing; and we mean to fix it
so you’ll have more time off, anyhow.”

The three mill boys looked as though they could not find words to
express their gratitude. It was not the fact that they wanted to shirk
work. They had always been forced to labor for their living; but the
idea of any one voluntarily offering in this brotherly way to assume
their tasks in order to let them have a little enjoyment touched
their hearts deeply. This outing on the part of the mill boys, along
with their pleasant intercourse with the others, was bound to have an
influence upon Eddie Grant’s crowd. Mr. Holwell and Mr. Bartlett both
felt sure there would be an accession to the club from the mill part of
Cliffwood’s young people when the three boys got back to town, and they
could tell what a glorious time they had experienced.

Some of the boys wondered when the time came to go to bed whether they
would be disturbed again by a visit from the unknown creature that
had taken to prowling about the camp on Bass Island. Most of them,
however, were of the opinion that what had happened on the preceding
night might deter the wild man from making any more of his visits, at
least until several days had passed.

Nevertheless, it was to be noticed that some of them took especial
pains to examine the fastenings of the tents close to their heads. Dick
playfully asked Peg Fosdick if he anticipated another thunder-storm
some time in the night and feared that a wild wind might carry the
covering away and leave them exposed to the weather, that he was so
particular about having the lashings of the tent secure, and the
various pegs well driven into the ground.

Nat pretended to be above these petty weaknesses. He imagined that
Alonzo and Dit after his disclosure of a panicky condition on the other
day were thinking less of his boasted valor, so he boldly declared
his intention of sleeping right out in the open, if the camp director
allowed him the privilege.

“It’s all right for those that feel timid to huddle like a flock of
sheep in under the canvas,” he remarked with a sneer. “But shucks!
what do I care about this here old wild man of the woods. If he
comes bothering around _me_, I’ll pretty soon show him what’s doing.
Nothing’d tickle me more’n to have him bend down and let me get my
arms twisted around his neck. I’d soon make all your slick traps, Dan
Fenwick, look like thirty cents. Huh!”

The last the others saw of Nat he had actually placed his blanket in
the open and was making ready to “camp out” in truth. It must have been
like balm to his heart when Alonzo remarked:

“Gee whiz! I don’t see how you’ve got the nerve to do it, Nat. I
wouldn’t like to be in your boots, that’s all I can say.”

The night was not half over when again the sleepers were awakened--this
time by a wild shriek close at hand. And as the boys came tumbling out
it was to see Nat rolling about in his blanket and shouting amidst its
folds.

CHAPTER XXII

WHAT NAT SAW

“Nat’s got a fit!” yelled Andy Hale, giving vent to the first thought
that flashed into his mind when he saw the other carrying on so wildly.

“More likely the wild man tackled him!” cried Peg Fosdick.

“Whee! hold on to him then, Nat! Don’t let him get away!” Eddie Grant
admonished, while Clint Babbett added to the din by adding:

“We’re right here, Nat, ready to help you! Sic him, Nat. Get a strangle
hold on the ferocious burglar!”

Suddenly Nat stopped whirling about so furiously. He even managed to
poke his tousled head from under the folds of his blanket, and seemed
to squint cautiously about him, much as a tortoise does after an alarm.

“Is _it_ gone?” he demanded, faintly, as though short of breath.

“What ails you, Nat?” asked Dick.

“Been having an attack of the nightmare, I reckon, and dreamed he saw
something as big as a house and as ugly as Bill Biddon’s bulldog!”
snapped Dan Fenwick, with a perceptible sneer in his voice.

It was noticed that neither Alonzo Crane nor Dit Hennesy uttered a
single word. Apparently they knew Nat would not act in this way simply
after having had a silly dream. Both of them had been in his company
that afternoon in the woods of Bass Island when Nat claimed to have
seen the unknown monster that was haunting their camp.

“Say, what d’you take me for, anyway?” demanded Nat, as he crawled
out of the tangled folds of his blanket, and looked defiantly around
him. “I tell you I’ve seen a terror of the woods all right, and I only
hope never to set eyes on the same again. If I had my way I’d start
for Cliffwood to-morrow. I didn’t come up here to have Old Nick, or
something just as bad, play leap-frog over me, I want you to know.”

Some of the boys could be heard muttering to themselves. Plainly these
strange words on the part of Nat gave them cause for worry.

“Tell us all about it, Nat, won’t you?” pleaded Alonzo, who was looking
rather white under the eyes, Dick noticed--a plain indication of a
craven spirit, boys are always ready to avow.

“Oh! I’m willing to tell all I know,” replied the other, readily
enough, “even if ’tisn’t much. When a feller gets waked up all of a
sudden like, and sees such a thing hoppin’ right over him, he’s not
agoin’ to stop and take too long a look. I own up I ducked under the
blanket right away, and started rollin’ around, meanin’, of course, to
keep _it_ from grabbin’ hold of me.”

“What was it like, Nat?” asked Dick, while Mr. Holwell stood by an
interested listener, a puzzled expression on his kindly face. Mr.
Bartlett and the physical director were also on hand, while a black
face thrust out from the cook tent told that Sunny Jim was listening.

“Oh! say, when I try to tell you I just seem to get all balled up,”
complained the boy who had been the cause of the midnight alarm.

“But you can give us some idea,” persisted Dick. “Already you’ve gone
and compared it to Satan himself. Did he have a forked tail and cloven
hoofs?”

Nat failed to catch the satire in Dick’s question and voice.

“I shouldn’t be ’tall surprised if it did,” he calmly replied, “though
I don’t want to exactly say I _seen_ all that. But I give you my honest
word, cross my heart, if it didn’t look like it must a come from down
below. Ugh! but it certainly gimme a bad feelin’.”

“Must have thought they’d sent for you, on account of some of the
fierce things you’d done in the past, eh, Nat?” quizzed Peg, boldly,
for he knew the bully of Cliffwood was in no frame of mind to take
offense just then, and pick a quarrel.

“Never you mind what I thought, Peg Fosdick!” said the other, still
trembling. “If you’d had the same experience I did, I reckon your
nerves’d a been shaky too.”

“Which way did it seem to go after jumping over you, Nat?” asked Dick,
bent on extracting all the information possible from the alarmed one
while the incident was still fresh in his memory. Later on he would be
apt to become hazy about particulars, and even contradict himself it
might be.

“Shucks! as if I bothered much takin’ any notice of such foolish little
things as that,” replied Nat. “The only thing I do recollect was that
it hopped over me comin’ from the left side. So I rolled the other way,
you see.”

“And you lay down with your head toward the north, didn’t you, Nat?”
came from Leslie, who realized that Dick was trying his best to get
hold of some sort of clue, though really it did not appear to matter
much.

“Here’s the way I was lyin’, so you can figure it out for yourselves,”
said the other, throwing himself down for a moment, and then regaining
his feet to continue his tale.

“But you want to understand that I’m done sleepin’ out here alone
after this. I ain’t hankerin’ about bein’ waked up to find things like
that playin’ leap-frog over me.”

He picked up his blanket with an air of determination that could not
be mistaken. Dick understood from this that Nat must have been pretty
badly frightened by his sudden awakening, and what he claimed to have
seen.

These things aroused in Dick’s mind a greater determination than ever
to learn the answer to the puzzle before leaving Bass Island. When the
morning came one of the first things he meant to devote his attention
to was searching for a clue to the character of the unknown terror.

It was not very pleasant standing around in the chilly night air, and
lightly clad at that, so when Mr. Bartlett suggested that they turn in
again no one offered any objection.

If the unknown creature that had taken to haunting Russabaga Camp came
again between midnight and the break of day no one was any the wiser
for his visit. With the first streaks of early dawn there were signs of
activity about the camp, and one by one the boys began to make their
appearance.

There was a chill in the air on this morning, making it quite different
from several preceding ones, and many of the boys were seen to shiver
when indulging in the usual morning dip.

But it would have to be something wonderful that could hinder those
amazing appetites of theirs from gripping them. Every one seemed
anxious to have a hand in assisting Sunny Jim in getting breakfast,
until Mr. Bartlett was compelled to call half a dozen of the boys away.

“‘Too many cooks spoil the broth,’” he told them. “You’re only
hindering Jim when you hang around that way. Some of you swing the axe,
and cut more firewood. It disappears mighty fast, you notice. Others
can fetch the blankets out and fasten them on the lines for their
morning airing.”

In the end breakfast was announced. The main dish on this morning
consisted of fried slices of home-cured ham and fresh eggs turned over
in the skillets. There was besides plenty of boiled hominy, of the fine
variety which in the South goes by the name of “grits.” To finish up
with all the pan-cakes were provided that any boy could swallow. They
were, however, called “flap-jacks” by the campers, it being understood
that a heavy fine or penalty awaited the one who dared designate them
as “griddle-cakes,” “pan-cakes,” or “flannel-cakes.” That would make
them feel as if they were eating at home, with a white table-cloth and
china in evidence, instead of off in the wilds far from the busy haunts
of men.

There were some other “haunts” apparently, that bothered several of the
boys considerably, Nat in particular. He had not recovered from his
shock of the preceding night, nor could any of the other boys find it
in their hearts to blame him very much.

Nat Silmore had always been known as a bully, afraid, in fact, of
nothing that walked on two legs; and to hear him candidly admitting
that he was genuinely disposed to quit the camp on account of his
anxieties gave several of the boys a feeling of real alarm.

Dick managed to get Leslie aside after they had finished breakfast,
though most of the others still lingered at the table. In fact some of
them could not find the heart to get up so long as a single “flap-jack”
remained.

“What do you think of it?” Dick asked his best chum.

“I have to jump at conclusions when you fire that question right at
me,” replied Leslie, with a broad smile; “so I reckon you must mean
about the thing Nat saw, or _thought_ he saw last night.”

“Well, I’ve been turning it all over in my mind,” continued Dick,
frankly, “and have come to the conclusion that he must have seen
something. Nat isn’t a timid chap by any means, as every one knows;
and if you watch him right now you’ll notice how he keeps looking to
the right and left all the while he eats. He’s half expecting to have
something jump out at him.”

“That’s right, as sure as you live,” admitted Leslie. “If things keep
on like this much longer, Dick, our camping trip will be spoiled. Why,
none of the fellows will care to wander into the woods, and before we
came they had laid out all sorts of schemes that would take them there.”

“Yes, I know they had planned to explore every foot of Bass Island,”
said Dick, moodily. “They’re beginning to care only for going out on
the water.”

“Humph! a good reason why,” grunted Leslie. “That mysterious wild man
can’t get them out there, it seems. Yes, just as you say it threatens
to upset all our jolly plans. What’s got to be done about it, Dick? I’m
ready to try anything you say.”

Dick scratched his head as if in deep thought.

