| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: The Golden Boys Along the River Allagash
Author: Wyman, L. P. (Levi Parker)
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Golden Boys Along the River Allagash" ***
[Illustration: “What do you make of them, Kernertok?” Bob asked.
“Heap big tracks. No seen um before.” (_Page 70_)]
THE GOLDEN BOYS
ALONG
THE RIVER ALLAGASH
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
_Dean of Pennsylvania Military College_
Author of
“_The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell_,” “_The Golden Boys at
the Fortress_,” “_The Golden Boys in the Maine Woods_,” “_The Golden
Boys with the Lumber Jacks_,” “_The Golden Boys on the River Drive_,”
“_The Golden Boys Rescued by Radio_.”
[Illustration: Series Logo, boys in motorboat]
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
THE
GOLDEN BOYS SERIES
A Series of Stories for Boys 12 to 16 Years of Age
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
_Dean of the Pennsylvania Military College_
The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell
The Golden Boys at the Fortress
The Golden Boys in the Maine Woods
The Golden Boys with the Lumber Jacks
The Golden Boys on the River Drive
The Golden Boys Rescued by Radio
The Golden Boys Along the River Allagash
Copyright, 1923
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
Made in “U. S. A.”
CONTENTS
I. Mr. Fixit 3
II. Jack Investigates a Principle 18
III. The Legend of the Umsaskis 30
IV. Rex Learns How to Make a Carry 47
V. A Cry in the Night 67
VI. Rex Disappears 86
VII. Rex Encounters Wild Cats 109
VIII. A Mysterious Message 127
IX. Bob Meets the Enemy 149
X. Kernertok Gets His 175
XI. Stebbins is Found 194
XII. Besieged 214
XIII. Kernertok to the Rescue—Conclusion 233
THE GOLDEN BOYS ALONG THE RIVER ALLAGASH
CHAPTER I.
MR. FIXIT.
“What do you suppose can be the matter with the pesky thing?”
The speaker, a freckled faced boy about eighteen years old looked up
from where he was kneeling on the bottom of the boat in front of the
engine.
“Search me,” his companion, a tall lanky boy of about the same age, who
was sitting in the stern, replied. “Gas’s all right, spark’s all right,
everything’s all right and still she won’t go. Can you beat it?”
“And I’ll bet I’ve cranked it enough to run her the length of the lake,”
the first speaker declared, wiping the sweat from his face. “It’s the
queerest thing. An automobile engine can have a dozen things the matter
with it and still run but you can get one of these little dinky marine
engines all in perfect order and then it’s ten to one she won’t more
than give a kick or two.”
“Reckon that’s just because it’s a motor boat engine,” and the boy in
the stern laughed.
“It’s all right to laugh, but suppose you come here and give her a few
spins. Mebby it won’t seem quite so funny then.”
“Gladly, Sweet Cherub, and you just watch her go.”
The two boys exchanged places and the lanky one, kneeling in front of
the refractory engine was soon spinning the fly wheel while the freckled
faced boy sat back and grinned.
“There, she coughed six times. That beats your record by one.”
“Keep it up and you may get her up to seven.”
But six seemed to be the limit of the engine’s willingness and soon he
gave it up.
“No use to crank your head off,” he panted as he got to his feet. “She
just won’t go that’s all, and—”
The freckled faced boy, who happened to be looking toward the shore,
interrupted him:
“There’s Jack Golden on the hotel porch. He can fix about anything
that’s fixable. Hello, Jack. Come out here a minute, will you?”
Jack Golden, a sturdy well set up boy of about the same age as the
others, glanced up from the paper he was reading, and, seeing who was
calling him, ran down the steps.
“Hello, Cherub. What seems to be the main difficulty?” he asked as soon
as he reached the end of the pier.
“There’s no ‘seems’ about it. It just won’t go that’s all.”
“Where there’s a result there’s always a reason,” Jack declared as he
jumped into the boat. “Sure your gas and spark are all right?”
“Yep, and so’s everything else except that she won’t go.”
“This is a make and break engine isn’t it?”
“Yep, but mostly break,” the lanky boy laughed.
Jack was busy removing a brass plate from the top of the engine which
covered the timing gear. He then opened the pet cocks and slowly turned
the fly wheel.
“She seems to explode all right, but wait a minute till I get this side
plate off so I can see when the pistons are up. There, that’s better.
Number one is hitting at just the right time but number two is a trifle
too soon,” he declared after turning the engine over a few more times.
“That timing arm has been bent a little. Guess we’ll have to take it off
and straighten it.”
It took but a minute to take the piece out and with a strong pair of
pliers Jack carefully bent the arm very slightly.
“There, now let’s see what she’ll do,” he said as soon as he had
replaced the lever.
He gave the wheel a couple of turns and the engine began purring as
though it had never had the slightest intention of stopping.
“Well, what do you know about that?” the lanky boy gasped.
“It’s no more than I expected,” the Cherub grinned. “Didn’t I tell you
he could fix it if it could be fixed. He’s the original Mr. Fixit around
these parts.”
Jack Golden laughed.
“I just happened to hit it right that’s all,” he declared modestly.
“Well, mebby so, but I wish I could happen to hit something like that
once in a while. Usually the more I tinker with this old tub the worse
she runs. But we’re awfully obliged.”
“You’re very welcome, I’m sure. Any time you get stuck again just call
out, but I may not be so lucky next time.”
The two boys unfastened the boat and headed it down the lake after
bidding Jack good-bye and again thanking him, and Jack walked slowly
back toward the hotel. He had reached the porch steps when the front
door opened and his brother Bob stepped out.
“Hello, there, sleepy head. Had your breakfast.”
“Breakfast nothing. But what you been doing?”
“Oh, Cherub’s engine balked again and I fixed it for him. Timing lever
was bent.”
“Cherub has more trouble with that old two cylinder of his than Mrs.
Murphy had with her pig,” Bob Golden laughed.
“I guess that’s about right. But if you’re ready at last we might as
well start for the cottage.”
“Just as soon as I get a couple of pounds of sugar. I won’t be but a
minute.”
He was back in but little more than the time stated and the two boys
walked out to the end of the pier where their boat, The Sprite, was
tied. While Jack was unfastening the rope Bob took from his pocket a
brass cylinder about eight inches long which he slipped into place
beneath one of the side seats.
“Let her go,” Jack cried from his place in the bow.
Bob touched a small lever and the boat began moving through the water.
There was no sound save that of the water as it was thrown from the
bows, for the Sprite was equipped with an electric motor instead of a
gas engine. The brass cylinder which Bob had taken from his pocket was a
powerful storage cell which the two boys had invented.
“I’m glad we don’t have an engine to tinker with half the time,” Bob
said as the boat gained speed.
“Oh, it’s not so bad at that,” Jack laughed. “That is when you can get
them to go.”
The two boys, Bob and Jack Golden had come up to the lake from their
home in Skowhegan the night before intending to go at once to their
cottage on the other side of the lake. But a heavy thunder storm, which
continued far into the night, had caused them to change their plans and
so they had spent the night at the little hotel in the grove.
“There’s the Jenkins boys in their new speed boat,” Jack said when they
were a little more than half way across the lake.
“And she’s sure coming. Look at the way she throws the water. She must
be making twenty-five.”
“Well, we’ll give her a wide berth. Fred ran into me once and while
perhaps he didn’t exactly try to do it I never could believe that he
tried very hard not to.”
“He can be pretty mean but I hardly think he’d do a thing like that on
purpose.”
“Mebby not. Anyhow we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”
While they were talking the other boat had been coming rapidly toward
them and now was only a short distance off.
“Out of the way with that old tub,” a voice called across the
intervening space.
“Don’t answer him,” Bob cautioned.
He saw that they intended to cut across their bow so he turned back the
switch and the Sprite immediately began to loose headway, and had nearly
stopped by the time the other boat was about fifty feet off their port
side and as far ahead of them.
Suddenly Jack uttered a cry of surprise for, instead of keeping straight
on her course, the speed boat made a turn and the next minute was coming
directly for them.
“Back her quick,” he shouted.
Bob at once threw his boat into reverse but too late. The speed boat,
still going at high speed, struck the Sprite directly amidships and the
light boat went over like an egg shell. Fortunately it was a glancing
blow and not a head on collision.
Jack was thrown clear and struck the water sprawling. His first thought
was of Bob. Had he gotten clear? As he shook the water from his eyes he
saw the Sprite, about ten feet away, settling rapidly and before he
could reach her she was gone. But where was Bob? Not a thing was in
sight where the boat had gone down. For an instant he trod water and
gazed about him. Then, taking a long breath, he dove.
The water was very clear and he had no difficulty in seeing the Sprite
as she lay in about twenty feet of water. Then, just as he reached the
boat, he saw that for which he was searching. Bob lay just back of the
stern and Jack could see that his foot was caught in the tiller rope. He
was making no effort to free himself and the thought flashed through the
boy’s mind that he must have been stunned.
In a frenzy of fear he tugged at the rope. Would it never yield? If he
only had time to get his knife out but he did not dare attempt it.
Already his lungs seemed nearly at the point of bursting. With a prayer
in his heart he gave a final desperate pull and the foot was free. He
had just strength enough left to give a kick against the bottom of the
lake as he grabbed his brother in his arms. In spite of his weakness it
was a good strong kick and they shot rapidly upward although, as Jack
afterward said, it seemed about a week before his head popped out of the
water. Eagerly the boy drank the life-giving air into his lungs all the
while making a desperate effort to keep his brother’s head above water.
He knew that Bob was still unconscious and the thought that he might be
dead nearly overcame him. But, as he realized that their safety depended
upon his not losing his head, he forced himself to keep calm. But it was
hard work supporting that dead weight and he was tiring rapidly.
“We’ll have you in a minute,” he heard the voice as from a great
distance but almost instantly he felt the weight taken from him and he
was being dragged into a boat.
“Bob,” he gasped.
But Bob had already opened his eyes.
“I—I’m alright,” he said faintly. “Where’s Jack?”
“Right here, old man,” he whispered, the joy at knowing that his brother
was alive doing much to restore his strength. It was some minutes,
however before he got to his feet. He noticed that both Will and Fred
Jenkins seemed very ill-at-ease and the latter was as pale as his tanned
skin would permit.
“What was the idea?” he asked as he got slowly to his feet.
For a moment neither boy answered. Then Fred, after a glance at his
brother, said:
“Tiller rope caught.”
“That’s the excuse you made the last time,” Jack said sternly. “Can’t
you think of a better one?” Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned
to Bob.
“Sure you’re all right, old man?”
“Head feels pretty wobbly, but I’m still worth a dozen dead men,” the
boy smiled as he looked into his brother’s face.
“Shall we take you up to your cottage or back to the grove?” Will
Jenkins asked.
“Cottage,” Jack replied shortly.
No other word was spoken until they reached the little pier in front of
the Golden cottage, then Will Jenkins said:
“I don’t suppose it’s any use to say anything but what Fred said was the
truth. We intended to cross your bow the tiller rope stuck and before we
knew it the boat had struck. If you had backed a bit it wouldn’t have
happened.”
“Why didn’t you go straight ahead instead of turning?” Bob asked.
“Why—er we were heading down for the grove and turned a bit too far.”
“I’ll say you did,” Jack said dryly.
“Well, we’re sorry.”
“So are we, but that doesn’t raise our boat.”
“I suppose not.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
For a moment Will and Fred whispered together.
“We think you were as much to blame as we were for not backing up when
you saw us coming,” Will finally said.
“Can you beat it?” Jack whispered.
“All right. We’ll let it go at that,” Bob said as he turned toward the
cottage closely followed by Jack.
Neither Will or Fred made any further statement, but at once started up
their boat and, after making a broad turn, headed down the lake.
“Guess you saved my life for sure that time, son,” Bob said as he threw
his arm about his brother’s neck.
“Thank God I had the strength to do it. I tell you it was nip and tuck
for a minute,” and he told Bob how he had found him. “But what happened
to you?”
“Search me. I remember seeing that boat bearing down on us and thinking
that she might hit us and then something hit me on the head and, and
that was all.”
“Guess you must have banged your head against the stern of the boat as
she went over.”
“More than likely.”
The boys lost no more time in getting off their wet clothes.
“Let’s put on our bathing togs and then after we rest up a bit we’ll
take the row boat and see if we can find her,” Bob suggested.
“Think you’re equal to it to-day?”
“Sure. I’m all right except for a slight headache and that’s going away
fast.”
“Think they meant to do it?” Jack asked a little later as they lay in a
hammock on the porch.
“I’d hate to think so.”
“I too, but that excuse about the tiller rope catching is worn a bit
threadbare.”
“Yes, I don’t believe a word of that. I rather think that they intended
to see how near they could come to us without hitting and shaved it too
close.”
“They shaved it close all right. Suppose we can make them pay for our
boat?”
“I doubt it. You see their word will be as good as ours and I don’t
think anyone else saw it. No, I guess we’ll have to just take our
medicine and let it go at that. We’ve done it before.”
“I’ll say we have, but, believe me, once more will be too many.”
“Well, we’ll hope it won’t happen again.”
“It better hadn’t.”
For an hour the two boys talked about the accident and wondered how
badly their boat was injured.
“Wait till I get the water glass and a buoy to mark the place and I’ll
be with you,” Jack said as he swung himself out of the hammock.
“Must have been about here don’t you think,” he asked a little later as
he rested on his oars.
“I should say so. I happen to remember that we were right out from that
clump of cedars before they hit us but I’m rather hazy as to how far
out.”
“You take the glass and I’ll row around.”
The water glass was simply a wooden box about two feet long and four
inches square, one end being closed water tight with a piece of glass.
By putting the glassed end in the water and looking down through the
other the bottom of the lake could be easily seen.
It is extremely difficult to locate an exact point on a body of water
and it was all of an hour before Bob announced that he had it. They
anchored the boat at once.
“I’ll go down and see how she looks,” Jack said as he stood up in the
boat.
He disappeared beneath the surface making hardly a ripple. Bob waited
until he began to get anxious.
“Thought you’d decided to take up a permanent residence down there,” he
said as Jack’s head finally popped above the surface.
“Not yet,” Jack laughed as he climbed over the side of the row boat.
“How’d you find her?”
“Outside of a little paint rubbed off where she was hit I don’t believe
she’s hurt a bit.”
“That’s good news.”
“But do you suppose we can get her up?”
“We ought to be able to. She’s not very heavy you know.”
“Not so heavy as she would be if she had a gas engine in her.”
They anchored the buoy with a heavy rock which they had brought with
them and then started back for the cottage.
“Let’s get something to eat and then we’ll call a meeting of the
committee on ways and means,” Bob suggested as he tied the boat up to
the wharf.
“I’m voting yes on both counts,” Jack laughed as he followed his brother
up the path to the cottage.
A little less than an hour later, the dishes having been washed and put
away, Bob called the meeting to order on the porch and announced that
the chair was open to suggestions.
“Suppose the chair makes one,” Jack retorted.
“Well, I’ve been thinking of a way that might work and then again it
might not. It’s merely a question of gravity. Archimedes’ Principle, you
know.”
“Never mind Archi. and his principle. Just explain what you’ve got in
mind.”
“All right. As you said awhile ago that boat is pretty light for one of
its size and I believe that if we take a couple or perhaps three of
those barrels that are under our pier and fasten them to her she’d come
up. What do you think?”
“I guess she’d come up all right but how are you going to get the
barrels down to her? It seems to me that part is going to be where the
difficulty will lie.”
“I’d thought of that of course.”
“I’m glad of that. I thought perhaps you had an idea that they’d go down
on your personal invitation.”
“Hardly. Remember Archimed—”
But that was as far he got.
“All right. I won’t forget him. But how are you going to get ’em down?
They’re pretty buoyant you know.”
“I know but if we hang enough stones to them they’ll have to go down
sooner or later. Oh, I know it’s going to be some job, and if you can
think of a better way I’ll be glad to adopt it,” he hastened to add as
he noticed the look of doubt on Jack’s face.
“It isn’t that, but have you any idea how much weight it will take to
sink one of those barrels?”
“Around three hundred pounds I should judge.”
“That would be six hundred for the two and nine hundred if we have to
use three.”
“Yes, and six thousand if we have to use twenty.” Bob laughed. “Your
arithmetic is all right. But honestly, Jack, it isn’t going to be such
an awful job as you seem to think. We can easily take three hundred
pounds of stone and one of the barrels in the boat at a time and that
means only two or at the most three trips. If we start in early in the
morning I believe we can have the boat here at the wharf by noon. What
do you say?”
“I say yes of course. I only wanted to be sure that you know what you
were doing.”
CHAPTER II.
JACK INVESTIGATES A PRINCIPLE.
“Now my idea is to take short pieces of rope and to tie as large a rock
as we can handle to each of them. Then we can hang them over the barrel
until she begins to sink.”
“But won’t they slip off?” Jack asked.
“Not if we put a nail through the rope.”
It was nearly six o’clock the morning after the accident. The boys had
already had breakfast and had gotten two of the barrels out from under
the floating pier.
“How are you going to hitch the barrels to the boat after you get them
down there?” Jack asked.
“A very important question, son. I thought we could find some kind of a
hook which we could fasten to the barrel and then we got them down all
we’d have to do would be to slip one under the top of the bow and the
other the same way at the stern.”
“No good,” Jack shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Son, I’m surprised at your ignorance. You’d better go dig up Archi. and
ask him about his principle.
“But I don’t see why—”
“Of course you don’t and that’s the reason I’m so surprised.”
“Well, when you get ready perhaps you will enlighten me.”
“Certainly. But first let me ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“When you stick your finger in the water and pull it out does it leave a
hole?”
“Well that’s a question that would admit of considerable argument from a
theoretical point of view but I think we can safely agree that the hole,
if there was a hole, would not remain for an indefinite period of time.”
“Whew, that never touched me. Did you mean that it wouldn’t leave a
hole?”
“I guess that was the main idea.”
“All right then. Now that that is settled perhaps you will tell me how
you intend to bail the water out of the Sprite while she is still under
water. As you have planned it she will still be a foot or more below the
surface after the barrels have brought her up.”
“Well, I am dumb for a fact. Honestly, Jack, I hadn’t thought of that.
It’s a case of being up and down at the same time. Well, that means that
we will either have to fasten them lower down or else tow the whole
shooting match into shore after we get her up. What do you say?”
“Well, of course if we could get the barrels under the boat that would
solve the problem but I don’t see how we could do it. No, I guess the
best bet is to tow her in.”
“I think so myself. Now suppose you be looking for some stones while I
run down to the boat house and see what I can do about a couple of
hooks.”
“And don’t forget to bring up the rope.”
Bob was back in the course of half an hour having found two hooks which
went with a hoisting tackle and found that Jack had collected a
sufficiently large number of rocks most of them being about all he
wanted to lift.
“Now we’ll get them aboard and be off,” he said.
Thanks to the buoy they had no trouble in finding the place where the
Sprite lay and after an hour’s hard work they had the pleasure of seeing
the barrel disappear beneath the surface, directly over the bow of the
boat.
“Now we’ll get the other one,” Bob said as he started to row back up the
lake.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Jack declared. “If only that barrel landed on the
bow.”
“It won’t be hard to lift it if it didn’t,” Bob assured him. “You see we
put on just barely enough rocks to sink it so it’ll be light in the
water.”
By nine o’clock the other barrel was down at the stern.
“Let’s hook the one on the bow first,” Bob proposed as he stood ready
for the dive.
“Right. Got your knife?”
“Sure thing.”
“Then come on.”
They struck the water together and swam swiftly for the bottom. To their
great satisfaction they found that the first barrel had settled in
exactly the right place on the bow and they had no trouble in slipping
the hook into a ring. Then, with their knives they cut the ropes which
held the rocks.
“Did you notice whether she lifted any?” Bob asked as he was climbing
into the boat. “I didn’t have time to see.”
“I did. She came up a foot or two.”
“Good. Then she’ll come up when we get the other one hooked on.”
“I guess so. But we’re going to have a harder time with that other one.”
“How come?”
“I noticed going down that it was two or three feet behind the stern,
that means that we’ll have to lift it on.”
“Well, I guess we can do it.”
They waited until they were thoroughly rested and then again dove for
the bottom. As Jack had said the second barrel was resting behind the
stern. But, as Bob said, it was not hard to lift in the water and they
had little trouble in getting it onto the stern before having to come up
for air.
“I told you we could do it,” Bob panted as he stretched out on the
bottom of the boat.
“There’s no ring at the stern to hook into,” Jack reminded him.
“That’s so.”
“Suppose we can hook into the tiller post?”
“Don’t see why not?”
But it was harder than they thought as they had considerable trouble in
making the hook reach and they were obliged to come to the surface
without cutting the ropes.
“One more whack at it and she’ll come up,” Bob declared after he had
regained his breath.
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps nothing. She’s got to.”
“Well, here’s hoping.”
“I’ll go down and cut the ropes. There’s only two of them,” Bob said as
soon as he was rested.
“Now watch her come up,” he said a moment later as his head bobbed above
the water.
But to their great disappointment nothing appeared. They waited several
minutes, expecting to see the barrels emerge but no barrels came.
“Guess Archi. has fallen down on this job,” Jack said after some five
minutes had clasped.
“Looks like it.”
“What’s next then?”
“Have to get another barrel, I guess.”
“I’m going down and have a look first,” and Jack disappeared over the
side of the boat.
Bob waited until he was beginning to be anxious before Jack reappeared.
“Rudder’s caught between two rocks,” he said as soon as he could speak.
“That’s what’s holding her. She must have gone down kinder sideways and
then righted a bit. Anyhow the rudder is pinched so that I couldn’t
budge it.”
“Are the rocks big?”
“Too big to move, I’m afraid, but we’ll try it together.”
But their united strength was not enough to accomplish the task. The
rudder of the Sprite had settled neatly into a crevice between two rocks
and was there held fast and, although they pulled with all their might,
they were unable to budge it.
“We might do it if we had a crowbar,” Jack suggested as they lay
panting.
“I believe we could and there’s one at the boat house.”
“Then we’d better go get it.”
They rested a few minutes and then rowed back to the cottage and got the
bar.
Back again Bob tied a strong cord to the bar and fastened the other end
to the row boat.
“Afraid that bar’d be too heavy to bring up,” he explained.
Then he jumped in holding the bar in his hands and trusting to its
weight to carry him to the bottom. Jack followed and soon they had the
end in the crevice and were tugging with all their strength.
To their great satisfaction they felt the big rock give a trifle and
after another mighty pull on the bar the rudder slipped out and the boat
began to rise. They had hardly gotten into the row boat when first one
barrel and then the other came above the surface.
“Hurrah for Archi.,” Jack shouted.
Bob grinned as he panted for breath.
“Science is a wonderful thing,” Jack declared.
“You said it, son.”
The deck of the Sprite was some two feet beneath the surface as she
floated supported by the two barrels.
“We’d sure have some job bailing her out as she is,” Jack laughed.
“And it’s going to be some work to tow her in shore. It’s nearly half a
mile and she sure’ll pull hard.”
He was correct in his estimate of the work still ahead of them and it
took them all of two hours to tow the Sprite to the sandy beach directly
opposite, and about a mile below the cottage.
“I’m hungry,” Jack declared as the boat finally scraped on the bottom.
“Ditto.”
“Then let’s leave her here and go up to the cottage and get dinner.”
“My sentiment exactly.”
They preferred walking in place of rowing, Bob declaring that his arms
felt as though they were nearly pulled out of their sockets. They made a
hasty meal as they were both anxious to get back to the boat and in a
little over an hour they were at work again. It was not difficult to
pull the boat up on the gently sloping beach until it was far enough out
of water to be bailed out.
This was slow work, but it was finally accomplished and once more the
Sprite floated as proudly as ever on the surface. A careful examination
disclosed that Jack had been right. Except for a little paint rubbed off
the side the hull was uninjured.
“Do you suppose the water has injured the motor?” Jack asked.
“Don’t see why it should. But we’ll have to overhaul it and get it
thoroughly dried, before we can be sure.”
“Well, let’s get those barrels aboard and tow her up to the cottage.”
It took them the rest of the afternoon to clean and dry the motor but
they were well rewarded for their work when they found that it ran as
smoothly as ever.
“Now a little paint and she’ll be as good as new,” Bob declared after
they had taken a short run down the lake to make sure that all was
right. “But we’ll let that go till to-morrow. Suppose you see if you can
get a mess of perch while I mix a batch of biscuit.”
“How’d you guess it?” Jack laughed as he ran up to the cottage for his
rod.
Catching fish was, as Jack often said, the best thing he did, and by the
time Bob had his biscuits in the oven he had six big perch sizzling in
the frying pan.
“These are pretty near as good as trout,” he declared a little later as
he reached for his third.
“To say nothing of the biscuits,” Bob grinned.
“They’re always the best ever. Melt in your mouth,” Jack assured him. “I
think this is my sixth.”
“Well, we won’t starve so long as you can catch fish and I can bake
biscuits.”
“I’ll say we won’t.”
“I do hope that nothing will happen to disturb the rest of the
vacation,” Bob said as they were washing the dishes.
“Had enough excitement, eh?”
“Enough for one summer.”
“It sure was pretty strenuous catching those liquor smugglers.”
“You said it. I saw by the paper the other day that they got five years
at hard labor.”
“And that’s none too much according to my way of thinking.”
Just then the telephone rang.
“I’ll answer it,” Bob said.
“This you, Bob?”
It was his father’s voice which came over the wire.
“Yes.”
“Well a telegram has just come for you from Rex Dale. It says, ‘Meet me
Skowhegan, 10.30 to-morrow.’”
“That’s funny. I thought he was going to sail for Europe in a few days.
That’s what he said in his last letter.”
“I know, but something must have changed his plans. Everything all right
up there?”
“It is now but we had a bit of a mess yesterday.” And he told his father
about the accident.
“Good boy,” Mr. Golden almost shouted as Bob told him how Jack had saved
his life. “I often wonder what will happen to you boys next.”
“It’s all right so long as we land on our feet,” Bob laughed.
“If only you always do,” Mr. Golden sighed. “Really, Bob, I sometimes
think I’d better put you two in a glass case and set a watch over you.
Then I’d know that you were safe.”
“Who was it?” Jack asked as his brother joined him down on the wharf
where he had gone to replace the barrels.
“It was Father. A telegram just came from Rex saying to meet him
to-morrow at 10.30.”
“Wonder what’s up. I thought he was going abroad.”
“So did I but it seems that we were wrong.”
“Well, I’ll be mighty glad to see him again.”
“You bet.”
Rex Dale, the son of a prominent business man of Philadelphia, was a few
years older than Bob. The boys had met him while at The Fortress, a
military college which they both attended, under circumstances already
related in a previous volume, and a strong friendship existed between
them.
“Must be something mighty important,” Jack declared as they returned to
the cottage, “to make him give up that trip.”
“Mebby he’s only postponed it.”
“Mebby, but I reckon we won’t know till to-morrow.”
CHAPTER III.
THE LEGEND OF THE UMSASKIS.
The boys were at the station the next morning when the train from Boston
pulled in.
“There he is,” Jack shouted as he caught sight of his friend as he stood
bag in hand on the car platform.
Another moment and the three were shaking hands heartily together.
“It’s a treat for sore eyes to see you again,” Jack declared.
“And I’m mighty glad to see you.”
“Well, let’s get over to the house and you can tell us all about it,”
Bob said.
Their car was waiting at the station platform and it was only a few
minutes’ ride to their home, so in less than twenty minutes from the
time the train had pulled in they were sitting on the porch listening to
Rex’s story.
“As I wrote you a few days ago,” he began, “I expected to sail from New
York to-morrow on a business trip to Europe. I had my plans all made and
even had my passage engaged and then like a bolt out of a clear sky we
found that Father’s cashier had skipped with nearly a quarter of a
million dollars. John Stebbins had been with us for over twenty years
and we all thought him the very soul of honor. It comes at a very hard
time for Father. You see business has been poor lately and he lost a lot
of money a few months ago through the failure of one of our biggest
customers and the loss of this money will pretty badly cripple him.”
“Now I know that you are wondering what I am doing up here in Maine but
I have reason to think that he’s up here. Did you ever hear of a lake by
the name Umsaskis?”
The boys thought a moment.
“I’m not sure,” Bob replied slowly. “But I think there’s a lake by that
name up some twenty or thirty miles north of Chemquessbamticook. It’s up
pretty close to the border if I’m correct. But Father will know and he
ought to be home pretty soon.”
“Well just a few days ago I happened to pass Stebbins’ office and heard
him talking to some man whom I didn’t know. I didn’t intend to listen
but I was getting some papers out of the safe and couldn’t help hearing
what he was saying. He mentioned that lake and I heard him say that he
had been there some years ago and might be there before long. As it was
pretty near to the time he was to leave for his vacation I thought
nothing of it. In fact I had forgotten all about it but after we found
that he had left with the money I remembered it.
“I told Father about it and I can’t say that he seemed to attach a great
deal of importance to it but when we couldn’t find a single clue to his
whereabouts he consented to my coming up here to see if I could locate
him. You see Father’s business is in such shape that if it was known
that he had lost all the money it would be sure to ruin him. So for that
reason, he has not let it be known.”
“Will you let us go up there with you?” Jack asked eagerly.
“Will I? I was hoping that you’d propose it. I hated to ask you but I
sure do want you.”
“Of course we want to go,” Bob assured him. “You couldn’t keep us at
home with a ten-horse team.”
“And he was saying only yesterday that he hoped nothing would happen the
rest of the summer.”
“Oh, well this is different you know,” Bob laughed just as his Father
came up the steps.
Mr. Golden gave their friend a most hearty greeting; indeed he was
nearly as fond of Rex Dale as were the boys.
“Welcome to the old Pine Tree State again,” he said as he grasped him by
the hand.
“The Pine Tree State always looks mighty good to me, sir,” he declared
as he returned the grasp.
“Father, isn’t Umsaskis Lake up above Chemquessbamticook?” Bob asked as
soon as the greeting was over.
“Yes. It’s some ways above if I remember rightly. All of forty miles I
should say. I know it’s pretty close to the border.”
“I thought so,” Bob said.
“You aren’t thinking of going up there, are you?”
“Looks as though we might,” and he told his father of Rex’s mission.
“I’m mighty sorry to hear that,” Mr. Golden declared turning to Rex.
“And you think he may be up there at Umsaskis?”
“It may be a pretty slim chance but I believe it is a chance and I just
had to do something.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t you think yourself, sir, that it would be a good place for a man
to hide up there?”
“Don’t believe he could find a better. It’s about as wild as you could
wish for up there and I don’t suppose there’s a white man lives within
fifty or sixty miles of that lake unless it’s some lone trapper. I was
up there once many years ago on a hunting trip and I remember we didn’t
see a soul for nearly two weeks.”
“Then I’m more than ever inclined to think that he has gone there. He is
just the kind of a man who would go off to a place like that and I know
he came from somewhere in the northern part of Maine.”
“There’s an old legend connected with that lake,” Mr. Golden told the
boys while they were waiting for dinner. “Many years ago a large tribe
of Indians lived on the shore of Umsaskis. Moose and deer and bear were
very plentiful and the tribe was wealthy and happy. Big Foot was chief
and White Flower, his daughter was the pride of the tribe. Straight as
an arrow she was and she could outrun and outshoot, with the bow and
arrow, any member of the tribe.