“Well,” he remarked, finally, “of course one of the first things I did
this morning was to get down on my hands and knees and examine the
ground where Nat says he was sleeping when he woke up to see something
jump over him.”

“And did you make any discovery worth while, Dick?”

A shake of the head answered this question even before Dick could frame
words to reply.

“Why, no, I can’t say I did,” he went on to say. “The fact of the
matter is the ground was so well tramped over that there couldn’t be
any way of finding the footprints of the wild man, even if he did hop
over Nat as he lay there. I had to give up in the end, and call it a
bad job.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Leslie, who apparently had begun to indulge
in the hope that his clever friend might have come upon a clue.

“But there’s another chance for us,” ventured Dick.

“To find a track, you mean, do you?” questioned Leslie, taking fresh
courage.

“Why, somehow or other,” Dick explained, “none of us thought to look
closely into that trap of Dan’s which was smashed by the wild man the
other night. Now, let’s the two of us slip away as soon as the morning
service is over without telling any one what’s in the wind. We can
prowl around there, and see if some sort of sign is to be picked up
that will give us the clue we want.”

As soon as the religious service, which was held every morning after
breakfast, was over, Dick whispered to his chum:

“Let’s be moving, Leslie, while the crowd is still sitting around.
Mr. Holwell seems to be telling them one of his stories about his
experiences. Every little while something that happens seems to stir up
his memory. He’s seen a heap of queer things in his day.” Accordingly,
the pair walked away unnoticed by any of their comrades.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE TELLTALE FOOTPRINT

As the spot Dick and Leslie were heading for lay only a short distance
away from the heart of the camp the two boys quickly reached it. They
could plainly hear the laughter of the others when the minister reached
some comical part in his story of the early experiences associated with
his checkered career.

“Here’s the wreck of Dan’s trap,” remarked Leslie. “He lost heart when
the wild man smashed things so easily, and hasn’t managed to hatch up
another scheme to catch him, though I know he’s thinking about it all
the time.”

“Let’s take up every piece of wood first, and see if they can tell us
anything,” suggested Dick.

Leslie looked as though for the life of him he could not see how a mere
piece of broken branch could speak and explain; but at the same time he
knew Dick must have a meaning attached to his words.

Accordingly, they commenced to handle the remnants that told of Dan’s
wonderful trap, which had failed to hold the wild man.

Leslie suddenly heard his chum give a low bubbling cry.

“What have you found?” he asked, hurriedly, all excitement.

“Come here and see,” he was told.

“Well, I declare! that’s a bunch of hair clinging to a broken bit of
wood, or I miss my guess!” ejaculated Leslie Capes almost immediately.

“And sort of reddish-brown hair at that, you notice,” Dick told him.
“That must have come from the hide of an animal, mark you, and not from
a man at all!”

“Gee whittaker, Dick! What are you saying?”

“The wild man, as we’ve been calling him, isn’t a human being at all,
it seems,” Dick continued, slowly, as though he were trying to grasp a
stupendous idea.

“But, Dick, don’t forget that Nat has seen the creature twice now,”
urged Leslie.

“I know that,” admitted Dick.

“Yes, and there was Alonzo Crane and Dit Hennesy, too, who told us they
glimpsed him before he vanished into the brush. All three vowed it was
a short-looking man with awfully broad shoulders and long arms, and
that he bent over as he moved.”

“Granting all that,” persisted Dick, clinging to his rapidly forming
theory, “it could have been an animal just the same.”

“A four-footed animal do you mean, Dick?”

“Why not?” came the steady reply. “Some animals that can be called
four-footed sometimes walk on their two hind feet, such as monkeys and
apes. Even bears can do the trick without much trouble; and we’ve seen
elephants dancing in a circus, keeping their forelegs elevated all the
while.”

Leslie gave a whistle to indicate his surprise.

“Look here, Dick, you’re getting close to the truth of this mystery, I
just know it from your ways. Tell me what you think, please, Dick.”

“Wait a bit,” admonished the other. “Let’s look around here and see if
we have any better luck than I did in the camp.”

“You mean hunting for signs, don’t you?”

“Yes, see if you can run across any footprint that doesn’t look like
those the boys would make with their shoes,” he was advised.

Both busied themselves at that, bending low the better to examine
closely every foot of the neighboring ground. It was Leslie who gave
utterance to a cry this time.

“Oh! come over here, Dick!” he exclaimed, as though thrilled by a
discovery he had made. “I’ve found something!”

When Dick bent over and took a look he laughed.

“Just what I was expecting we’d run across somewhere around,” he
said. “The plain imprint of a bare foot! And no human being, wild man
or not, ever made that mark, let me tell you, Leslie.”

“It does look somewhat queer I own up, Dick.”

“For a human being I should say it was impossible,” continued the
other. “Notice its peculiar shape in the first place. And the foot is
hardly longer than the toes. Yes, and they’ve got long nails on them in
the bargain. There’s also a pad to the sole that no human ever has.”

Leslie’s eyes were staring. He turned them on his companion with
an interrogation point in each orb. Somehow Dick was usually to be
depended on to rise to an occasion like this, and find out the truth.
His chums had long ago learned how absolutely they could depend on him
when the necessity arose.

“What sort of animal, Dick, would have feet like those?” he asked,
boldly.

[Illustration: “WHAT SORT OF ANIMAL WOULD HAVE FEET LIKE THOSE?” HE
ASKED.]

“Well, a gorilla might, for one,” Dick declared.

No wonder Leslie gasped his amazement.

“A gorilla, Dick? An ape loose in the woods on Bass Island! Why, surely
I must be dreaming, or else you’re joshing me.”

Dick, however, stuck to his guns manfully.

“Remember, Leslie,” he went on to say, steadily, “I can’t even guess
how such an animal could get across from the mainland, even granting
that one escaped at some time from a menagerie that was wrecked in a
storm. We’re dealing with facts now, not theories. There’s an animal
over here, because some of our crowd have seen it, and all of us have
looked on the wreck of the trap set to hold it. I honestly and truly
believe it’ll turn out to be a gorilla.”

“Well, let’s figure out how that explanation agrees with what we know,”
was the sensible way Leslie commenced. “All the boys who have glimpsed
the creature agreed that it was short in stature, and with broad
shoulders, as well as long arms. I remember that gorillas are built
that way, Dick.”

“Yes, and travelers say they are very powerful,” added the other. “I’ve
read how a wounded gorilla will snatch the rifle out of a hunter’s
hands, and twist the barrel as easily as if it were made of wire, tying
it in a knot.”

“So he would have no trouble in smashing Dan’s silly trap, that’s
right,” Leslie went on to say. “Yes, and I can also remember reading,
Dick, that such an animal, when it gets mad, thumps on its chest and
makes a rumbling sound like the beating of a drum.”

“Sure enough!” Dick exclaimed, smiling with glee over the probability
of having solved the mystery that had been haunting the camp so long,
“didn’t the boys tell all about hearing some one drumming, when they
glimpsed the wild man as they thought, going through the brush?”

“Dick, I do believe we’ve solved the puzzle at last!”

“I’m dead sure of it!” Dick declared, “after finding this telltale
scrap of reddish hair on the stick, and seeing that queer footprint.
One thing certain, it’s likely we’ll never know just how the creature
managed to get across here.”

“You mean from the mainland, I suppose,” ventured Leslie. “Can a
gorilla swim, do you think, Dick?”

“I don’t know, but I should say not,” came the dubious reply.

“Well, then we’ll just have to make a stab at it, and let the thing go
at that,” Leslie continued, philosophically. “Mebbe the beast was on
a log that drifted away from the shore when he was washing his face
or trying to catch a fish for his dinner--if gorillas ever eat such
things, which I doubt. Then the floating log carried him across to the
island, and he’s been marooned here ever since. How about that for an
explanation, Dick?”

“For want of a better it will have to stand, I suppose,” Dick told him.
“But let’s go and give the rest of the bunch a surprise.”

Leslie, of course, was willing, and away they hurried to startle their
camp-mates with the recital of the discovery they had just made.

Every one had to examine the stick that had the clump of dun-colored
hair fastened to its splintered part. Then all rushed to the spot where
the remains of the man-trap lay scattered around, Dick taking care
that no one crowded so close as to endanger the strange and telltale
footprint.

Long and earnestly every boy gazed at this mark. Queer feelings came
over them as they realized that in all probability Dick had indeed
solved the mystery.

Nat in particular was triumphantly declaring that he had been
vindicated.

“Say, what did I tell you?” he demanded of Dan and Peg as a grin crept
over his face. “A gorilla can hop if it wants to, can’t it? Well,
that’s what the critter did with me when it saw me startin’ to sit up.
And say! ain’t a gorilla somethin’ like a short, squatty man with wide
shoulders and long arms? Well, didn’t all three of us try to describe
the thing we saw in the brush like that? Huh! next time don’t get quite
so fresh with your remarks, Peg Fosdick!”

“Oh, so far as that goes, Nat,” the other said humbly enough, “we all
admit that you must have been right. Yes, and I’ll go further when I
say that if a gorilla hopped over me in the night, and I saw him, I’d
think it was the Old Scratch himself. You’re all right, Nat, even if
you were scared half to death.”

Nat flared up as though inclined to resent this imputation regarding
his well-known courage. On second thought, however, he held his tongue.
Perhaps he remembered that he had frankly admitted being frightened.
And on the whole the sooner that matter was dropped the better.

Mr. Holwell, as well as the other two gentlemen, had, of course,
taken a decided interest in all that passed. In this he found a good
reason for adding to the high opinion he already had concerning Dick’s
abilities. Any boy who could figure out an answer to such a baffling
mystery deserved worlds of credit, and the minister was prouder of Dick
than ever.

Indeed, Mr. Holwell was feeling more and more pleased every day, that
he had decided to take a little vacation and spend it on Bass Island in
camp with the boys of the Junior Department of the local Y. M. C. A. He
dearly loved to study boy-nature, and watch the development of those
faculties that in the years to come might carry the possessors on to
fame or fortune.

Clint Babbett was coaxed to get his camera and take a photograph of the
strange footprint. He had more or less trouble in arranging things to
suit his ideas, but after several attempts declared that he believed
he had succeeded, and, in time, when he had developed that film, they
would be able to prove their claim by displaying an exact reproduction
of the telltale track. Others who possessed cameras were not deterred
from trying the same task.

“But I hope we don’t let it go at that, fellows,” the first
photographer said, after completing his last effort.

“Not much,” remarked Andy Hale. “Some of the knockers down in Cliffwood
wouldn’t believe a word of what we said unless we had better proof to
show than just a picture of some marks on the ground. Why, they’d claim
we’d made them in order to pull the wool over their eyes.”

Looks were exchanged, that spoke of hidden thoughts and grim
resolutions. Peg Fosdick undoubtedly voiced the sentiments of many when
he went on to remark seriously:

“One thing sure, boys, we must think up some way to kill this
Jabberwock of the Bass Island woods. We could have the skin stuffed,
and stood up in our room at the Y. M. C. A. building, you know. Every
one who called would ask for the story of what happened up here in
camp.”

Harry Bartlett glanced over at Mr. Holwell. He would have said
something himself, only he seemed to guess that the minister would
express his thoughts if given a chance.

“Wait a bit, boys,” said Mr. Holwell, gently. “Let’s consider this
thing well before deciding to try to kill this poor animal. The rooms
of a Y. M. C. A. building are hardly suitable for the exhibition of
stuffed wild animals. The rules of the organization do not encourage
the hunting instinct, only a laudable desire to build up the human
body, so that a healthy mind may be better qualified to grasp the
precious truths that are so frequently proclaimed within these walls.
In fact, I can easily imagine several patrons of the association
staring in wonder and displeasure upon discovering a stuffed gorilla
standing guard in your department.”

“But do we have just to keep on enduring his visits night after night,
sir?” Peg asked, appealingly. “Would there be any objection to Dan here
getting up some sort of trap that would hold the gorilla a prisoner,
so we could return him to the Zoological Gardens that mebbe he escaped
from?”

Mr. Holwell smiled on hearing that.

“I’m sure there could be no objection to such a scheme, provided Dan is
able to conjure up a plan that will turn out better than the last trap
did,” he answered. At this Dan blushed, and then grinned as though he
felt the remark was intended as a compliment.

“Oh! leave all that to me, sir,” he said, boldly. “Right now I’m
figuring on a bully scheme that is bound to work. And this time I don’t
mean to trust to just plain snares or traps.”

CHAPTER XXIV

DAN’S NEW IDEA

“Somehow I’m feeling unusually smart this morning,” said Peg Fosdick,
as he came face to face with Dan Fenwick, after the excitement had
somewhat abated, “and I’m going to challenge you to a spin in the
rowing shells across to that little island away over there and back
again. I dare you to accept, Dan!”

Dan was one of those who seem to be always carrying chips on their
shoulders, and any one knocking that chip off would have his hands full
immediately.

“Count me in the game!” he quickly exclaimed. “That is, if Mr. Rowland
will give us the necessary permission. I’ve been wanting to make a test
of your boast that you were a better oarsman than any of the rest of
us, barring Eddie Grant and Ban Jansen.”

“Well, here’s your chance to make good!” jeered Peg.

The athletic instructor, coming along just then, was appealed to in
such terms of entreaty that he laughingly consented to the trial
of skill and strength, for rowing combines both these necessary
qualifications.

The knowledge that another rivalry had broken out interested most of
the campers, although a very few were so much taken up with other
tasks and hobbies, such as photography, that they declined to become
enthusiastic.

The two clumsy boats which Peg had ambitiously called “shells,” were
overhauled and put in as good condition as possible. Though, being
old craft and rather dilapidated, there was a fair chance that one of
them might leak so badly that it would necessitate a stop during the
contest in order to bail. To make things fair, however, it was arranged
that should such a delay occur a certain signal was to be given by the
victim, which would call for a halt on the part of the other competitor
until the leaking boat had been relieved of its unwelcome cargo of
water. Then again would operations be resumed.

At a signal from Mr. Rowland away went the rivals, both using the oars
at a furious rate, although they had been cautioned by the athletic
conductor to be deliberate, and not to exhaust themselves in the
beginning of the race.

Both lads had stripped, and donned their swimming trunks, the better to
be able to take care of themselves should any serious accident befall
them while speeding across the water toward the small island that was
to represent the turning point. Moreover, each boat contained a life
preserver, for those who had the safety of the Y. M. C. A. boys in
their keeping took no unnecessary chances.

In their excitement both contestants forgot most of the instructions
so carefully given by Mr. Rowland. When one found that the other was
forging ahead ever so little it meant that on his part he had to row
harder in order to close up the gap before it grew to discouraging
proportions. Those on Bass Island could see that neither contestant
rowed in a manner that was to his credit, for there seemed to be an
unusual amount of splashing done as the oars fell hurriedly into the
water.

Peg turned the island a little in the lead, and from this the onlookers
fancied Dan’s boat must either be leaking, or else his energies were
flagging under the heavy strain.

On the way back Peg seemed to be increasing his lead, and it looked as
if the race were bound to go to him. But Dick, who knew that Dan was a
hard fellow to beat, did not share in that conviction.

“Wait!” he told the group of shouting boys. “No race is decided until
it is finished. Dan may have a card up his sleeve yet. See! both have
stopped and are resting on their oars. I think Dan has given the signal
that he must ‘pump ship,’ for I remember that his boat is a shade the
worse of the two. But the rest will give Dan the second wind he often
needs. Then watch him make things fly.”

As it turned out Dick was exactly right in his prediction. After the
race was resumed it seemed that Dan had received much more benefit from
the rest than had Peg, for it was noticed that the gap between the
two boats was closing. Despite the almost frantic efforts of Peg the
distance separating the rivals grew less and less. When the boats were
a short distance away from the shore of Bass Island they seemed to be
on even terms. But this was not to last.

Dan had a certain amount of strength left which enabled him to push the
nose of his boat ahead of the opposing craft. That discouraged Peg, and
he lost heart in the race, well knowing that in his exhausted condition
he could never regain the lead. Indeed, the boy crumpled up in his
seat, and allowed his boat to push on with its acquired momentum until
it reached land.

Meanwhile, Dan had been welcomed with a great din, and yet his first
act was to brush the many hands aside and wait for his rival to come
along.

“You’d have beaten me easy, Peg,” he told the disappointed chum,
“except for that little trick I played. There wasn’t nearly so much
water in my boat as I made out. But it was a lively race, all right,
and you’re a game one to the bone.”

Shortly afterwards a number of the boys started off with pails. Eddie
Grant and his two comrades from the mills realized that since the
weather was propitious and the harvest of blueberries abundant on the
island, they must not lose any more time than could be helped.

Just as had been planned by Mr. Bartlett and Dick, a number of the
other generous campers insisted on accompanying the pickers. Eddie
objected at first, but seeing that the boys were intent on going along
his remonstrances died away.

“We want to say we’ve picked a few bushels of those whopping big
berries ourselves,” said Peg, honestly. “It’ll be heaps of fun, you
know, and give some other fellows an afternoon off to try the fishing.”

“Besides,” added Fred Bonnicastle, just as determined to be of
assistance to the workers in the mills, who he had discovered were fine
chaps, “we all of us like blueberries, and have been dipping a little
into the stock of those you gathered on Saturday. We want to make the
loss good, and feel that we’re returning good measure every time. So
don’t say another word, Eddie. You just can’t shoo us back.”

At that Eddie Grant laughed.

“Oh, well,” he said, “now that we know for sure that a real live
monkey is loose on Bass Island I reckon there’ll be safety in numbers.
If he tackles us, six are better than just three.”

“Oh! you can’t frighten us by that kind of talk,” jeered Peg. “All of
us will go with a club in our hands, as well as a bucket. And say!
perhaps we’d better manage to keep within call of each other. Seems to
me I’ve read about these gorillas carrying children off sometimes.”

“Well, that may be worrying you, Peg, but the rest of us don’t consider
ourselves in the baby class,” remarked Phil, at which there was a
general laugh in which Peg joined.

Mr. Holwell took a fancy to try the fishing himself that morning.

“Not that I lay much claim to being a master-hand at angling, you
understand, boys,” he apologized, when making up the party. “But those
bass do taste so fine that I’d like to say I had pulled a few of them
in myself. Once upon a time, away back, I can remember as a barefooted
boy going after bass along the Susquehanna river. Yes, and seldom
coming home without a nice string, too. But in those days my rod was
one I’d cut myself in the woods; and I had no reel, or even a modern
snell attached to the hook. But I took the fish.”

Dick was one of those who went out in the boat. Mr. Holwell asked him
to join them, for he said he would need the advice of an “expert,” as
he neither knew where the bass were likely to be found during the hot
weather, nor how to manipulate his line when he had a strike.

“Just as likely as not,” he explained, “I should jerk the bait away
when by rights I ought to give the bass a certain amount of time to
turn it in his mouth. I know there are a great many things connected
with fishing that a tyro does not understand; though when I was a lad
I must have been acquainted with the habits of the tricky bass, or I
never could have had the good luck I did.”

Some of those left ashore had portioned out the morning for various
tasks or pleasures. It was a part of the plan that there should not be
too much labor attempted while they were in camp. They had come all
this way from home not so much to work, as to have a delightful time,
although certain camp duties had to be observed, for those in charge
would allow no shirking.

For instance, Clint Babbett and other photographers were allowed to
prowl around and take as many pictures as they chose. If they preferred
it, they could learn where certain small animals, such as raccoons or
opossums or squirrels or possibly even a mink, had a home, so that they
might plan the arranging of a camera and taking a flashlight picture of
some animal tugging at the bait left exposed.

Then there was Dan. Nobody was to bother him as long as he wished to
sit and ponder and figure with pencil and paper. It was known that Dan
was trying to get up some wonderful scheme whereby the monster with
the thieving instincts of the monkey race might be entrapped and made
captive.

Everybody would, of course, feel greatly relieved could this be
attained, and for that reason, if no other, the camp director wished
Dan to have all the opportunity possible to expand his scheme.

The anglers were not quite so successful as on former occasions. Dick
knew that black bass could be considered whimsical, in that they often
refused to take any sort of bait, even when the wind, the water, and
other conditions made it an apparently ideal day for fishing.

“Nobody understands just why they act as they do,” he told Mr. Holwell,
when the bites were few and far between. “I’ve been fishing most of
the day, with never a strike. Then about four o’clock the clouds would
come up and the wind shift to a new quarter, when it seemed as if every
bass in the whole lake must be fairly wild to get something to eat. You
never can count on bass.”

Nevertheless, they managed to take a few good-sized fellows. The fish
proved so gamy that Mr. Holwell enjoyed their capture immensely.

“It seems to me the same thrill passes up my arm when I feel that
fierce tug that I used to experience in those wonderful days of old,”
he went on to say in a ruminating way, as memory once more awakened the
scenes long since passed.

“Do you think the savage feels just so, when he brings down his game,
or fastens to a big salmon or trout?” asked Dick.

“Well, that’s a question I can hardly answer,” said Mr. Holwell. “From
my observation I imagine the only sensation he is apt to feel is
gratification over having attained his end, which was to provide food
to satisfy his appetite. Only civilized sportsmen have reached such
a condition that they fish for the delight of matching their skill
against the cunning of the gamy denizens of the lake. After winning the
victory the sportsman will often gladly restore the fish to the water
again unharmed.”