“Many a hopeful young buck came to match his skill with the bow and
arrow and his speed both in running and in paddling the canoe against
her for it was known that she had vowed that she would wed only her
master in these fetes. But one and all they went away sorrowful, for her
arrows always struck nearer the mark than theirs and so swift were her
feet that although she even gave them considerable start never was the
race more than half run before she had passed them. And it is related
how she would paddle her light birch canoe many lengths beyond the outer
mark set for the race and then beat her dusky wooer in by a long margin.
“Then one day in mid-summer came Spotted Tail from a tribe far to the
west with a message for Big Foot. Never was such an Indian as Spotted
Tail. Cast in a perfect mold he was as beautiful a man as was White
Flower a woman. It was a case of love at first sight when they met. For
two days Spotted Tail rested before pitting his strength and skill
against her whom he would wed.
“First came the shooting with the bow and arrow. Frowns of disapproval
settled on the brows of many when White Flower’s arrow just brushed the
thin reed with the tip of the feather which guided its flight and they
watched her with hostile eyes when a moment later the arrow of Spotted
Tail split the same reed in two. Did her eyes light up with hope? Who
can tell?
“Then came the foot race. When she motioned her lover to take the
customary fifty feet start loud grunts of disapproval were heard on all
sides and, being appealed to, Big Foot ruled that they should start
together. Did White Flower run with less than her usual swiftness or was
Spotted Tail really her master? Who could tell. But it was evident that
many suspected her when Spotted Tail crossed the line a full foot ahead
of her and she threw herself panting onto the ground.
“But one trial remained, the race with the canoe. And now White Flower
seemed to be putting all her strength into her paddle. Not a foot did
she go farther than was necessary to make the turn and her frail craft
seemed almost to leap from the water as she bore down toward the finish
mark. Suspicions were lulled as it seemed certain that she would win by
a good margin. Spotted Tail was doing his best and his canoe, too, was
rushing over rather than through the water. But she rounded the turn a
full length ahead of him and this lead she had steadily increased on the
home stretch. Then with but a few rods to go a gasp of horror was heard
as her paddle snapped fairly in the middle. There was no excuse in an
Indian race. The first over the line won regardless of what might have
happened.
“As Spotted Tail swept his canoe over the line the winner by several
lengths Big Foot waded out into the lake and picked up the pieces of the
broken paddle. For a moment he examined them and then, without a word he
drew his bow and the next instant his arrow was buried in the heart of
White Flower. It was so sudden that for a moment Spotted Tail stood
motionless then, as if galvanized into action, he snatched a bow from a
young brave and quicker than the eye could follow an arrow sped to the
heart of Big Foot. Then with but a single glance at his hoped-for bride,
he bounded away into the forest and was gone.
“That is the story of White Flower and Spotted Tail. The tribe moved
away soon after but tradition tells that often on moonlight nights a
pure white canoe paddled by a figure dressed in snow white buckskin can
be seen skimming the waters of Umsaskis Lake. No Indian will go near the
place and even the half-breeds give it a wide berth.”
“Did you see the ghost?” Bob asked as Mr. Golden brought his story to a
close.
“No. I did not see it,” Mr. Golden smiled.
“It’s a pretty story,” Rex declared.
“Perhaps you will have better luck if you go up there,” Mr. Golden said
just as the dinner bell rang.
“I would sure like to see it, or rather her,” Bob laughed as he followed
the others into the house.
“How would you advise us to go?” Bob asked his father when they were
again on the porch.
“If I were you I’d take the car up as far as North East Carry. Then you
can get a canoe there and make a short carry to the West Branch of the
Penobscot. Follow that for about twenty miles or perhaps a little more
and it will bring you to the head of Chesuncook Lake. Wait a minute till
I get a map and I’ll make out the rest of the course. Here we are now,”
he resumed after Jack had returned with the map. “Now we’re right here,”
pointing with his finger, “at the head of Chesuncook. Now you take this
little stream up to Umbazooksses Lake. Then you’ll have to carry across
to Chamberlain Lake. From there you see it’s clear sailing up through
Pomgoewahem Lake and Churchill Lake into the Allagash River. You’ll find
some pretty swift water part of the way along the Allagash and you’ll
probably have to make a number of carries.”
“How far do we follow the Allagash?” Bob asked.
“Till you come to the big falls about fifty miles where you enter the
river from Churchill Lake.”
“But look here, Father, someone has got things balled up a bit. Here’s
Umsaskis Lake right here just a few miles above Churchill.” And Jack
pointed with his finger.
“I know. That’s the Old or Big Umsaskis as it is often called. The
Little Umsaskis is a much smaller Lake far to the north. Of course,” he
said turning to Rex, “I don’t suppose you can be sure which one Stebbins
referred to, can you?”
“I’m pretty sure that it was the one farthest north,” Rex replied after
a short pause. “I remember hearing him say that there was no other lake
within twenty or thirty miles of it.”
“Then it must have been Little Umsaskis,” Mr. Golden declared. “You can
see that there’s a number of lakes much nearer than that to the lower
one.”
“I think so, sir. But we can take a look around when we get that far and
see if we can find anything.”
“That would be wise,” Mr. Golden agreed. “But to come back where we
were. When you come to the big falls you will have to leave the canoe
and strike off due east. The Little Umsaskis is about twenty miles from
the falls and it is uphill most of the way. Pick out the highest peak
you can see and head straight for it. The lake lies in a depression
between that peak and the one nearer the lake which is much lower.”
“I guess we’ll be able to find it all right,” Jack declared.
“Oh, you can’t miss it,” his father assured him.
“How large is the lake?” Rex asked.
“Well, it’s nearly round and perhaps three miles across.”
“Any trout in it?” Jack asked.
“I know he’d want to know that sooner or later,” Bob laughed.
“Plenty when I was there and I suppose there are now. And we got some
big fellows too. I wouldn’t dare tell you just how large,” and Mr.
Golden smiled.
“You might tell us how big the ones were that got away,” Jack laughed.
“They’re always the largest of course,” Mr. Golden smiled. “But when are
you intending to start?”
“The sooner the better I suppose,” Bob replied looking at Rex. “I
thought we could put in this afternoon getting the things together and
get an early start in the morning.”
“I guess that would be best,” Mr. Golden agreed. “But I must be off to
the office. I’ll see you at supper.”
The boys had been on so many trips of a like nature that they knew just
what was needed and by four o’clock everything was in readiness for the
start on the morrow.
They were to go as far as The North East Carry on Moosehead Lake in the
little car which they had equipped with an electric motor run by the new
cell which the boys had invented.
“Well, how goes it?” Mr. Golden asked as he came up the steps and found
the boys pouring over the map again.
“All set,” Jack replied.
“Sure you got everything?”
“So far’s I know.”
“Better take plenty of food.”
“I should think we had enough to last an army a month,” Rex laughed.
“And you’ll need a lot. The Maine Woods is a great appetizer as you’ll
find out before you get back and you can’t tell how long you may be
gone. A little too much is a whole lot better than a little too little.”
“I’ll say it is,” Jack laughed.
“I’ll tell you what I’d do,” Mr. Golden said as if struck by a sudden
thought. “I’d take Kernertok along. He knows all about that country up
there and I always feel safer when I know he’s along with you. And then
he’ll be a lot of help on the carries.”
“Just the thing,” Bob said enthusiastically. “We’ll stop for him on the
way up. It will only delay us a couple of hours and we’ll more than make
up for the time by having him along.”
Kernertok, an old Indian trapper, had long been a friend of the Golden
Boys and it was he who had taught them all they knew about woodcraft and
the hundred and one things so necessary to life in the vast forest of
northern Maine.
The sun had hardly lifted its head over the horizon the next morning
when they were off.
“Good-bye, good luck and be careful,” Mr. Golden, who had gotten up to
see them off, shouted as they drove out of the yard.
“Sure thing,” Jack called back.
It was a beautiful morning early in August. The night had been almost
cold and the early morning air, was, as Rex put it, decidedly snappy.
“I’ll bet this air’s loaded with ozone,” he declared as he drew a deep
breath into his lungs.
“It’s the best ever,” Bob agreed.
“Did you ever see any thing prettier than that?” Jack asked a little
over two hours later as they reached the top of a high hill.
“I never did,” Rex declared as he gazed down at the broad expanse of
Moosehead Lake spread out like a mirror almost at their feet.
“That’s one of the Coburn fleet,” Bob said pointing to a steamer which
was making its way up the lake.
“Looks like one of the boats I used to sail in the bath tub from here,”
Rex laughed.
“It’s the Kathadin,” Jack declared. “And she’ll carry six hundred people
besides a lot of freight.”
“How big is Moosehead?” Rex asked.
“Forty miles long and a little over eighteen miles wide in the widest
place,” Bob told him.
“Some lake.”
“Largest in New England,” Jack said proudly.
An hour later, when about half way up the lake Bob brought the car to a
stop.
“We turn off here,” he said as he pointed to a narrow trail leading to
the right.
“Do you mean to say that you can run the car over that road?” Rex asked
anxiously.
“It won’t be the first time,” Bob laughed. “But you want to hang on with
both hands.”
“Guess I’d better use my teeth also,” Rex laughed a few minutes later as
he struck the seat.
“If you go through the top be sure and come down through the same hole
so as not to make two holes,” Jack shouted.
“I’ll do my best.”
At places the trail seemed impassable for a car but Bob kept on much to
Rex’s amazement.
“Do you ever climb trees with this car?” he asked a little later, as it
hit a particularly large bump.
“Not very often,” Bob laughed.
“I’ll bet she’d do it at that,” Jack added.
“Not a bit of doubt about it in my mind,” Rex declared.
“Here’s where we have to abandon ship,” Bob announced a little later as
he brought the car to a stop. “It’s about a mile through the woods to
Kernertok’s cabin.”
“I’m surprised that you don’t drive right up to his door,” Rex said with
a grin.
“Trouble is, the trees are too thick together to get her through,” Jack
explained.
“And you’d stop her for a little thing like that?”
“You might wait here, Rex, while we walk in,” Bob suggested.
“Not on your life. I want to see his cabin.”
“All right then. Come on.”
“And make it snappy,” Jack added.
“I guess you would have some trouble in getting even that car through
here,” Rex laughed a few minutes as he squeezed himself between two
trees.
“We’re almost there,” Bob announced a little later. “Give him a call,
Jack.”
Jack put his fingers to his lips and the clear shrill call of the
whip-poor-will rang through the forest. For a moment they listened.
“Afraid he isn’t home,” Bob said.
“I’ll try him again,” and once more Jack sent the call from his lips.
“How in the world would he know that it wasn’t a genuine bird?” Rex
asked.
Bob smiled.
“Jack puts a peculiar touch to the last note which is the real signal
between us and Kernertok. I doubt if any one else would notice it.”
“I should say not.”
For the third time Jack whistled and this time almost at once the call
came back to them.
“He’s home,” Jack shouted.
“Sure’s pop. Come on.”
Before they had taken more than a dozen steps a dog came bounding toward
them.
“Here, Sicum. Good old Sicum.”
The dog with a yelp of joy leaped upon them, but uttered a low growl as
he saw Rex.
“It’s all right, old fellow. He’s one of us,” Bob said as he took Rex by
the hand.
Thus assured the intelligent animal crouched at Rex’s feet and allowed
him to place his hand on his head.
“Sicum doesn’t take readily to strangers but if he once accepts you he’s
a friend for life,” Jack explained. “You’re in good with him now and
he’ll never forget you.”
Old Kernertok was standing in front of his cabin as they approached.
“Hello, there, Kernertok,” Jack shouted.
“How,” the Indian replied.
“Fine as silk, and you?”
“Injun heap well.”
“You look it,” Bob assured him as he shook hands.
The boys then introduced their friend.
“Sicum has accepted him, so you can be sure he’s all right,” Jack
laughed.
“Injun heap glad know friend of white boys,” Kernertok assured him.
“And it’s a great pleasure for me to know you,” Rex replied as he took
the old Indian’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you from the boys that
I feel as though I had known you for a long time already. Believe me,
they never get tired of talking about you.”
“White boys talk heap too much,” the Indian grunted and the boys all
laughed.
“What bring white boys up here now?”
“It’s a pretty long story and we’d better sit down,” Bob suggested.
Kernertok motioned to them to come inside the cabin and as soon as they
were seated on the floor Bob told him as quickly as possible about their
mission.
Kernertok uttered no word until Bob had finished.
“Injun glad to go with white boys. Injun know all that land. It heap big
woods.”
“How soon can you be ready?” Bob asked.
“Ten minute.”
And to Rex’s great surprise it was but a very little more than that time
when he announced that he was ready to start.
“I was afraid he might balk on account of that ghost story your father
told us,” Rex whispered while the Indian was outside.
“Oh, Kernertok’s too civilized to take any stock in that kind of stuff,”
Bob told him.
“You got um heap much grub?” Kernertok asked as they were about to make
the start.
“I think we’ve got plenty,” Bob assured him.
It took some persuasion to induce Sicum to get into the car, but by the
time they had reached the main road he was quite reconciled to the new
method of travel and seemed to enjoy it.
CHAPTER IV.
REX LEARNS HOW TO MAKE A CARRY.
Shortly before noon they reached the little settlement at North East
Carry.
“Well, well I’m glad to see you boys. How are all your sorrows and
joys?”
The storekeeper greeted them as they entered the little general store.
“Fine and dandy. How are you and all the folks?” Bob replied shaking him
heartily by the hand.
“If I felt any better I’d be ashamed, but the Misses she’s a trifle
lamed.”
“That’s too bad. Hope it’s nothing serious,” Bob said.
“Doctor said she’d be all right, but she’s got a foot that’s sure a
sight.”
“How about some dinner?” Jack asked.
“Dinner’ll be ready in half an hour. Plenty ter eat if the milk hain’t
sour.”
“Well I sure hope it isn’t,” Jack laughed.
While they were waiting for dinner they arranged for the loan of canoe
telling the storekeeper that they were going up the Allagash. By the
time dinner was ready they had their supplies all ready for the carry to
the West Branch about five miles north through thick woods.
“Jack, if you and Rex will take the stuff Kernertok and I’ll tote the
canoe,” Bob suggested as they were ready for the start.
“All right. But I hope Rex won’t get discouraged on the first lap,” Jack
laughed.
“We’ve seen the kind of stuff he’s made of before,” Bob replied. “But
we’ll take it a bit easy at first.”
Carrying forty pounds or perhaps a trifle more does not sound very hard
but unless one is used to it the load gets pretty heavy by the time a
couple of miles have been passed and the weight seems to increase, as
Jack put it, by the cube of the distance.
Rex was tired before they had covered half the distance but, as Bob had
inferred, he was game and would not ask them to stop on his account. But
he was very glad when, after they had covered three miles, the Indian
lowered his end of the canoe to the ground saying,
“We rest um. White boy heap tired.”
Rex did not deny the accusation as he threw himself on the ground.
“How many hundred pounds of stuff have we got here?” he asked.
“I’ll bet it feels like at least three,” Jack laughed. “But after you
get your second wind it won’t seem so hard.”
They rested for about fifteen minutes at the end of which time Rex
declared that he was all right.
As they proceeded the going rapidly grew more difficult as the forest
became more and more dense and the underbrush was very thick. This
really made it easier for Rex as Bob and Kernertok had hard work to
manage the canoe and their progress was painfully slow.
“Hope we don’t have many carries like this,” Bob panted as he lowered
his end to the ground for another rest.
“Heap more some heap bad,” the Indian declared shaking his head.
“That’s very consoling,” Jack grinned.
But the hardest part of that carry had been passed and as they went on
the traveling rapidly became easier as the trees thinned out and the
underbrush cleared.
“Here she be,” Jack, who was a few yards ahead of the others, shouted as
he caught sight of water through the trees.
It was half past four when they reached the stream.
“Three hours and a half covering five miles,” Rex said as he swung his
pack to the ground.
“That’s nothing,” Bob assured him. “Sometimes it takes several hours to
carry a single mile. We really made very good time. How about it,
Kernertok?”
“Heap good time for white boys,” the old Indian said.
“Carrying a load through the heavy woods is a different matter from
carrying that same load through the streets,” Jack declared.
“Don’t I know it?” Rex laughed.
The West Branch of the Penobscot River at this point is a rapid stream
of water which tumbles over hidden rocks and sweeps around bends making
it dangerous canoing for any but experienced men. About fifty feet wide
here it often narrows to twenty-five and a little further on opens up to
as much as a hundred feet.
“Had we better launch the canoe and make a few miles or camp here for
the night?” Bob asked Kernertok.
“White boy heap hurry, we go on,” the Indian said nodding toward Rex.
“Guess we might as well,” Bob agreed. “It’s several hours before dark.”
So they hastily loaded the supplies into the canoe and carefully pushed
it into the water.
“You and Rex get in the middle, Jack, and Kernertok and I’ll handle the
paddles.”
The supplies together with the four men and the dog made a good load for
the canoe and it seemed to Rex that the water came dangerously near to
the rail. But he said nothing having perfect faith in the knowledge and
skill of his friends.
“All set?” Bob cried as he pushed and leaped into the bow.
Almost immediately the swift current caught the frail craft and whirled
it around until it was headed down stream.
Once out in the middle of the river the canoe needed no urging from the
paddles and all Bob and the Indian had to do was to keep her straight
and away from the rocks. And it was not long before Rex decided in his
own mind that that was quite enough.
Now a big rock would loom up directly in their path and it would seem
certain that they were going to hit it when Bob, by a slight movement of
his paddle, would deflect their course just in time. And again Rex would
shudder in spite of himself as he glanced over the side of the canoe and
saw the jagged points of ledges seemingly only a few inches beneath the
surface. Even he knew that it would need but a brush against those teeth
to rip a large hole in the bottom of the canoe.
“And I sure would hate to have to try to swim ashore here,” he thought
more than once.
He could tell by the rapidity with which the banks seemed to fly past
that they must be making fully twenty-five miles an hour.
“If we should hit a good sized rock out here, that is big enough to stop
the canoe all at once, our momentum might carry us all through the air
to the shore and we wouldn’t have to swim,” he thought as they swept
around a bend what seemed to him terrific speed.
The course of the stream had been to the east but the bend was nearly at
right angles and now they were heading almost due north.
“I thought streams always ran toward the south,” he shouted turning his
head.
“Not up here they don’t,” Jack laughed. “They’re apt to run any old
way.”
In spite of his determination not to be afraid and his confidence in the
Indian and Bob the first leg of the trip down the river was a trying one
to Rex and his mind was greatly relieved when he heard Kernertok shout
something to Bob and the next moment the canoe headed in toward the
shore.
“Nice smooth run,” Bob said to Jack as the latter stepped out of the
canoe a few minutes later.
“Sure was,” Jack returned.
“Eh, what?” Rex asked turning to Bob with an incredulous expression on
his face.
“I said we’d had a nice smooth run,” Bob repeated.
“Oh, yes. Wasn’t it smooth? And I suppose a little farther on we get to
shooting over falls several hundred feet high you’ll remark casually
that there must have been a ripple on the water behind us.”
Both boys let out a roar of laughter and even Kernertok’s stoical face
lighted up a trifle while Sicum cocked his head to one side as if trying
to ask what it was all about.
“You get used to it after a while and it don’t seem so rough,” Jack
assured him, still laughing.
“That’s what the Irishman said after he’d had his second leg cut off,”
Rex laughed. “But if you say it was a quiet trip I’ll believe it only I
hope we won’t strike any rough ones.”
They had landed in a little cove where was a sandy beach and for some
distance out from the shore the water was comparatively quiet.
“Jack, do your stuff,” Bob said as he started gathering wood for the
fire.
“What does he mean?” Rex asked.
“Trout.”
“Got an extra rod?”
“Sure.”
“All right. Lead me to it.”
They went a few rods down stream to where a point of land jutted out.
“Now you want to be careful,” Jack told Rex. “They get some pretty big
ones in this stream. If you get a strike let him run with it after
you’ve hooked him. The only way to land an eight pounder is to tire him
out.”
“An eight pounder! Say what are we fishing for, whales?”
“No, trout. But if you get hooked on to a big fellow you’ll think it’s a
whale.”
“You go ahead and let me see how you do it,” Rex said and Jack threw a
brown hackle far out on to the tossing water.
Splash! Zip! And the line began to run out making the reel whine and
sing.
“You got him,” Rex shouted dancing about in his excitement.
“Sure I got him,” Jack replied as he began slowly to reel in his line.
“Is he a big one?”
“Only fair. Mebby three pounds.”
“If that’s only a three pounder what would an eight pound fish do?” he
gasped as the line again began to run out.
Jack landed the trout without much difficulty a few minutes later and,
as he had guessed, it lacked an ounce of weighing three pounds.
“Now you try it,” he said. “Throw out as far as you can and just let the
fly float on the water.”
Rex did as Jack said and the next minute was nearly thrown off his
balance as a monster trout seized the fly.
“Got him,” he gasped as he regained his balance.
“And a big one,” Jack shouted. “Let him run. You can’t pull him in yet.”
Rex let the line run out until the reel was three quarters empty.
“Now put on the brake but not too hard.”
“He’s going to take it all,” Rex cried as the brake failed to stop the
fish.
“If he does the only thing to do is to cling on and hope the line will
hold.”
The reel stopped clicking as the final layer of line ran out and Rex
braced his feet for the tug.
“He’s a big one all right,” Jack shouted as the fish broke water far out
near the middle of the stream.
“If only this line doesn’t break,” Rex gasped.
“It’s a brand new silk line and ought to hold if he isn’t over eight
pounds,” Jack assured him.
“Now quick. Reel in,” he shouted as he saw the line slacken.
And Rex reeled in the line as fast as he could turn the handle. He had
recovered nearly half of the line when the trout again broke water and
again headed for the opposite shore.
“Let him have it again but keep the drag on,” Jack shouted.
This time, by pressing as hard as he dared on the drag, Rex managed to
stop the fish with several layers of line still on the reel. As the fish
turned he rapidly reeled in for the second time and had recovered fully
three quarters of the line before having to let him run again. Five
times the reeling in and running out were repeated. But each time the
rush of the trout was weaker than the one before and it was evident to
them both that the fish was rapidly losing strength.
“Don’t give him a bit of slack,” Jack cautioned as Rex reeled in for
what proved to be the last time. “I’ve had ’em break away after I
thought they were all in.”
Slowly, still fighting as foot by foot Rex recovered the line, the big
fish came in until Jack, reaching over the bank, scooped him into the
landing net and carefully drew him in.
“He’s sure a beauty,” he declared as he held the fish up by the gills.
“How much will he weigh?”
“Not much under eight pounds if any.”
“I didn’t know they grew that big.”
“You don’t often get one as big as this fellow for a fact, but I’ve seen
one which tipped the scales at ten pounds,” Jack told him. “But eight
was the biggest I ever caught.”
“Well, I guess we’ve got enough for supper,” Rex laughed as they started
back.
“And some left over for breakfast.”
“Um heap big fish,” Kernertok grunted as he caught sight of the trout
which Rex was proudly carrying.
“He’s a peach all right,” Bob joined in. “Who caught him?”
“I did,” Rex puffed out his chest.
“All by his lonesome,” Jack added.
“He sure was some fighter,” Rex declared as he looked at the fish. “But
let’s see how much he weighs.”
The boys always took with them on their trips a small pocket scale and
in another moment Jack announced that the fish only lacked a fraction of
an ounce of eight pounds.
“And he’s just as good as he is big,” Rex said a little later as he
reached for a third helping.
And they all agreed with him, even Sicum who was receiving his full
share.
It was nearly dark by the time they had the dishes washed and boughs cut
for their beds.
“Do you think that fellow has the money up there with him,” Bob asked as
they sat around the fire.
The night air was cool and the heat of the fire was very grateful to
them all.
“That’s pretty hard to say. He drew the cash from the bank the day
before he disappeared to make a settlement with one of our big customers
who is a very peculiar man and always demands cash. It was in thousand
dollar bills and so wouldn’t make such a very big bundle and he could
easily take it with him. Yes, I rather think he’s got it with him
wherever he is unless he’s hid it somewhere. But if we find him you can
bet your last dollar I’ll make him give it up.” And the boys, by the
light of the fire, saw a look on Rex’s face which was foreign to his
usually pleasant countenance.
“We’ll find him if he’s up this way anywhere,” Jack assured him.
Shortly after nine o’clock they were all asleep on their beds of spruce
boughs wrapped in their blankets. Once Rex awoke, his sleep disturbed by
the cry of some wild animal but he was unable to tell what it was.
“Probably a wild cat,” he thought as he turned over and quickly drifted
off again.
The next morning Jack insisted on taking his turn in the bow and
somewhat reluctantly Bob gave in to him.
“You want to be mighty careful,” he cautioned him as they pushed off.
“There’s some ugly rocks out there.”
“I’ll be on the watch for them,” Jack promised.
They had made only a short distance when, above the noise of the rushing
water, they heard the sound of a loud roaring.
“That heap big falls,” Kernertok announced as he turned the canoe toward
the shore. “Have to make little carry,” he added as the bow scraped the
sand.
“And do you mean to tell me that you’d make a carry for a little thing
like that,” Rex asked a little later as he stood on a huge rock and
gazed at the rushing water as it leaped high in the air and fell to the
whirling pool some twenty feet below. “Just for a little ripple like
that?”
“We’ll all wait here while you try it,” Bob laughed.
“Not to-day, thank you. I’ll wait till I get a little more used to some
of your dips,” Rex laughed. “But I say, that’s one of the prettiest
sights I ever saw. Look at the spray. Niagara Falls is larger of course
but when it comes to beauty, believe me, it’s got nothing on this.”
Late that afternoon Kernertok announced that it was only about a mile
farther to the head of Chesuncook Lake.
“We stay there to-night,” he said.
He had hardly spoken when the canoe for the first time struck a rock.
There was a ripping sound and the next moment the water was pouring in
through a rent nearly a foot long.
Almost before he had time to think Rex found himself floundering in the
water. Fortunately it was not very deep, not more than four or five
feet, but the rapid current made it almost impossible to keep one’s
footing. As he shook the water from his eyes, struggling to maintain his
balance, he saw Bob and the Indian a few yards below clinging on to
either end of the canoe. Jack was nowhere in sight.
“Make for the shore,” he heard Bob shout.
Seeing that they would probably have the canoe in to shore before he
could reach them and doubting his ability to be of any assistance even
should he arrive in time he bent all his energy to getting himself
ashore. A half a dozen times he went completely under as his feet
slipped on the rocks but finally sputtering and blowing he drew himself
out of the water.
“What’s the first thing a fellow does when he falls in the water?”
Rex looked behind him and saw Jack slowly wading ashore just below him.
“I guess he tries to get out,” Rex panted.
“You’re wrong. The first thing he does is to get wet.”
“Then I did the first thing to perfection.”
“And believe me you weren’t the only one who did it either.”
“I believe you would joke if you were going to be hanged,” Rex tried to
force a smile but, as Jack told him afterward, the effort was a dismal
failure.
Meanwhile Bob and Kernertok had succeeded in getting the canoe to the
shore a little way below and when the two reached them they were busy
lifting out the bundles of provisions.
“Lucky we got all our stuff that water will hurt in tight cans,” Bob
said.
“Um, heap get wet,” Kernertok declared.
“I’ll say so,” Rex agreed.
As quickly as possible the blankets were wrung out and spread out to
dry.
“Too bad it didn’t happen sooner so the blankets would have time to get
dry before night,” Bob said. “But, as it happens, you can’t choose the
time for such things.”
“Another thing we’re in luck about and that is that our canoe is birch
bark instead of canvas,” Jack remarked.
“How come?” Rex asked.
“Because Kernertok’ll have this fixed in two shakes of a dog’s tail, but
if it was canvas it would be a different matter.”
“You mean he can mend that big hole up here in the woods?”
“Just watch him,” Bob laughed. “He’s after birch bark now.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Rex promised. “But if he can mend that hole
he’s good, that’s all.”
“He’s good all right as you’ll see before long.”
The Indian was back in a little less than a half hour with several long
strips of birch bark and a little dipper made of the same material which
Rex saw was filled with some kind of pitch.
“Rex, here, thinks you can’t mend that hole,” Jack told him.
“Heap big hole but Injun fix um.”
Rex watched the Indian fascinated as he smeared the edges of the cut
both inside and out with the thick pitch. Then he put on a layer of
birch bark and smeared the entire patch with more of the pitch. Then
came a second layer of the bark followed by more pitch. This was
repeated until not less than six layers of the bark had been applied.
Then, after smearing the edges of the patch thickly with what remained
of the pitch, he grunted:
“Um all fixed.”
“How long will it take it to dry so we can use it?” Rex asked anxiously.
“Be all right in morning,” the Indian assured him.
Fortunately it was a hot day and none of them suffered from their wet
clothes which they had not removed. But they knew that the night would
be cool and so, as soon as the canoe was finished, they built a big fire
close against a ledge of rock which was back some twenty feet from the
edge of the stream. There was an abundance of drift wood all about so
they did not lack for fuel. They kept the fire going full blast until
they were ready for bed and the rock reflected the heat to such an
extent that they felt no need of the blankets.
Jack and Rex again caught trout for supper but did not hook what Jack
called a big one, the largest weighing but three pounds.
As the blankets and other things were not thoroughly dried out in the
morning they were obliged to delay their departure until after nine
o’clock.
“It’s too bad, but it can’t be helped.”
“A few hours more or less isn’t going to make any difference,” Rex
assured him.
Soon after they started they reached the head of Chesuncook Lake.
“We cross this,” Bob explained, “and then there’s a small stream that
runs out of Longley Pond which we can go up if the water’s high enough.
Then we’ll have a seven or eight-mile carry across to Chamberlain Lake.”
And now, for the first time, they had to make use of the paddles other
than steering. But Bob in the bow and Kernertok in the stern sent the
light canoe, heavily laden as it was, at a rapid pace through the water
and in a little over half an hour they were at the mouth of the stream
which was not much more than a brook.
“Think there’s enough water?” Bob called back as he headed the canoe up
the stream.
“No heap much. Mebby she go mebby not. We try it.”
“Always try anything once.” Bob laughed.
The stream was not swift but very crooked and more than once Rex fancied
that he could feel the bottom of the canoe scraping. Their pace was very
slow but, as Jack said, it was a whole lot better than walking and
carrying all the stuff.
The distance from Chamberlain Lake to Longley Pond is not over five
miles as the bird flies but Bob was positive in his assertion that they
must have gone twenty before they came out on the tiny pond. At any rate
it was almost noon and they decided to eat their dinner before starting
on the long carry.
“This a hard carry?” Bob asked Kernertok as they were taking the things
out of the boat.
“Heap big hill. Heap hard.”
“Sounds encouraging,” Jack laughed.
“Mebby it isn’t so bad as it sounds,” Rex said hopefully.
“If Kernertok says it’s bad you can depend on it that it is worse,” Bob
assured them.
Long before three o’clock Rex decided that Bob was not far wrong. It
seemed to him that they must have traveled not less than fifteen miles
when Kernertok, as they stopped for one of their frequent rests,
announced that they were nearly half way across. Pushing through
underbrush so thick that it required about all the strength he could
muster, climbing over and around rocks nearly the size of a small house
and climbing over or crawling under fallen trees had proven a form of
exercise wholly new to him.