When lunch was ready at noon the berry pickers came trooping in,
looking somewhat wearied, but all in good spirits. They had full
buckets, every one, and this meant that the pile of berries would be
considerably augmented.

“We intend to try it again to-morrow morning, if things look right, and
Mr. Bartlett agrees,” asserted Peg, valiantly. “It was great fun, let
me tell you! Why, we could have filled two buckets apiece if we’d had
them along.”

“Say, did you happen to see anything of our friend, Bob?” demanded Dan.

“I suppose you mean the gorilla by that,” responded Fred Bonnicastle.
“We’re glad to inform you that he was only conspicuous by his absence.”

“And his room was a whole lot better appreciated than his company,”
added Eddie Grant. “For one I’m not hankering after running across any
Old Man of the Woods just now. If he leaves me alone I’ll promise not
to bother him while we’re here on Bass Island.”

“My sentiments every time,” said Phil.

When two or three more had expressed themselves as of the same opinion
Dan looked pained.

“Looks as if you were all going to leave it to _me_ to grab that
monster,” he told them. “And make up your minds I can do it, if only
some of you’ll promise to give me a helping hand.”

At that several immediately announced their willingness to assist.

“Of course we all want to feel that it’s going to be safe for us to
wander around anywhere on the island, Dan,” said Fred; “and on that
account we hope you’ll get busy. No matter what you want me to do I’ll
promise to do it, only please don’t ask me to stand and offer to feed
the old scamp out of my hand.”

“You won’t have to,” Dan told him. “Fact is, it’s a spade you’ll have
to use more than anything else, a spade and a pick and a shovel, all of
which fortunately we brought along with us.”

“Do you mean to dig a grave for the gorilla after you get him?” asked
Peg.

“Well, hardly, when we promised Mr. Holwell that we wouldn’t hurt the
poor creature,” laughed Dan. “What I want you to do is to dig a pit
about ten feet deep, with walls so smooth that no gorilla that ever
walked on two legs could manage to climb up again, once he fell in.”

“Oh, so that’s the game!” exclaimed Phil. “A pit trap, is it? Seems to
me I’ve read of them in books about life in the jungles of Africa and
South America.”

“That’s just where I cribbed the scheme!” exclaimed Dan. “Don’t you
remember, Phil, lending me those books that you said used to belong to
your father years ago? But what’s the difference anyway who was the
originator of the idea? The author of the books got it from the natives
who were accustomed to catching wild animals in pits. As soon as we’re
through lunch I want some of you fellows to go with me and show what
you’re worth as diggers.”

None of them backed out, though all realized that their muscles would
be stiff and sore before a ten-foot pit could be finished. Still, “Rome
was not built in a day” the minister told them, and they must not
expect to rush things. Better divide the job into two periods, and by
the close of the next day it could easily be completed.

CHAPTER XXV

THE BERRY PICKERS

That was an unusually long afternoon to the “willing workers” in the
pit. From the way in which every little while one or another would stop
digging and, climbing out of the hole, take an anxious look toward the
west, it could be easily seen that the diggers were getting weary.

Dan, of course, noticed it, and chuckled slily. He realized that they
would stand by him to the finish. At the same time he was not above
taking what he called “a rise” out of Fred Bonnicastle, who emerged
from the pit oftener than the others.

So, on one occasion, when about to suggest stopping work for the day,
he casually remarked, as Fred again climbed up out of the hole, now
some four feet in depth:

“I guess you think the old days have come around again, Fred.”

Fred looked at him blankly.

“Oh, the days of the Children of Israel when they took possession of
the Promised Land, you remember,” continued Dan, grinning.

“I’m still groping in the dark. What have we got to do with Moses and
his followers, when they fought with the Philistines?” asked Fred.

“Well,” replied Dan, drily, “from the way you fellows keep staring into
the west I just made up my mind some of you had begun to believe Joshua
had come along with us, and that he was again commanding the sun to
stand still.” At this Fred laughed, as did the others.

“So far as that goes,” acknowledged Peg, “it certainly has seemed
a coon’s age since we started grubbing here. Four hours, with only
little rests in between when some one spelled me, is going some for my
father’s son.”

“Whee! wouldn’t my folks at home stare though, if they could have
watched me actually _work_?” added Phil Harkness, greatly amused. “Why,
it’s always been the hardest thing going to coax me to weed a little
flower bed up to now.”

“I’m sore, all right,” admitted Fred, candidly; “but it may wear away
by morning. Guess Nature didn’t mean me to earn my bread by the sweat
of my brow. I think after all I’d better take to the law, as my dad
wants me to.”

“Perhaps some of the other fellows may want to change places with you
three in the morning,” said Dan, calmly. “My pit is more’n a third
completed now, though the worst is still to come, for every shovel of
dirt has to be lifted out, and carried away, so as not to excite the
suspicions of the beast. Let’s call it off, and meander into camp.”

There was much animated talk around the supper table that night, as Dan
and his assistants entered into arguments with some of the others. It
ended in three new recruits offering to do their turn in the pit on the
following day.

Fred and the two others did not say much, for fear of alarming the
volunteers, and causing them to back out. At the same time they might
have been observed exchanging significant winks, and the expression on
their faces showed satisfaction.

Nothing unusual happened on that night, though some of the boys felt
restless. If the prowling animal came around no one saw or heard him;
nor was anything missing when morning finally arrived, so far as any
one could discover.

“But that means he’ll be with us to-night, never fear,” ventured Dan,
with such confidence in his manner that every one knew he did not mean
to abandon his pit-digging.

The plans for the day had already been laid out. Dick had concluded
to accompany the berry pickers during the morning. He wanted to feel
that he had had a hand in helping Eddie, Ban and Cub accumulate a large
store of the berries, for they were to be shipped to the market in
Cliffwood on the following morning.

Leslie’s father, Mr. Capes, had promised to run up on this day in his
car, to see what the boys were doing. He would spend a night in camp,
and start back on the following morning. He was also to bring with him
receptacles in which such blueberries as had been gathered could be
carried back to town.

That was one reason why Dick planned to go out with the three mill boys
on this morning, so as to feel that he had helped give them a half
holiday. In the afternoon he planned to go fishing with the trio, for
Eddie and the others dearly loved all manner of sports, though not able
to indulge in them as frequently as some of the other boys, unless, as
usually happened, they took Sunday for their outings.

There was certainly no lack of the large berries on Bass Island. Eddie
Grant told Dick he could take him to a place they had hardly touched as
yet, and where their buckets could easily be filled in two hours.

The berry pickers set off, Fred and Peg going with the party.

“We haven’t seen a sign of a snake so far,” Eddie remarked, as they
walked along through the brush and amidst the trees.

“Well, since this is an island, and so far from the mainland,” observed
Dick, “perhaps there isn’t a single snake of any kind on it.”

“I’m glad of that,” ventured Ban Jansen, frankly, “’cause I’m not any
too fond of the crawlers. My folks told me to keep my eyes peeled for
rattlers up in this region. I’d sure hate to run across one of ’em just
when I was in the middle of a thick patch of berry bushes.”

The berry pickers enlivened the time with pleasant chatter as they
pushed along through the brush, heading toward the distant spot where
Eddie had noted the unusually heavily laden blueberry bushes.

Arriving on the ground the boys began to pick. It is slow work at the
best, no matter if the berries can be fairly stripped off by a deft
motion of the hand; and they could count on a couple of hours at the
work if they expected to fill their pails.

By degrees they would, of course, separate as each became absorbed in
his own picking. At the same time, they had agreed not to drift so far
apart but that a loud shout would bring them together again.

Dick busied himself. And as his fingers worked, so his mind also found
employment in going over some of the recent happenings that had served
to enliven their camp life.

Among other things he remembered Asa Gardner. It was nice to know that
the poor chap had brightened up so much of late. The pitiful expression
had left his pinched face.

“He begins to feel now,” Dick was telling himself, “that he has really
mastered that old weakness of his about taking things, whether he
needed them or not. It was a terrible thing to have grip him, and I’m
mighty glad he’s won out. Besides, he needs all the outdoor exercise he
can get, so as to throw off that tendency to tuberculosis that runs in
his family.”

Thus Dick was thinking of others as he deftly stripped the small twigs
of their rich stores. Suddenly he stopped work and stared at the ground.

“Whee! there’s another of those queer footprints again,” he muttered.
“Seems that the monkey likes blueberries as well as any human can, or
the partridges even. He’s been browsing around here all right, for I
can see where something has cleaned off a heap of branches.”

The thought that even then the gorilla, or whatever it was, might not
be far away gave Dick a thrill. He was a brave boy, however, as he had
proved on numerous occasions in the past; and this was made manifest
when he almost unconsciously started to follow the spoor of the animal.

A short distance away he came to a well defined trail. It looked as
though the gorilla must have passed along back and forth scores of
times.

Dick stood still and stared.

“Here’s a find,” he muttered to himself. “Chances are ten to one that
this leads to his den, all right. A nervy hunter might follow it up
and come on the big beast in his own quarters; but I reckon it would be
silly for me to think of doing such a thing as that.”

The temptation to follow just a little way, to see where the trail led,
caused Dick to start hesitatingly forward. A gorilla in his native
Borneo haunt is considered one of the most terrible creatures known to
big game hunters the world over, not even excepting the grizzly bear of
our own country, and Dick’s pulses were bounding, and his nerves were
on edge, for he realized that at any minute he might find himself face
to face with the animal.

And, indeed, that was just what did happen, for Dick suddenly heard a
horrible gurgling sound close by, and turning his head found himself
staring at a squatty, hairy figure that looked like a misshapen man
with amazingly broad shoulders, and long dangling arms.

CHAPTER XXVI

POACHING ON STRANGE PRESERVES

“Oh! good-bye!”

As Dick gasped these two words he flung himself squarely around, and
ran wildly. At the same time he listened, with his heart almost in his
mouth, to ascertain whether the terrible animal were chasing after
him. Yes, he could catch that odd thumping sound so like the roll of a
distant bass drum.

The boy ran in the direction that would take him close to where his
companions were busily engaged in picking berries. He did not mean to
lead the beast so as to include Eddie and the rest in his own danger;
but he wished to warn them so that they, too, might flee from that
perilous section.

When they heard him shout they quickly understood. Even before that it
had dawned upon their comprehension that something was amiss, for they
had caught the noise made by Dick’s frantic passage through the bushes.
Besides, the booming sound from beyond had also been carried to their
ears.

Now all six were tearing off like mad, and for a brief time it seemed
as though the berry picking must be abandoned for that day at least.
Dick soon found that they were not being pursued. Then the ridiculous
character of the wild flight broke in upon him, and he laughed aloud.

This caused the others to feel safer. Surely the situation could not be
so very desperate if Dick, wise Dick, could give way to merriment.