“I thought we were just going to the next lake and not up to the North
Pole,” he panted as he threw himself on the ground and wiped the sweat
from his face. “How in the world you ever manage to get that canoe
through these woods is a mystery to me.”
“Heap badder places nor this,” Kernertok said solemnly.
“Hope I never see one of them,” Rex laughed.
The second half of the portage proved even worse than the first, though
Rex insisted that such a thing was impossible, and even Kernertok was
panting when, a little after six o’clock, they suddenly emerged from the
thick woods and found themselves on the shore of Chamberlain Lake.
“Talk about the strenuous life,” Rex declared leaning against a big
rock. “This has got anything I ever tried beat seven different ways.”
“It was a bit rough for a fact,” Bob agreed.
“Rough! You call that rough? I’d call it absolutely precipitous.”
“You mean all up and down?” Jack laughed.
“Right. But mostly up.” Rex assured him.
“Well, let’s get supper. I believe I can eat a bite,” Bob suggested.
“You said something,” Rex said. “I don’t believe there’s fish enough in
this lake to satisfy me let alone the rest of you.”
“Careful,” Bob laughed. “This is a pretty big lake, nearly twenty miles
long, and I’ve heard that there are some mighty large fish in it.”
“Well, come along Jack and we’ll get a sample or two.” And the two
quickly jointed their poles and started for a point a short distance
away.
“I reckon we aren’t out far enough for the big ones,” Jack declared a
little later. “But I guess we’ve got enough for supper.”
“I suppose these would make good bait for the big fellows farther out,”
Rex laughed as he picked up a string of twelve or fourteen trout
averaging about a half a pound.
Sometime during the night Bob awoke suddenly. He sat up on his bed of
boughs and listened. He was quite certain that some sound had disturbed
him as he seldom wakened in the night except for good cause.
CHAPTER V.
A CRY IN THE NIGHT.
Yes, there it was again. A shrill cry far away sounding like a young
child in pain. He listened to see if the cry had disturbed any of the
others but everything was perfectly still, save for the murmuring of the
spruce boughs as they swayed gently in the light breeze.
“Nothing but a wild cat,” he thought as he sank back and closed his
eyes. But the next moment he had sat up again.
“Now that’s mighty funny,” he mused. “If that’s a four legged animal
then I’m an alligator.”
Again the strange sound rang through the night seeming to be a little
nearer. And now he heard Jack, who was close by his side, move.
“What was that noise?”
“Just what I’ve been wondering,” Bob replied in a low whisper.
“Sounded like a wild cat.”
“Just what I thought at first but you never heard a wild cat make a
noise exactly like that. Listen.”
“It’s a bit too shrill and kinder wobbly like for a genuine cat.” Jack
was quite positive in his statement.
“Think it’s a signal?”
“Might be, but there doesn’t seem to be any answer.”
For some little time the cry was repeated at frequent intervals but it
did not seem to come any nearer and finally each time it sounded farther
away until they could barely hear it. Nothing which could be interpreted
as an answer, if it indeed were a signal, had reached their ears.
“Mebby it was a cat after all,” Jack whispered.
“Perhaps so. Anyhow I’m going to sleep.”
“I say, any you fellows seen my rifle?”
It was early the following morning. Bob was busy frying flap jacks and
the Indian and Rex were rolling the bedding. Jack asked the question
after he made a thorough search of the camp.
“Where’d you leave it?” Bob asked.
“I’m not sure but I thought I placed it right beside my bed.”
“Well, you know what thought did. You’ll probably find it right where
you left it if you look long enough.”
“It’s mighty funny,” Jack mused as he made another search. “Come to
think of it I’m dead certain I put it there.”
Just then Bob called that breakfast was ready and as soon as the meal
was over all joined in the search for the rifle. But they failed to
locate it.
“Now what do you know about that?” Jack asked after he had looked under
his bed of boughs for the fourth time.
“Heap queer. Rifle she gone.”
“You’re right it’s heap queer and then some,” Bob agreed. “But who’s
seen Sicum this morning?”
“Sicum heap gone too,” Kernertok said, a look of puzzled amazement on
his stoical face.
“Mebby he’s chasing a rabbit,” Rex suggested.
“Sicum no leave camp till Injun up,” Kernertok shook his head.
“Well, that rifle’s gone and Sicum’s gone. Wonder what’ll go next,” and
Jack, too, shook his head.
“But that gun never walked away of its own accord,” Bob assured him.
Jack was about to make some reply when an exclamation from Rex, who had
gone down by the shore, halted him.
“Come here a minute.”
“Now what?” Bob asked as they hastened to where Rex was gazing at
something on the sand.
“What kind of tracks do you call them?” he asked as soon as they had
reached his side. He pointed at some marks the likes of which neither of
the boys had ever seen.
The tracks, at which the boys looked in amazement, were nearly circular
in shape and plainly showed the imprint of six toes. They led from the
water’s edge along the shore for a distance of some twenty feet then
turned sharply to the left and were lost in the dense woods.
“What do you make of them, Kernertok?” Bob asked.
But the old Indian shook his head.
“Heap big tracks. No seen um before.”
“Nor I,” Bob agreed. “I never heard of an animal in Maine, or anywhere
else for that matter, that would make a mark like that.”
“Mebby that’s the bug that swiped my gun,” Jack suggested.
“Mebby um eat up Sicum, one mouthful,” Kernertok joined in.
“I reckon it could do it,” Jack asserted. “Just see how far apart they
are: all of five feet, and that means some beast for size.”
For nearly two hours they hunted for the lost dog but not a trace of him
could they find. Time and time again the Indian sent through the forest
the peculiar whistle with which he was wont to summon him.
“He ought to hear that if he’s within ten miles,” Rex declared.
Finally they were obliged to give over the search and reluctantly began
to pack the things in the canoe. There was but little talk each being
busy with his own thoughts. All, including the Indian, sensed a mystery
in the air which seemed unexplainable. Both Bob and Jack knew that
Kernertok was in the depths of despair, not only because of the loss of
his beloved dog but because something had happened in the woods for
which he could give no accounting. It was a severe blow to the old man’s
pride.
“Do you think that those cries we heard in the night had anything to do
with it?” Jack whispered to Bob, Rex and Kernertok being a short
distance off.
“Don’t see how, do you?”
“Hardly. And yet—” Jack paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“And yet what?”
“Bob, do you believe an animal made those tracks?” he asked.
“Frankly no.”
“Neither do I. But if that’s right, what’s the answer?”
“Somebody’s trying to scare us.”
“You said it.”
It was nearly ten o’clock when they finally pushed off and started up
the lake.
Chamberlain Lake is nearly twenty miles long but they had hit about half
way up and after a little more than ten miles of paddling they reached
Eagle Lake.
Eagle Lake is really a part of Chamberlain Lake and is nearly fifteen
miles long.
“I wonder why they gave the two parts of this lake different names,” Rex
said.
“Oh, I suppose they had more names than lakes, although, goodness knows,
there are more lakes around here than there are fleas on a dog,” Jack
laughed.
“How many more carries have we got to make?” Rex asked.
“According to the map we haven’t any,” Bob replied. “How about it,
Kernertok? Any more carries before we strike Allagash?”
“No more. We paddle um all way now,” the Indian told them.
“That’s certainly good news,” Rex declared. “About one more carry like
that last one and I’m afraid you’d have to carry me out on a stretcher.”
“Look ahead there, Rex!” Jack cried a little later. “Isn’t he a beaut?”
“What is it?”
“A bull moose, and a big one.”
The huge animal was perhaps a hundred yards from the canoe when Jack
first sighted him and was swimming at right angles to their course.
“Make it snappy, Bob, and let’s see how near we can get to him before he
reaches the shore,” Jack cried, and the two paddlers dug their blades
deep into the water.
“Are they dangerous?” Rex asked.
“Not at this time of the year,” Jack told him. “But in the late fall,
when they are mating, you want to give them a wide berth unless you are
well armed and then you want to shoot to kill the first time.”
“I reckon so,” Rex mused. “I wouldn’t like to get tossed with those
horns.”
“You wouldn’t,” Jack laughed. “In fact, quite the opposite, as the
sea-sick passenger said when one asked him if he had had breakfast.”
“What would he do to you then? Do they bite?”
“Hardly. He’d trample you to death with his sharp hoofs and, believe me,
they are some tramplers.”
By this time they had cut down the distance between them and the moose
by nearly one half, although the big animal was ploughing his way
rapidly through the water.
“I’ll say he’s some swimmer,” Rex declared. “Gee, but I wish I had my
camera along. What a picture that would make.”
They had come to within about twenty yards of the moose when he reached
the shore. As he waded out onto the rocks he turned for an instant and
stood looking at them as much as to say, “Well, I guess I beat you to it
all right,” then turned and bounded away into the thick forest.
“I wouldn’t have missed that for a good deal,” Rex declared as soon as
the moose had disappeared.
“You’re lucky,” Bob told him. “It isn’t very often that you get to see
one of those fellows now days.”
It was late afternoon and they had nearly reached the upper end of the
lake. They had made no stop for dinner but had eaten a light lunch in
the canoe, as they wished to make up for lost time. Rex and Jack had,
for short stretches, relieved Bob and the Indian at the paddles and,
although Rex was not very skillful at it, nevertheless he was rapidly
catching the knack and they had made excellent progress.
“Look over on the shore opposite here, Bob,” Jack said suddenly. “See,
on that big rock just in front of that tall pine.”
“I see. It looks like a dog.”
“It’s either a dog or a wolf. What do you think Kernertok?”
“Injun no see good enough. Mebby um Sicum. You think?”
“It’s too far away to tell,” Bob replied. “But we’ll paddle over that
way and see.”
They changed their course and headed toward the opposite shore.
“Upon my soul, I believe it is Sicum,” Jack declared a little later.
The Indian raised his paddle for a moment and a shrill, peculiar whistle
floated over the lake.
“Hark,” he warned.
“It’s Sicum,” Bob and Jack spoke in the same breath as a low but
distinct bark answered the Indian’s call.
“Now what do you know about that?” Rex asked as soon as all doubt
regarding the identity of the animal was settled. “Where do you suppose
he’s been and why?”
“Don’t know to both questions,” Bob replied.
Although the Indian gave no outward show of emotion, all three boys knew
that the old man was overjoyed at the return of his companion. As for
Sicum, he made no concealment of his emotions. As the canoe approached
the rock on which he stood he jumped up and down in a perfect frenzy of
joy, all the time giving utterance to short, happy barks. When the canoe
at last touched the rock he nearly upset it as he leaped aboard.
“You one fool dog,” the Indian grunted as he seized him by his collar.
“Where you been, eh?”
“If he could only talk he might clear up some of this mystery,” Rex
declared.
“I wish he had brought my rifle back with him,” Jack laughed.
A little later they reached the head of the lake where a small stream
entered and there they made camp for the night.
“I think we’d better set a watch to-night,” Bob suggested as they were
making their beds. “We don’t want any more of our stuff to disappear and
for some reason which I can’t explain, I don’t feel like depending on
Sicum,” he added in a low voice so that the Indian could not hear.
“It’s a mighty funny thing,” Jack said. “Before last night I’d have felt
perfectly safe with that dog here. How in the world anyone could have
gotten into camp without him letting us know about it is a mystery to
me.”
“Same here. There’s something positively uncanny about it.”
“Well, I’ll take the first watch till eleven o’clock, and then I’ll call
you,” Jack proposed.
But when the matter was mentioned to Kernertok, the Indian shook his
head.
“I fix Sicum so he no get away dis time,” he declared.
But later the boys resolved that they would keep watch just the same,
without letting Kernertok know of it.
“I’ll call you at three,” Bob said to Rex. “Kernertok hates to give up
confidence in Sicum, and I can’t blame him at that. He can’t bear the
thought that we’re not perfectly safe with the dog in camp and it would
about break his heart to know that we were on guard, so we’ll have to be
mighty careful not to disturb him, and it doesn’t take very much, let me
tell you.”
“But how about the dog?” Rex asked. “Won’t he hear us and make a
rumpus?”
“Oh, he’ll hear us all right, but as he knows us, I guess he won’t make
any fuss,” Bob assured him.
“How are you going to fix Sicum so he can’t get away?” Bob asked the
Indian a little later.
They were about to retire for the night and the Indian made no reply,
but from his pocket took a small chain about four feet in length. One
end he fastened to the dog’s collar and the other he tied about his
wrist.
“That ought to hold him,” Jack laughed.
“Me think so. Take heap much get him away,” he grunted.
Jack waited until, from his deep breathing, he was certain that the
Indian was asleep, and then he crept softly from his bed of boughs.
Sicum uttered a low growl once which woke his master, but the latter
spoke to him in a low tone and the dog remained quiet. Jack crept on his
hands and knees to a big spruce about ten feet from where they were
sleeping and toward the shore and sat down with his back against it.
The night was cloudy, not even a star showing in the heavens, and it was
intensely dark, so that he was unable to see even his hand when he held
it in front of his face.
“Guess I’ll have to trust entirely to my ears,” he thought. “Eyes are no
good to-night.”
It was so still that he could plainly hear the beating of his own heart.
Not a sound save the gentle lap of the water against the stones on the
shore of the lake, some twelve feet from where he sat, reached his ears.
There was no wind and even the usual sighing of the branches was absent.
“I believe you could hear a pin drop if there was anyone here to drop
it,” he mused.
Several times he caught himself yawning, but he was afraid to get up and
move around for fear of disturbing the dog. However, he managed to keep
awake with a good deal of difficulty. Along toward eleven o’clock a
light breeze sprang up and a little later it began to rain.
“Looks like we were in for a storm,” he told himself.
It started to rain as if it meant it, but soon settled to a thin
drizzle.
“Thought you promised to wake me at eleven,” a voice whispered almost in
his ear.
“I didn’t promise at all. It was simply proposed.”
“Heard or seen anything?”
“Haven’t heard a thing, and as for seeing, a regular menagerie could
pass within a foot of you and you’d never know it.”
“I guess that’s right, but you get to bed now.”
“I don’t believe there’s any use in watching any longer to-night.”
“I’ll bet you wouldn’t say that if it was your turn,” Bob grinned.
“Huh, don’t you fool yourself.”
“Never do.”
“Looks like we were in for a spell o’ weather.”
“Sure does. But this isn’t getting to bed.”
“I’ll bet you go to sleep,” Jack whispered, as he crept off toward his
bed.
“And I’ll bet I don’t,” Bob replied, but Jack was too far away to hear
him.
It was nearly one o’clock, as he saw by the luminous face of his wrist
watch, when he heard the same cry that had awakened him the night
before. It was very faint at first, but each time it was repeated it
came nearer, till he judged that it was within a half a mile.
“Funny it doesn’t wake any of them,” he thought as he crept softly down
toward the lake.
As he approached the water’s edge he felt, rather than saw or heard,
that something was near him. He listened intently. Not a sound, save the
lap of the water and the gentle sough of the rain as it fell on the
trees, came to him. And still that vague feeling of the nearness of some
large object persisted.
“Wonder if I’m going bugs,” he thought, as he tried in vain to pierce
the darkness.
For several minutes he had not heard the cry, but now it came again, and
so near was it that all the sleepers were awakened.
“For goodness sake, what was that?” he heard Rex ask.
“Was that a wild cat, Kernertok?” Jack put the question.
“Listen,” he heard the Indian order.
For a moment all was still and then the cry was repeated, even nearer
than before.
“Heap like cat almost, but not quite,” he heard Kernertok reply.
“That’s what I thought when I heard it last night,” Jack told him.
“You hear um las’ night?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t so near then.”
“Injun no hear. Sleep heap too sound,” Bob could distinguish the note of
disgust in the Indian’s voice. “Where, Bob?” he heard him ask.
“Guess he’s around somewhere,” Jack replied evasively.
“I’m down here by the lake,” Bob shouted. “Bring a flash light here a
minute.”
“See anything?” Jack asked, as he joined him a moment later.
“No.”
“Hear anything?”
“Not a thing, but I’d take my oath that there was something here just
the same.”
“How do you know, when you couldn’t see it or hear it?”
“Guess I felt it.”
“Well, what did it feel like?”
“I didn’t exactly feel it, you know. I guessed it was here perhaps would
be nearer the truth?”
“Well, here’s the light. What are you going to do with it?”
“I want to see if there are any of those tracks.”
“They’re here, sure as guns,” Jack cried a moment later as, by the aid
of the flash light, he pointed to a row of tracks identical with those
they had seen before. They seemed to emerge from the water and led a
short distance along the shore, till they disappeared in the woods.
“It’s a cinch that no four-footed native of Maine ever made those
tracks,” Jack insisted.
“Guess we’re agreed on that,” Bob assured him.
“Then the big question is, what or who did make them.”
“Suppose you answer it?”
“I will before the summer’s over.”
Kernertok shook his head when he saw the tracks. It was clear that he
was thoroughly puzzled.
“Suppose we wait till daylight and then try to track it with Sicum,” Bob
suggested. “He ought to be able to follow that trail. How about it
Kernertok?”
“Sicum no same dog. Him heap fool now,” and Kernertok shook his head
mournfully.
For the first time the boys noticed that the dog was acting strangely.
Keeping as close as possible to his master’s feet, he showed every
evidence of fear.
“That’s the first time I ever saw Sicum with his tail between his legs,”
Jack whispered.
“Well, don’t blame him,” Bob cautioned. “It is plain that something has
happened to him which has frightened him about to death, and remember,
it would take a good bit to scare that dog.”
“I’ll tell the world it would,” Jack agreed.
As it now lacked but a couple of hours until day break, they decided to
stay awake and keep watch.
“I don’t believe we could go to sleep any way,” Rex said.
The rain had stopped, although it had not as yet cleared off. They
returned to their beds and rolled themselves in their blankets, which
were fairly dry, despite the rain, so thick were the branches overhead.
For a time they talked in low tones, but the conversation soon died out,
seemingly of its own accord, and, in spite of their determination to
stay awake, one after the other they drifted off until only the Indian
was awake. Although, as he had said, he slept soundly he needed but
little sleep, and it was not difficult for him to keep his eyes open.
Kernertok was deeply troubled. It hurt his pride to be unable to explain
anything found in the forest. But he had been obliged to acknowledge
that the mysterious tracks were entirely new to him and the
disappearance of the rifle and dog the night before was no less puzzling
to him. Added to these was the strange behavior of the dog since his
return. Never before had he known the dog to show the slightest sign of
fear. Always eager to attack anything, no matter what its size. The
Indian had more than once saved the life of his companion when the
latter was exhausted after making a desperate stand against heavy odds.
But now he cringed when spoken to, as though he expected a mortal blow.
Sicum’s spirit was broken. Of that the Indian was sure. But what could
have happened to so quickly change an animal without fear into a
cringing coward? Long the Indian brooded over the question.
The dog lay by his master’s side and mechanically the Indian reached out
one hand and ran his fingers through the shaggy coat. Almost immediately
he felt the animal shrink from his touch, at the same time giving vent
to a low whine as of pain. And suddenly one question was answered in the
mind of the Indian, or rather partly answered. He knew why the dog was
afraid. As his fingers felt the hide beneath the curley hair they
encountered great whelts, which seemed to run nearly around the body.
Sicum whined softly as his fingers touched the sore places, and then,
creeping closer, he laid his head across his lap as though glad that his
master at last understood.
“Heap good dog,” the Indian grunted as he stroked the broad head.
It was broad daylight when the boys awoke. It was not raining, although
heavy leaden colored clouds covered the sky and a strong wind was
blowing from the northeast.
“We’re a lively bunch, not,” Jack declared as he got slowly to his feet
and shook the kinks out of his legs.
“And then some,” Bob agreed sheepishly.
“Count me in on that,” Rex insisted as he, too, jumped about to get the
stiffness out of his limbs.
Getting up in the morning in the woods when everything is wet and the
temperature hovering around fifty-five is not conducive to high spirits,
and, as Jack put it, they were about as cheerful as a wet blanket. But
Kernertok already had a good fire going and the odor of boiling coffee
did much to banish the blue devils.
CHAPTER VI.
REX DISAPPEARS.
As Bob approached the fire, Sicum raised his head and whined softly.
“Good old boy, what’s the matter,” Bob said as he placed his hand gently
on the animal’s head.
“Feel um hide,” Kernertok said.
Bob did as directed.
“Great guns! No wonder he’s afraid. Why he’s been licked.”
“Heap big lickin’.”
“I’ll say so. Look here, Jack and Rex.”
“I’ll never blame a dog for being scared again,” Jack declared, after he
had run his hand over the whelts.
“It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed,” Rex said. “What or who could have done
it?”
“Problem number one,” Jack replied. “But whoever did it did a good job.”
“And if I ever find out who it was, believe me, he’ll appreciate that
fact,” Bob promised.
“Will he get over it?” Rex turned to the Indian.
Kernertok shook his head.
“Him get well bimby.”
“But will he get his courage back, I mean?”
“Mebby, mebby not. Take um long time.”
“I suppose so, and it’s no wonder. A licking like that would take the
starch out of most men, let alone a dog,” Rex declared.
“I don’t suppose it will be any use trying to get him to follow that
trail,” Bob said as they were eating breakfast.
“No heap good now,” Kernertok assured them.
“How about the weather? Is it going to rain?” Jack asked turning to
Kernertok.
“Heap much, heap soon. Wind northeast.”
“Then we’d better get off and make as many miles as we can before it
comes,” Bob advised.
They made quick work of washing the few dishes they had used and in
rolling the packs, and in less than twenty minutes they were ready to
push off. Their way led up the little stream which was hardly wide
enough to permit the use of the paddles, and in places they were obliged
to push the canoe with a long pole against the strong current. But
Kernertok encouraged them with the assurance that it was only a little
over three miles to Churchill Lake.
Although they did not have to make a regular carry between the two
lakes, they were obliged, no less than eight times, to take the canoe
from the water and drag it around big rocks or places where the stream
was too shallow to allow of its passing.
“This is most as bad as a carry,” Jack panted as, for the eighth time,
they were obliged to disembark.
“They do make awful long miles up here,” Rex grinned as he lifted the
front of the canoe from the water.
“Well, I reckon we’re holding our own,” Bob laughed.
It was nearly noon when at last they paddled out into Churchill Lake.
The rain, which had been threatening all the morning, had began to fall
as they were dragging the canoe around the last obstruction nearly an
hour before, and was now coming down in big drops.
“Guess we’ll have to look for a good camping place and hang up,” Bob
suggested.
“Rain heap cold,” Kernertok shivered as he spoke, and Rex, whose teeth
had been chattering for the last hour, heartily agreed with him.
They paddled for a few minutes along the shore until Jack spied a good
place to make camp.
“There’s just the place,” he declared, pointing. “Right there in that
clump of spruce.”
“See if you can find some dry wood, Jack,” Bob said a moment later, as
he sprang to the shore and pulled the canoe up. “The rest of us’ll get
the stuff under the trees.”
Jack took the little axe and started off. He was obliged to hunt for
some time before finding a dead tree, which, lying beneath a thick
spruce, was fairly dry. Fifteen minutes later he returned, carrying a
large armful of wood, and soon a cheerful fire was as Rex declared,
thawing the frost out of their bones.
“Kernertok and I’ll get dinner if you and Rex’ll get some more of that
wood,” Bob suggested.
“Righto. Come on, Rex. We’ll bring in a load big enough to build a
house.”
“Better make that house a wood shed,” Rex laughed as he followed him
into the forest.
It rained hard all that afternoon, but only a few drops now and then
found their way through the thick spruce branches, and they were fairly
comfortable.
“It’s too bad to lose all this time,” Bob said late in the afternoon.
“But it’s a whole lot better than getting soaked and catching cold. I
tell you, Rex, it’s no fun being sick in the woods.”
“Although I never had that experience and never want to for that matter,
I can readily believe you,” Rex replied soberly.
“Injun heap sick alone in woods one time. White boys save him,”
Kernertok told Rex.
“And Kernertok has more than paid the white boys back,” Jack declared,
but the Indian only shook his head.
“We could use a good trout for supper, Jack,” Bob announced a little
later.
“All right. Come on, Rex. The rain has about stopped. Guess we’ll take
the canoe, though. It’s pretty shallow along the shore here.”
“I believe I’ve got a whale this time,” Rex declared a few minutes
later, as his rod bent until the tip was in the water.
“Probably a salmon,” Jack said. “Play him easy, now. That’s it, let him
run. Now reel in as fast as you can. Don’t give him any slack if you can
help it. Now let him run again. That’s the stuff. He’ll soon tire at
that rate.”
For all of a half hour Rex played the big fish. Now getting him almost
up to the canoe, only to have to let him have the line again, as he made
a frantic rush for freedom. Jack stood up in the canoe with the landing
net ready.
“You almost had him that time,” he cried, as the fish turned for what
proved to be the final rush. “He’s a dandy, all right. If only you don’t
lose him.”
“If I do I’ll go over after him,” Rex panted, as he again began to reel
in the line.
It was evident now that the fish was nearly at the end of its strength,
although he fought every foot of the way.
“Steady now. Hold him tight. I’ll have him in a minute.”
Suddenly Jack made a dip with the net and the next instant the fish was
in the canoe.
“It’s a salmon all right, and the largest I ever saw,” Jack declared.
“Isn’t he a beauty?” Rex said as he gazed proudly down at the silver
white fish. “And didn’t he put up a fight? If we didn’t need him for
supper I’d put him back and let him live.”
“But, unfortunately for him, we do need him,” Jack said as he picked up
the paddle and started for the shore.
“Goodness! I didn’t say we wanted a whale,” Bob declared as Rex came up
to the fire carrying the fish by the gills.
“Let’s see how much he weighs,” he said.
“Sixteen pounds and four ounces,” Bob announced a moment later. “Some
fish.”
“Heap big un,” Kernertok added.
“I didn’t know they grew as big as that,” Rex said.
“Injun catch one in this pond ten twelve year ago, him weigh nineteen
pound. Heap big salmon.”
“I’ll say it was,” Rex laughed.
Soon after supper the rain began again and Kernertok expressed the
opinion that it would keep up all night. They decided to risk the night
without keeping watch.
“It’s a bad night for ghosts,” Jack declared.
“But the trouble is, we don’t know what species this particular ghost
belongs to,” Bob reminded him.
Along about midnight Bob awoke. It was still raining hard and the wind
remained in the same direction that it had held all day.
“It’s not apt to quit till the wind changes,” he thought as he turned
over.
At that instant, above the sound of the wind, he heard the strange cry
which had disturbed him the two nights previous. It was, however, a good
ways off, and although it was repeated a number of times, it did not
seem to come any nearer. None of the others woke so far as he could
tell, and he soon drifted off to sleep again. When he again awoke day
was just breaking and, to his great joy, he saw that the weather had
cleared.
“Wonder if we’ll have any tracks,” he thought as he rolled out of his
blanket.
Early as it was, Kernertok had a fire going and the coffee pot on.
“See any more of those tracks?” he asked, as he joined the Indian.
“Just same last night, heap big ones.”
“Do you have any idea of what it is, Kernertok?” Bob asked in a low
tone.
“No know um,” the Indian grunted.
“You can just bet your last dollar that I’m going to camp right down by
the lake to-night, wherever we camp, and find out what it is that makes
those tracks,” Jack declared as he joined Bob down by the shore a few
minutes later.
“You want to look out that it don’t find you first.”
“Not if I see him or it first it won’t.”
“Won’t what?” Rex, who joined them just as Jack spoke, asked.
“Oh, Jack’s going to put some salt on the tail of whatever it is that
makes these tracks and catch it to-night,” Bob told him laughingly. “And
he said it wouldn’t get him if he saw it first.”
“Well, you’d better shoot that salt with a three hundred kilometer gun,
judging by the size of those tracks. I’d sure hate to meet the thing
that made ’em in the dark,” Rex advised.
Just then Kernertok announced that breakfast was ready.
Churchill Lake is not large and they reached the upper end shortly after
nine o’clock.
“What’s the next lake we strike, and how far is it?” Bob asked
Kernertok.
“Him Big Umsaskis. Him ’bout ten mile up um stream.”
“How’s Sicum this morning?” Jack asked, leaning back to pat the shaggy
head.
“Him heap better. No well yet. Not so much scared now.”
They found the stream joining Churchill Lake with the Big Umsaskis, a
little larger than the one they had traversed the day before, but it was
very swift and rocky and their progress was painfully slow. It seemed to
the eager boys that they would hardly more than get into the canoe when
they would have to clamber out and drag it around some obstruction.
“What time is it?” Jack asked late in the afternoon, as they were
resting, after dragging the canoe over a particularly difficult place.
Rex laughed.
“That reminds me of the darkie who was in jail for life. A friend went
to see him and as he was leaving the prisoner asked him what time it
was. The friend replied, “Wha’ for you wan’ know the time? Youse ain’t
going nowhere.”
“And it doesn’t seem as though we were doing much better just at
present,” Jack laughed.
They entered the foot of Big Umsaskis just after five o’clock and
decided to make camp for the night, as they were all very tired.
“I feel as though we had made about a hundred miles instead of ten
to-day,” Jack declared, as he threw himself down on the ground.
As soon as the early supper was over they began to discuss plans for
trying to find out what it was that was making the mysterious tracks.
They all felt that it had gone far enough and that they were actually in
danger and that it was high time to do something.
“Now, how are we going about catching that lalapaloosla?” Jack asked, as
they sat around the fire.
“What’s that you said?” Rex gasped.
“I said how are we going to catch the lalapaloosla?”
“And what’s that?”
“That’s a second cousin to a ringed-tailed squeeler,” Jack replied with
a perfect sober face.
“Oh, now I understand. I had one of them once,” Rex said equally sober.
“Eh, what?”
“I said I had one once.”
“One what?”
“Why a ringed-tailed squeeler. That’s what we were talking about, wasn’t
it?”
Jack burst out laughing.
“I’ll come down as the squirrel said when it saw Davy Crockett.
Anybody’s got to get up early in the morning to get ahead of you.”
After some discussion, it was decided that they would divide the night
into two watches: Jack and the Indian to watch until twelve o’clock,
when Bob and Rex would relieve them. None felt that it would be safe for
one to stand watch alone.
“If those tracks are made by some four-footed animal it’s a mighty big
one, as I said before, and if it’s a two-legged animal, in other words,
a man, he’s going to a whole lot of trouble to scare us, and the chances
are that he’d be desperate if he was cornered,” Bob said, and all agreed
with him.
“If I only had my rifle,” Jack said. “I’d feel safer.”
“But they had only brought the one rifle and its disappearance left them
unarmed, except for their automatics.
“Now, remember, there’s to be no funny business to-night. You are to
call us sharp at twelve. That will give us all plenty of sleep and we
all need it. Promise,” Bob said, as they were all about to separate.
“All right, I promise,” Jack replied, and Bob knew that he would keep
his word.
It was a lonely watch down by the shore of the lake. It was not so dark
as on the previous night, although there was no moon. The sky was
studded with stars, and by their light they could see dimly for a
distance of several feet. Sicum lay curled up close beside his master,
and every little while a low growl or a faint whine indicated that his
dreams were troubled.
“Guess he’s dreaming about that beating he got,” Jack thought, as he
rubbed his eyes.