Eddie Grant joined in the laughter, and Ban and Cub, not to show the
white feather, followed suit, until all of them threw themselves down
on the ground and tried to catch their breath again.

There was considerable badgering, for each chose to believe that all
save himself were panic-stricken. Of course, _he_ had galloped along
just because it was the fashion, and he did not wish to be left to face
the ugly beast alone.

When Dick candidly admitted that he had been badly scared the others
realized that confession was good for the soul; and in the end
everybody owned up.

“Do we give up the job then for to-day?” asked Fred Bonnicastle.

“Oh! I know lots of other places where the berries are just about as
thick as off there,” asserted Eddie Grant, who, having undertaken a
task, however unpleasant, never wished to relinquish it.

“Who’s afraid?” demanded Cub Mannis.

Of course, after all this manifestation of valor no one dared hint at
stopping work just because there chanced to be an escaped gorilla loose
on Bass Island.

“We can arrange to keep closer together after this,” suggested Eddie,
“and have a signal to close up in a bunch if the old critter bobs up
again. But like as not we happened on his private preserves when we
tackled that batch of berries, and he ain’t goin’ to bother us if we
keep away.”

It was natural that the boys remained in a nervous frame of mind during
the remainder of that morning. If a bird flew up suddenly, or a branch
scraped against the trunk of a tree, emitting a harsh sound, some of
them were sure to take in a long breath and stare around uneasily.

The pails were slow in filling up, too, on account of this vigilance
and of the fact that the pickers stuck close together. In fact, the
time dragged until it was well on toward noon before Eddie announced
that his pail was running over.

“Can’t seem to hold another handful, fellows,” he observed. “And as
you’re all in the same fix I move we start back to camp.”

“That suits me all right!” declared Fred; and not a murmur of dissent
was heard, for every one was only too glad that the long strain had
come to an end.

When the berry pickers told of their experience that noon, as they
munched the lunch that had been prepared, dinner being reserved for
the evening when Mr. Capes would in all probability be with them, the
others listened with a sort of awe.

Although, boy like, some of them ventured to make fun of the berry
pickers on account of their panic, secretly they were ready to
confess that under similar conditions they would have done the same
thing--would have run wildly.

“Well, my pit is four-fifths dug,” announced Dan, proudly. “And if I
can get a new shift of workers this afternoon I’ll have it done easily,
so the trap could be set this very night.”

Several volunteers were immediately forthcoming, among others Asa
Gardner, who, while not as strong physically as most of the others,
wished to do his share.

“You see,” he explained to Dan when making the offer, “I don’t want to
be left out of the running.”

“Well,” observed Fred Bonnicastle, drily, “you wouldn’t have if you’d
gone off with our bunch this morning, I can tell you that. Eh, fellows?”

Dick, true to his promise, after certain camp duties had been
performed, went out in one of the boats with Eddie, Ban and Cub to try
for the bass.

“We’d like to give Mr. Capes a treat and the finest dinner possible
while he’s up here over night with us,” he told his companions, while
rowing toward his favorite fishing grounds. “So everybody must do his
level best to land some big fellows, if only we can tempt them to take
hold.”

The conditions seemed especially favorable. The sun was hidden much
of the time behind friendly clouds, and a gentle wind blew from the
southwest, causing a ripple on the water such as fishermen delight to
see.

The sport turned out to be excellent, and some extra fine fish were
taken during the several hours the quartette spent at their pleasant
task.

“Let me tell you this beats picking berries all hollow,” remarked
Eddie, as he played a sturdy bronze-backed warrior, and watched the
captive leap wildly from the water time after time, always attempting
to throw his weight upon the line so as to break the hook loose from
his jaw.

“I never seem to get enough of it,” added Cub, all aglow as he, too,
felt a savage jerk, and succeeded in fastening a mate to Eddie’s
fellow, so that there were lively times at both ends of the anchored
boat.

Indeed, the pleasures of that single afternoon were enough to repay the
mill boys for all their labors. One and all they confessed, when later
on heading for the camp, that they had never had such glorious fishing
in all their lives.

Dan was found in camp fairly palpitating with satisfaction. Dick knew
before a single word had been said that the pit was completed.

“Come out and see it, Dick,” urged the proud architect. And as there
was still an hour and more before sundown, Dick gladly complied.

He found that the pit had been neatly covered with a matting of slender
poles, upon which both earth and leaves had been deftly strewn. In
fact, Dick might himself have stepped upon this disguising covering
only that Dan caught his arm and held him back.

“You see where I’ve hung the bait,” he observed, pointing upward as he
spoke. “The gorilla can’t reach it without stepping squarely out on the
weak platform, and he’ll go plump down so fast there’ll be no chance
for him to throw out those long arms of his and grab a branch above. I
guess his goose will be cooked all right if only he browses around this
way to-night, as I hope will happen.”

Dick shook hands with the originator of the pit trap.

“Here’s hoping he comes--and stays, Dan!” he said.

“You like the way we fixed it, then, do you, Dick?” demanded the other.
For according to his way of thinking commendation from Dick was always
to be accepted as a certificate of real merit.

“It couldn’t be better, Dan, and you have cause to be proud of your
work.”

They had just returned to the camp when one of the boys was heard
shouting:

“There’s a big car arrived across the bay from us, where Leslie and
Phil are waiting with the boat.”

“Seems to be something of a crowd along,” remarked Dan; “I can see the
chauffeur all right, and Mr. Capes; but there’s another, too. Wonder
now who he brought up here with him to-day?”

“They’re fixing some sort of canvas over the car, so as to leave it
there for the night,” ventured Asa, straining his eyes in the effort to
make things out.

“Now they’re beginning to get into the boat, after the boys have taken
aboard some bundles that may be containers for the berries,” said Dick.
“I can give a pretty good guess who that third person is, boys.”

“Mr. Nocker, Dick, don’t you think?” asked Peg. “Seems to me he looks
kind of familiar, with his tall figure, and queer way of walking.”

“Just who it is,” replied Dick, without hesitation. “Mr. Nocker has
taken the trouble to come all the way up here to spend a night with us
boys, and see how we carry on when in camp.”

“Just to think of him, doing such a thing,” ventured Dan, “when only a
short time ago he detested every type of boy, because they reminded
him of his own son who gave him so much trouble, and finally ran away
from home and died.”

“Yes,” interrupted Dick, softly. “But that was before Mr. Nocker met
his little grandson, Billy, and felt a new sensation in his withered
old heart. Nowadays he loves boys, and can’t do too much for them.
Forget all about the past, fellows, and only remember that Mr. Nocker
is now one of our best friends.”

CHAPTER XXVII

A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN CAMPFIRE

When finally the boat arrived at the island landing, and the passengers
came ashore, they were greeted with three rousing cheers by the score
of lads. Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett and the athletic director added
their voices to the chorus, and then shook hands with the guests, who
were soon made to feel at home.

A brush shanty had been erected during the day by some of the busy
workers. This was to be used to house the “overflow.” It was intended
that one of the tents should be handed over to Mr. Capes. The deacon
would occupy a part of it, while the chauffeur could be taken care of
elsewhere.

There was a great feast that night, the assistant cooks “doing
themselves proud,” so they declared, in their desire to let these
gentlemen see that boys know how to serve as accomplished _chefs_ when
they are in camp.

“I don’t remember enjoying a meal so much as this in many a long day,”
admitted Deacon Nocker, when he had to decline any further helping.

“That fresh bass was simply delicious,” observed Mr. Capes, smacking
his lips, and then adding, when several started to try to fill up his
pannikin again: “Not another mouthful, or I’ll be foundered. This takes
me away back to the days when I too was a boy, and used to camp out. I
quite envy you, Mr. Holwell, the opportunity to spend a week with these
fellows.”

After the meal was finished what a glorious time they had sitting
around the blazing campfire, and talking “a blue streak,” as Leslie
called it. Scores of things had to be told, all connected with the
trip, though it could easily be seen that the chief subject of all was
the presence of the gorilla on the island.

To the surprise of the boys Mr. Nocker, as soon as he learned about the
animal, declared that he could explain where it had come from, though
probably no one would ever be able to find out how the gorilla managed
to get to the island, almost a mile from the main shore.

“Last spring there was an accident to a circus that was showing over
in Hastings,” he went on to say, “and some of the animals escaped.
I remember that among them was an enormous gorilla, though I never
learned whether the animal had been captured again or not. Apparently
he never was, and has found his way up here, to frighten a lot of
people, and rob their camps on the island.”

“Then that was what you meant, was it, Mr. Nocker,” asked Dick, “when
you told us to beware of the mysterious thief while up here on your
property?”

“Exactly,” replied the gentleman, grimly. “Though it never once
occurred to me to connect the thievery with the disappearance of the
gorilla. Some gentlemen I knew came up here when the fishing season
opened, to enjoy casting the fly for the gamy black bass of Lake
Russabaga. They camped on this island, and had a fine time. The only
thing that annoyed them was the remarkable manner in which through some
unknown agency various valuable articles vanished.”

“He seems to like things that have a shine to them,” remarked Mr.
Holwell, humorously, “judging from the fact that he took not only my
gold watch and Dan’s nickel one, but the aluminum frying-pan as well.
We don’t believe he could have any particular need for that, unless to
use it as a looking-glass.”

“Well,” Mr. Nocker continued, “according to my recollection those
gentlemen from Creston lost a field-glass they valued highly, as well
as a watch, and several other things, that they would surely pay a good
reward to recover.”

“That makes me think of something,” Dick spoke up.

“Tell us what it is, then, please?” urged Leslie, quickly.

“The trail I started to follow at the time I glimpsed the gorilla
standing so close by, was so well beaten that I felt sure it must lead
to his den, somewhere in the thickest part of the jungle.”

“It stands to reason that would be the case,” admitted Mr. Nocker. “I
suppose you are going to say, Dick, that if the pit trap works and the
monster is caught, so there need be no further fear of him, you mean to
follow up that trail and find his den?”

“Why, yes, sir, that was what I had in mind,” admitted the boy,
modestly. “If he is like some monkeys I’ve read about, that had such a
weakness for pretty and shiny things that they stole them, he’ll keep
his trophies there, and we’ll be apt to get back everything that’s been
taken.”

“Thank you for that comforting assurance, Dick,” said Mr. Holwell.
“There’s a standing reward of ten dollars out for the safe return of
my watch. I’d feel that I was getting off pretty cheap at that, for I
cherish that keepsake considerably above its intrinsic value. Then Dan,
here, is to be heard from also, for he’s in the same boat with me.”

“Ten cents reward, and no questions asked,” declared Dan, “for the
safe return of my dollar watch! That’s ten per cent. you know. I only
hope the rascal hasn’t gone and stowed it away in his cheek, as I saw a
tricky monkey do when he’d hooked a man’s watch right from his pocket.”