Slowly the minutes and hours passed, until after what seemed an
eternity, his watch told him that it was time to call the others.
Nothing had happened and they had not heard the strange cry.
“All quiet along the Potomac,” he announced after he had awakened Bob
and Rex. “Hope you have better luck.”
“What day is it?” Rex asked as soon as they had taken their places down
by the lake.
“Search me. It’s funny how one loses all track of the time up here in
the woods. But it must be Sunday, I think. Wait a minute, till I reckon
up.
“Yes,” he said a moment later, “it’s Sunday. We’ll have a good long rest
if nothing happens. We never travel on Sunday if it can be helped, you
know.”
“And that’s right too. A man needs one day in seven to rest.”
“I think so.”
“About one day in two would be even better,” Rex laughed, “according to
the way we’ve been going the past two days.”
“It’s been pretty strenuous, for a fact, especially when you’re not used
to it. It’s been a wonder to me that you’ve stood it so well.”
“Oh, I’m fairly tough when I get my second wind.”
“I’ll say you are.”
“It’s a good thing it isn’t so dark as it was last night,” Rex said a
little later. “It’s a comfort to know that that lalapaloosla can’t get
us without us seeing him.”
“You said something. Believe me it was dark last night.”
“Listen. Did you hear it?” Rex asked about an hour later.
“Sure did. It’s that fake wild cat again.”
“Are you sure it’s a fake?”
“N—o,” Bob replied slowly. “I’m not certain, but I never heard a cat
make just that kind of noise. It’s a bit too shrill and drawn out at the
end to be genuine. Still, of course, they don’t all sound exactly
alike.”
“My experience with wild cats has been pretty limited, so my opinion is
no good, but if a cat is making that noise, it must be some cat that’s
all.”
“Oh, they can make noise enough so far as that is concerned. If you ever
hear one close to you, you’ll never forget it. It’s enough to raise the
hair on a bald man’s head.”
“As bad as that?” Rex laughed.
“You’ll think so if you hear one, and you may have the chance, because
that fellow, whatever it may be, is coming closer and coming at a pretty
good clip, too.”
The cry was now being repeated at close intervals, and each one was
distinctly nearer than the one before.
“I don’t know whether there is any connection between those yells and
the making of the tracks or not, but we want to keep our eyes peeled
pretty sharp, because they seem to happen at about the same time,” Bob
cautioned as he looked sharply about him.
“I believe the cat’s going farther away,” Rex said a little later.
“Sounds like it,” Bob agreed.
The cries had for some time been growing fainter and soon they died out
altogether.
“Guess the show’s over for to-night,” Bob said, as he got to his feet
and stretched his arms. “Let’s take the flash and see if Jack’s
lalapaloosla has slipped anything over on us.”
“You bet.”
For some minutes they searched about close to the shore of the lake, but
somewhat to their surprise no tracks were to be seen.
“Well, he may come yet,” Rex said as they once more sat down.
“You never can tell,” Bob agreed.
The time dragged slowly on, until Bob’s watch told him that it was
nearly three o’clock.
“Goodness, but I’m sleepy,” he said as he got to his feet.
“Same here.”
“I’m going to take a look up back, if you don’t mind,” Bob said. “I’ll
only be gone a few minutes.”
“Go ahead. I’ll keep watch here.”
Bob was gone a little longer than he expected. He was very thirsty, and
running across the tiny bed of a stream, he followed it up hoping to
find a spring. He soon located it and, after drinking his fill, he
stopped to cut a strip of birch bark from a tree. With this he fashioned
a dipper that he might take some water back to Rex.
“I’ll bet he’s thirsty,” he thought as he started back.
To his surprise Rex was nowhere in sight when he returned. He sat the
birch bark dipper down and, with the aid of the flash light, looked
about all around the place where they had been sitting.
“Guess he thought he’d take a stroll,” he thought. “But it’s rather
strange he didn’t wait till I got back.”
Not really alarmed, but a trifle uneasy regarding his friend’s absence,
he sat down and leaned back against the trunk of a tree. The minutes
passed and Rex did not return.
“Hope he hasn’t gone and got lost,” he thought. “I’m afraid he doesn’t
realize how easy it is to get lost in these woods.”
When a half hour had passed and still no Rex, he began to be really
uneasy. Taking the flash light, he made a wide detour of the camping
place, calling every few minutes as loudly, as he dared for fear of
waking Jack and Kernertok.
“This is getting serious,” he told himself, as he returned to his
previous position. “Wonder if I’d better call the others.”
Somewhat against his better judgment he decided to wait a while longer,
hoping that Rex would return. He knew that it would be light in a little
more than an hour, and he hated to disturb his brother and the Indian.
But when the first tinge of the coming day lighted up the eastern sky
and Rex had not returned, he was really alarmed, and decided to wait no
longer.
“Eh, what’s up?” Jack asked sleepily, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Rex has gone.”
“Gone where?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” and Bob told him what had happened.
“It’s mighty funny how he could get lost so quickly.”
“I wasn’t gone over thirty minutes,” Bob assured him.
Their talking awakened Kernertok, and Bob quickly told him of Rex’s
disappearance.
“That heap bad,” the Indian grunted. “Him get lost take long time mebby
find him.”
“Well, to-day’s Sunday, so we won’t be losing any time,” Jack said.
“Do you think Sicum can track him?” Bob turned to Kernertok.
“We try um.”
But although they let the dog sniff at Rex’s cap and took him to where
he had been sitting when Bob left him, the dog refused to stir.
“Him heap fool dog,” Kernertok declared disgustedly.
“You mustn’t blame him,” Bob cautioned. “Remember, we don’t know what he
has been through.”
“It doesn’t seem as though he could have gone very far in the darkness,”
Jack said, “and we ought not to have a great deal of trouble in finding
him.”
By this time it was nearly daylight even in the woods, and, after a
short discussion, it was decided that they would separate. Jack was to
go up along the shore of the lake and Bob in the opposite direction,
while Kernertok was to strike off at right angles to their course.
“Remember now, two shots will mean that he’s found and three that
there’s trouble and help needed,” Bob told them. “It’s now a quarter to
five, and we’ll keep on till seven o’clock, if we don’t find him. He
wouldn’t go very far in the dark, and if we don’t locate him in that
time it’ll mean that we’ve probably passed him. And don’t be afraid to
yell. He may have fallen into a bear pit or something.”
After Bob had left him, Rex fell into a light dose for a moment, but was
quickly aroused by a slight noise to his right. Instantly he was wide
awake and straining his eyes. Was that something moving up along the
shore of the lake? He was not sure at first, but a moment later he was
certain that there was something there. Getting to his feet as quietly
as possible he stole softly through the darkness. He could just make out
a dim shape which seemed to glide rather than walk a few yards ahead of
him. He followed slowly, careful to make no sound. If this was Jack’s
lalapaloosla he had no wish to come into close quarters with it. But
here was a chance to solve the mystery he felt, and the thought of not
doing his best never entered his head.
For some thirty yards the shape led him along the shore of the lake and
then seemed to turn and plunge into the thick woods nearly at right
angles. As the shape disappeared he ran quickly forward to where it had
turned, and listened. He could hear it as it made its way between the
trees and, after a moment’s hesitation, he struck off after it. It never
occurred to him that he could get lost so near the camp, and to wait for
Bob might mean that he would lose the chance entirely.
It was pitch dark in the thick woods and he had only his sense of
hearing to guide him as he hurried along. It seemed to him that, for so
bulky a form, the thing moved with amazing swiftness, and he was hard
put to it to keep in hearing distance. So intent was he on not losing
track of the thing that he was wholly unaware of the passage of time,
and it was with a start of surprise that he noticed that it was getting
light. He had no idea as to how far he had come.
Rex stopped and listened. Not a sound of his quarry could he hear.
Either the thing had stopped or else it had outdistanced him.
“Guess I’ll have to wait till it gets a little lighter and see if I can
follow his tracks,” he thought. “It ought not to be hard if he makes as
big ones in here as down by the lake.”
He sat down on a dead tree trunk and waited for perhaps a half hour.
“Guess it’s light enough now,” he said half aloud.
He began his search for the trail of the mysterious creature, full of
hope that he would quickly pick it up. But in this he was disappointed,
for he was unable to locate it.
“It’s a case of now you see it and now you don’t,” he muttered as he
looked about him. “Well, guess I might as well get back to camp. I’ll
bet they are wondering what has become of me,” he chuckled.
But which way should he go? Not until he was ready to start had it
occurred to him that there could be any question about so simple a
matter. He would simply go back the way he had come. But now, as he
paused and looked about, he was forced to admit to himself that he had
no idea as to the direction of the lake.
“I wonder if I’m lost,” he thought.
He remembered now how many times the boys had warned him how easily a
man could get lost in the big Maine woods. But he was not worried. He
would, of course, find his way out in a short time. It would at the most
mean only a few hours’ delay.
“I’ll go in a straight line till I run across a brook, and then all I’ll
have to do will be to follow it to the lake, and then follow the lake
round to the camp,” he told himself as he started off.
He pushed his way through the woods as rapidly as possible, for he
wanted to get back without any unnecessary delay. But he came to no
stream, and after more than an hour had passed, he decided to take
another short rest.
He again sat down on a fallen tree trunk.
“Brooks don’t seem to be as thick up here as I thought they were,” he
said to himself, as he took his jack knife from his pocket.
It had long been a habit with Rex to carve his initials on the trunk of
a tree whenever he was in the woods, and now he started to do it almost
without thinking. He had cut an R through the bark close to his side,
when he happened to raise his eyes to meet the log a little farther
toward the end. There, only a few feet from where he sat, were some
initials cut in the bark. He moved over so that he could read them. His
eyes opened wide with astonishment as he saw R. D. in large letters.
“It’s sure a wonderful coincidence that another fellow having my
initials should cut them on this very same tree,” he thought. “Don’t
look as though they had been cut very long, either,” he muttered, as he
moved over to examine the marks closer.
Then suddenly the truth came to him. They were the marks he had cut only
an hour or two before.
“And that means that I’ve been traveling round in a circle and have come
back to where I started,” he muttered. “Now what do you know about
that?”
He remembered then that he had heard that a person lost in the woods is
very apt to walk in a circle, owing to the tendency to take a slightly
longer step with the right foot than with the left.
“Right back where I started from,” he mused, as he stared at the
letters. “How the dickens is a fellow going to keep a straight line? If
the sun would only come out from behind those clouds I might go by it,
but it doesn’t look as though it had any intention of doing it. Well,
here goes for another try at it. I may be back later,” he grinned as he
looked again at the log.
Starting off in the same direction that he had taken before, he picked
out a tree as far away as he could see through the thick woods and made
his way to it.
“I’ve come straight so far at least,” he smiled, as he leaned against
the tree and with his eye picked out another for his second goal.
In this way he kept on for what seemed to him a long time. He kept
looking about half expecting to find himself back where he started from
a second time. But as the time passed and he saw no sign of the fallen
tree he began to take heart.
“I really believe I’m going straight this time,” he told himself.
It was nearly noon and he knew that he must have gone many miles before
he thought of being hungry. But now the thought came to him with
striking force. He remembered that he had eaten nothing since the night
before and, as he expressed it, he felt empty clear down to his toes.
CHAPTER VII.
REX ENCOUNTERS WILD CATS.
Bob was the first to get back to the camp. He had, in the three hours,
covered nearly ten miles, he thought. He had called Rex’s name till he
was hoarse, but only the echo of the forest had answered him.
“Hope one of the others has had better luck,” he thought as he
reluctantly turned back.
It was nearly eleven o’clock when he got back, and he was somewhat
surprised to find that neither Jack or Kernertok had returned.
Jack, however, was only a few minutes later and Kernertok, with Sicum
following close to his heels, came just before half past eleven. All
reported the same. No trace of Rex had been found.
“This is a serious matter,” Bob declared. “It isn’t as if he were used
to the woods. Any one of us could live almost indefinitely in the woods,
but it’s altogether different with a fellow who doesn’t know the ropes,
so to speak.”
“Heap bad,” Kernertok shook his head.
“If only Sicum was all right, we’d have found him long before this,”
Jack declared.
“No doubt about that,” Bob agreed. “But that doesn’t help just now. The
big question is what are we going to do next?”
“Did he have a revolver with him?” Jack asked.
“I’m pretty sure he didn’t,” Bob replied.
“I reckon he didn’t or we’d have heard him shooting before this.”
“What gets me is where he could have gotten to in so short a time,” Bob
mused.
“You don’t suppose that thing that made those tracks has carried him
off, do you?”
“Reckon I’d have heard him yell if anything had attacked him,” Bob shook
his head, but Jack knew from his expression that the thought had been in
his mind.
“White boys stay here an’ Injun go out again,” Kernertok suggested.
“Not much,” Bob replied quickly. “We’ll get dinner and then we’ll all
have another try at it and this time we must hunt till we find him.”
“You said something,” Jack agreed.
“Heap good,” Kernertok added.
They made short work of dinner and by twelve o’clock they were ready to
start off once more.
“White boys be careful no get lost,” Kernertok warned them.
“We’ll be all right,” both assured him.
“Now we must go slow and really hunt this time,” Bob said as they were
about to start. “We must have passed him somewhere the other time. He
couldn’t have gotten so far as we went in the short start he had.”
“Doesn’t seem likely for a fact.”
Each of the three took with him a small amount of food, not so much for
himself, but they knew that Rex would be nearly starved when he was
found. Not one of them had admitted even to himself that there was a
possibility of never finding him.
“Well, so long and good luck,” Bob waved his hand as he disappeared in
the woods.
“Here’s hoping,” Jack called back.
“We find um,” Kernertok encouraged them.
Each had taken the same direction as he had on the first trip, judging
that they would save a little time, having gone over the ground before.
It was just four o’clock when Rex finally came to a brook.
“Now I’ve got something to go by,” he told himself as he knelt down and
drank for a long time. It was the first water he had found and his
throat was nearly parched. He had hoped that he would find some berries
of some kind, but had not, and he was beginning to feel weak from lack
of food.
The cold water refreshed him somewhat, and after a short rest he started
to follow the brook. It was a very crooked stream and the underbrush and
bushes were thick along its banks, so that his progress was slow. But he
did not dare to try any short cuts, as he feared he might lose it. It
had been cloudy all day and darkness came on early.
“Guess I won’t be able to reach the lake to-day,” he panted, as he
stumbled and fell headlong over a stick. “Guess one place is as good as
another to camp and I’m going to stop right here. My but I’d give a lot
for something to eat,” he muttered, as he picked himself up.
Only a few feet to his right was a thick clump of cedars, and he was
moving toward it, thinking it would be a good place for a bed, when an
ear-splitting yell made him jump back with a suddenness, which caused
him to strike his heel on a stick and send him sprawling on his back. In
falling his head struck a rock and for a moment he lay half stunned.
Another yell from the clump of cedars brought him to his senses and he
slowly got to his knees.
“I’ll bet there’s no fake about that wild cat,” he thought, rubbing the
back of his head.
Bob had told him that a wild cat will seldom attack a man unless it is
cornered, but if there should be two of them together they will
sometimes take the initiative. All this passed through his mind as he
was getting to his feet. He stood for a moment, his head still reeling
from the contact with the stone. Another fierce shriek sent him rushing
away toward the brook. He fancied that the last yell differed somewhat
from the others, indicating that there were two cats in that clump of
cedars.
“All right kitty-cat. You got there first, and I have no intention of
turning you out of your bed,” he said as he reached the brook and
crossed over to the other side. Somehow he felt safer with the brook
between him and the cat.
In spite of the rapidly increasing darkness, he stumbled along down the
stream, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself
and the wild cat. Many times he fell headlong as his foot tripped on a
root or hit against a stone. He stopped and listened every few minutes
to determine whether or not the cat was following him.
“I don’t suppose I could hear it if it was,” he thought.
In a short time it grew so dark that he was obliged to stop whether or
no. He thought that he had come at least a half mile from the clump of
cedars. He had not heard the yell again and hoped that the cat had not
followed him.
“I never knew what it was to be really hungry,” he thought as he drank
once more from the brook.
Climbing up the steep bank, which at this point was about eight feet
high, he groped his way about until he felt an open space at the foot of
a large tree. The ground was hard, but he did not mind it, as he
stretched himself out at full length.
Fortunately the night was warm and he did not suffer from the cold. His
head ached slightly from the blow he had received, but he was asleep
almost at once.
It was still dark when he awoke, and for some minutes he lay trying to
make out where he was. Then as memory returned he raised himself on one
elbow and looked about him. It was very dark and he could hardly see his
hand before his face. He was about to sink back again when a slight
rustle to his right caught his ear. He turned his head and the next
moment his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. There, not ten feet from
where he lay, he saw two balls of greenish fire. They were about four
feet from the ground and his horror increased as he saw the next moment
two more similar balls a few feet to the left of the first pair.
“There are two of them and they have followed me,” he thought.
It would be hard to find a more ferocious animal for its size than the
wild cat of northern Maine. Growing often to a weight of forty pounds,
their long claws are like needles and pitted against an unarmed man the
latter is almost helpless against their furious clawing and biting.
As he lay there too unnerved to think, suddenly one of the cats gave a
blood-curdling yell, and before it had died out the other joined in.
Galvanized into action he started to get to his feet, and as he did so
his hands touched a rock about the size of his fist. Hardly realizing
what he was doing he picked it up and, taking hasty aim, threw it with
all his might at the nearer pair of eyes. He did not wait to see what
the effect of his throw might be, but turned and ran toward the brook.
Another, and if possible, a more terrifying shriek followed him as he
fled. He did not realize how near he was to the bank, and before he
could stop himself he was rolling over and over, landing somewhat
bruised, but otherwise unhurt in about two feet of water. He scrambled
to his feet and, shaking the water from his eyes, for his head had gone
completely under, started to wade to the opposite bank. The stream at
this point was about twelve feet wide, with a rocky bottom.
He had gotten about half way across when he felt with his outstretched
hands a large rock just in front of him. Quickly he clambered up onto
it.
“Reckon I’d better anchor here awhile till I get the lay of the
situation,” he thought. “I don’t believe those cats will swim for the
sake of sampling me.”
Another shriek interrupted his thoughts, and looking toward the shore he
could again see the balls of fire.
Sitting on the rock in his wet clothes was anything but comfortable, but
under the circumstances Rex felt very well satisfied with the situation.
“I’d a whole lot rather be wet than clawed into ribbons,” he told
himself.
Soon the pair of eyes were joined by the second pair, and the two big
cats whined as if they realized that they had, for the time being at
least, lost the game.
The weather had turned slightly colder during the night and Rex shivered
as he crouched on his perch.
“Pretty pussy,” he called. “Sorry to disappoint you, but safety first,
you know.”
While he felt that he was safe for the time at least, his position was
anything but comfortable. The rock was barely large enough for him to
sit on and he did not dare leave it. In his wet clothes his teeth
chattered with the cold, although it was not what he would have called a
cold night under ordinary circumstances. Water must have gotten into his
watch when he went under, for it had stopped, and he had no way of
telling the time.
“Not that it would have made much difference,” he told himself as he
held the watch to his ear. “Every match that I’ve got is as wet as I
am.”
From time to time, first one of the cats and then the other would
shatter the silence with its agonizing yell.
Rex wondered with a great deal of anxiety if they would go away with the
coming of daylight. He had heard that the wild cat did most of its
hunting during the night, but, as he told himself, he was not at all
certain that they kept union hours.
“It seems to me that with all the rabbits and other small animals
running around here you fellows ought to be able to keep from starving
without serving me up. Guess you don’t know how tough I am,” he told the
cats, and was answered by an angry snarl.
“Don’t agree with me, eh? Well, we won’t argue the question. I suppose
we have different points of view on the subject, but I do wish that we
could arbitrate.”
Slowly the time passed, although he had no way of telling just how
slowly. But it seemed almost an eternity before he noticed the first
hint of the coming dawn. So slowly as to be almost imperceptible the
darkness began to lift, and he knew that day was at hand. Would the cats
give it up and go? That was the question which he asked himself over and
over again.
“If they don’t, I guess I’ll have to close with them and have it out.
The winner can eat the victim. No use of all of us starving,” he said
half aloud.
Soon he was able to make out the form of one of the cats as it paced
back and forth close to the water’s edge. He was surprised at the size
of the beast.
“Gee, I didn’t know you grew that big,” he said. “Guess I’ll have to
revise my last statement. You can stare as long as you like, so far as
I’m concerned.”
Only the one cat was in sight and he concluded that the other must have
given up and gone off.
“Mebby he’s gone to get breakfast for his companion,” he thought. “And
that reminds me that I haven’t had mine yet. Ugly as you look, kittie, I
don’t believe you want to eat me a bit more than I want to eat you. Wish
I had a fish line along,” he thought, feeling through his pockets
without success. “I believe I could relish a trout raw. But I don’t
suppose they’d take a hook without any bait on it even if I had one.”
As soon as it was light enough for him to see distinctly he determined
to wade down the brook—cat or no cat.
“Might as well take a chance as to stay here and starve,” he thought as
he let himself down from the rock into the water, which came a little
above his knees.
The cat, seeing him move, gave an angry snarl.
“Can’t help it if you don’t like it, pussy. You can’t have everything
your own way in this cold world.”
He found that he could make fairly good progress and keep to the middle
of the stream. In places there were rocks where he could leap from one
to the other for some distance. Again he would have to wade, at times
nearly to his waist. The big cat followed him along the bank, snarling
and at times giving its yell.
“There’s no use getting so mad about it, kitty,” he told him as he
paused waist-deep in the water. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I
didn’t ask you to come along. Why don’t you run along home if you don’t
like it? I won’t be lonesome without you. In fact, I’d rather you would
go.”
But for along time the cat evidenced no intention of giving up. Rex
estimated that he had jumped and waded for all of two miles, and the cat
seemed as determined as ever.
“Believe I’ll try taking the offensive,” he thought, as he came to a
shallow place near the middle of the stream.
He stooped down and picked up a rock about the size of his fist, and
with all the force he could muster, threw it. The rock caught the cat in
the side and bowled it over. But it was up in a second, snarling and
yelling.
“Take your base,” Rex shouted, as he stooped for another rock.
The cat was not more than seven feet away, and the second stone caught
it square on the nose. Without a sound, save for a lone whine, the cat
fell on its side and gave a few convulsive kicks and was still.
“Batter’s out,” Rex yelled, as he stood and watched the animal. “I
really believe I’ve killed it,” he mused a moment later, as the cat gave
no sign of life. “Now what do you know about that? Didn’t know I was
that good, but I guess the old wing hasn’t forgot how it used to strike
’em out.”
Convinced after some moments of watching that the cat was really dead,
he waded over and stood gazing at it.
“You’d never take a prize in a beauty show, but I’m sure glad I got you
instead of you getting me,” he muttered. “If I only had some way of
making a fire, I believe I’d sample you, ugly as you look, but I don’t
believe I can quite go you raw just yet. But that friend of yours had
better stay away, unless he wants to get sampled.”
With renewed courage he started off down the stream once more, after
pulling his belt up a couple of notches.
“Hope I find something to eat before this belt buckle meets itself,” he
grinned.
This time his hopes were realized, for he had gone not more than a
hundred yards when he came upon a raspberry patch. The bushes hung red
with the big, luscious berries, and his heart leaped for joy as he saw
them. It was characteristic of him that before eating a berry he knelt
down and whispered a brief but earnest prayer of thankfulness.
“I never knew that anything could taste so good,” he thought, as berry
followed berry into his mouth.
He ate as many as he dared, but far from what he wanted, knowing that it
would be dangerous to overload his stomach in its present condition.
Then he made, not without considerable difficulty, owing to his
inexperience, a basket of birch bark, which would hold several quarts.
This he filled in a short time, and after eating a few more, he again
set off down the stream.
As he trudged along he wondered that his friends had not found him, but
he failed to take into account the vastness of the forest and the fact
that sound waves, broken by the thickly growing trees, do not carry so
far in the woods as in the open.
From the position of the sun he judged it to be about noon, when he
suddenly emerged from the thick woods and found himself on the shore of
a lake.
“Now the big question is whether or not this is the right lake,” he
thought as he looked out upon its surface.
He fancied that it was not so large as the lake where they had camped
two nights before, but he could not be sure.
“Guess the only thing to do is to follow the shore around,” he mused, as
he sat down on a rock to eat his dinner of berries. “They are mighty
good, but not what you’d call filling, and as for variety, it reminds me
of the butcher who said he had pig, pork, hog and swine.”
He rested for an hour, knowing that it was necessary to conserve his
strength, and then started off to circle the lake. It was hard going
from the first, as the shore, in many places, was marshy and he had to
make long detours.
“Reckon it’ll take about a week at this rate,” he thought as he noticed
that the sun was getting low in the west.
He stopped to eat a few more of the berries and was about to start again
when he was electrified by a sound. It came from what seemed a great
distance. He was not sure that he had really heard the call. He realized
that it is easy to imagine that one hears his name called, so he waited
and listened. In a moment it came again, and this time he was sure that
it was no fancy.
“Hello-o-o-o,” he shouted at the top of his voice.
“Rex-x-x-x,” came back the answer.
“It’s Bob for a fact,” he exulted. “Here I am,” he called.
“Stay right where you are and I’ll find you.”
Rex sat down calling from time to time to guide his friend, and in about
fifteen minutes Bob came in view.
“Thank God, I’ve found you at last,” the latter cried as he grasped Rex
by the hand. “It’s sure been a long trail.”
“It has seemed so to me,” Rex assured him.
“Had anything to eat?”
“Only these,” and he held up the half-filled basket.
Bob quickly threw off his pack and in another moment they were both
eating sandwiches.
“Um, lapping good,” Rex declared as he reached for another.
“Better wait a bit before you tackle a second one,” Bob advised.
“All right. You’re the doctor, but I’ll tell you right now, that I could
eat all you can carry and then holler for more.”
“I don’t doubt it. But if you did I’d have you to carry in place of the
grub.”
The first pangs of hunger appeased, Rex told of his adventures.
“You say you killed that cat with a stone?” Bob asked when he had come
to that part of the narrative.
“Well, he seemed dead to me. Of course, if he had nine lives like
domestic cats, he may have eight left to enjoy, but I’m dead certain
that I deprived him of one of them.”
“Sometimes you think they’re killed when they’re only stunned. They sure
are tough customers, and whether they have nine lives or only one, they
certainly take a lot of killing. All I’ve got to say is that you were
mighty lucky.”
“Guess you’re right.”
“I’d rather run into a bear any day than one of those fellows when he is
on the war path.”
“I’ll leave them alone in the future if they’ll return the compliment,”
Rex assured him.
“Just a minute,” Bob said, “I forgot something,” and taking his revolver
from his pocket, he fired two shots close together.
“That’s the signal that you’re found,” he explained, as he fired twice
more. “Don’t know whether the others are near enough to hear ’em or not,
but it’s the best I can do.”
“Is this the lake we were on?”
“Not much. This is Priestly Lake.”
“How far away are we?”
“About ten miles, I should judge.”
“Can we make it to-day?”
“That’s up to you. We’ve got about three hours of daylight left.”
“Well, if you’ll let me have one more of those sandwiches I’ll make a
big stab at it.”
“All right. But you eat it slowly.”
“Which way would you say it is?” Bob asked as they were about to start.
Rex looked about a moment and then pointed.
“You’d have to go just twenty-five thousand miles in that direction to
get there,” Bob laughed.
“Then let’s go the other way by all means.”
They struck off through the forest. Bob, knowing that Rex was already
tired, set a slow pace. To tell the truth, he was pretty tired himself,
but he was more used to tramping through the woods. Still they made good
time and it was only partly dark when Bob announced that it was only
about a mile more to the camp.
“How you can find your way through these woods is a mystery to me,” Rex
panted, as they stopped for a short rest.
Bob laughed. “I guess it’s a kind of an instinct that one acquires after
a while, and then Kernertok has taught us a lot about it. You see, you
can always tell the points of the compass by the bark on the trees. I’ll
show you how to do it sometime.”
Neither Jack or the Indian had returned when at last, tired almost to
the point of exhaustion, they reached the camp. They had been in but a
short time, however, when Kernertok, followed by the dog, carrying his
tail between his legs, arrived. The old man looked very downcast at
first, but his stolid face lighted up as he caught sight of Rex.
“You find um, heap good,” he grunted.
The Indian did not seem at all tired, and he at once set about building
a fire. He would not listen to the boys’ offer to help, insisting that
they were “heap tired,” an accusation which they did not even try to
dispute.
“Injun have supper heap soon,” he promised as he hurried about his work.
“I do hope Jack isn’t lost,” Rex said anxiously, as he stretched on his
bed of spruce boughs.
“You needn’t worry any about him. He—”
Before he had time to finish the sentence the shrill call of the
whip-poor-will rang through the woods.
“There he is now. Listen!”
“Whooo! Whooo! Whooo!”
“I’d swear that was an owl if I didn’t see you do it,” Rex declared.
“Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!”
“Jack can beat me all to hollow when it comes to imitations, but that is
a signal we’ve had for a long time,” Bob told him.
It was only a few moments before Jack came trudging in and he gave a
loud whoop of joy as he caught sight of Rex.
CHAPTER VIII.
A MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE.
“Well, you sure did give us a good scare,” Jack declared, as he shook
his friend’s hand and threw himself down on the ground by his side.
“Tell us all about it.”
“Do you think that thing, whatever it was, knew that you were following
it?” he asked as soon as Rex had finished his story.
“I don’t know, but it made off through the woods mighty fast. That’s
what made me get so far away before I knew it.”
“You might not have been so far away at that,” Bob laughed. “You don’t
have to go very far in these woods to get lost if you’re not used to
them.”
“I’ll say you don’t,” Rex agreed, and then added: “Believe me, little
Rexie is going to stick close to the fireside after this until he learns
the ropes a bit better.”
They were all too tired to think of setting a watch that night.
“We’ll take a chance on it,” Bob declared. “But we’ll make it pretty
hard for anyone to get any of our things just the same.”
So as soon as supper was over they rearranged their beds in the form of
square, and piled all their supplies in the middle.
“Now Mr. Lalapaloosla has got to step over one of us in order to get
away with any of our stuff, and I don’t believe even he can do it
without waking at least one of us,” he declared, and Kernertok grunted
approval.
They were up with the first break of day and found that nothing had been
disturbed nor did a careful search disclose any additional tracks.
“I guess you scared him off,” Jack declared as they gathered about the
fire for breakfast.
Breaking camp as soon as possible, they started for the upper end of
Lake Umsaskis, which they reached about an hour later. Then, turning
slightly to the right, they entered a long narrow pond, which Bob
informed them was called Long Pond.
“And it looks as though it were well named,” Rex declared.
“When we get to the upper end of it we’ll enter the Allagash and then
it’s only about forty miles to the Little Umsaskis,” Bob told him.
It was nearly noon when they reached the upper end of the pond, and they
decided to land and eat dinner before starting down the river.
“We made one big mistake, Jack, when we started on this trip,” Bob said
while they were eating.
“Only one?” Jack smiled.
“Well, I’ve only thought of one so far.”
“All right, spring it.”
“We should have left one of the pocket phones at home and brought the
other with us.”
“What do you mean, phones?” Rex asked.