Many times during the evening Dan might have been observed listening
eagerly. He half fancied he had caught some significant sound which
indicated that his expected guest had arrived at the trap, and taken
the plunge.

On each occasion, however, he concluded he must have been mistaken. At
any rate Dan did not see fit to ask any one to accompany him thither,
lantern in hand, to investigate. Indeed, it is questionable if he could
have found a single recruit had he proposed such a thing. The boys were
not keen to wander far from the protection of that jolly campfire,
knowing, as they did, what sort of terrible beast was making its home
on Bass Island.

Both Mr. Nocker and Mr. Capes asked so many questions that it is
doubtful whether anything escaped being told during those delightful
hours spent around the crackling fire. The evening had turned out a bit
chilly, too, which made the blaze all the more appreciated.

Then at the suggestion of Mr. Holwell, who knew how splendidly the Y.
M. C. A. boys could sing, they gave a number of their school songs, and
patriotic airs as well. Dick, learning that the minister had a special
liking for “Onward Christian Soldiers,” coaxed Leslie to strike up with
his clear tenor, and the rest came thundering along in the chorus,
greatly to the delight of Mr. Holwell, in whose eyes dewdrops sparkled
when they were through.

“I have heard that inspiring song on many notable occasions, boys,” he
assured them, “but I give you my word for it, never sung as to-night.
Here on this lonely island in the vast lake the sound seems to roll
over the water with telling effect. I never before realized how
wonderfully charming songs can sound on the water. It gives them a
special value that could not be attained in any other way. I shall
never, never forget this night, and the ones who have entertained us so
well.”

Mr. Nocker was almost as enthusiastic in his praise.

“I want to say to you, young fellows,” he told them, with considerable
emotion in his voice and manner, “that I am proud to be reckoned your
friend in these days of reconstruction. I would not go back to the life
I used to lead for all the money in the United States. Since little
Billy came into my life it seems as though the scales have dropped from
my eyes, and the whole world has taken on a new and glorious aspect.
And I owe it mostly to Dick here. God bless him.”

“Hear! hear!” shouted some of the lads.

“The best chum going!” others roared.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow, which none can deny!” chanted Leslie and
several of the rest in chorus. Nor did the camp director have the heart
to restrain this boisterous demonstration.

Dick laughed, and turned red; but, of course, he would not have been
human if he had not felt his heart beating faster than its wont with
happiness, when he realized that these good friends thought so well of
him, and that Mr. Nocker no longer deemed all boys “Sons of Belial,” as
he used to affirm.

Much as they enjoyed that evening, the hour grew late, and some of the
campers were found to be secretly yawning behind their palms. So Mr.
Bartlett said it would be just as well for them to consider retiring,
as they would want to be up early in the morning.

“Don’t forget we’ve got to have breakfast,” he remarked at the same
time. “And all that heap of fine, hard blueberries must be placed in
the containers our friends have taken the trouble to bring along with
them. They wish to make a start before the sun gets too high, because
it’s a long and rough ride to Cliffwood.”

Dan lingered around while the others were preparing to seek their
blankets. He often cast an anxious look off toward the place where his
trap had been set, and Dick found no trouble in guessing what his
thoughts were.

“Try to forget all about it until you wake up in the morning, Dan,” he
told the other. “I’ll want to go over with you, remember, to see if
anything happened while we slept.”

“I’ll be mighty glad to have you along, Dick,” Dan replied. “I reckon I
fixed everything just right, and if the creature comes snooping around
and tries to hook the bait hung up out of his reach, he’s liable to
take a sudden tumble, believe me! All right,” he went on, “I’ll turn
in, as you say; so good night, Dick!”

Ten minutes afterwards the camp was wrapped in silence.

CHAPTER XXVIII

WHEN THE PIT TRAP WORKED

Dick had just succeeded in hurriedly dressing on the following morning,
after the regular turn in the lake, when some one nervously gripped his
arm. Turning, he discovered, just as he expected, that it was Dan with
an eager look of anticipation on his face.

“Dick, you haven’t forgotten, I hope?” was his anxious greeting.

“Oh, no! if by that you mean I’m to go along with you to the trap,”
answered the other, smiling at the look on Dan’s face.

“You won’t be long, I hope, Dick?” Dan continued, pleadingly, as the
other turned back toward his tent.

“I’ll join you just as quickly as I can, Dan.”

“And Dick, did you happen to wake up during the night? If so, tell me:
Was there any sort of noise from that region?”

“Nothing that I noticed, Dan; though I slept sounder than usual I’m
afraid. But we’ll soon settle that, you know.”

“Whew! I’m all in a tremble to find out,” muttered the other, as he
cast another quick glance toward the quarter where his thoughts were
centered.

Dick took pity on him, and did hurry, even postponing some of his
customary morning duties until later. He found Dan waiting, almost
consumed with impatience. No one noticed them steal quietly off, which
was just as well. Indeed, Dan breathed an audible sigh of relief when
he made sure of this fact.

“Course if there isn’t any Old Man of the Woods squatting down in my
pit trap,” he went on to explain as they walked, “we needn’t hurry to
say anything about it. If anybody happens to mention the subject later
on I’ll tell ’em I hardly expected to strike oil the first thing, and
that they’ve just got to give me time.”

Like most boys Dan was very sensitive to ridicule, as his words proved.
Dick said nothing further, for already they were beginning to draw near
the spot where the pit had been dug.

That Dan was very much on the alert his actions speedily proved. He
suddenly clutched his companion rigidly by the arm, and his voice was
husky with self-suppressed excitement as he gasped:

“Dick, I do believe it worked after all!”

“What makes you think so?” asked Dick, who had as yet seen nothing to
disclose this fact.

“Because the bait is gone!” continued Dan, growing more and more
excited. “I hung it up on that branch you can see moving in the
wind, and now it’s bare. No danger of its having fallen off either.
Something’s taken it, Dick!”

“So? Then let’s move along and make sure,” remarked the second boy.

Ten seconds later Dan made another discovery.

“Oh! the mat over the hole has been broken in, Dick--it certainly has!”
he cried in growing excitement.

“Good enough!” his chum observed. “Then let’s hope Mr. Gorilla is right
now down in the pit, waiting for us to come and explain what we mean by
deceiving a poor old simian in such a mean way. Come along, Dan. The
chances are you’ve caught him.”

All doubt was removed shortly afterwards, when creeping cautiously up
the two boys peered over the edge of the pit. Most of the covering had
been dragged down with the heavy descending body of the gorilla when he
fell in, so that enough daylight managed to struggle to the bottom to
disclose a fearful sight.

There sat the gorilla, blinking his wicked little eyes up at the faces
of his captors, of whose presence he seemed to be fully aware. He was
all that Dan had pictured him, short of stature, with an immense girth
of chest, long muscular arms, and squatty lower limbs. Ugly though
he seemed to the boys, Dick was rather of the opinion that the animal
could not be quite as ferocious as those of his species when met in
their native Borneo haunts.

“He must have got used to folks in the years of his captivity,” Dick
remarked to the shivering Dan; “and that’s why he doesn’t take on
dreadful, now that he understands he’s caught in a trap, and will have
to go back to his cage again.”

“My stars!” muttered the entranced Dan, “if he’s a tame gorilla deliver
me from ever running across a real wild one. All the money in the world
couldn’t tempt me to drop down in that pit alongside that old chap.
Ugh! excuse me! Even the thought of it makes me creep all over.”

“We’ll try not to have any such accident as that,” remarked Dick,
experiencing a squeamish feeling himself at the idea. “And now, what
are you going to do with Bob, since you’ve trapped him?”

“I’ve figured all that out,” replied Dan. “We’ll have Mr. Capes find
where that circus proprietor is holding out this week. There must be
ways of doing that, you see. And then he can wire him that his gorilla
is trapped, and for him to come along as fast as he can, with a cage
and experienced help to get him out.”

“That’s a good scheme, Dan,” commended the other, slapping his chum on
the back. “And in the meantime we’ll have to see that the old fellow
doesn’t want for his regular allowance of grub.”

“No danger of his climbing out, is there, Dick?”

“I should hardly think so,” the other replied, after again taking a
survey of the deep pit. “The only way he could ever do that would be to
dig holes in the side, and I don’t believe he’s up to that game. Anyhow
we’ll keep tab of his doings, and if we find he’s trying a game like
that we’ll check him in a hurry.”

Dan began to take on the airs of a world conqueror. The look of anxiety
gradually left his face, giving way to one of conscious triumph.
Indeed, it must be confessed that he puffed his chest out a little as,
in company with Dick, he returned to the camp.

Their coming was noticed, if their flitting had passed without comment.

“Any luck, Dan?” called Andy Hale, who was trying to get his refractory
crop of bristly hair to stay down, always a difficult morning task with
him.

“Say, do we have gorilla steak for breakfast?” demanded Nat Silmore,
trying to be funny, though his recent actions had shown that the
presence of the animal in the vicinity of the camp was anything but a
joke with him.

“Oh, well, you can settle that yourself,” said Dan, carelessly. “I
make a standing offer right here and now. Any fellow who cares to drop
down into that pit this morning may have all my coop of homing pigeons
free, gratis, for nothing.”

The offer caused a sensation.

“Did you get him, Dan?” demanded Eddie Grant.

“Whoop! Dan’s trapped the old thief after all! Bully for Dan!” yelled
Peg.

“Did you, Dan, and is the Jabberwock mad about it?” asked Andy Hale.

Even the grown members of the party evinced considerable interest in
the matter. Mr. Bartlett knew that some of the boys, more impetuous
than wise, would be apt to rush toward the pit in order to gratify
their curiosity. He wished to warn them of the danger involved in
carelessness.

“Mr. Holwell,” he said, “Dan invites us all to come and see for
ourselves. But before we go I wish to tell the boys to be very
particular not to crowd up close to the edge of the pit. If the earth
crumbled under any one and he fell in I’m afraid he’d never come out
alive again.”

Accordingly, the boys promised to exercise the greatest care. Then the
whole troop followed in the wake of the proud originator of the scheme
to trap the disturber of their peace.

Judging from the broad grin decorating the face of Dan Fenwick when he
looked around once or twice, it was the happiest moment of his whole
young life. He could understand the feelings that must have filled the
heart of some ancient conqueror, when crowned with the laurel wreath of
victory and watching the strings of captives paraded before the throngs
filling the public square in Rome.

The captured gorilla must have been quite used to seeing human faces
about his cage, for he never once got up from his squatting position,
but just blinked up at them, and scowled frightfully.

“Deliver me from meeting that chap in the woods after night sets in!”
remarked Clint Babbett.

“And Nat, I’m going to ask your pardon for laughing at you because you
yelled when that monster took to playing leap-frog over you,” said Peg
Fosdick, humbly. “If I waked from a sound sleep and saw him sailing
past I reckon my heart would nearly jump out of my mouth with fear.
Say, he’s the limit!”