“Why, early in the summer we finished a couple of what we call pocket
radio phones,” Bob explained. “We had been working on them for some
time.”
“And let me tell you they came in mighty handy awhile ago.” Jack
interrupted, and he told Rex and the Indian about their trip along the
Canadian border in their search for liquor smugglers.
“And you didn’t bring them with you?” Rex asked.
“Oh, I brought them, but the trouble is that I brought both instead of
leaving one at home, so we could talk with the folks.”
As Bob was speaking he took the two cases out of his pack and explained
how they worked.
“Well, you boys do beat the bugs. And you never said a thing about it.
Why, it’s wonderful. Mebby we’ll have a chance to use them before we get
back.”
“Quien sabe,” Bob smiled.
The Allagash River flows from the upper end of Long Pond, nearly due
north. In places nearly an eighth of a mile wide, it narrows in others
to a small space through which the water rushes with the speed of an
express train.
They had just finished dinner and were about to clean up when suddenly
they heard a loud twang from a thicket near by, followed by a whirring
sound as a feathered arrow flew just over their heads and stuck
quivering in a white birch.
“What-do-you-know-about-that?” Jack gasped.
“I thought this was the twentieth century,” Rex whispered, as he gazed
fascinated at the arrow. “A bit lower and you’d have been scalped, Bob.”
Only Kernertok seemed for the moment to retain his wits. Hardly had the
arrow hit the tree than he leaped for the thicket whence it came. But
even his swiftness was too slow, for he could find no trace of the
shooter. For several minutes he beat about, but at length was forced to
acknowledge that whoever had been responsible for the shot had been too
quick for him.
Meanwhile Bob had noticed something peculiar about the arrow.
“Looks as though a piece of paper was wrapped about the end,” he
declared, as he got to his feet. “There is, too,” he said a moment
later, as he tried to pull the arrow from the tree.
So deep had the head of the arrow sunk into the tree that he broke it in
pulling it out.
“That’s too bad,” he muttered. “Would have liked to keep that for a
keepsake. Only time I ever had an arrow shot at me.”
“What does it say?” Jack asked impatiently.
“Just a minute and I’ll have it off.”
The slip of paper was tied tightly about the shank of the arrow with a
short length of waxed thread, and it took him some time to get it off.
“Why it isn’t paper at all,” he declared, as he unwrapped it. “It’s a
piece of white birch bark.”
“Any writing on it?” Jack asked impatiently.
“There’s something,” Bob replied as he smoothed the sheet of bark out.
“Well of all things.” Rex, who was peeping over Bob’s shoulders, made
the remark.
There was no writing on the bark, but, drawn with a bit of charcoal,
were a number of crude figures.
“You’d think this was back a hundred years ago,” Jack said, as he
studied the drawings.
Three figures, evidently intended to represent white boys and one
Indian, followed by a dog, were seen fleeing from a band of Indians. The
air was filled with flying arrows.
“It seems to be a fairly broad hint to say the least,” Bob said.
“Whoever did it sure knows how to come to the point,” Jack agreed.
“Let’s see what Kernertok thinks about it,” Rex suggested.
“Good idea.”
The old Indian studied the drawing intently for several minutes, then
handed it back shaking his head.
“What about it?” Bob asked.
“Injun no mak’ um.”
“You sure?”
“Heap sure.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Injun no mak’ many Injuns, mebby two, mebby three, no more.”
“Who did it then?” Jack asked.
“No can tell. Some white man.”
“Well, it’s dead sure that whoever did it wanted us to think that it was
Indians,” Bob declared.
“That heap so,” Kernertok agreed.
“It all seems to fit in,” Bob said slowly.
“Fit in what?” Jack asked.
“Why some one is trying to scare us away from here. First they tried it
with those tracks and then when that didn’t work they tried this
warning.”
“And do we scare?”
“We do not.”
“Not so you’d notice it,” Rex joined in.
“But we’ve got to be on our guard every minute,” Bob insisted. “What do
you say, Kernertok?”
“Must be heap sharp.”
“And then some,” Jack agreed.
“Well, it isn’t the first time we’ve been up against it and I guess we
can take care of ourselves fairly well,” Bob declared.
“I reckon,” Jack joined in.
“They say that variety is the spice of life,” Rex said. “If that’s
right, I’ll recommend Northern Maine to anyone who’s looking for spice.
There’s more of that article to the square inch up here than any place I
ever saw or heard of.”
“I guess you’re about right there,” Bob laughed. “But before we start, I
move we take a look about and see if we find out anything about who shot
that arrow.”
“I guess Kernertok made a pretty good search,” Jack said.
“Injun hunt quick. No look careful. We mak’ heap good look,” Kernertok
advised.
But although they searched for the better part of half an hour beyond
locating the place from which the arrow had been shot as indicated by a
few broken twigs, they found nothing to help them. There was no trace of
a trail to show in what direction the man had departed.
“He’s foxy all right,” Bob declared, as they gave up the search.
“Righto,” Jack agreed.
“Him heap good,” Kernertok added, shaking his head.
It was plain to the boys that the old man was worried. He always felt a
keen sense of responsibility when in the woods with his boys, although
he had great confidence in their ability to look out for themselves.
“Them most as good as Injun,” he had once told Mr. Golden.
“Rex, do you think that this business can have any connection with that
fellow who stole your money?” Bob asked.
Rex thought for some time before replying.
“That’s a pretty hard question to answer,” he said finally. “I do know
that he came from somewhere up here.”
“But would he have any way of knowing that we were after him?”
“That’s what I don’t know. You see, he must know more or less people
around here, and it’s possible that some one may have put him wise.”
“Well, it must be one of three things,” Bob declared after a moment’s
thought. “It’s either he or some of those whiskey runners who think we
are after them, or—”
“Or what?” Jack asked as he paused.
“Or a real lalapaloosla,” he said with a grin.
“Oh, rats,” Jack laughed.
“Mebby,” Bob replied.
“Mebby what?”
“What you said.”
“You know that you don’t believe in any lalapaloosla business,” Jack
said.
“Who said I did?” Bob smiled.
“You came pretty near to it,” Rex broke in, but Bob only laughed.
“Well, this isn’t getting us anywhere,” Jack said as he started toward
the canoe.
“Great Scott! Look at this, will you,” he shouted a moment later,
pointing to the canoe.
All rushed to where he was standing.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered,” Bob said, and Rex added:
“Of all things.”
“Him heap big cut,” Kernertok shook his head slowly, as he gazed at the
slit in the bottom of the canoe.
“Who could have done it?” Rex gasped.
“Same one who has done all the rest of this monkey business,” Jack
snapped angrily.
“You mean who shot that arrow?” Bob asked.
“Well, I hope there isn’t more than one party after us.”
“That’s a consummation devoutly to be desired,” Bob declared.
“This is no time for verboseness,” Jack told him, and Bob apologized.
“But when could he have done it?” he asked.
“While we were hunting for him back in the woods, of course,” Jack told
him.
“Of course,” Bob repeated. “We were big dunces not to have left one of
us to watch the canoe.”
“You said a mouthful,” Jack declared, adding: “Seems to me we’re always
locking the door after the horse is stolen.”
“You can’t think of everything,” Rex consoled.
“It beats me why he didn’t smash it all to pieces while he was about
it,” Bob mused.
“Perhaps he intended to, but didn’t have time,” Rex suggested.
“I think you hit it,” Jack told them. “See. Here’s the big cut and right
back of it is a little one. Looks as though he had just started on the
second one when he saw us and had to beat it. I’ll bet he intended to
cut it all up, so that it would be impossible to fix it.”
“That heap right,” Kernertok said sadly. “Him start to spoil boat.”
“Well, we can thank our lucky stars that we didn’t stay back there any
longer,” Bob said.
“And we mustn’t let this canoe out of our sight for a single minute
after this,” Jack added.
“We won’t,” Bob assured him.
They lifted the canoe from the water and carried it up the bank, where
they placed it bottom up. Kernertok at once went off in search of bark
and pitch, and, as there seemed nothing else to do, the boys threw
themselves on the ground to await his return.
“Guess we might as well get some trout for supper while we’re waiting,”
Jack said after a while.
“I’ll go with you if Bob don’t mind staying alone,” Rex said.
“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll watch the canoe and things,” Bob assured them.
Kernertok was gone longer than Bob expected and he was beginning to get
a bit uneasy when the Indian returned.
“Pitch heap few,” he explained his long absence. “Have to go heap long
ways before find.”
“Didn’t see any sign of anyone, did you?”
“No sign,” the Indian replied, as he set about the work of repairing the
canoe.
He had it nearly completed when Rex and Jack returned with a dozen
fair-sized trout.
“She be right in mornin’,” he assured them.
“Another half day lost,” Bob sighed.
“Never mind. We’re lucky to have the canoe at all,” Rex declared.
The afternoon, or what was left of it, passed slowly to the boys, eager
to be on their way. They arranged to keep watch by twos that night, Bob
and the Indian to take the first turn until twelve o’clock.
“And mind you, don’t go to taking any midnight strolls,” Bob cautioned
Rex as the latter said good-night and wrapped himself in his blanket.
“Don’t you believe it,” Rex assured him. “I’m going to stick closer than
any brother you ever saw.”
“You’d better,” Jack laughed.
It was a clear night, with a new moon, which, although it did not give
much light, relieved the intense darkness of the previous nights.
“It’s a whole lot better than nothing,” Bob told the Indian.
“Heap much,” Kernertok grunted.
Twelve o’clock came and nothing had happened.
“Reckon he or it or whatever it is knows we are on the watch and is
afraid to try anything,” Bob told the Indian as he started to call Jack
and Rex.
The moon had disappeared and it was very dark when the two latter came
on watch.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Bob cautioned, as he threw himself on his bed.
“Don’t you worry,” Jack assured him. “Nothing is going to get away with
any monkey shines to-night.”
Two o’clock came and they had heard no sound to alarm them. It was
almost three when a slight sound down close to the shore attracted
Jack’s attention.
“Did you hear it?” he asked, trying to pierce the darkness.
“Yep. Let’s make a rush for it.”
“Come on.”
Together they ran for the lake, some twenty feet distant.
“There it goes,” Rex cried.
“After it,” Jack echoed.
But, although they ran as fast as they dared in the darkness, the thing
had disappeared in the thick woods before they could reach it.
“Mebby it’s just as well at that,” Rex said as they paused at the edge
of the forest.
“What do you mean, just as well?”
“Well, if we had caught up with it we might have more than we could have
handled,” Rex said slowly.
“You may be right at that. Anyhow it’s no use running after it in the
dark. But wait till next time,” he shouted.
Was it fancy or did they hear a low cackling laugh float back to them
from the depths of the thick woods?
“What was it?” Rex asked.
“Never heard anything like it before,” Jack replied.
“And I hope I’ll never hear it again.”
“Did it look like the thing you chased the other night?”
“I guess so, but it was too dark to see much both times. All I could see
the other time was an indefinite shape.”
Bob and Kernertok were up as soon as it was light.
“Well, you’re all here I see,” Bob greeted them.
“Yes, and we came pretty near catching the lalapaloosla,” Rex said.
“How near?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I guess we really came about as near as the
Irishman did to selling his pig,” Rex laughed.
“How was that?” Jack asked.
“Pat had a pig to sell, and after a trip to town with it, he told a
friend that he came mighty near to selling it. His friend asked him the
same question that you asked me, and he replied, ‘Sure an’ I asked a
feller didn’t he want ter buy a foine pig, an’ he said no, but if he’d a
said yes, sure an’ I’d sold him.’”
“And if you’d caught it, why you’d have caught it, eh?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Rex laughed.
After a hurried breakfast Kernertok announced that the canoe was in good
shape for use, and packing up their stuff as quickly as possible, they
pushed off. There is but little current to the Allagash, as it runs out
of Long Pond, but with Bob and Kernertok at the paddles, they made good
time.
“It seems strange to be going down river and north at the same time,”
Rex said.
“Everything this side of Chamberlain Lake flows north and empties into
the St. John River,” Bob told him.
A paddle of about fifteen miles brought them to another small lake some
four miles long.
“What lake is this?” Rex asked.
“Pataquongamas Pond,” Bob replied.
“Pata who?”
“You pronounce the first syllable and then sneeze the rest,” Jack
laughed.
“Can you tell me why they give the smallest lakes up this way the
longest names?” Rex asked.
“It’s an Indian idea,” Bob told him. “They are great on big names.”
As they entered the pond, Rex, who had by this time acquired
considerable skill with the paddle, and Jack took their turn, and the
canoe shot out onto the pond in a fresh burst of speed.
“How long do you think you can keep that pace up?” Bob asked.
“Don’t know,” Rex laughed, “but we’re sure going while we do.”
“Well, look out that the friction doesn’t set the bottom of the canoe on
fire.”
“If it does, there’s plenty of water here to put it out,” Jack laughed.
Although it was not quite noon when they reached the end of the pond,
they decided to land for dinner before entering the river again.
“Now we don’t want to lose sight of the canoe for a single minute,” Bob
said, as he dragged it up onto the sandy beach.
“I move that one of us stays right here by it while the rest get
dinner,” Jack proposed.
To this plan all agreed and it was decided that Rex should be the one.
“Looks as though we were going to get a shower,” Jack said a little
later as they were eating dinner close by the shore. “How about it,
Kernertok?”
“Heap big rain coming,” the Indian replied, as he closely scanned the
sky. “Be here heap soon, too.”
For some time a dark bank of clouds had been gathering in the west and
even as the Indian spoke a low rumble of distant thunder was heard.
“Think we’d better wait till it’s over,” Bob asked him.
“Me think so. It coming heap big.”
“Guess he’s right,” Jack declared, as a louder rumble reached their
ears.
“And she’s coming mighty fast,” Bob added. “We’d better get the things
under cover as soon as we can.”
They quickly carried the canoe well up from the shore, and turning it
over, packed all their provisions beneath it.
“Here it comes,” Jack cried, as the big drops began to beat on the
bottom of the boat.
Before they could get beneath the boughs of a spruce tree near by, the
drops had changed to hail stones, many of them the size of a filbert
nut.
“Whow! Those fellows sting,” Rex shouted as he ran for the tree.
“They’re getting the heavy artillery into action up above,” Jack said,
as a sharp flash of lightning followed by a heavy crash of thunder
lighted up the sky.
Soon the hail changed back to rain, and the water fell almost in sheets.
“It’s a regular cloud burst,” Bob declared.
“And our roof’s beginning to leak,” Rex laughed, as a few drops of water
found their way down his back.
“Better speak to the landlord about it,” Jack advised.
Flash! Bang!
“Hit that tree right over there,” Bob said.
Flash! Bang!
“This is getting a bit too close for comfort,” Rex declared. “Hope it
doesn’t pick out our tree for a target.”
“Look at that buck down by the shore,” Jack cried. “Isn’t he a beauty?”
“Guess he’s wondering what it’s all about,” Rex declared.
They had seen so many deer that the appearance of one, unless a
particularly large one, hardly excited comment.
The storm passed almost as quickly as it had come up, and in another
half hour the sun was peeping through the clouds.
“Well, I guess the fireworks are over,” Bob said, as he stepped out from
beneath the tree.
White caps were running as they pushed off, and the spray flew over them
as they drove the canoe through the water.
“Might as well have stayed out in the rain as to get soaked after it’s
all over,” Jack grumbled.
“But this water isn’t so wet,” Bob laughed. “Guess I’ll have to take
that back,” he gasped a moment later, as the top of a big wave broke and
dumped itself in his lap.
But they were in the river in a few minutes and here the water was not
so rough.
“Life sure is getting mighty monotonous,” Jack declared a couple of
hours later. “Not a single adventure outside of the thunder storm all
day.”
“You must want a thrill a minute,” Rex laughed.
“You may have more excitement than you want before we get back,” Bob
reminded him.
The excitement began even sooner than he expected. It was only a few
minutes later, as they rounded a sharp bend, that they met another canoe
carrying three men. That they were half-breeds was evident from their
swarthy skins, and all three were much above the average man in size. So
sharp was the bend that the canoes were within a few feet of each other
before the occupants of either were aware of the others’ presence.
“You try heet us?” the man in the bow shouted angrily, as Bob dug his
paddle in the water and swung the end of his canoe round just in time to
avoid a collision.
“Certainly not,” he replied pleasantly.
“Eet look ver’ much like eet,” the man growled as he swung his canoe so
as to bring it close to the other.
“I don’t think so.”
“You mak’ call me liar, oui?”
“No. I’m simply trying to make you understand that I think you are
mistaken.”
“Me non mak’ meestake. Me all der time right.”
“All right, we’ll let it go at that,” Bob replied, anxious to avoid a
quarrel if possible.
“Whar you go?” the man, who appeared to be the spokesman of the three,
asked.
“Down the river.”
“For why?”
“That’s our business,” Bob replied a bit sharply, for the man’s attitude
was getting on his nerves.
“Mebby we mak’ heem our beesiness, oui?”
“Do as you please about that,” Bob snapped.
For a moment the man made no reply. One of his companions said something
to him in a tone so low that they were unable to hear. The man scowled
and asked:
“Mebby your name Golden, oui?”
“Mebby,” Bob repeated.
“I thot so. You better turn an’ geet back where you come from.”
“What for?” Jack asked, before Bob had time to speak.
“For cause me say so.”
“Afraid you’ll have to give us a better reason than that,” Bob said, as
he shook his head.
“You no go we mak’ you,” the man declared angrily.
It was plain to the boys that the man was a bully of a type common among
the half-breeds of northern Maine, and they could also see that he was
spoiling for a fight. They well knew that many of them had rather fight
than eat, especially when the odds were on their side.
“Better beat it,” Jack whispered.
“While the beating’s good, eh?”
“They’re ugly.”
“I know it and I guess your advice is good.”
As he spoke, Bob dug his paddle into the water and swung the bow of the
canoe away from the other. At the same time, Kernertok, who was in the
stern, sent it ahead. Two of the men in the other canoe reached out in
an effort to grasp hold of it as it shot past. So violent was their
motion that their canoe narrowly escaped capsizing, and it was only the
expert handling by the one who had done the talking that prevented it.
“Dig into it, Kernertok,” Bob cried.
“You make um think we scat,” Kernertok replied. “We go slow.”
“Kernertok’s right, Bob,” Jack broke in. “If they think we’re afraid of
them they’ll be more apt to follow us.”
“Guess you’re right, but they’re coming anyway,” Bob said glancing back
over his shoulder. “But we won’t run away from them. They’d probably
catch us if that’s their game.”
They paddled along at about their usual speed for a few minutes, when
Rex, who happened to be facing the rear, said:
“They’re not making any effort to catch us.”
“What are they doing?” Bob asked.
“Just keeping along about the same distance away.”
“What do you make of it, Kernertok?”
“Them heap bad mans.”
“No doubt about that, but what do you suppose they want with us?”
“Mebby steal.”
“I say, Bob,” Jack said suddenly, “how do you suppose that fellow knew
your name?”
“Ask me something easy. I never saw the fellow before, to the best of my
knowledge.”
“Well, it seems mighty strange that they should follow us. Their time
can’t be very valuable, or else they’re up to some kind of a game that
we aren’t in on.”
For some time the two canoes kept nearly the same distance apart, the
half-breeds making no effort to catch up with them.
CHAPTER IX.
BOB MEETS THE ENEMY.
“We’ve got to camp pretty soon,” Bob announced a little later, as it
began to get dark.
“What do you suppose those fellows will do when we stop?” Rex asked
anxiously.
“I reckon they’ll stop too,” Jack replied dryly.
“I don’t like it at all,” Bob shook his head.
“Him heap bad,” Kernertok agreed.
“Well, we might as well land as soon as we come to a good place,” Bob
declared. “They evidently intend to keep it up.”
“Don’t you think the four of us could handle them in a rough and
tumble?” Rex asked, as they paddled slowly along close to the shore.
“That all depends,” Bob replied slowly. “So far as brute strength is
concerned any one of them could probably handle two of us, but as a rule
they don’t know much about either boxing or wrestling.”
“And it’s a mighty good thing they don’t,” Jack broke in. “If some of
those fellows were properly trained they’d be world beaters.”
Just as Jack spoke Bob saw a good place to land, and a moment later the
canoe was pulled up on the bank. When they landed the other canoe was
about a hundred feet behind them, and they all waited anxiously to see
what the half-breeds would do. They were not left long in doubt, for no
sooner did the men see their intention than they headed for the same
place, and, a few minutes later, landed only a little distance below.
“Let me do the talking,” Bob said a moment later, as he saw that they
were coming toward them. “And don’t let them see that we have revolvers,
unless I give the word.”
The man who had done all the talking before was in the lead, and as soon
as he came near enough for the boys to see his face clearly, it was
evident that his temper had not improved.
“You no go back, non?” he snapped.
“It would be useless to deny it,” Bob answered with a smile, which
seemed to madden the man still more.
“You know me, oui?” he asked.
Bob looked at the man closely for a full minute before speaking.
“No. I don’t remember that I ever saw you before to-day.”
“My name Jacques Harbaugh.”
“Well?”
“You know mine broder, Pierre, oui.”
It was a statement rather than a question.
“I have met him, yes.”
“And you send heem to jail, you an’ dat oder kid dar.”
“Not guilty. He went to prison because he was smuggling whiskey.”
“But you catch heem.”
“I don’t deny that we were instrumental in having him arrested,” Bob
replied firmly.
“An’ you beeg sneak.”
“As you please about that. We all have a right to our opinion.”
“Me Jacques Harbaugh. Me beeg fighter. No mans ever leek me.”
“Interesting, if true,” Bob smiled.
“Me geeve you one beeg licking, oui.”
“That’s as may be,” Bob shrugged his shoulders.
“Me show you ver’ queek.”
“One moment,” Bob held up his hand and the man stopped. “We are all
armed and know how to protect ourselves. But we don’t want any more
trouble than is absolutely necessary. So if you must have a fight I’ll
fight you on the condition that the others keep hands off. How about
it?”
The big half-breed looked at Bob, as Jack afterward declared, in much
the same way that Goliath must have looked at David when the latter came
out with his little sling. He stepped back and spoke with his companions
for a moment and Bob could see that they were laughing as though at a
huge joke.
“All right. We fight. Them no touch.”
“Will they keep their word?” Rex whispered to Jack.
“No telling.”
“Can Bob handle that big brute?”
“I’ve seen him handle as big a proposition and get away with it, but you
never can tell. If this guy happens to know much about boxing, it’ll go
hard, but, as he said, not many of them do.”
Meanwhile Bob and the half-breed had been stripping off their coats.
“Me spoil dat face in one leetle minute,” Jacques taunted, as he stepped
forward.
“Well, it’s all ready for the spoiling,” Bob laughed in a way that
seemed to exasperate the half-breed, for he suddenly sprang forward and
aimed a vicious blow at Bob’s face.
So sudden was the movement that it all but caught the boy off his guard
and he felt the wind as the man’s fist shot by within an inch of his
nose. The man recovered his balance before Bob had time to get in a
blow.
“Nearly got me the first time,” he declared with a smile.
“For goodness sake be careful,” Jack cautioned.
He, as well as Bob, knew that should one of those sledge-hammer blows
land where it was aimed the fight would stop automatically. The
continuance depended on Bob’s ability to dodge them.
But he was on his guard now and Jack knew that he would not be caught
napping a second time. The man rushed again, almost at once and, from
the way he handled himself, Jack saw that he possessed little if any
knowledge of scientific boxing.
“Bob can handle him all right, barring an accident,” he whispered to
Rex.
This time the man had struck with even more force than at first, and the
momentum carried him off his balance. Before he could recover, Bob’s
right fist had landed just back of his right ear. A loud grunt, more of
astonishment than of pain, followed the blow. The bully stepped back a
pace and glanced at his followers as if to ask what it was all about.
“Go on an’ beat heem up,” cried one of them. “Heem’s only a kid.”
As if ashamed of his indecision the man rushed back to the attack, and
for a time Bob had all he could to do to protect himself from the
avalanche of blows which were showered at him. The man’s two arms were
working like piston rods, and so rapidly that the boy had no time to
even attempt to get in a blow.
“Hope he won’t be able to keep that up very long,” Jack whispered. “In
that kind of fighting there’s always a possibility of a blow landing and
one of those punches, if it is struck fair, would pretty near stop a
train of cars.”
“Him not got heap much wind,” Kernertok declared, as he caught the sound
of the man’s quick breathing.
“Why you no heet heem?” one of the other breeds shouted.
The man paused an instant.
“Why you no stand still an’ fight?” he sneered.
“This suits me,” Bob laughed. “Remember this is your fight.”
Again the man rushed and once more he had his hands full to protect
himself. But he knew that the harder the man worked the sooner would
come the time when he could force the fighting. “Safety first,” he
thought, as he dodged about.
“Bob’s tiring him out,” Jack whispered, as he listened to the heavy
breathing.
But the next second he gave a gasp of fear. In backing away from a
vicious rush Bob’s heel had struck a root, and before he could recover
his balance, a blow had caught him on the chin and over he went.
A shout of encouragement came from the two half-breeds.
“Bon boy, Jacques! Jump on heem queek. You got heem.”
But fortunately Bob’s chin had been too far away to catch more than a
small fraction of the force of the blow, and he was not even dazed.
However, the breed was quick to take advantage of his opportunity, and
before Bob could scramble to his feet he was upon him.
Bob knew that his only chance now depended on his ability to prevent the
man from getting a hold. It required quick work, for the breed proved to
be better at wrestling than at boxing. Throwing himself upon the boy he
wrapped his arms about him in a hold that Bob had all he could do to
break. It was fortunate indeed for him that he knew nearly all the
important holds. Once the man got a grip on his neck, but it was quickly
broken and, exerting all his strength and skill, Bob managed to roll the
man over until he was on top. In another second he was on his feet.
“Good boy, Bob!” Jack shouted, jumping about in his excitement.
“Heap some boy,” Kernertok grunted.
“I’ll say he is,” Rex agreed.
The breed, angered anew at the failure of his attempt, got more slowly
to his feet, and for a moment stood scowling at Bob. He was breathing
hard, and it was evident to the boy that he was not in the best of
physical condition. The easy life of the summer had softened his
muscles, and twenty or more pounds of surplus fat had shortened his
wind.
“Me geet you this time,” he shouted, as he started toward him.
Evidently realizing that he was not in Bob’s class when it came to
boxing, he had decided to change his tactics and made a lunge at him
with outstretched arms. Bob had little difficulty in eluding the grasp,
and succeeded in placing a stiff punch on his nose. The breed started
back with a grunt of pain and surprise, as the red blood gushed from his
nostrils.
“First blood for Bob!” Jack shouted.
“Me keel you for dat,” the man shouted, now maddened beyond control.
“Look out for his foot!” Jack shouted.
But Bob was on the watch for just that move, and as the breed kicked, he
stepped back and caught the foot as it was at its highest point. The man
fell on his back, the wind knocked entirely out of his body.
At that moment one of the other breeds stepped forward.
“You keep out of this,” Jack said sternly, as he drew his automatic from
his pocket.
On seeing the gun the breed stepped quickly back.
“This was to be a fair fight with no interference,” Jack told him.
For a minute or two the fighter lay writhing on the ground in an effort
to regain his breath. As he struggled to his feet a look of astonishment
mingled with one of fear was on his face. He could not understand why
Bob had not finished him when he had him helpless.
“Had enough?” Bob asked pleasantly.
The man glanced at his companions and then at the automatic in Jack’s
hand.
“I’ll put the gun back,” Jack said quickly, as he caught the glance.
“There will be no use made of it so long as your friends play fair.”
“How about it?” Bob asked again.
The man still hesitated.
“Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
But the fall had knocked the fight as well as the wind out of the bully,
and muttering something which the boys failed to catch, he slouched off
toward his canoe, followed by the other two.
“Did he hurt you any?” Jack asked anxiously, as soon as they were out of
hearing.
“Nary a scratch,” Bob laughed, as he drew on his coat.
“Well, you’ve got about the biggest nerve I ever saw,” Rex declared, as
he held out his hand.
“It’s not so much nerve as you think,” Bob explained. “You see, these
fellows don’t know how to use their strength when it comes to fighting
along scientific lines. Most all of them rely entirely on their
strength, and a fellow who knows the rules can handle them easily
enough.”
“It listens good the way you say it,” Rex declared, shaking his head,
“but excuse me, and I know a little about boxing myself.”
“You could handle one of them,” Bob assured him, but Rex again shook his
head.
“Just the same I hope we’ve seen the last of them,” he said, as he
watched the three men shove off their canoe and paddle slowly away up
the river.
“That is a consummation devoutly to be desired,” Bob said slowly, “but
I’m very much afraid that—”
“That the consummation won’t be consummated,” Jack interrupted.
“Don’t you know that it is very impolite for small boys to interrupt
their elders,” Bob turned to his brother with a look of mock severity on
his face. “How many times have I told you that children should be seen
and not heard?”
“You mean you think they’ll come back?” Rex asked anxiously.
“Mebby,” Bob nodded.
“To-night?”
“Quien Sabe?”
“Seems to me there are several loose ends to this problem,” Jack
declared some time later, as supper, having been finished, they sat
around the camp fire.
“Meaning?” Rex asked.
“Well, in the first place we’re not at all sure that the guy we’re after
is within a thousand miles of here. Then there’s that funny business of
the big tracks, the likes of which no mortal man ever saw before, and
the stealing of the rifle. And now those breeds are to be reckoned with.
The big question is whether they just happened to meet us or had been
after us.”
“Is that all?” Bob smiled.
“I should think that was enough.”
“Mebby.”
“Mebby what?” Jack asked.
“Oh, just mebby,” Bob laughed.
“Well, it seems that eternal vigilance is the price of safety up here on
this trip, so I suppose it means that we keep watch again to-night, eh?”
Rex asked, as he threw more wood on the fire.
“Right you are, son,” Bob replied.
But the night passed without incident, so far as they were aware. Again
they watched by twos, but in spite of all their care the now familiar
tracks were once more to be seen on the bank of the river in the
morning.
“What-do-you-know-about-that?” Jack asked, as he gazed at the imprints.
“I’d take my oath that nothing moved round here while I was on watch.”
“How’s Sicum?” Bob turned to the Indian as he asked the question.
“Sicum, him big fool dog yet.”
“But he’s getting better, isn’t he?”
“Some, but heap slow.”
“Suppose he’d track that thing?”
Kernertok shook his head: “We try um. Here, Sicum, you smell um track.”
But the dog only whined, and with his tail between his legs, slunk away
from the tracks.
“Never mind, old fellow. We understand that it isn’t your fault,” and
Bob, kneeling down, took the dog’s head between his hands and looked
into his eyes.
The dog whined and eagerly licked his hand, as if fully appreciating the
sympathy.
“He’ll come around in time,” Bob assured them. “Remember, he saved our
lives once,” he added with a glance toward Jack.
“And he deserves our thanks and care if he never does another thing so
long as he lives,” Jack declared, but Kernertok only shook his head
sadly.
It was midafternoon when Rex, who at the time, was paddling in the bow,
lifted his paddle and asked:
“What’s that roaring noise?”
“Him heap big falls,” Kernertok replied.
“Can we shoot them?”
“No. Have mak’ carry.”
The boys noticed that for some time the current had been growing swifter
as the river narrowed. The banks on either side were very steep and from
ten to thirty feet high.
“We land right round this curve,” Kernertok told them, as they
approached a sharp bend in the river. “No other place before falls.”
“Which side?” Rex shouted.
“Right.”
As the canoe swept around the bend it was traveling at a speed of some
fifteen miles or more an hour. The roar of the falls could now be
plainly heard. Rex caught sight of the landing place, a narrow strip of
sand between two large rocks, and dug his paddle into the water to turn
the bow toward it. How it happened, he could never tell, but the paddle
slipped from his hands just as he had the canoe headed for the shore. He
made a frantic effort to recover it, nearly upsetting the boat, but the
swift water whirled it away.
So quickly did it happen that the canoe swung around parallel with the
shore before Jack, who was in the stern, realized what had happened.
“Dig into her, Jack boy,” Bob shouted.
But even as he spoke they all heard a loud snap above the rush of the
water. Bob turned his head, his heart in his throat. Jack’s face was as
white as chalk, as he held up the end of the broken paddle.
“God help us!” Bob groaned.
The canoe was nearly in the middle of the stream, which at this point is
about sixty feet wide, and now was rushing with the speed of a race
horse toward the falls, not more than a hundred rods away.
“Shall we try to swim it?” Rex shouted in a voice which was strangely
calm.
“No can do,” Kernertok shouted back.
The boys realized the truth of the statement, as they glanced down at
the swirling water.
“I wonder if this is the end,” Bob thought, as he gripped the sides of
the canoe.
“Do we have a chance, Kernertok?” Jack shouted.
“God know,” the old Indian answered, so low that only Bob caught the
words.
“Cling on tight,” Bob shouted, as the bow seemed to pause on the very
brink of the falls where the water fell to the pool some twelve feet
below.
So rapidly were they moving that the canoe seemed fairly to shoot off
the top of the falls before it fell. Then down it dropped like a stone.
As the canoe hit the water, Bob, who was sitting in the middle, tried to
keep it on an even keel, but the weight carried it beneath the surface.
As the water closed over his head he kicked himself free and struck out.
But some unseen force seemed to be pulling him down. Struggle as he
might, it seemed impossible to shake off the grip of the whirlpool. But
with dogged determination he fought and finally, just as it seemed as
though his lungs seemed on the point of bursting, his head emerged from
the water. Shaking the water from his eyes he glanced about him. He was
only a few feet from the rocky shore, and in another minute his feet
touched bottom. He was safe, but where were the others?
He stood waist deep in the water gazing over the surface of the pool.
Was that a head over there close under the falls? As he watched the
object moved slowly and soon the form of the Indian rose from the water.
“Me on heap big rock,” he shouted as he caught sight of Bob.
“Where’s Jack and Rex?” Bob shouted back.
“Me no see um.”
“I’m all right,” a voice shouted from the opposite side.
It was Rex, and he waved his arms as he caught sight of Bob.
“Seen Jack?” Bob shouted at the top of his voice.
“No; haven’t you?”
Before Bob could answer Kernertok pointed down the stream. Bob followed
his gesture and saw, some twenty feet from where he was standing, a
small object moving slowly through the water.
“It’s Sicum,” he shouted.
“Him got something in him mouth,” Kernertok cried, still pointing.
Bob could see that the dog was tugging at something, and he quickly
waded down to meet him.
“He’s got Jack,” he gasped as he reached the struggling dog.
Bob saw at once that his brother was unconscious, and fear that he might
be dead gripped his heart as he laid him tenderly down on the sand.
Blood was oozing from a cut at the back of the head, and Bob shuddered
as he knelt and placed his ear over the heart.
“Don’t tell me that he’s dead,” Rex, who had crossed over some rocks a
short distance below the falls, cried as he came running up.
“I—I can’t feel his heart beat,” Bob groaned, as he turned the boy over
onto his stomach.
“Him hurt heap bad?” Kernertok panted, as he joined them.
“I’m afraid so,” Bob replied, as he placed his hands beneath Jack’s body
and slowly raised him up.
A quantity of water ran from the boy’s mouth, and Bob repeated the
movement as long as there was any result. Then turning him onto his back
he said, “Now we’ll have to try artificial respiration. If we only had a
pulmotor.”
Slowly he raised and lowered his arms, but the boy lay as dead. Rex and
Kernertok stood with bowed heads, watching for the first sign of
returning life.
“Come, Jack boy, you must come,” Bob repeated over and over again, as he
continued the movement.
His heart began to grow faint when fully half an hour had passed, and
still the boy gave no sign of life.
“I won’t give up,” Bob declared over and over, as he redoubled his
efforts. “God won’t let him die.”
Rex had several times tried to make Bob let him relieve him, but he
steadily refused and he could only kneel by his side and watch his face
and pray.
“He’s coming, Bob,” he whispered suddenly, as he noticed a faint tinge
of color in the boy’s cheeks. “Easy now.”
Rex placed his ear on Jack’s breast.
“He’s breathing,” he announced, as he raised his head.
“Thank God,” Bob cried, as he began the movements again. “Where’s
Kernertok?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him for some time, but I didn’t notice it.”
“It’s funny where he’s gone.”
The color in Jack’s cheeks slowly increased, and his breathing became
deeper and more regular. Soon his eyes opened and he groaned.
“Jack boy,” Bob cried.
“Bob.”
The whisper was so faint that Bob hardly heard it, but never had any
sound seemed sweeter.
At that moment Kernertok emerged from the deep woods behind them. He was
rubbing something in his hands as he ran towards them.
“Him heap better?”
“Yes, thank God, he’s come to,” Bob replied.
“Heap good,” the Indian bowed his head and the boys saw his lips move.
Soon Jack again opened his eyes and smiled as he glanced about him.
“White boy chew,” Kernertok ordered, as he knelt beside him and forced
something between his teeth. “Injun had heap big hunt before find it,”
he said, looking up at Bob.
At first Jack’s jaws moved but slowly, but as his strength began to
return, he chewed faster.
“That heap good,” the Indian declared, as he put more of the crushed
leaves in the boy’s mouth.
Rex was astonished at the rapidity of Jack’s recovery, but Bob, who knew
something of the medicine which Kernertok had found, took it more as a
matter of course. It was not long before Jack was able to sit up.
“How’d I get out?” he asked.
“If it hadn’t been for Sicum—” Bob began, but Rex interrupted him.
“Look at the dog,” he cried.
Sicum stood a few feet away wagging his tail violently, a thing he had
not done since he had been beaten. It was the first time Bob had thought
of the dog, and now he sprang toward him, and taking his shaggy head in
his arms, he hugged him to his breast. Sicum accepted the caress with a
low whine.
“Good old boy,” Bob whispered. “If it hadn’t been for you Jack would
have been a goner for sure that time.”
Sicum wagged his tail as much as to say he understood.
Jack’s recovery was rapid, and they found that the cut on his head was
slight, although it bled freely for a time.
“I remember feeling a bang on the back of my head just after I went
under, and that was the last I knew until I saw you bending over me,”
Jack told them. “But who pulled me out?”
“Your rescuer is standing there wagging his tail,” Bob told him,
pointing to the dog.
“You mean he pulled me out?”
“Just that.”
“And in saving your life, I really believe he has gotten back his old
self again,” Rex added.
“Jimminy crickets, but I’ll bet you’re right,” Jack declared. “Just look
at him.”
It was a fact that the dog had lost all sign of his recent behavior, and
as Jack spoke to him he bounded to him and nearly knocked him over in
his eagerness.
“Good old fellow,” Jack said, as he patted his head. “Perhaps I’ll be
able to return the compliment some day.”
“Wonder what’s become of the canoe,” Rex said.
“That’s so; first I’ve thought of it,” Bob added.
They all looked about the pool beneath the falls, but no canoe in sight.
“Would it stay down?” Rex asked.
“Not likely,” Bob replied.
“Her no stay down, no get caught on rock,” Kernertok confirmed Bob’s
opinion.
“What’s that sticking up just around that point?” Rex asked, pointing to
a place a little below them, where a point of land jutted out into the
stream.
“Wait a minute and I’ll see,” Bob said, as he started toward the point.
“Here she is—what is left of her,” he shouted a moment later.
All except Jack, who was still too weak to move around much, hurried to
the place. It was evident that the canoe, having risen to the surface,
had been carried down until, caught in the little eddy, it had been
whirled onto a sharp pointed rock, which had pierced the bottom near the
bow. It was out several feet from the shore.
“Just a minute and I’ll have her in,” Bob said, as he waded out into the
stream.
“I don’t think she’s damaged so much after all,” he said, as he pulled
it up onto the shore. “But every bit of our stuff is gone.”
“That heap bad,” Kernertok shook his head sadly.
“I’ll say it is,” Bob agreed. “Here we are, miles from nowhere and
nothing to eat. Oh, we won’t starve,” he added quickly, as he saw the
look of alarm on Rex’s face.
“Suppose we look around and see if we can’t find some of the stuff,” the
latter proposed.
“Afraid it’s not much use, but we’ll try.”
But although they hunted for some distance down the stream on both
banks, they found nothing.
“That whirlpool at the foot of the falls has probably held it down as I
thought,” Bob said ruefully. “I suppose it was knocked out of the canoe
when it struck. If it hadn’t been it might have held the canoe down
too.”
“No loss without some gain,” Rex declared, trying to speak cheerfully.
They lifted the canoe from the water and carried it back to where they
had left Jack.
“Guess you’ll get a taste of real roughing it,” Bob said to Rex, as they
placed the canoe on the ground bottom up.
“Reckon I can stand it if the rest of you can,” Rex smiled.
“You’re game all right,” Bob assured him.
“Let’s take an account of stock and see what we’ve got,” Jack proposed.
“That heap good,” Kernertok nodded his head. “Mebby we got much, mebby
not.”
“I’m afraid the mebby not has it,” Bob said a moment later, after they
had all searched through their pockets. “Still it might be worse.”
Each of them had a jack knife and Kernertok a small hatchet, which he
usually carried strapped in his belt. The boys had their automatics, but
all the ammunition save what was in the guns was lost. Bob had a
water-proof match-safe containing a dozen matches and Jack found a short
fish line and three hooks. That was all that they felt would be of any
help to them.
“Well, if Jack Knowles could live six weeks in the Maine woods with
absolutely nothing but his bare hands to depend on, I reckon we’ll make
out,” Bob declared optimistically.
“It’s a cinch,” Jack agreed.
“Whatever you say goes here,” Rex added.
It was decided that Kernertok should set to work at once repairing the
canoe.
“How about paddles?” Rex asked.
“Injun make um,” Kernertok assured him.
“It looks as though there might be some raspberries over there on the
other side,” Bob pointed to a small clump of bushes a short distance
back from the edge of the river. “If you’ll make a birch bark basket and
see if you can find any I’ll see what I can do with this fish line.”
“Righto.”
“And what am I to do?” Jack asked.
“You lay right where you are for the present,” Bob commanded.
In spite of his protests that he was all right, neither Bob or Rex would
hear to his attempting to do any work, and after some argument he agreed
to wait till he was stronger.
“It’s all bosh though,” he growled, as he leaned back against a tree and
threw his arms about Sicum.
Rex went off in search of a birch tree and Bob after cutting a stout
alder pole and fastening the line to it, began to dig under a stone,
which he turned over, for angle worms. He had nothing but a stick with
which to dig and the worms were, as he told himself, scarcer than hens’
teeth. But after nearly a half hour of persistent work he succeeded in
getting six small worms.
“Be careful of that line,” Jack cautioned him. “A whole lot depends on
it.”
“Don’t I know it,” he grinned, as he started off down the river.
He soon reached a promising looking place and, scrambling on to a large
rock, he carefully lowered the hook into the water.
“Hope I don’t hook onto one of Jack’s whales,” he thought. “I’m afraid
it would be good-bye line.”
Just then a sharp tug informed him that he had hooked onto something,
and he pulled out a trout weighing a little over a pound. Each of the
six worms served as well as the first, and in a few minutes he started
back with six fish, all about the same size.
“We won’t go to bed hungry to-night at any rate,” he told Jack, as he
held up the trout for his inspection. “Although,” he added, “our bill of
fare will be pretty limited.”
“Reckon we can stand it,” Jack assured him.
Neither of the others had returned and Bob started to clean the fish.
Kernertok returned just as he had finished, carrying birch bark and
pitch, and a little later Rex came with nearly two quarts of large
raspberries.
“Glad you didn’t get lost, old man,” Bob told him.
“You bet, I kept my eye on that tall tree there,” Rex laughed. “I see
you got some fish.”
“Fish and raspberries for supper to-night,” Bob said.
“And enough is as good as a feast,” Rex laughed.
“We’ve got to be mighty sparing of these matches,” Bob said, as he
gathered some dry leaves for a fire.
“How are you going to cook without anything to cook with?” Rex asked,
after Bob had the fire going.
“If all our problems were as easy as that, I wouldn’t worry a bit,” he
replied, piling on more wood. “One thing we aren’t short of and that’s
wood.”
Bob found a place near the falls where there was a small amount of clay,
and he soon had enough for his purpose.
“Going to make mud pies?” Rex laughed, as he saw him mixing the clay
with water.
“Just that,” Bob laughed, as he smeared the clay over the fish until
each one was incased in the mud. “We’re going to have trout served a la
mud,” he declared.
Waiting until the fire had burned to a good bed of coals he dug a hole
in the very center of them and buried the fish in it.
“I’m afraid they won’t be very good though without salt,” Bob said
ruefully, as he raked away the coals a little later.
“Injun got salt.”
“You have?”
“Injun never go way in big woods no salt,” and he took from his pocket a
small water-tight box. “Get long no have most anything, no get long no
salt.”
“You’re right there,” Rex agreed. “Most things taste pretty flat without
salt.”
By the time supper was ready Kernertok had the hole in the canoe
repaired.
“Your mud pies are a great success, Bob,” Rex declared, after he had
taken his first taste of the trout. “I never tasted anything quite so
good as these.”
“Hope you won’t get sick of them before we get out of the woods.”
As soon as he had eaten Kernertok announced that he was going to find
material out of which he could make paddles.
“There’s no great loss without some gain,” Bob declared, after the
Indian had gone.
“What’s the gain?” Jack asked.
“Bet I can guess,” Rex laughed.
“Give you two guesses.”
“Only need one. There are no dishes to wash.”
“Right the first time.”
CHAPTER X.
KERNERTOK GETS HIS.
“Well, I suppose this means the end of this expedition.” Kernertok had
not returned and the boys were sitting around the fire.
“What do you mean, end of the expedition?” Bob asked.
“Why, we’ll have to turn back now, won’t we?” Rex asked, with a note of
sorrow in his voice.
“Turn back nothing. Have you any idea how long it would take us to
paddle back up that river?”
“I didn’t think of that. I suppose it would take us longer to go back
than it did to come down.”
“I’ll say it would,” Jack declared.
“What’ll we do then?”
“Unless I’m mistaken, that lake we’re after is not very far from here,
and believe me, we’re going to make it if it’s a possible thing, after
coming this far. If he’s there he’ll probably have a good stock of
provisions and trout and raspberries will get kinder monotonous after a
few meals.”
“I sure hope we’ve shaken off that lalapaloosla,” Jack said. “Sure and
we’ve got trouble enough without that to help it along.”
“Perhaps we can track it if it comes around again, now that Sicum has
got his nerve back,” Rex suggested.
“Mebby,” Bob agreed.
“Do you know it’s the strangest thing about that dog,” Rex said
thoughtfully. “Do you suppose that plunge in the water made him forget
all about his trouble?”
“Possibly he had gotten the idea in his head that he was old and of no
more use and then when he pulled me out it convinced him that he had
been mistaken and was as good as ever, all his old spunk returned.”
Just then Kernertok returned, carrying on his shoulder a small spruce
tree about ten feet long and four inches through at the larger end.
“No could find cedar,” he said, as he threw the trunk down on the
ground. “But spruce she do heap well.”
It was nearly dark, but the fire, which they kept burning brightly, gave
a good light and he began work at once hewing out the paddles.
Fortunately the little hatchet was sharp, but even so, it was slow work.
It was late when at last he pronounced them finished. They were rough,
to be sure, but Rex was amazed that they could be made so well with only
a knife and a hatchet as tools.
“There’s not much outside of the canoe to watch to-night,” Bob said,
after he had praised Kernertok’s skill.
“But that’s a very important article just now,” Jack asserted.
“Sicum him keep watch now him all right.” Kernertok was very positive in
his statement.
“Then to make things doubly safe, I move that we make our beds two on
each side of the canoe,” Bob suggested.
“Heap good think,” Kernertok grunted.
“Hope the weather stays warm till we get out,” Bob said. “If it should
turn cold it would be mighty uncomfortable without blankets, and we’d
better make the beds as close to the fire as possible, because it’s not
going to be very hot round the edges along toward morning.”
It was nearly twelve o’clock by Rex’s watch, which, as it had a
water-proof case, had not stopped, before they were ready for bed.
“It’s a mighty lucky thing that we went over in time to get our clothes
dry before night,” Jack declared, as he stretched himself out on his bed
of fragrant spruce boughs.
Bob and Rex had dragged onto the fire two good sized logs which they had
found near the bank of the river, and Bob declared that they ought to
keep it going until morning.
It was still dark when a low growl from the dog made Bob start up wide
awake. He could see Sicum by the light of the fire, which still burned,
standing a few feet away.
“What is it, boy?” he whispered.
The dog gave another low growl and Bob could see that the hair on his
back was bristled. Just then Kernertok, who was on the same side of the
canoe, awoke.
“Sicum hears something,” Bob whispered.
The dog paced back and forth, giving vent to low rumbling growls from
time to time.
“White boy stay here, watch; Injun go see,” Kernertok whispered, and in
another minute without making the slightest sound he was gone.
“Here Sicum,” Bob ordered in a low whisper.
The dog somewhat reluctantly came to his side.
“You stay right here. Remember what happened the last time you left camp
alone.”
Bob strained his ears to listen, but except for the roaring of the water
as it rushed over the falls, he could hear nothing. He had no way of
telling the time, but it seemed to him a long time since the Indian had
left, when he noticed that the east was beginning to lighten.
“Wonder why he doesn’t come,” he thought.
Soon it was daylight and Kernertok had not returned. He waited until he
judged that another hour had passed and then woke Rex, but was careful
not to disturb his brother.
“He needs all the rest he can get,” he told himself.
“S——h; don’t wake Jack,” he whispered, as he placed his hand on Rex’s
arm. “Come over here a bit.”
As soon as they were far enough away so that they could talk without
disturbing the sleeping boy, Bob told him what had happened.
“I can’t imagine what can be keeping him,” he finished.
“How long did you say he had been gone?”
“I didn’t say, but I should say not less than four hours. You know my
watch isn’t going, so I had to guess at the time.”
“Sicum seems mighty uneasy.”
“He knows something’s wrong.”
The dog whined and showed an increasing disposition to take to the
woods, but Bob restrained him with a word of command.
“If you’ll get some more of those berries, I’ll hook a few more trout,
and if he doesn’t come by the time we’ve had breakfast we’ll have to go
after him.”
They called Jack as soon as breakfast was ready.
“What’s the big idea?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“We thought you needed to sleep,” Rex replied.
“Well, I want it distinctly understood from now on that I’m no invalid
and don’t want to be treated like one. Where’s Kernertok?”
“I wish we knew,” Bob replied, and then told him of the happening in the
night.
“Did you look to see if there are any more of those tracks?”
“No; I never thought of it to tell the truth.”
“Then let’s go see.”
As they reached the sandy spot, there, close to the water’s edge, were
three of the imprints.
“Just as I expected,” Jack declared.
“Well, let’s get breakfast over with and if he hasn’t shown up by that
time we’ll start out after him,” Bob said, as he turned back.
Breakfast was quickly cooked and eaten. Still there was no sign of the
Indian.
“Suppose he has got lost!” Rex asked.
“Kernertok lost! You couldn’t lose that Indian in the State of Maine if
you should blindfold him, let me tell you that,” Jack replied.
“Jack’s right about that,” Bob declared. “Kernertok knows the country up
this way about as well as any man living, I reckon. No; it’s not a
question of him being lost.”
“What then?”
“That’s it. What then?” Bob repeated. “But come on, let’s not lose any
time. Here Sicum.”
After some argument and a good deal of objection on the part of Jack,
who insisted that he was as strong as ever, it was decided that Bob and
Rex should take up the search while Jack remained to guard the canoe.
“Now don’t you go too fast, boy,” Bob said to the dog, as he told him to
go find Injun.
Sicum started off with a yelp of joy, and in spite of Bob’s warning,
they had hard work to keep him in sight or hearing.
“Wish I’d had a leash to put on him,” Bob panted, as he called the dog
back for the twentieth time.
Their course led them straight back from the river into the forest, and
before they had gone far the ground began to rise, and the going became
more and more difficult as they advanced.
“Does this hill have any top, I wonder?” Rex panted, as he pulled
himself up by a bush. “I really believe we’ll be up in the clouds before
long if we keep on going.”
It was nearly two hours since they had left Jack, and they were still
climbing, when they heard the dog a few yards ahead give voice to a bark
which Bob was quick to interpret.
“He’s found him,” he cried, as he hurried on closely followed by Rex.
A moment later they reached the spot where the dog was jumping
frantically about, and, for the moment, they could scarcely believe
their eyes. There, securely tied to a small spruce tree was the Indian.
Over his head was a meal sack.
“Of all things!” Bob gasped, as he sprang forward. “Kernertok!”
But the old man made no reply, and Bob’s heart nearly stopped beating,
as the fear came to him that his old friend was past help.
In an instant he had snatched the bag from his head. The old man’s eyes
were closed and his head drooped low on his chest. Anxiously Bob placed
his ear over his heart. To his joy he could hear the heart beats steady
and fairly strong.
“He must have fainted,” he told Rex. “Here, you hold him, while I cut
the ropes.”
In another moment the old Indian was lying on the ground, while Bob and
Rex chafed his wrists. Presently his eyes opened.
“Don’t talk,” Bob cautioned. “Just lie still and rest. You’ll be all
right in a minute.”
“Back heap sore,” he groaned.
They carefully turned him over onto his side and pulled up his shirt.
“Well-what-do-you-know-about-that?” Rex gasped.
“I know that whoever did it is going to settle accounts with me if I
ever find him out,” Bob said and a look into his eyes told Rex that he
was uttering no idle threat.
Criscrossed on the old man’s back were many broad whelts, evidently made
by a heavy piece of rope.
“Oh, the brutes,” Bob groaned, as he carefully turned the Indian back.
“Who did it, Kernertok?”
“Injun no know. No see um.”
“You mean that you didn’t see anybody?”
“No see um.”
“But what happened?”
“Injun walk along, him heap dark. No see um, no hear um. Bag drop on
head. Two three men jump on Injun. No chance fight, heap too many.”
“But did they keep the bag on your head while they beat you?”
“No take bag off. Beat heap lot, then bang on head an’ no more.”
“I should say you did get a bang on the head,” Bob declared, as he felt
a big lump on the back of the old man’s skull. “If I ever find out who
did it I’ll, well he’d better look sharp, that’s all.”
After resting for about a half hour Kernertok declared that he was able
to start back.
“Now you take it easy,” Bob cautioned him. “Remember, you are not as
young as you were once.”
“Injun heap tough,” the old man grunted. “Take heap lot to kill him.”
“I’ll say it will,” Rex laughed.
Rex was astonished at the quick recovery of the old man and at his
endurance. Indeed he was panting, when about an hour and a half later
they got back to where Jack was waiting for them. The latter was
overjoyed to see his old friend safe once more and was loud in his
expression of indignation, as Bob told him what had happened.
“We’ll get those brutes sometime,” he declared, “and when we do, look
out.”
While they had been away Jack had caught a good mess of trout and had
picked several quarts of raspberries, so it took them but a short time
to prepare dinner.
“Hadn’t we better rest the remainder of the day and start out good and
early in the morning?” Bob asked Kernertok.
“We go now,” the Indian replied. “Injun all right. It only twenty mile
more more down river, then twelve mile through woods to little lake.”
“All right, you’re the doctor,” Bob said.
“We’re sure traveling light, all right,” Rex laughed as they shoved off.
“Light is right,” Jack agreed. “A little too light for comfort. Hope we
strike some grub soon.”
For the remainder of the distance down the stream the current was rapid,
and they made splendid time. It was only a little after two o’clock when
the Indian guided the canoe to a sandy spot and informed them that they
were at the end of their trip, so far as travel by water was concerned.
“We better hide the canoe in a safe place,” Bob declared, as he stepped
onto the shore.
“You bet,” Jack agreed. “We don’t want to come back here and find it
gone. We sure would be in a pickle then.”
“We find um good place hide him,” Kernertok assured them.
Bob and Rex insisted on carrying the canoe, although Jack declared that
he was getting tired of being treated like a baby and Kernertok insisted
that he was all right.
“Injun heap tough,” he said several times, but the boys would not give
in to him.
So with the Indian leading the way, they plunged at once into the dense
forest of spruce and pine. For fully a quarter of a mile they carried
the canoe before they found a hiding place which satisfied them. A thick
clump of cedars, growing so closely together that it was impossible to
see more than a few feet into it, offered what seemed to all of them, a
secure place.
Using the utmost care to break no branches, they dragged the canoe into
the center of the clump. After they emerged, Kernertok carefully removed
all traces of their presence.
“Nobody find um now,” the Indian assured them, as he looked toward the
cedars.
“I’ll say they won’t,” Rex declared. “But are you sure that we can find
it again?”
“Trust Kernertok for that,” Bob reassured him.
Their way led through a forest more dense than Rex ever seen. The
immense pines and spruce grew so closely together that at times it was
only with great difficulty that they were able to make their way.
“I should think that there was lumber enough around here to supply the
world for the next thousand years,” Rex declared, as they stopped for a
short rest.
“There won’t be any great shortage for the next few years at any rate, I
reckon,” Jack agreed.
“Is this what you call virgin forest?” Rex asked.
“How about it, Kernertok? Ever been any lumbering here?” Bob turned to
the Indian.
Kernertok shook his head.
“No think so. Injun no remember it.”
After they had been walking about two hours the ground began to rise and
the boys noticed that the trees were a little farther apart.
“How high is this hill, Kernertok?” Jack panted, after they had been
climbing for some time.
“Him big hill, heap high.”
“Is the lake on the other side of it?” Bob asked.
“Lake on top, ’bout two three mile long.”
“How big is it?”
“Him no heap big. Mebby one mile long.”
As they neared the top their way became more and more steep, as the
trees gave way to large rocks and cliffs, many of them so steep that
they were obliged to make long detours to get around them.
“I’d call this a big hill,” Jack panted, as he pulled himself up by a
bush.
“More like a mountain,” Rex declared.
“We near top now. Better keep heap still,” Kernertok cautioned.
“Mum’s the word,” Bob whispered.
There was no more talking as they struggled upward, now clinging to
friendly bushes and then creeping carefully around an immense rock.
Finally they reached a small plateau only a short distance from the
summit, and here Kernertok advised that they eat their supper and wait
until after dark before going farther.
“No want man see us first,” he said.
“Righto,” Bob agreed.
Eating supper was a very simple affair, as they had only fish and
raspberries left from dinner.
“The larder’s pretty near the vanishing point,” Jack groaned.
“Well, I guess we can catch some more fish in that lake, but I don’t
think we’ll be able to find any berries up here,” Bob declared.
The sun was sinking like a big ball of fire in the west as they ate, and
soon the shades of night began to steal over the forest, while a new
moon gave promise of a small amount of light. They had not heard a sound
since stopping, save the gentle rustle of the wind, as it swept through
the branches of a tall pine which grew a little to their right.
“We go now, heap still,” Kernertok announced about eight o’clock.
On the mountain top the moon gave sufficient light to enable them to see
for some distance, and they were only a few minutes in reaching the top.
Rex happened to be next to the Indian and suddenly he started with a
gasp of surprise.
“It’s fairyland.”
“You’re not far off,” Bob whispered, as he seized his friend by the arm.
“Did you ever see anything more beautiful?”
There in a hollow, seemingly about twenty feet from where they stood,
lay the lake. It was nearly circular in shape and bordered by a fringe
of trees, and at that moment the moon shed a silvery pathway directly
across the center.
For some minutes not another word was spoken as they looked on the
scene.
“I’m afraid it’ll vanish if I speak,” Jack finally whispered.
At that moment Rex caught his arm in a firm grip.
“Look.”
Jack drew in his breath sharply, as he gazed out over the little sheet
of water.
“What is it?” he asked.
It was no wonder that he asked the question, for out there seemingly
floating in the air about three feet above the surface of the lake was
the dim outline of a canoe, and in it was a figure in white, lazily
wielding a paddle. The light was not sufficient to afford them more than
a hazy outline of the strange craft and its ghostly occupant, and soon
it passed out of the moon’s path and vanished in the shadow of the tall
pines at the edge of the water.
“White Flower,” Jack whispered.
“White Flower your eye,” Bob mocked. “I’ll bet a thirty-eight would make
short work of that ghost.”
Rex looked anxiously at Kernertok to see how he took the vision, and was
relieved to note that there was an expression of contempt on the old
man’s face.
“But that canoe was floating above the water,” Jack insisted.
“Seemed to be, you mean,” Bob replied. “Refraction of light could cause
that.”
“I suppose so, but, believe me, it looked spooky, all right.”
“And no doubt that’s just the effect whoever’s doing it wanted to
produce.”
“Well, I congratulate him on his success,” Jack laughed. “He’s sure got
the goods, all right, when it comes to effects.”
“What’ll we do, Kernertok?” Bob asked.
“We go round where white canoe went. Go heap easy.”
The point where the canoe had vanished was about half way to the other
side of the lake from where they were standing. They started, Kernertok
leading the way, and had gone perhaps a little over a mile when he
stopped.
“White boys stay here, Injun go see what to see,” he whispered.
“Look out you don’t get another crack on the head,” Bob cautioned.
“Injun look heap sharp,” he grunted, as he disappeared in the darkness,
which, now as the moon had set, was intense.
“That guy in that canoe was never John Stebbins,” Rex whispered, as they
stretched out close together beneath a large spruce.
“What makes you think so?” Jack asked.
“Because he hasn’t got enough originality in his makeup to plan a thing
like that. He’s the most prosaic fellow you ever saw. Steady and all
that, but I don’t believe he ever doped out a scheme of any kind in his
life. It simply isn’t in his make-up.”
“And yet he got all that money,” Bob suggested.
“I know, but I’ll bet my hat that some one else planned it.”
“Any idea who?”
“Nary an idea, but it must have been some one besides him. You’d say the
same thing if you knew him as I do.”
“Still waters run deep,” Jack reminded him.
“Not always,” Rex declared. “Stebbins was still enough, goodness knows,
but he absolutely was not deep.”
“Well there’s some one connected with this affair who’s deep enough,”
Bob said. “You know as well as I that somebody has been trying to scare
us away from here. There’s that arrow and those tracks. It’s mighty
lucky for us that Kernertok knows enough to be above superstition. I’ll
bet there’s not another Indian in the state that wouldn’t have turned
back long ago.”
“I dare say you’re right,” Rex agreed. “But I still insist that John
Stebbins is not the one who is managing the fracas.”
“I wonder,” Bob mused.