“Look at the muscles in his arms, would you?” cried Andy Hale. “Huh! no
wonder he smashed that first trap of yours to flinders, Dan. After this
I can easily believe the stories about a gorilla tying a gun-barrel
into a knot.”

The sight of the beast sitting so close to them, though unable to do
them injury, was so fascinating that Mr. Bartlett had to order the
boys back to the camp.

“And remember,” he added sternly, “not one of you except Dan or Dick
must ever approach this place without special permission. What that
rascal might do should any one fall into the pit I am not prepared
to say. So far we’ve managed to get on without any serious trouble;
and we don’t want our camping trip to be marred by tragedy. Please
remember those are my positive orders, and I shall hold each one of you
responsible for any disobedience.”

The boys had never seen Mr. Bartlett so serious, and his words made a
deep impression on even Nat and his two reckless cronies. But the camp
director knew it was no time for trifling; and he believed in closing
the stable-door before the horse was stolen, not afterwards, when it
was too late.

Breakfast followed, after which preparations were made looking to the
departure of the guests. All of them declared they had enjoyed their
too brief stay greatly, and shook hands with each member of the camp
guard. The berries had been placed in the carriers provided and were
loaded into one of the boats, which Elmer and Peg offered to row over
to the landing.

Mr. Bartlett had been privately asked by the minister to select Asa
Gardner to help Leslie ferry the three guests across to where their
car awaited them. Of course, Mr. Holwell had an object in so doing,
wishing Asa to understand that he was considered a member in good
standing of the party, and that whatever the past held in the shape of
regrets need not bother him a particle now.

Asa looked quite cheerful. With the capture of the thieving gorilla the
last doubt had been removed from his mind. Dick secretly found himself
rejoicing with the boy who had had to fight so desperately in order
to conquer his evil tendencies. He meant to keep in close touch with
Asa after this, realizing that the person who has won a victory over
himself deserves ten times more credit than those who have never had to
engage in a fight with their weak natures.

In good time the car started back toward Cliffwood, with a long
journey before the travelers. And across the intervening water came
the cheers of those who from the distant island watched the departure
of the guests. A few half wished they, too, were starting for dear old
Cliffwood. It was only natural that a feeling akin to home-sickness
should for a moment grip their young hearts. But all this was soon
forgotten, when they began to plan for another day of good times.

CHAPTER XXIX

CLEARING UP THE MYSTERY

“Feel like coming with me this morning, Leslie?” asked Dick, after one
party had set off to fill the pails with berries, and while another
group was busy catching minnows for bait, as the supply had got
somewhat low in the reservoir where the bait was kept.

“Count on me if Mr. Bartlett is willing,” laughed Leslie Capes. “And I
say that without even asking what’s in the wind. I know that when you
get an idea in your head it’s generally worth something.”

“Listen,” said Dick. “When I saw that well-trodden trail the gorilla
had made you remember I remarked that it must lead to the place he’d
been using for his den. Now that the old fellow is safe, and there’s no
danger of meeting him on the way, I’m thinking of taking a look-in on
his home.”

Leslie was interested immediately.

“Thank you then for selecting me to go along, Dick,” he cried.

“Just as if you weren’t always first choice with me, old fellow,”
returned Dick. “But honest, I’m curious to find out what sort of place
the wily old beast picked out for his den. More than likely we’ll never
know how he got across to this island; but we can find out what he’s
done here in these months since he broke away from the circus in that
storm.”

“And,” continued Leslie, “I rather think you hope we may be lucky
enough to find some of the many things the thieving rascal has made
away with, not only from our camp, but from that of the sporting party
up here for the fly-fishing earlier in the summer.”

Dick nodded his head in the affirmative.

“There’s no telling,” he admitted. “Though perhaps we’d better not
count our chickens before they’re hatched. Even if we find nothing,
it’ll be interesting to follow that path made by the feet of the
gorilla.”

“Sure it will,” agreed Leslie, “now that we know where the old gent is
stopping temporarily. If he were foot-free nothing could tempt me to
meander in that quarter, and take chances of meeting him face to face
in the brush, where running would be a hard job. Whee!”

He shrugged his shoulders to add emphasis to his words, and Dick
evidently quite agreed with his partner, to judge from the look on his
face.

Some time later on the pair found themselves in that part of the big
island so well remembered by Dick as the scene of his panic of the
former day. They caught the sound of voices near by, and understood
from this that Eddie Grant and the other pickers had concluded to visit
that rich harvest field, now that all danger had been removed.

“No need of their knowing we’re around as yet,” whispered Dick. “So
come along over this way, for that’s where I struck the well-worn
trail.”

He had made no mistake, Leslie soon learned. Even though so soon
afterwards compelled to fly for his life, Dick had noted the ground,
and a few minutes later he was pointing down at his feet.

Both boys examined the earth with interest, but their curiosity was so
great that they did not care to linger long. Following that plain trail
was the easiest kind of work, for the gorilla had not attempted to
“blind” it in the least.

At the end the boys reached a sort of strange shelter undoubtedly made
by the Borneo man-monkey. It was fashioned from branches, and matted in
such a clever way that the boys declared it would shed water as well as
any thatched roof they had ever seen.

“I never dreamed a gorilla could do such work as this,” Leslie said, as
they stood and examined the shelter.

“Oh!” explained Dick, quickly, “from what I’ve read about them, over in
Borneo, where they mostly come from, they have their homes in trees and
make many such shelters so the baby gorillas can be kept dry when the
tropical rains come on.”

“Well,” continued the wondering Leslie, “it seems that this old fellow
hadn’t forgotten the lessons of his younger years, even if he was shut
up in a cage for goodness knows how long.”

“That can be set down as the instinct,” said Dick, “which animals and
birds have in place of the reasoning powers of the human mind. A wild
bird can be taken from the nest when it’s just hatched, reared in a
cage, and if set free will be able to construct a nest exactly like
those its species has been building ever since the world began.”

“It’s just wonderful, that’s what, Dick! But let’s creep underneath and
see if we can find anything of the lost articles.”

No sooner were they inside the rude shelter than both boys uttered
cries of wonder mingled with delight.

“Here’s his treasure-chest as sure as anything!” yelled Leslie. “Oh,
look, Dick! Mr. Holwell’s gold watch, and not a bit hurt, either! Won’t
he be tickled half to death at getting it back? When I start winding
it up I can hear it begin to work. And here’s Dan’s nickel time-keeper
too, as well as Peg’s precious aluminum frying-pan.”

“Yes, and I’ve found the field-glasses that other party lost, as well
as lots of things besides,” added Dick, laughing happily, for it
really did seem as though the very last of their troubles had now been
smoothed out.

“This is certainly a great picnic,” asserted Leslie. “I’d like Clint to
come and take a good picture of this ape-made shack. It’d be well worth
showing, with our crowd grouped around it as evidence that we’ve been
here.”

“I’ll ask Mr. Bartlett to have it done to-morrow, for Mr. Holwell talks
of having to go back home on the next day!” Dick declared.

“We’ll all be sorry to see the last of him, Dick.”

“That’s right,” agreed the other, earnestly. “Mr. Holwell is one man
among a million when it comes to knowing just how to wind boys around
his finger. But then that’s because he loves boys so. No man can have
control over them unless he is thinking and planning for their benefit
night and day.”

“I reckon you’re right there,” Leslie asserted. “Boys are a heap like
animals. A dog knows by instinct who’s his friend. He’ll come up to one
fellow wagging his tail the minute he hears his voice, even if he never
saw him before; and growl as soon as another chap speaks to him. That’s
the way with boys--they just _know_.”

As there was nothing more to detain them, Dick and his chum set off to
find the berry pickers and lead them to the strange shelter fashioned
by the escaped gorilla.

Great was the astonishment of the mill lads when they looked upon the
“den,” and learned that everything that had been taken from their camp,
as well as numerous other articles, had been recovered.

That very afternoon all of the campers made their way to the spot, and
Clint, as well as several other contestants for the photograph prize,
managed to get several pictures of the “monkey shack” as the boys
called it. They took inside views also, with the array of recovered
articles in plain sight, as a reminder of the thievish propensities of
the big ape.

Several days later some one was discovered making gestures, and
signalling from the mainland. Upon this a couple of the boys rowed over
and found that two men had arrived in a sort of wagon, that could be
also called a cage.

This was the circus proprietor and one of his assistants, who had come
to get the valuable animal that had been loose so long. The proprietor
brought a letter from Mr. Capes, as had been agreed upon. This told
of the reward of two hundred dollars which had been offered for the
capture of the gorilla, and which the proprietor had agreed to pay to
the boys in camp.

After some little time the experienced circus men managed to get the
gorilla into the cage. Dick suspected that they made use of chloroform
or something of that nature, though he was never sure about it, because
no one was allowed to accompany them when they went to the pit.

On the following day the two skiffs were fastened together, and in this
way served as a ferryboat to take the cage and its occupant across to
where the wagon awaited them.

The money in cash was handed to Dick, greatly to the delight of Dan and
the rest of the boys; for it had been decided that the reward was to go
into the club treasury for future needs.

This was not all the good fortune that came their way. Mr. Holwell had
insisted in redeeming his word, and he placed ten dollars in Dick’s
hand when he was handed his valued gold watch, unharmed save by a
single scratch that would always serve to bring the exciting events of
the occasion fresh to his mind.

Not to be outdone, Dan also handed his “magnificent reward” over,
swelling the aggregate receipts of the treasury by another ten cents.
And later on, when the sportsmen from Creston were communicated
with and told the wonderful story, they sent twenty-five dollars to
Mr. Bartlett for the boys of the Cliffwood Y. M. C. A. with their
compliments.

Returning again to the afternoon just after the ape had been trapped,
it can be easily understood that there were many lighter hearts in the
camp, now that all danger of a night visit from the gorilla was past.

Nat and his two cronies in particular seemed to have recovered their
lost nerve--a fact that Dick was none too glad to see, for he half
feared Mr. Bartlett might have trouble with the trio after Mr. Holwell
left. Still, as the loyal ones were so overwhelmingly in the majority
it hardly seemed likely that Nat would try any of his tricks, with the
odds so greatly against him.

The day finally came when Mr. Holwell had to leave the boys. He showed
that he disliked doing so very much. He had so heartily enjoyed himself
while among them that he felt keenly the severance of those friendly
ties that bound him to his boys.

In fact everybody was more or less subdued, and no one displayed any
ambition to do anything until after Mr. Holwell had said good-bye.

CHAPTER XXX

BREAKING CAMP--CONCLUSION

Dick chanced to be talking with Mr. Holwell on the morning of
departure, asking his advice regarding several things that might arise
later on, when Asa Gardner approached.

Seeing the boy hesitate the minister smiled, and beckoned to him.