“That idea’s been in the back of my mind ever since he skipped,” Rex
continued. “I’d have banked on his honesty and I know that Father felt
the same way about him.”
“Well, if we have any luck and if he’s up here we ought to clear the
mystery up pretty soon or—”
“Or go hungry,” Jack interrupted.
“You said it,” Bob added.
“It’s about time Kernertok was getting back, I should think,” Jack said
a little later.
“Hope he hasn’t gotten into trouble again,” Rex declared.
“I don’t think he has,” Bob assured him. “He got caught once and he
won’t be likely to let ’em put it over on him a second time.”
As if in confirmation of Bob’s words the Indian, without making a sound,
was at their side.
“What did you find?” Bob asked in a whisper.
“Little log cabin close to lake ’bout three four hundred feet away.
Injun creep up close. No hear sound. Injun wait close under window.
Pretty soon hear breath. Injun listen. No more sound. Injun come back.”
“Then you don’t know how many there are?”
“Injun no tell.”
“Sure no one saw you?”
“Heap sure. Injun no make noise.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t,” Jack muttered.
“What’s next?” Bob whispered.
But before the Indian could reply a sound broke the silence.
“What in the world was that?” Jack gasped.
“Listen,” Bob whispered.
Again the sound came to their ears. Beginning with a low rumble it grew
louder until it ended in a piercing shriek.
“What is it, Kernertok?” Bob asked.
“Injun no know,” he replied.
“It’s only some more of their attempts to scare us,” Jack declared.
“And we don’t scare worth a cent,” Bob added.
Four times the cry rang out over the lake, and then all was still.
CHAPTER XI.
STEBBINS IS FOUND.
“Does a lalapaloosla make a noise like that?” Bob asked, as the last
strain of the weird cry died out.
“Only the red ones, and they don’t raise that kind in Maine.”
“But what’ll we do next?” Bob turned to the Indian once more.
“We find good place watch cabin,” he replied.
“That’s a good plan, I should say,” Jack agreed. “We may find out just
what we’re up against.”
Led by the Indian, they crept softly toward the lake, until they reached
the edge of the forest.
“Here heap good place,” Kernertok announced in a loud whisper.
It was so dark where they stood that they could scarcely see each other
when standing close together, but Kernertok told them that the cabin was
only a few yards from them.
“White boys go sleep, Injun and Sicum keep watch.”
“Not so you’d notice it,” Bob insisted. “I know you haven’t got over
that beating and you need the rest.”
Kernertok insisted that he was all right, but Bob wouldn’t listen to
him. However, it was only after he told the Indian that he wouldn’t go
to sleep anyhow and that if he sat up he would do the same that the old
man finally yielded the point. Both Rex and Jack tried to get him to let
them watch, but he was firm, and as usually the case, made them give in
to him.
“Now stop your fussing and get to sleep like good children,” he said.
“But you’ve got to promise to call me at one o’clock,” Jack persisted.
“And me too,” Rex broke in.
“All right, I’ll promise.”
“I could eat a bit more supper if I had it,” Jack said, as he stretched
out on the ground.
“That’s all right,” Rex added. “But how about breakfast?”
“Sufficient unto the day is the food thereof,” Bob grinned.
“Yes, but there wasn’t sufficient,” Jack growled.
“Well, there’ll be less to-morrow unless we strike something,” Bob
assured him.
“There can’t be very much less than there is right now,” Jack retorted
with a long sigh.
Bob called Rex and Jack according to his promise at one o’clock and
reported that everything had been quiet.
“No more lalapalooslas howling around?” Jack laughed.
“Haven’t heard any.”
“Well, here’s hoping they will keep quiet for the rest of the night.”
“How still it is,” Jack whispered a little later, as he and Rex sat with
their backs against a spruce tree.
“It’s so still you can almost feel it,” Rex agreed. “I’d give a good bit
to know who’s in that cabin,” he added in a whisper.
“Well, we’ll probably find out before many hours. It’ll be light now in
about three hours.”
“And I’ll bet they’ll seem like three years.”
“What did you think of that spook out on the lake?” Jack asked a few
minutes later.
“It did look spooky for a fact, but I imagine that Bob’s explanation was
about right. Things often look displaced in the night and especially in
the moonlight, you know.”
“But what would anyone be doing out there at that time?”
“Ask me something easy. It’s quite evident that someone knows we are up
here and is trying to throw a scare into us, and—”
“No doubt about that,” Jack interrupted.
“And there are two questions in my mind regarding it.”
“And I’ll bet I can guess them both first time.”
“All right, go ahead.”
“First you’d like to know who it is and second you’d like to know what
they know about us, or rather what they think they know. How’s that?”
“You’re pretty near right on both counts. The main thing that’s puzzling
me is whether or not Stebbins is mixed up in it.”
“What makes you think he isn’t?”
“I didn’t say I did think so, but as I was saying awhile ago, he’s not
that kind of a guy.”
“Well, it seems to me—” Jack began, when he was interrupted by a sound
which seemed to come from the direction of the lake.
“Listen,” he whispered.
“Sounds like a groan,” Rex replied after a moment.
“Let’s get up a bit nearer the cabin,” Jack suggested.
Followed by Rex he crept carefully forward on his hands and knees. It
was very dark now, as the moon had set some time before and they had to
feel their way as they advanced foot by foot.
“I think I can see the cabin,” Jack whispered, after they had gone a few
yards.
The groaning had been repeated several times since they had first heard
it, and now they were certain that the sound came from the cabin.
“Sounds as though someone was having a nightmare,” Rex whispered.
“What had we better do?” Jack asked, as he stopped a moment later.
“We’re only a few feet away from the cabin now.”
“We want to be mighty careful for one thing,” Rex cautioned in a low
whisper. “If we should get caught now all our work would probably go for
nothing.”
“Let’s camp right here then.”
They stretched themselves flat on the ground behind a small clump of
small cedars and listened.
“That’s no nightmare, if you ask me,” Jack declared, after a few minutes
had passed and the sound still continued.
“Guess you’re right,” Rex agreed. “Who ever’s making that noise would
have waked up before this if he was asleep.”
“My idea exactly. But somebody in there’s pretty bad off, unless it’s
being done for our special benefit. The trouble is, we can’t tell which
is right.”
“What do you think we’d better do?”
“I think we had better get back, if you ask me. It’ll be light in a
short time now, and if we stay here much longer we may spill the beans,
and it’s too much of a risk to do any investigating in the dark.”
So they crept back to their former position and waited with what
patience they could summon until daylight stole over the forest.
“I hate like the dickens to wake Bob and Kernertok so early,” Jack
whispered. “But I feel it in my bones that something is going to happen
before long.”
“What you call a hunch, eh?”
“Something of the sort.”
“You did just right, son,” Bob declared a few minutes later, after Jack
had apologized for calling him and Kernertok so early. “We don’t want to
lose a single bet now.”
After a brief whispered conference it was decided to separate two and
two and keep a close watch at both the front and back of the cabin.
“Jack, you and Kernertok stay here where you can see the rear, and Rex
and I’ll get round where we can see the front. If either sees anything
the whip-poor-will call will be the signal. All right?” Bob asked.
“All right is right,” Jack nodded his head.
Bob and Rex crept slowly toward the lake and soon found a position where
they had a fair view of the front of the cabin without much risk of
being seen. They could hear nothing of the groans and Rex whispered that
he hardly thought they would be able to hear them at that distance. For
over an hour they watched, and both boys were beginning to get uneasy,
when suddenly the door opened and a man stepped out, and a moment later
he was followed by two others.
“I thought as much,” Bob whispered. “You remember them, don’t you?”
“Sure; it’s Jacques Harbaugh and his two friends.”
“And the plot thickens,” Bob whispered, as he bent slightly forward to
get a clearer view. “But I must signal the others.” And the clear shrill
call of the whip-poor-will floated out in the still air.
For ten minutes or a little more the three men stood in front of the
cabin talking in tones too low for the boys to catch any of the
conversation. Then they went inside and a few minutes later smoke began
to pour from the chimney.
“They’re getting breakfast, and I guess we might as well go back and
tell Jack and Kernertok who’s here,” Bob suggested.
“I had a good-sized hunch that those fellows were mixed up in the case,”
Jack declared, as soon as he learned of the presence of the three men.
“What do you make of it?”
“Well, of course, it’s largely guesswork, but my guess is that they have
Stebbins in that cabin and are holding him prisoner for some reason or
other, hence the groans which you heard,” Bob said.
“And I’ll say you’re some guesser,” Jack replied, casting a questioning
glance at Kernertok.
“Him heap good at guess,” the Indian agreed.
“What’s the next move then?” Rex whispered.
“I guess it’s their next move,” Bob said. “You see, they’re all powerful
as well as desperate men, and we don’t want to come to a showdown with
them if we can help it, until we have bigger odds on our side. I tell
you those fellows would put a bullet through one of us as quick as
lightning if he thought his safety depended on it.”
“Then you think—”
“That we’d better lay low for a while in the hope that they’ll go away
and give us a chance to see what’s inside that cabin without meeting
them,” Bob interrupted.
“That heap good plan,” Kernertok nodded his head.
“Then we’d better get back where we were, I suppose,” Rex suggested.
“Right away I should say,” Bob agreed.
It was nearly eight o’clock before the three men again emerged from the
cabin. This time they did not hesitate, but made their way at once down
to the shore of the lake, and by parting the bushes in front of him, Bob
saw that they got into a canoe and started swiftly down the lake.
“Come on,” he whispered to Rex. “Let’s get back and tell Jack and
Kernertok.”
“So you think the coast is clear,” Jack said, as soon as they had told
what they had seen.
“It is, so far as those three are concerned.”
It was quickly decided that Kernertok should stay outside and keep watch
while the three boys went into the cabin.
“Me an’ Sicum keep heap good watch,” the Indian assured them, as they
started off.
They paused to listen, as they were close beside the cabin, but all was
still. The tiny windows were too high to permit them to peep in from the
ground, and besides they were so covered with dirt that Bob declared it
would be impossible to see through them even if they got up high enough.
So they quickly made their way around to the front. The door was closed
and fastened with a heavy padlock.
“No getting in here without breaking that lock,” Bob declared. “Let’s
see what it looks like around back.”
But the prospect was not much more promising, as the small door
evidently was fastened with a bar on the inside, and although they
pushed against it with all their strength, they were not able to make
the slightest impression on it.
“Guess we’ll have to try the windows after all,” Bob declared, as he
stepped back after a final push.
“All right, let’s make it snappy,” Jack agreed, as he started around to
the side.
Here there were two small windows, each of a single pane of glass about
twelve by fourteen inches. Bob took a stand under one of them and in an
instant Jack was on his shoulders.
“Can’t see a blamed thing,” he declared a moment later.
“Is it puttied on the outside?” Bob asked.
“No; it’s just set into the frame from the inside.”
“Then we’ll have to smash it, I reckon.”
“How about cutting it with this diamond ring?” Rex asked, as he pulled
the ring from his finger and passed it up to Jack.
It was but the work of a moment to make a deep scratch on the four sides
of the glass close to the edge. Then by hitting it lightly with his
pocket knife, he soon started a crack, and a moment later the pane fell
in with a loud smash. Eagerly the boy pushed his head in and looked
about.
“What about it?” Bob whispered loudly.
“Not much,” Jack replied, as he withdrew his head and leaped to the
ground. “It’s about the same as you’d expect. An old stove, a table and
a few old chairs and lots of dirt.”
“There’s no one there?”
“I didn’t say that. There are some bunks on the other side of the room,
but it’s not light enough to see whether there’s any one in them or
not.”
“Can you squeeze through?”
“Mebby, but it’ll be pretty close.”
“We’ll pull you out if you get stuck,” Rex assured him, as Jack again
mounted to Bob’s shoulders.
It was but a minute’s work to pick out the thin strips of glass from the
frame, and this accomplished, he began the task of squirming through. It
was, as he said, a mighty close squeeze, but he was an adept at
squirming through small openings. Indeed, Bob had often declared that he
believed Jack could squeeze his way through a key hole if he had to.
Once he thought he was stuck, but he managed to free himself, and after
a few minutes he dropped lightly to the floor. In another moment he had
unbarred the back door and admitted the others.
As they stood in the open doorway, a low groan reached their ears. Bob
quickly ran to the side of the room where the bunks were. After a single
glance he started back in amazement. Then, recovering himself, he
stepped forward again and bent over for a closer look.
Bound hand and foot, his mouth tightly gagged, lay the form of a man.
His eyes were closed and his face, covered with a stubble of several
days’ growth, was gaunt almost to the point of emaciation. It was
evident to Bob that the man was unconscious, if not at the point of
death.
“Is this Stebbins?” he whispered to Rex, who was close behind him.
“I—I think so,” Rex stammered. “But it’s hard to tell, he’s so changed.
Let me see his right hand. Yes, it’s he all right,” he declared a moment
later, as he held up the man’s right hand. “See that middle finger.”
The first joint of the finger was gone and the fact settled the identity
of the man beyond all question.
“See if you can find some water, Jack,” Bob ordered, as he drew out his
knife and cut the ropes.
Jack was back almost immediately with a pan of water, and dipping his
handkerchief in it, Bob proceeded to wet the man’s forehead, while Jack
and Rex rubbed his wrists. In a few minutes their efforts were
successful. The man groaned, and a moment later opened his eyes. At
first there was no recognition in them, but as he glanced from one to
the other, his eyes finally rested on Rex.
“Do you know me, old man?” Rex asked.
The man was too weak to reply, but from the look in his eyes they knew
that he had recognized him.
“Don’t try to talk now,” Rex said bending over him. “It’s all right and
we’ll have you on your feet in no time.”
“He’s nearly starved to death,” Bob whispered to Jack. “See what you can
find. Some condensed milk mixed with water will be all right if you can
find it.”
In the back of the room was a small closet, and Jack was delighted to
find it well stocked with provisions, including several cans of milk. He
quickly opened one of the latter with his knife, and pouring the
contents into a dipper, he thinned it with water.
“Drink a little of this,” Bob cautioned. Then turning to Jack he
ordered: “You get the fire going and I’ll see if I can find some oatmeal
or something to make some gruel of. He’s got to have something a bit
more substantial than that condensed milk.”
“But how about those fellows seeing the smoke?” Rex asked.
“We’ll have to take a chance on that. This man will die if we don’t get
something inside him, and if they return we’ll have to do the best we
can. Anyhow Kernertok’ll give us the word so they can’t take us by
surprise.”
An hour later, after the man had taken as much of the gruel as Bob dared
to give him, he seemed considerably stronger and the boys began to
remember that they had had no breakfast themselves. Thanks to the
provisions in the cabin this condition was soon remedied and a goodly
portion taken out to Kernertok and Sicum. Stebbins was sleeping quietly
as they returned to the cabin.
“What’s the next move?” Jack whispered.
“That’s the big question,” Bob replied. “That man won’t be fit to move
for two or three days at the most, and they’ll probably be back before
night at the longest.”
“That’s a safe bet at any rate,” Jack agreed. “And it’s another safe bet
that they’ll make mince meat of us if we give them the chance.”
“Well we mustn’t give them the chance, that’s all,” Bob said, shaking
his head.
“I think we’re unanimous on that point,” Rex broke in. “The only
question seems to be how we’re going to help it.”
“We’ve got three good persuasive automatics, which will help some if it
comes to a show down,” Bob declared. “I wish we had the rifle, but
there’s no use worrying over that.”
“And there’s food enough here to stand a siege for two or three weeks if
we have to,” Jack said slowly.
“Well it seems to me about the only thing we can do,” Rex said in a tone
of resignation.
About eleven o’clock Stebbins awoke and Bob fed him some more of the
gruel, and he seemed much stronger and inclined to talk.
“Better wait a little longer,” Bob continued. “You want to get your
strength back as soon as you can, you know, and it will tire you to talk
now.”
With a sigh, the man lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.
“He’ll be strong enough to tell us his story when he wakes up again and
has had one more feed,” Bob whispered.
They prepared a good dinner, with the help of some trout which Jack got
from a little brook a short distance up the lake. They had just finished
cleaning up when Stebbins again opened his eyes and asked for food. As
soon as he had finished eating, he declared that he was much stronger
and insisted on talking.
“All right, but take it easy and stop as soon as you begin to feel
tired,” Bob cautioned.
“I took the money,” he began slowly, looking at Rex, “but I want you to
believe that I’m not so bad as you must think. It started the year
before I went to work for your father. I was cashier in a bank in
Waterville, and a large sum of money disappeared. No, I didn’t take it,
but I knew that they suspected me and I was unable to prove that I was
innocent. They never found out who took it, and after a time I resigned.
At the time a big half-breed by the name of Jacques Harbaugh was janitor
of the bank. He never liked me, as I had to reprimand him many times for
poor work. Although Jacques is a half-breed, he is a pretty sharp
fellow.”
Here Stebbins paused and the boys urged him to rest before telling more,
but in a few minutes he insisted that he was strong enough to proceed.
“Well, I was happy in Philadelphia, and had nearly forgotten all about
the matter, when suddenly, about three months ago, I met Jacques on
Chestnut Street. He knew me at once. As a matter of fact, he had been
hunting for me for some days. To make a long story short, he had found
or made up a bit of evidence which seemed to prove conclusively that I
had stolen that money so many years ago. I realize now that I was weak,
but at that time I was scared so that I hardly knew what I was doing.
Jacques promised that he would keep still about it, provided I paid him
a large sum of money. Otherwise he declared that he would go back to
Waterville and give me away. The sum, fifty thousand dollars, was
entirely beyond my means, and I told him so. But he had learned in some
way of my position and hinted that I could get the money all right.
Finally I yielded, and it was arranged that we should meet up here, a
place we both knew about.”
“But the amount you took was a good deal more than fifty thousand,” Rex
interrupted.
“I know it, but as I had the chance, I thought I might as well take all
I could get. As well be hanged for an old sheep as a lamb, you know. But
I’ve got the money safe, and if possible, you shall have every cent of
it back. You see, I got here first and had a day to think things over
and made up my mind that I would give the money back and let Jacques do
his worst. So I hid it in a place where no one can ever find it. I had
just finished when Jacques and two other men arrived. I told them that I
didn’t have the money and that they could do what they pleased about it.
Of course, he was furious and insisted that I was lying and that I had
the money. They have kept me here ever since and have done all sorts of
things to make me tell where it is, but I made up my mind that I
wouldn’t even if they killed me. If you hadn’t come just about when you
did I’m afraid it would have been—”
Before he was able to finish the sentence the back door opened and
Kernertok stole softly in.
“Men coming,” he announced. “Be here heap soon.”
“How far away are they?” Bob asked.
“Mebby quarter mile, no more.”
“All three of them?”
“All three.”
“All right. Bar that back door, Jack.”
“What are you going to do?” Rex asked anxiously.
“The only thing we can do. Just wait and see what they will do,” Bob
replied.
“One thing’s on our side, and that is that we’ve got all the food and I
reckon we can stand a siege longer than they can,” Jack declared.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Bob said slowly shaking his head.
“Remember, they are skilled woodsmen, and I guess they can find plenty
to eat such as is. They won’t starve.”
“They’re just landing,” Rex, who was watching from a little front
window, announced.
“Quick! Get that front door barred,” Bob said. “I nearly forgot that.”
Fortunately the front door as well as the back was made to be fastened
with a heavy bar of wood, and it was but an instant’s work to slip the
bar in its place.
“Now keep quiet,” Bob cautioned, “and be sure to keep out of range of
the windows. Remember, they would shoot us quick as a wink if they got
the chance.”
The men were evidently in good humor, for they could hear them talking
and laughing as they approached the cabin. Soon they heard one of them
fumbling with the lock, and a moment later there came a heavy shove
against the door, followed by an oath in French.
“We’ve got them guessing,” Jack whispered.
“Hush,” Bob cautioned.
For a moment all was still, then they could hear the man talking rapidly
in broken French. Then came another push against the door, followed by
more excited talking.
“They’re coming round back,” Rex whispered.
A moment later a shout from one of the breeds announced the discovery of
the broken window. For several minutes after that they could hear no
sound.
“Wonder what they’re up to,” Jack whispered.
“Guess they’re trying to make out what it means,” Bob replied.
Almost as he spoke there came the loud report of a revolver, and a
bullet buried itself in a log on the side opposite the open window.
“They’re at a loss to know whether their prisoner has got free or some
one has got in,” Bob suggested.
For another moment all was silent, then from directly beneath the open
window came the voice of Jacques Harbaugh.
“You open dat door, oui, or we bust heem in.”
Bob held up his hand as a signal not to answer.
“When we geet in we keel you you no open door.”
Again Bob signaled for silence.
“Keep him guessing,” he whispered.
“You Stebbins, what you mean, eh?” Jacques’s voice now had more of a
coaxing note in it.
“Guess he’s afraid to peep in,” Jack whispered.
After a short time they heard the man moving away from the cabin, and
for fully half an hour there was no sound from outside.
“They’re hunting for a log with which to batter in the door, I reckon,”
Bob whispered.
“Can they do it?” Rex asked.
“Well, it’s a pretty strong door, but with a heavy log, I suppose they
can knock it from the hinges give them time enough,” Bob answered.
“Which we won’t,” Jack said.
“Well, you’d better make up your mind just how you’re going to stop
them, for here they come,” Rex cried a few minutes later.
CHAPTER XII.
BESIEGED.
Bob jumped to Rex’s side and looked out the little window just in time
to see the three men running toward the cabin with a log nearly ten feet
long, and as big around as his leg.
“Get out your guns and be ready to cover them if she gives way,” he
cried, in a low but distinct voice.
He had hardly finished speaking when the end of the log propelled by the
great strength of the three men smashed against the door with a bang,
which seemed to fairly shake the cabin. An ordinary door would have been
shivered to pieces by the blow, but up in the Maine woods they make
things to hold, and the only effect, so far as they could see, was a
slight loosening of one of the hinges.
“About three more of them will knock out the hinges,” Bob declared, as
he saw the men stepping back for a second rush.
“’Bout time to stop ’em, isn’t it?” Jack asked.
“Yes, I guess so, if we can,” Bob replied somewhat doubtfully.
As he spoke he pushed open the little window and looked out. The men had
stopped about twenty feet from the door and had placed the log on the
ground to recover their wind before making the second trial.
“Better not try it again,” he shouted, holding his automatic in his hand
in such a way that the men could not fail to see it.
All three men gave a sudden start of surprise, and for a moment no one
spoke. Then the leader, Jacques Harbaugh, stepped slowly toward the
window.
“That’s near enough,” Bob told him, when he had advanced about half way
to the window.
“So it’s you, oui?”
“Looks like it.”
“What you want up here?”
“Do you need to ask?”
“Me ask jess the same.”
“All right. I don’t mind telling you. We came for Mr. Stebbins.”
“Oui? You find heem, eh?’
“Sure we did.”
“What you tink you do with heem?”
“We’ll take him back with us.”
“Non!” And Bob could see a look of fierce determination on the face of
the man as he spat out the word. “You never tak’ heem back till heem
tell us where dat monies.”
“You may be right, but we’re going to make a big try for it just the
same, and in the meantime don’t forget that we are well armed, and the
first man who comes within ten feet of this cabin will get a hunk of
lead in him.”
“We see ’bout dat.”
“All right, but remem—”
A violent pull which jerked Bob back into the room interrupted the
sentence, and it was not a second too soon, for as he fell back onto the
floor a shot rang out and a bullet buried itself in a log at the back of
the room.
“That was pretty close,” Bob gasped, as he picked himself up.
“I’ll say it was,” Jack agreed. “If I hadn’t been peeping out through
that crack and see that other fellow pull his gun, we’d have had two
invalids on our hands.”
“To say nothing of a dead one,” Bob returned soberly. “It was very
careless of me to take my eyes off those other two fellows. I might have
known.”
“Well, let’s hope that those fellows haven’t much ammunition with them,”
Jack said, as he again peeped out through the crack.
“What are they doing?” Bob asked.
“Just standing there talking.”
“It’s a lucky thing for us that this cabin is made of good big logs and
not of thin boards. We’re safe for the time being if we keep out of line
with the windows.”
“But those fellows aren’t going to give up easy, and don’t you kid
yourself that they are,” Jack declared, with his eyes still at the
crack. “They’re playing for big stakes.”
“I know,” Bob replied. “But don’t forget that we are playing for the
same stakes.”
“You bet.”
“And what’s more, we’re going to win out.”
“You bet.” It was Rex who responded this time.
“They’re going down toward the lake,” Jack announced a moment later.
“They’re getting into their canoe and pushing off. They’re paddling up
the lake.”
“What do you suppose they’re up to now?” Rex asked.
“Hard to say,” Bob replied, “but one thing is sure, they’ll be back
before long and they won’t go far; not far enough but they’ll know if we
leave the cabin.”
“They’ve gone out of sight around the point,” Jack said, as he
straightened up.
“And that’s about as far as they’ll go,” Bob declared. “Now we ought to
have a peep hole on each side of the room. That crack is all right for
the front, but there doesn’t seem to be any at the back and sides.”
“Then I guess it’s up to us to make ’em,” Jack declared.
“Spoken like a general,” Bob laughed. “Go to it.”
In the closet Jack soon found a long, slim knife, and with it set to
work digging out the clay and moss between two logs near the center of
the back. It was slow work, as the clay was almost as hard as cement,
but he stuck at it and in the course of an hour had a hole through large
enough to give a clear view of the ground at the back.
“Now for the sides,” he said, as he selected a point near the middle.
Meantime Stebbins had been fed small amounts of the gruel at frequent
intervals and was gaining his strength rapidly, although he had been
forbidden to get out of the bunk.
“I don’t suppose it’s any use to tell you how sorry I am,” he said to
Rex, who was sitting by his side.
“That’s all right, old fellow, I think I understand what you were up
against and your resolve to make good, even though it cost you your life
has wiped out all the fault,” Rex assured him.
A look of great joy lighted up the thin face of the man.
“Then you can forgive me?”
“Sure thing, and forget it, too.”
“But your father.”
“Will feel exactly as I do about it,” Rex assured him, as he took his
hand.
“Thank God,” Stebbins murmured, as he sank back and closed his eyes.
“There, we’ve got peep holes on all four sides,” Jack announced awhile
later, “and I, for one, am mighty hungry.”
“Which is a chronic condition if I know anything about you,” Bob
laughed.
“But dinner’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. Think you can hold out
that long?”
“I’ll try,” Jack sighed.
During the afternoon they kept close watch at the peep holes, but
nothing was seen of the three men.
“All the same, I’ll bet a cent they’re not far off,” Bob declared.
“I wouldn’t take you,” Jack said.
“They watch heap sharp, see if we start go way,” Kernertok suggested.
“My idea exactly,” Bob agreed. “They think that if they can only get us
out of the cabin we will be at their mercy.”
“Well, we’ll just fool them,” Jack declared.
“That’s all right so far as it goes, but the trouble is it doesn’t go
very far,” Bob said. “I don’t know how you fellows feel about it, but it
seems to me that we’re up against it good and hard. Those fellows aren’t
going to let all that money slip through their hands if they can help
it, and I think it’s about time that we were taking account of stock and
finding out where we’re at.”
“No doubt about it,” Rex said, adding, “I’m mighty sorry—”
“Now nix on that stuff,” Jack interrupted. “We know all about it, and
again I say nix.”
“Then we’d better go into executive session and discuss ways and means,”
Bob suggested. “Kernertok, you’re the oldest and wisest. What’s your
idea?”
For a time the old Indian sat with bowed head, then he got to his feet
and said:
“Injun think only one thing do. It get heap dark pretty soon. Heap
cloudy, no moon. Injun creep out, get canoe, go down river to St.
Francis. Get help, back soon as can.”
“How far is it to St. Francis?” Bob asked.
“’Bout twenty mile from canoe.”
“Then you ought to get back some time to-morrow.”
The Indian nodded his head.
“What say, fellows?” Bob turned to Rex and Jack.
“I’d say it’s our best bet,” Jack agreed readily.
“Same here,” Rex joined in.
“Then Injun go soon as dark come.”
“Do you suppose there’s any possibility of getting any one with our
radio?” Jack asked a little later.
“I doubt it,” Bob replied, shaking his head. “Wave length’s too short,
but it won’t do any harm to try. If we’d only had brains enough to have
left one of them at home we’d have had some help on the way before
this.”
For a long time Jack tried to reach a station by means of the pocket
set, but finally was forced to admit it was of no use.
“If we get out of this scrape, the first thing I’m going to do is to
lengthen out that wave,” he declared, as he placed the case on the
table.
As Kernertok had predicted, the night came on early and dark, for which
they were very thankful. Had it been moonlight it would have been
extremely difficult for him to get away, provided their enemies were on
the watch, as the cabin stood in a clearing and on no side did the
forest come nearer than twenty feet.
It was shortly after half past eight o’clock when he started, and all
wished him good luck.
“Injun be back by noon to-morrow. No get caught,” he said, as he slipped
out the back door.
“Pray God he may get through safely,” Bob murmured, as he put the bar
back in its place.
Sicum had whined to go with his master, but on being ordered to stay he
seemed to understand, and made no further protest.
The Indian had been gone not more than ten minutes when a shot rang out
in the forest back of the cabin. The four looked at each other and a
look of terror was on every face. For a moment no one spoke, then Jack
gasped.
“They’ve got him.”
“Let’s hope not,” Bob said in a low tone.
For a long time they listened hardly daring to breathe, but no more
shots were heard and no sound from outside, save the creaking of the
boughs as they rubbed in the light breeze, came to their ears.
“Suppose I sneak out and do a little scouting,” Jack proposed.
“I suppose you won’t,” Bob shook his head. “If they got him you could do
him no good, and the chances are that they’d get you. No, our best bet
is to stick close to the cabin and play it safe.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Jack acknowledged. “But it’s simply awful to
sit here and do nothing with Kernertok out there perhaps dying.”
“I know,” Bob soothed, “but it’s only perhaps. That shot may have meant
nothing and he probably got through all right. Everything was in his
favor, and you know Kernertok.”
“Yes, I know; but he’s human at that.”
Slowly the time passed. There was nothing they could do except listen
for the faintest sound. So dark was it that the peep holes were of no
use. But about half past ten Jack, who was near the broken window,
announced that the clouds were breaking.
“It’ll be moonlight in a few minutes. She’s trying to peep through the
clouds now.”
“That’ll help Kernertok,” Bob declared.
“Provided he got through,” Jack added mournfully.
“Well, I’m going to believe that he did till I find out that he didn’t,”
Bob insisted.
In a short time Jack’s prediction proved true. The moon peeped out from
behind the clouds and by eleven o’clock was riding in a clear sky,
making it almost as light as the day outside. In a way it was a great
relief to them, for they had feared to have a light in the cabin, and
waiting so long in the intense darkness was trying to their nerves.
“I reckon we’d better get an eye at those peep holes now,” Bob
suggested. “There’s one apiece, that is if Mr. Stebbins feels strong
enough to take one.”
“Certainly I am,” Stebbins insisted.
“Any of you smell anything?” Rex, who was sniffing the air, asked, as
they were about to take their places at the holes.
“Seems to me that I do,” Bob said. “Smells like something burning.”
“’Tis too,” Jack cried, “and what’s more, it’s birch bark.”