“I’m glad you’re having such a good time up here, Asa,” he said in his
kindly fashion, as his strong hand grasped that of the boy in whom he
felt such a deep interest.

“Oh! I certainly am feeling splendid just now,” Asa told him,
brightening up. “I was worried for a while, as Dick knows, sir, because
I had begun to be afraid that in spite of all I could do my old trouble
was getting the better of me. But when we found out about that gorilla,
why, of course, I just knew it couldn’t be so.”

“Take my advice, Asa,” said Mr. Holwell, steadily, “and never allow
yourself to believe for even a minute that you can go back to the old
ways again. That weakness is dead, I tell you! It lost its grip when
you gave your dear mother that solemn promise. I knew you would win
out, and redeem the past; and I’m proud of the way you’re doing it,
son.”

Asa should have beamed with pleasure on hearing this, but then he was
an odd sort of boy, Dick knew. He was therefore not much surprised to
hear him give a big sigh, and then go on to say with a whimsical smile:

“Sometimes I do feel that I’ve done pretty well, sir; and then I think
of the story I once heard you tell at a meeting of boys.”

“What was that, Asa?” asked the minister, realizing that the shadow of
the past would be likely to haunt the sensitive lad for a long while,
until time had healed the wound.

“I’ll tell you, sir. It certainly did make a great impression on me,”
said Asa. “There was once a boy who got to doing so many bad things
that his father took him to task. He had him set up a nice clean post,
and made him promise that every time he did a thing that he shouldn’t
he would drive a nail into it. Then when he did a good deed he could
draw a nail out.”

Mr. Holwell knew what was coming, but he only smiled, and said
encouragingly when Asa stopped to catch his breath:

“Yes, go on, Asa.”

“One day, sir, as you told us, that boy suddenly began to notice that
his post was getting pretty full of nails. That scared him, and made
him feel bad; so he set himself to stopping his bad deeds, and did
things worth while. Then one day he took his father out to look at the
post. There wasn’t a nail left in it, sir. He had drawn them every one
out!”

Again Asa gulped hard, and then managed to continue.

“The boy’s father was proud of him, you said, because he knew he had
managed by his little scheme to make the boy think, which was just what
he had wished to do. So he told him that he was pleased to see the post
without a nail. And then, Mr. Holwell, the boy turned to him and said
sadly: ‘But Father, the _holes_ are still there!’ And that’s the way
with me, sir. I seem to have managed to reform, but every little while
I see all those terrible holes in the post to remind me of what I’ve
done in the past!”

Mr. Holwell patted Asa on the shoulder.

“Cheer up, my son,” he said, heartily. “It is that regret which is
bound to make your footing sure on the rocks. When any one can forget
his weaknesses of the past he is in danger of slipping again. That
conscience of yours is going to be your best asset. Don’t fret about
what is past, but look hopefully into the future. If the chance ever
comes your way, help some other fellow to get his feet on a firm and
sure foundation. Remember, I believe in you, and I have no fear.”

Dick’s hand-grip, too, caused Asa to color. With such good friends
beside him what boy need worry about the future? So the look of
foreboding began to leave his face from that hour, and Asa showed that
he could be a good comrade in the sports of the camp, as well as in its
obligations.

The campers gave Mr. Holwell a royal send-off. The cheers followed him
across the water, and broke out again when he and Dick started for the
station, for the latter insisted on accompanying him that far on his
way, to carry his bag, and have a last little talk.

It was well on toward noon when Dick and Asa returned to camp. The
boys, together with Harry Bartlett and the physical instructor, settled
down to enjoy the remainder of their stay on Bass Island as best they
could. There could be no doubt about their having a fine time; but all
the same most of them would miss Mr. Holwell very much.

Nat Silmore was beginning to grow tired of it all. He missed something
that he was accustomed to having when off on any such trip as this.
This was the liberty to play pranks without being reprimanded by Harry
Bartlett or the athletic director.

So Nat and his two cronies fretted under the galling conditions. They
would have only too willingly accompanied the circus men when they
went away with the captured gorilla, except for the fact that Mr.
Bartlett had the return railway tickets, and the distance was much too
far for them to dream of trying to walk.

Nat and his cronies on one occasion refused to do their share of the
work, whereupon Mr. Bartlett promptly gave them to understand that
those who did not take part in the camp routine and daily exercises
could not have anything to eat. That, of course, brought the rebels to
terms, but from that time on, while they picked berries and chopped
wood in turn, and forced themselves to play their parts, they kept
pretty much to themselves, and looked gloomy, as though counting the
days when this irksome camp life would come to an end.

With the three mill boys the exact opposite came about. They learned
that these other lads were not in the least snobbish. Then the kindly
spirit in which most of the boys helped pick berries so that Eddie, Ban
and Cub could enjoy their afternoons in any way they wished, made a
deep impression on the three.

“One thing sure!” Eddie told Dick, on the day before they were to break
camp and start back to Cliffwood. “You’ll see a lot of the mill boys
fairly tumble over themselves to join the Junior Department of the
Y. M. C. A. when they hear how royally we three have been taken care
of up here. From Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland, all the
way down, I want to say you’re the whitest bunch that I ever traveled
with--all but Nat Silmore and his pair of black sheep.”

The last night came, and the camp paraphernalia was pretty well packed
up. Mr. Bartlett had made arrangements for the wagons to be on hand
early on the following morning to haul the camp material down to the
railroad, where it could be put aboard the same train which Mr. Holwell
had taken, coming along about ten o’clock.

Although they had certainly had a wonderfully fine time of it,
apparently nobody seemed sorry because they were about to start back to
Cliffwood. Home yearnings had commenced to be felt of late, and some
of the boys could hardly wait for the dawn to break. Indeed, the last
night in camp promised to be about as sleepless as the first had been,
judging from their excitement.

All through their stay keen rivalry had continued between those who
were entered for the various prizes. The result would not be known
until Mr. Bartlett and the physical director could have a chance to
count up the scores and announce results. This, of course, served to
keep the interest of the contestants at fever heat.

There was also the interest in the plan aided and abetted by Mr.
Bartlett, who contributed liberally toward raising a certain sum.
This was presented to the genial cook, whose good nature had endured
through the entire stretch of camp life.

Mr. Bartlett made the presentation, heartily applauded by the boys.

“Here’s ten dollars we’ve chipped in, Sunny Jim,” he said to the
astonished cook, whose eyes danced with pleasure. “We want you to buy
the best watch you can find in Cliffwood for the money. Every time you
look at it think of Camp Russabaga. And I voice the sentiments of every
boy here when I say we hope to have you cook for us again next summer.
Give Jim three cheers, lads, for he deserves well of us.”

That was one of the proudest moments of Sunny Jim’s life, though he had
lost his voice apparently, so that he could only stand, nod his woolly
head violently and grin.

We shall hope to meet Dick and his many friends again in the pages of
another volume. That the seed of his prophecy regarding the brightening
of Cliffwood’s skies in the matter of athletic sports among the younger
element was not doomed to fall by the roadside, or among thorns that
would choke it, can be guessed from the title of our next book, which
will be called “The Y. M. C. A. Boys at Football; Or, Lively Doings On
and Off the Gridiron.”

All of the lads were up before daylight on the last morning on Bass
Island. The tents came down and were hastily packed, while breakfast
was being prepared. Indeed, a trip across with both boats had been made
before the campers sat down to the morning meal.

“It’s our last breakfast on Bass Island, boys,” said Mr. Bartlett,
looking around at the circle of eager faces; “and if I know what I’m
talking about we’ll all remember for many a day the great times we’ve
had up here. We hope we shall have good luck in developing and printing
the pictures, because they’ll illustrate our story about the gorilla.
And last, but not least, we’re glad to know that little Josh Jones is
well on the road to recovery. When we get all the stuff over to the
mainland we’ll stand around and give dear old Bass Island one last
jolly cheer. Then it’s home for us. Now hurry and finish, for we ought
to start before long.”

With this last glimpse of the Y. M. C. A. Boys we will draw the curtain
and say good-bye.

THE END

THE Y.M.C.A. BOYS SERIES

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THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS ON BASS ISLAND
_or The Mystery of Russabaga Camp_

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By RAYMOND SPERRY, Jr.

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

[Illustration: White Ribbon Boys book cover]

This new series deals with the great modern movement for temperance.
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_or The Old Tavern Keeper’s Secret_

Chester was a typical factory town with its quota of drinking places.
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THE WHITE RIBBON BOYS AT LONG SHORE
_or To the Rescue of Dan Bates_

In this tale the scene is shifted to the seashore, where the boys are
having a vacation for the summer. Encouraged by the temperance work
done in their home town, they join a local crusade to close the various
drinking and gambling houses. They fall in with another lad, the son of
a well-known drunkard of the summer resort, and do all they can to aid
him. A good, clean-cut boys’ story, full of life and action, not at all
preachy, but teaching the best of morals.

_Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK

THE MOTOR BOYS

SECOND SERIES

(_Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of._)

By CLARENCE YOUNG

12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

[Illustration: Motor Boys book cover]

This, the Second Series of the now world famed Motor Boys virtually
starts a new series, but retains all the favorite characters introduced
in the previous books. The Motor Boys Series is the biggest and best
selling series of books for boys ever published.

NED, BOB AND JERRY AT BOXWOOD HALL
_or The Motor Boys as Freshmen_

Fresh from their adventures in their automobile, their motor boat
and their airship, the youths are sent to college to complete their
interrupted education. Some boys at the institution of learning have
heard much about our heroes, and so conclude that the Motor Boys will
try to run everything to suit themselves.

A plot is formed to keep our heroes entirely in the background and not
let them participate in athletics and other contests. How the Motor
Boys forged to the front and made warm friends of their rivals makes
unusually interesting reading.

_Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK

Transcriber’s Notes

Italicized text is indicated by underscores: _italics_.

Small capitals were changed to all capitals.

Inconsistent word hyphenation has been regularized.

On the title page, the subtitle “The Mystery Russabaga Camp” was
changed to “The Mystery of Russabaga Camp”.

Page 22: “report as the commitee” changed to “report as the committee”.

Page 41: “They seeemed to understand” changed to “They seemed to
understand”.

Page 86: “taking the things that has disappeared” changed to “taking
the things that had disappeared”.

Page 153: “sit around talking maters over” changed to “sit around
talking matters over”.

Page 160: “the boy would would probably have died” was changed to “the
boy would probably have died”.

Page 177: “Every little while somthing” changed to “Every little while
something”.

Page 236: “from Mr. Capes, as has been agreed upon” changed to “from
Mr. Capes, as had been agreed upon”.

Page 237: “the aggregate rereipts” changed to “the aggregate receipts”.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Y. M. C. A. boys on Bass Island : Or, The mystery Russabaga camp" ***

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