“You don’t suppose—” Bob began, but Jack interrupted.
“I suppose they’ve set fire to the shack, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Bob said slowly, as the odor of burning bark
became more pronounced.
“That’s apt to be serious, isn’t it?” Rex asked.
“There’s no apt to be about it. Unless we can get it out we’ll be at
their mercy in a mighty short time,” Bob told him. “How much water is
there in the place, Jack?”
“About half a bucket full.”
“Hum, not much to fight fire with. We should have got all we could.”
“I did, but there were only two buckets, and we’ve used a bucket and a
half.”
“Well, let’s see if we can locate it.”
“It’s right in this corner,” Jack declared a moment later. “I can hear
it when I put my ear close to the logs and see, there’s a little smoke
working its way in.”
“If we could get at it the half bucket of water would probably put it
out right now, but it would be sure death to go out there.”
“And it’s equally sure to stay here and let it burn, isn’t it?” Rex
asked.
“While there’s life there’s hope,” Bob reminded him.
“I know, but we’ve got to do something.”
“And if we can find an axe we’ll be doing it. Do you know if there is
one in the cabin?” he asked, turning to Stebbins.
“I think so,” Stebbins replied, and to their great joy he pulled one
from beneath one of the bunks.
“Now we’ve got a chance at least,” Bob cried, as he grabbed the axe.
“Jack, light that lantern and hold it for me.”
Jack sprang to obey, and in another minute Bob was making a vigorous
attack on the logs in the corner where Jack had located the fire.
“It’s gaining pretty fast,” he gasped a few minutes later, as he paused
to get his breath.
“And so are you,” Jack encouraged him. “That log’s most through, and
then it’ll be easier. Here, let me have a try at it.”
“Not yet. I’m all right,” Bob panted, as the axe sank deep into the log.
Chopping a log out of a cabin is an entirely different matter from
cutting that same log in two in the open, where one could get at all
sides of it. It was slow hard work, as the cut had to be made very wide,
and it was impossible to get the full benefit of the swing. But he kept
doggedly at it, and at last the axe sank completely through the six-inch
log. He had made the cut about three feet from the corner and a few
blows with the back of the axe sufficed to knock out the short end.
“Now my turn,” Jack said, as he sat down the lantern and took the axe
from Bob’s hand.
“It doesn’t seem to be burning very fast now,” Bob panted. “One more log
will be enough, I reckon.”
The next log was not quite so large, and Jack soon had it out. Bob was
ready with the bucket and a large dipper.
“Now if only it hasn’t got too big a start,” he said, as he thrust his
head out in an effort to see where to throw the water.
For the moment he had forgotten all about the men outside in his
eagerness to put out the fire, but memory returned in a flash as he
heard a sharp ping and a bullet struck the log just over his head. He
pulled his head in with a jerk.
“That was pretty close,” he gasped.
“I’ll say so,” Jack agreed; “but how’s the fire? Did you see it?”
Instead of replying, Bob threw himself on the floor directly beneath the
opening, and filling the dipper with water, he reached out and poured it
down the side of the logs.
“It’s hardly more than started to catch on the logs,” he explained, as
he reached for a second dipper of water. “If I can hit the right spot
this will put it out all right.”
Bob’s glance out of the opening had revealed the situation to him. The
men had piled considerable birch bark and other light stuff against the
cabin, but the logs had, fortunately, been slow in catching fire, and
the kindling had nearly burned out before the cabin itself was fairly on
fire.
He had just reached out with the third dipper of water when another shot
was heard, and a bullet struck the dipper and knocked it from his hand.
“Be careful and don’t get in front of that hole,” he cried, as he drew
back his arm. “I think it’s out,” he added; “but I guess we’ll have to
wait a few minutes and see. It’d be pretty risky to look out just now.”
“You mean it’d be sure death,” Jack declared grimly.
Fifteen minutes passed, during which they watched closely at the peep
holes, one on each side of the room.
“I think we put it out,” Bob finally announced. “It would be burning up
in good shape by this time if we hadn’t.”
“Seems to be pretty quiet along the Potomac,” Jack said.
“Seems is right,” Bob returned. “But we must not let them have a chance
to start another fire. We haven’t water enough left to put out a match,
and if they get another one going it’s curtains for us.”
“Then they mustn’t start it, that’s all,” Rex said.
“I don’t believe they’ll try it while it is as light as it is now,” Bob
declared. “They know that we can see them and they have a good deal of
respect for their skins. It’s the time after the moon sets that’s
worrying me. It’ll be mighty dark again along about two o’clock.”
“You think they’ll try it again?” Rex asked.
“I imagine it depends some on whether or not they got Kernertok. If they
know that he has gone and they failed to get him, they of course know
that he’s gone for help and they’ll be in a hurry to get us before he
can get back. On the other hand, if they didn’t get him or don’t know
that he’s left they’ll think that they have plenty of time. But, of
course, it’s all guesswork on our part.”
But the intense darkness which he dreaded came even sooner than he had
expected. It was shortly after twelve o’clock when the moon slipped
behind a cloud, and it was only a short time until the rapidly gathering
clouds had blotted out all the stars as well.
“No use trying to see out of these holes any longer,” Jack declared, as
he crossed the room. “It’s as black as the ace of spades out there and
getting darker every minute.”
“What can we do?” Rex asked. “I don’t fancy the thought of staying here
and being burnt out.”
“If it wasn’t for Stebbins, I’d be in favor of sneak-out and having a
try at getting away, but he could never do it, and of course we can’t go
and leave him.”
“Of course not,” both Rex and Jack agreed.
“There’s only one thing to do that I can think of,” Bob began.
“What is it?” Jack interrupted.
“It’s for the three of us to go outside and stay there till it begins to
get light. I know it sounds risky, and it is, but it’s a chance and we
haven’t even got that cooped up here. It’ll be three against three and I
believe we’ll have a slight advantage over them.”
“How so?” Rex asked.
“Well, we’ll be looking for them and they’ll naturally think we’re still
inside.”
“Righto,” Jack said; “it’s the dope all right. Let’s not lose any time
or we may be too late.”
Mr. Stebbins vigorously opposed the plan when they made known their
intention to him.
“The thing for you to do,” he insisted, “is to get away and leave me
here. I don’t believe they will kill me so long as they don’t know where
the money is.”
“Nothing doing along that line,” Jack declared emphatically, and Bob and
Rex quickly agreed with him.
“But it’s not right for you to risk your lives for me,” Stebbins
insisted.
“Right or wrong, we’re going to stick together,” Bob said in a tone
which told him that it would be useless to argue further.
“Then I think your plan is probably best,” he acknowledged reluctantly;
“but please be careful. If anything should happen to any of you I’ll
never be able to forgive myself.”
“We’ll be careful, all right,” Bob assured him.
Stebbins at first insisted that he was strong enough to go out and watch
with them, but the boys finally convinced him that three would be as
good as four, and the more there were the better chance the enemy would
have of finding out that they had left the cabin.
“You see, we’ve only three guns,” Bob argued, “and if you go one of us
will be out there unarmed. If it comes to a rough and tumble fight, of
course, you can come in as a kind of reserve force.
“Now then, fellows, when we get out we want to keep close to the cabin,
and much depends on not making the slightest noise. Don’t shoot unless
you have to, and if you do, aim low. I don’t want to kill one of them,
even if they do deserve it. We’ll go out the front door. Mr. Stebbins,
you fasten it after us, but be ready to let us in on short notice if
it’s necessary.”
“Do we keep together?” Rex asked, as Bob was about to slip the bar.
“Guess we’ll have to,” Bob replied, then after a moment’s thought he
added, “I believe we’re going at this all wrong after all. If we all
three go out we’ll have to keep close together or we’ll be unable to
tell who’s who. It’s so dark you can’t see your hand before your face.
No, the proper thing is for me to go alone. So far as watching is
concerned, one will be as good as three, and if I call, you can come.”
“What’s the matter with me going?” Jack asked.
“Or me?” Rex put in.
“No, I’m going,” Bob insisted. “I don’t want to brag, but this is no
time to stand on ceremony, and you both know that if it should come to a
rough and tumble fight, as it may, I’ve had more experience than either
of you. Now please don’t say anything more about it, because I’m going.”
It was no reflection on the courage of either Rex or Jack that they
recognized the force of Bob’s argument and made no more protest.
“But before I go, I think it would be well for Mr. Stebbins to tell us
where he has hidden that money,” Bob suggested.
“I should have told you before,” Stebbins said. “About a hundred yards
down the lake there is a gray birch, which leans over the water. You
can’t help finding it, and the money’s buried right at its foot, on the
side away from the lake. It’s about eighteen inches down.”
“Now you be careful and don’t go to taking chances,” Jack cautioned, as
Bob again reached for the bar.
“You know me,” he whispered, as he swung open the door and slipped out
into the night.
CHAPTER XIII.
KERNERTOK TO THE RESCUE—CONCLUSION.
“Well, I guess there’s nothing we can do except wait,” Jack said, after
he had slipped the bar back in its place.
“And that’s often the hardest work of all,” Stebbins declared. “That
brother of yours is a very brave lad.”
“I’ll tell the world he is, and then some,” Jack agreed.
“He doesn’t know the meaning of fear,” Rex added.
“And to think that it was my weakness that’s the cause of it all,”
Stebbins groaned.
Outside it was as dark as the proverbial pocket. For a moment Bob stood
still and listened. A slight murmur as the tree tops swayed in the light
wind was all the sound that reached his ears. Careful to make not the
slightest noise, he crept around the corner of the cabin, keeping close
to it until he reached the back. Here again he paused to listen. No
sound came, and after a moment he continued. Perhaps fifteen minutes had
passed when he once more stood by the front door.
Again and again he made the circuit, stopping every few feet to listen.
Once he thought he heard a sound as of some object moving a little in
front of him, but as he paused to listen, he decided that it had been
only his imagination. Nearly an hour had passed since he had come out,
and he had passed around the cabin many times, when, as he crept around
the front right-hand corner, his foot struck something. Stooping down he
felt about with his hand. A small pile of what felt like birch bark was
lying close up against the corner.
“Now I wonder if that’s been there all the time,” he thought, as he
straightened up. “I’ll just camp around this corner for a while,” he
decided, as he sat down and leaned his back against the logs.
It seemed to him that he had sat there a long time, and he was thinking
that he had better make another round of the cabin, when his sharp ears
caught a slight sound. Instantly he was all attention, trying to pierce
the darkness. He could, however, see nothing, but in a moment he again
heard the same noise. Someone was creeping slowly and carefully toward
the cabin. He crouched ready for a sudden spring. Suddenly he heard a
scraping sound and instantly a match flared up. And then he sprang.
Bob was not more than four feet from the man, and he landed fairly on
his shoulders. With a grunt of surprise the man went over backward, with
Bob on top, trying his best to get a hold on his throat. After the first
grunt, neither made a sound, save for their heavy breathing. Over and
over they rolled, each trying in vain to get a decisive hold on the
other. Once Bob secured a half Nelson, but the great strength of his
antagonist served to break it. A moment later the man got a hold on
Bob’s throat, and for an instant he thought he was done for, but,
exerting all his strength, he managed to free one hand, and grasping the
other’s wrist, he tore his hand away, just in time to save his breath.
The man was breathing heavily, and Bob was encouraged to believe that he
would get the better of him shortly, provided his friends did not come
to his assistance.
The end came sooner than he had dared hope for. Feeling his chance, Bob
succeeded in getting a hold, which he had learned some years previous,
from a Jap friend at college. The hold was such that the man’s right arm
was forced back from the elbow and he was helpless to free himself.
Slowly, inch by inch, Bob bent the arm back, until finally he heard the
bone snap. With a sharp cry of pain the man struggled to his feet as Bob
released his hold and in an instant was lost in the darkness. Bob,
fearing that he would be back with the others, quickly ran to the front
door of the cabin and calling softly, was at once admitted.
“I thought I heard a noise like someone rolling about on the ground,”
Jack said, as soon as he had barred the door.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” Bob grinned.
“What happened?” Rex asked.
“Jacques and I had a little set to. That is, I think it was he, although
it was so dark that I couldn’t be sure.” And he told them about the
fight.
“I hated to break his arm, but it was he or I, and I was afraid that the
others would hear us and come to his help,” he concluded.
“You don’t need to waste any sympathy on him,” Stebbins said, “they’re a
bad lot and it would have been a mighty good job if you had killed him.”
“Now, I think the three of us had better go out together and hang
around,” Bob proposed. “They’ve got another fire all ready to light, and
they may do it, although I doubt it. Anyhow, we’d better be on the safe
side. I reckon we won’t run much risk with one of them with a broken
arm.”
Keeping close together, they circled the cabin until the first streaks
of light appeared in the east, but they heard nothing from their
enemies.
“Guess we’d better go inside,” Bob said; “they might take a shot at us
as soon as it gets light enough to see.”
They acted on the suggestion none too soon, for just as Rex, who
happened to be the last one in, stepped inside, a bullet whistled past
his head and struck the wall at the back of the room.
“I heard that one sing all right,” he said, as he banged the door shut
and slipped the bar in its place.
“Now we’ve got to watch mighty close at those peep holes,” Bob declared.
“And I, for one, don’t think we ought to hesitate to shoot if we see one
of them trying to set fire to the place, not after that last shot,” Rex
declared.
“I hardly think they’ll try it again,” Bob said. “I kicked all that
stuff they had piled up away, and I don’t believe they’ll risk it again,
now that it’s getting light.”
“Mebby not,” Jack broke in, but we’ll play it safe and not give ’em the
chance.”
Rapidly the light increased, and soon they were able to see plainly for
some distance.
“I wonder if they’ve got any more tricks up their sleeves,” Jack said,
as he took his eye from the hole.
“I’ll say they have,” Bob replied almost immediately.
Even as he spoke a slight sound as of something striking on the roof was
heard.
“What was that?” Rex asked.
“Just what I’ve been afraid of, a fire arrow,” Bob told him.
“What do you mean by that?” Rex asked anxiously.
“They’re trying to set fire to the roof by shooting arrows which they
have wrapped with birch bark and smeared with pitch. It’s an old Indian
trick.”
“But will the roof catch?”
“I’m afraid it will. It’s made of pretty light stuff, I suppose. Most of
them are, but let’s hope that this one’s an exception.
“There’s another one,” Jack said a moment later, as a second thud
sounded on the roof.
“Is there nothing we can do?” Rex asked.
“Not a thing so far as I can see, except hope and pray that it doesn’t
catch,” Bob answered sadly.
“Hark!” Jack whispered, about five minutes later.
“What is it?” Bob asked.
“Don’t you hear it?”
“It’s caught sure as guns,” Bob declared, after listening intently.
“It sure has,” Jack agreed, “and by the sound it’s going in good shape.”
Bob moved about the room, stopping every few feet, to listen and
cautioning the others to keep quiet.
“I think it’s right here,” he announced, pointing to the roof about half
way down one side. Quick, now, get that table under here and make it
snappy.”
Without waiting to question his intention Rex dragged the table to the
place where Bob was standing, and in almost less than no time, as Jack
would say, he was on a chair which he had placed on the table, hacking
away at the roof with the axe.
As Bob had said, the roof was made of light material, covered with bark
and moss, and he made short work of cutting through it, and he soon had
a hole large enough to admit his head.
“Don’t you poke your head out of that hole,” Jack ordered.
“I’ve got to, so don’t argue, but hand me that box there—quick.”
“They’ll take a shot at you.”
“Not the first time they won’t. I’ll be too quick for them.”
Placing the box on the chair he was tall enough to be able to get his
head through the opening. As he had hoped, the fire was only about a
foot away.
“Hand me that small shovel,” he ordered, as he withdrew his head.
With the shovel he soon succeeded in beating out the blaze, but as he
again looked out to make sure that it was out a bullet sang past his
head, making him duck back quickly.
“I told you,” Jack said, as he jumped down.
“I know, but I got the fire out, although I don’t expect it will do much
good.”
“How come?” Rex asked.
“They’ll have another one going in a minute, and it’ll be pretty risky
to try that stunt again, as they’ll be on the watch.”
“It seems kinder funny to me that as many times as they have shot at us
not a bullet has hit. I thought that all those fellows up here were dead
shots,” Rex said.
“Most of them are good shots, all right,” Bob declared, “but most of the
time the light has been bad, and then I’m inclined to think that perhaps
they haven’t yet shot to hit. You see, although they won’t hesitate to
kill if they think their safety depends on it, they’d rather get that
money without killing us if they can, and I reckon it looks to them just
now as though they could.”
“And to tell the truth, it kinder looks that way to me,” Jack grinned.
As Bob had predicted, it was only a few minutes before they could tell
by the sound that the roof was burning, not only in one place, but in at
least three.
“It’s no use trying it again,” Bob sighed. “Even if they didn’t shoot,
they can start those fires a good deal faster than we can put them out.”
“Then our only hope is that Kernertok’ll get back in time,” Rex
suggested.
“I guess that’s about the size of it,” Bob replied.
“I wish I knew that he got through all right. What do you think about
it?” Jack asked turning to Bob.
“I feel pretty sure, that unless they got him, they don’t know that he’s
gone,” Bob replied.
“What makes you think that?” Rex asked.
“Because if they knew that he had gone for help, they wouldn’t have
waited till now to start firing the roof,” Bob assured him.
“Sounds reasonable,” Rex said.
“But that shot—” Jack began, but Bob interrupted.
“Might not have had anything to do with it.”
“And then again it might,” Jack insisted.
By this time the roof was burning fiercely, as they could tell by the
sound, and, to make matters worse, a stiff breeze had sprung up.
“It won’t take it long to go in this wind,” Jack declared.
“Well, the only thing we can do is to wait as long as we can in hopes
that Kernertok will come with help. If he doesn’t, we’ll have to make a
rush for it and trust to luck,” Bob said sadly.
“By the way, Mr. Stebbins, did you ever hear the legend connected with
this lake?” Rex asked.
“Yes, I’ve heard it. Why?”
“I was just wondering. You see the other night we saw a canoe with a
white figure in it out on the lake, and it looked kinder spooky.”
“That was Jacques. He knows about the legend, and every night he would
wrap a sheet about himself and go out on the lake. He knew that you were
headed up this way some how or other and he thought it would scare you
away.”
“We have known for several days that someone was dogging us,” Bob told
him, and then he explained about the mysterious tracks.
“I guess I can clear up that part of it also,” Stebbins said, as he
stepped over to the bunks and knelt down on the floor. He reached far
under the lower bunk and dragged out two objects, which he held out to
Bob.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered,” he said.
The things which Stebbins had in his hands were two large frames made to
strap on to a shoe.
“They made those tracks all right,” Bob declared, as he examined them.
“No doubt about that,” Jack agreed.
“Well, there’s two mysteries cleared up,” Rex said.
“And there’s only one left to be solved,” Bob said grimly.
“And what’s that?” Rex asked.
“How we’re going to get out of this scrape.”
“Never say die,” Jack said trying to make his voice sound hopeful.
“We’ve been in some tight places before, and something tells me that
this isn’t the last one.”
By this time the roof was burned through in a number of places, and
charred fragments were falling to the floor.
“It’s getting pretty warm in here,” Jack declared, wiping the
perspiration from his face.
“And what’s more, that roof is going to come down in a bunch before very
long,” Bob added.
Just then a loud voice was heard from outside.
“Hey, there in der cabin.”
“What do you want?” Bob called at the top of his voice.
“You geet warm, oui?”
“Well, we’re not actually freezing,” Bob yelled back.
“Non? You roast ver’ queek you no tell where money be.”
To this Bob made no reply, and after a moment the man shouted:
“You come out geet shot, stay in geet roast, oui. You tell where money
you all come out go way, no geet hurt.”
“I’ll be—” Bob began, but Rex caught him by the arm.
“Just a minute, Bob. They’ve got us, and what’s the money compared to
our lives? Tell him where it is.”
“Not just yet,” Bob replied. “We’ve got a few minutes yet before the
roof will fall and Kernertok may come at any moment. We’ll think it
over,” he shouted to the men outside.
The roof was now a roaring mass of flames and they had great difficulty
in keeping clear of the falling embers. In several places the side logs
had caught, and fanned by the wind, were burning with great vigor. Bob
knew, as did the others, that it could be but a matter of minutes now
when they would have to leave the cabin.
“I guess we’ll have to give in,” he said sadly, a few minutes later, as
a portion of the roof fell in with a crash, narrowly escaping Jack’s
head.
“It’s the only thing to do,” Rex urged.
“Hello, outside there,” Bob shouted.
“You tell, oui?” Jacques’s voice called back.
“Yes, it’s—” Bob began, when suddenly above the crackling of the fire a
rifle shot rang out.
“Hark!” Jack cried, catching Bob by the arm. “That may be Kernertok.”
They waited with bated breath for a moment, and then, to their great
joy, Kernertok’s voice reached them.
“Bob, Jack, you come out heap soon.”
“Heap soon is right,” Jack shouted, dancing about like a wild man. “I
told you I had a hunch.”
In another minute Bob had withdrawn the bar and they were outside
breathing the pure, cool air. Just on the edge of the clearing they saw
Kernertok beckoning to them, and they lost no time in hastening to his
side.
“You got here just in time, thank God,” Bob cried, as he grasped his
friend’s hand.
“Heap little time spare,” Kernertok declared gravely.
“I’ll tell the world it was,” Jack cried. “But where are the breeds?”
“Come.”
They followed the Indian a few feet into the forest, and there they
found the three men surrounded by four sturdy Yankees. Bob quickly noted
that one of the prisoners carried one arm in a sling, made from a large
red handkerchief.
“So it wasn’t you, Jacques,” he said, turning to the leader, who was
standing with dejected mien a little apart from the other two.
Jacques made no reply, but gave the boys a look of fierce hatred, to
which they paid little heed.
“Come on, Jack,” Bob cried, turning to his brother, “let’s see if we can
save enough of the food for breakfast.”
“Make it snappy,” Jack replied, as he followed Bob, who had started on a
run toward the cabin.
As they had hoped, the part of the cabin containing the food closet was
not as yet on fire, so far as the walls were concerned, and after a
hurried struggle, they succeeded in tearing it out and saving all it
contained.
“There,” Bob panted as they placed it on the ground beyond the reach of
the flames. “I reckon we’ll have enough grub to last us till we get back
to civilization.”
It did not take them long to prepare a hearty meal and in less than an
hour they were ready to take the back trail. They found the money where
Stebbins had said he had buried it and the latter breathed a deep sigh
of relief as he saw it restored to the son of the man who owned it.
“That sure is a big relief off my mind,” he declared as he handed the
bag to Rex.
A little later they were back again on the banks of the Allagash where
they found their canoe together with two others which Kernertok and his
companions had brought up with them. The trip down the river was
uneventful and they arrived at the little town of St. Francis shortly
after noon, highly elated with the successful ending of their adventure.
“I owe you boys and Kernertok a lot,” Rex declared as they walked down
the street toward the little hotel.
“Bosh,” Jack exclaimed. “Never had a better time in my life.”
They left for home by train the following morning after making
arrangements to have the canoe shipped back to North East Carry.
“Heap hard trip,” Kernertok grunted as he sank into his seat just as the
train started.
“I didn’t think you had minded it,” Jack said in surprise.
“Trip up here all right. Trip back on train heap hard,” and the old
Indian shook his head while the boys laughed.
THE END
_SAVE THE WRAPPER!_
If you have enjoyed reading about the adventures of the new friends you
have made in this book and would like to read more clean, wholesome
stories of their entertaining experiences, turn to the book jacket—on
the inside of it, a comprehensive list of Burt’s fine series of
carefully selected books for young people has been placed for your
convenience.
_Orders for these books, placed with your bookstore or sent to the
Publishers, will receive prompt attention_.
The Golden Boys Series
[Illustration: The Golden Boys in the Maine Woods]
BY L. P. WYMAN, PH.D.
Dean of Pennsylvania Military College.
A new series of instructive copyright stories for boys of High School
Age.
Handsome Cloth Binding.
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
POSTAGE 10c EXTRA
THE GOLDEN BOYS AND THEIR NEW ELECTRIC CELL
THE GOLDEN BOYS AT THE FORTRESS
THE GOLDEN BOYS IN THE MAINE WOODS
THE GOLDEN BOYS WITH THE LUMBER JACKS
THE GOLDEN BOYS RESCUED BY RADIO
THE GOLDEN BOYS ALONG THE RIVER ALLAGASH
THE GOLDEN BOYS AT THE HAUNTED CAMP
THE GOLDEN BOYS ON THE RIVER DRIVE
THE GOLDEN BOYS SAVE THE CHAMBERLAIN DAM
THE GOLDEN BOYS ON THE TRAIL
The Boy Scout Series
[Illustration: The Boy Scouts’ First Campfire]
BY HERBERT CARTER
For Boys 12 to 16 Years
All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
Postage 10c Extra
New Stories of Camp Life
THE BOY SCOUTS’ FIRST CAMPFIRE; or, Scouting with the Silver Fox
Patrol.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE BLUE RIDGE; or, Marooned Among the Moonshiners.
THE BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL; or, Scouting through the Big Game
Country.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS; or, The New Test for the Silver Fox
Patrol.
THE BOY SCOUTS THROUGH THE BIG TIMBER; or, The Search for the Lost
Tenderfoot.
THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES; or, The Secret of the Hidden Silver
Mine.
THE BOY SCOUTS ON STURGEON ISLAND; or, Marooned Among the Game-Fish
Poachers.
THE BOY SCOUTS DOWN IN DIXIE; or, The Strange Secret of Alligator
Swamp.
THE BOY SCOUTS AT THE BATTLE OF SARATOGA; A story of Burgoyne’s Defeat
in 1777.
THE BOY SCOUTS ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA; or, The Silver Fox Patrol Caught
in a Flood.
THE BOY SCOUTS ON WAR TRAILS IN BELGIUM; or, Caught Between Hostile
Armies.
THE BOY SCOUTS AFOOT IN FRANCE; or, With The Red Cross Corps at the
Marne.
The Rex Kingdon Series
[Illustration: Rex Kingdon of Ridgewood High]
By GORDON BRADDOCK
A fine series of stories for boys of High School age, written in an
interesting and instructive style.
Rex Kingdon, the hero, a real, wide-awake boy, interested in outdoor
games, enters into the school sports with enthusiasm. A rattling good
baseball story holds the interest to the very end. Rex and his Ridgewood
friends establish a campfire in the North woods; there, mystery,
jealousy and rivalry enter to menace their safety, fire their interest
and finally cement their friendship.
Stories boys will want to read.
CLOTHBOUND. JACKETS IN COLORS.
Copyright Titles.
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
POSTAGE 10c EXTRA
REX KINGDON OF RIDGEWOOD HIGH
REX KINGDON IN THE NORTH WOODS
REX KINGDON AT WALCOTT HALL
REX KINGDON BEHIND THE BAT
REX KINGDON ON STORM ISLAND
The Oakdale Academy Series
[Illustration: Oakdale Boys in Camp]
BY MORGAN SCOTT
A series of real boys’ stories at the Oakdale Academy. Ben Stone, the
hero, wins his way under peculiar circumstances and against great odds.
Clean-cut stories of real experiences in athletics and sports of academy
life, with adventures, mysteries and clever descriptions.
Just the kind of books a boy 12 to 16 years would like to read.
HANDSOME CLOTH BINDING,
JACKETS IN COLORS
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
POSTAGE 10c EXTRA
Copyright Titles
BEN STONE AT OAKDALE
BOYS OF OAKDALE ACADEMY
RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE
OAKDALE BOYS IN CAMP
THE GREAT OAKDALE MYSTERY
THE NEW BOYS AT OAKDALE
The Radio Boys Series
[Illustration: The Radio Boys as Soldiers of Fortune]
BY GERALD BRECKENRIDGE
A new series of copyright titles for boys of all ages.
Cloth Bound, with Attractive Cover Designs
PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH
POSTAGE 10c EXTRA
THE RADIO BOYS ON THE MEXICAN BORDER
THE RADIO BOYS ON SECRET SERVICE DUTY
THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE REVENUE GUARDS
THE RADIO BOYS’ SEARCH FOR THE INCA’S TREASURE
THE RADIO BOYS RESCUE THE LOST ALASKA EXPEDITION
THE RADIO BOYS IN DARKEST AFRICA
THE RADIO BOYS SEEK THE LOST ATLANTIS
THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE BORDER PATROL
THE RADIO BOYS AS SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE
The Boy Allies
(Registered in the United States Patent Office)
With the Army
[Illustration: The Boy Allies in Great Peril]
BY CLAIR W. HAYES
For Boys 12 to 16 Years.
All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles
In this series we follow the fortunes of two American lads unable to
leave Europe after war is declared. They meet the soldiers of the
Allies, and decide to cast their lot with them. Their experiences and
escapes are many, and furnish plenty of good, healthy action that every
boy loves.
THE BOY ALLIES AT LIEGE; or, Through Lines of Steel.
THE BOY ALLIES ON THE FIRING LINE; or, Twelve Days’ Battle Along the
Marne.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE COSSACKS; or, A Wild Dash Over the
Carpathians.
THE BOY ALLIES IN THE TRENCHES; or, Midst Shot and Shell Along the
Aisne.
THE BOY ALLIES IN GREAT PERIL; or, With the Italian Army In the Alps.
THE BOY ALLIES IN THE BALKAN CAMPAIGN; or, The Struggle to Save a
Nation.
THE BOY ALLIES ON THE SOMME; or, Courage and Bravery Rewarded.
THE BOY ALLIES AT VERDUN; or, Saving France from the Enemy.
THE BOY ALLIES UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES; or, Leading the American
Troops to the Firing Line.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH HAIG IN FLANDERS; or, The Fighting Canadians of
Vimy Ridge.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH PERSHING IN FRANCE: or, Over the Top at Chateau
Thierry.
THE BOY ALLIES WITH MARSHAL FOCH: or, The Closing Days of the Great
World War.
Boys of the Royal Mounted Police Series
[Illustration: Dick Kent With the Mounted Police]
By MILTON RICHARDS
A new series of stories of Adventure in the North Woods
For Boys 12 to 16 Years
Handsome Cloth Binding
DICK KENT WITH THE MOUNTED POLICE
Dick and his friend Sandy meet with ambush and desperate hand-to-hand
encounters while on a dangerous mission with the Canadian Mounted
Police.
DICK KENT IN THE FAR NORTH
Outwitting the notorious outlaw “Bear” Henderson with the help of
Malemute Slade, the two boys discover the secret of a lost gold mine.
DICK KENT WITH THE ESKIMOS
In their search, with the mounted police, for an escaped murderer,
Dick and Sandy have thrilling experiences with ice floes and animals
in the Arctic.
DICK KENT, FUR TRADER
On the trail with Corporal Rand, Dick Kent and his two associates
unravel the mystery of the fur thieves.
DICK KENT WITH THE MALEMUTE MAIL
Entrusted with the vaccine for an isolated trading post, Dick and his
friends win through in spite of incredible difficulties.
DICK KENT ON SPECIAL DUTY
Corporal Rand and his young recruits solve a mystery and find a hidden
treasure.
For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by the
Publishers
A. L. BURT COMPANY, Publishers,
114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK
Transcriber’s Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
--Generated a Table of Contents based on chapter headings.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Golden Boys Along the River Allagash" ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.