by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER I.
THE CAMPING PARTY.
The afternoon of a lazy midsummer day was waning as an old white horsedrew a heavily loaded, creaking, complaining farm wagon along a crude,seldom used road which wound through the depths of a silent stretch oftimberland. A sleepy looking, tow-headed boy with round apple cheeks saton the wagon-seat and held the reins. Behind the wagon five more boysstraggled along on foot, stumbling over the rocks and “cradle knolls.”The party, with the exception of the drowsy driver, who had been engagedto transport the camping outfit from Pemstock, the nearest railroadstation, was bound for Phantom Lake, the objective point of theexpedition.
As originally planned, the company had been made up of four Oakdalelads, Phil Springer, Sile Crane, Ben Stone and Rodney Grant; but,listening to their talk of the sport they would have on such an outing,Sleuth Piper had become inspired by a longing to join them, and almostat the last moment he had succeeded in securing permission of hisparents. The five mile jaunt from Pemstock to Phantom Lake followed ajourney of twenty odd miles by rail; but, despite the dust, heat and badroads, the enthusiasm of the boys showed no symptoms of waning.
Carrying a double barreled shotgun and wearing an old leather-bandedcowboy hat and a belt supporting a sheathed hunting knife, Piperfollowed close behind the writhing wagon, peering with an exaggeratedair of caution and keenness into the timber and bushes on either hand.The rustling of a running chipmunk, the distant chatter of a redsquirrel, or the cawing of a crow, lazily wheeling overhead, wassufficient to cause Piper to halt with quickly uplifted hand and thepose of one who sensed an impending danger.
“Oh, what’s the matter with yeou naow?” drawled Sile Crane inexasperation, as he finally stumbled against Sleuth’s heels. “Yeoucouldn’t shoot anything if yeou saw it, and, anyhaow, the old gun ain’tloaded.”
“Hush!” sibilated Sleuth. “We’re in the enemy’s country, and perilmenaces us on every hand. Who knows that the chatter of yonder squirrelor the sudden cry of the soaring crow does not betoken the near presenceof some prowling varmint? There may be bloodthirsty redskins lying inambush for us, and, unless we preserve extreme caution, perchance ourscalps tonight will dangle in the wigwams of the Wampanoags.”
“Oh, go on with yeour dinged fol-de-rol,” snorted Crane. “Yeou’ve readso many of them cheap Injun stories that yeou’re half nutty. Betweenthem yarns and the detective stuff yeou sop up, yeou’ll go clean offyeour base if yeou don’t look aout. Come, pudge along.” He ended bygiving Sleuth a vigorous shove that nearly sent the smaller ladsprawling.
“Careful, Sile,” begged Ben Stone. “Have you forgotten that it wasSleuthy’s clever work which practically saved me from the stigma of acrime? If you have, I haven’t, and I’m not liable to forget it.”
Piper gave his champion, a stocky, square built, somewhatunprepossessing lad, a grateful look.
“I guess I opened their eyes some that time, didn’t I, Ben?” he grinnedproudly. “I made the fellers that had been poking fun at me sit up andtake notice. I had them all spellbound in court when I told my story andgave my deductions.”
“Yes,” chuckled Phil Springer, who was wearing a canvas suit thatcrinkled and rustled at every step. “It was so still in the court roomthat you might have heard a gum-drop.”
“A pun that’s right worthy of Chipper Cooper himself,” observed RodneyGrant, who, although a genuine Texan and the son of a cattleman, was themost simply and practically dressed member of the party. “We must begetting near the lake. It’s sure a wonder to me that the Dutchman hasn’trolled off the wagon-seat before this and broken his neck. Look at him!There he goes! Oh, Dutchy, look out!”
The sleepy driver seemed to awaken and recover barely in time to preventhimself from bounding like a ball beneath the forward wheels of thewagon.
“Vat’s der matter?” he gurgled, yanking at the reins and turning toglare, red-faced, over his shoulder. “Vy iss it you at me yell like dotundt nearly make me off fall? Who vas you calling Tutchman already now?I vould haff you understood dot I peen a Cherman.”
His indignation brought a shout of laughter from the boys.
“Pardon me for breaking in on your peaceful slumbers,” entreated theTexan. “We were reckoning the lake must be right near by this time.”
The German lad rubbed his eyes, yawned, and looked around.
“Yah,” he said, “der lake hass almost reached us. It vill soon be here,I peliefe. Not much more must we on go.”
“We’ll never reach the lul-lul-lake in the world if you gug-gug-gettwisted in gug-guiding as much as you do in tut-talking,” said Springer.
“Vot iss?” cried the young German in derision. “Anyvay, I do not up chopmy vurds, der vay you did. Ven dose vurds did out come your mouth from,it iss mincemeats they vas already.”
This turned the laugh on Springer, who sought in vain to make asufficiently sarcastic retort, and became so excited through the effortthat he stammered more than usual.
“Oh, start up your old nag again, Dutch,” urged Crane. “Yeou andSpringer both murder language in a criminal fashion.”
“Maype dot peen so,” admitted the lad on the wagon; “but it iss py ourmouths we talk, undt not our noses through.” With which solid shot hechirruped to the old horse, and the wagon creaked onward once more.
“It sure seems to me,” laughed Grant, “that Mr. Carl Duckelstein isn’tnear as sleepy as he looks. As we’ve engaged him to bring us butter,eggs and milk daily, he may provide some amusement for us.”
In a few moments, the road taking a bend through the trees, they set thewoods ringing with shouts of satisfaction, for before them they caught aglimpse of the placid blue waters of Phantom Lake. Soon the broad sweepof the sheltered island-dotted lake, with a range of mountainous hillsrising directly from the shore at the further side, opened out beforethem, the prospect being one to make their youthful hearts beat swiftly.
Eight miles in length and fully half as far across at its widest point,the forest-surrounded, mountain-sentineled strip of water was one of themost picturesque sheets to be found in old New England, remaining as yetunspoiled by too many swarming campers and resorters, although a newlyopened hotel near the base of the highest and most precipitous cliff ofthe range of hills was attracting increasing numbers of the latterclass. From Pleasant Point, which the Oakdale boys had now reached, thehotel far across the lake could be glimpsed amid the green foliage atthe base of the purple cliff.
Springer capered like a colt, shouting again in joyous abandon as he ranout on the point to get a good view of his surroundings.
“It’s gug-great, fellows,” he cried—“simply great! This is a corkingplace to camp. Why, here’s deep water on one side right off the rocks,and a cove with a sandy beach on the other sus-side. Gee whiz! it’sfine.”
The enthusiasm of the others, excepting, of course, the seemingly stolidGerman lad, was scarcely less unrestrained.
“It certain is all right,” was the decision of Rod Grant. “I’ll admit itbeats anything to be found in Rogers County, Texas.”
“Here’s a rippin’ place to go in swimmin’ right off the rocks,”announced Crane, inspecting one side of the point. “Looks like a fellercan dive off into ten foot of water. By glory! we sartain ought to havefun here.”
“Come over here,” called Stone from the other side. “Come on over,fellows. Here’s a place where we can land with our canoe when we get itover from Pemstock.”
With one foot crossed over the other, Sleuth Piper leaned on the muzzleof the shotgun, in imitation of the pictured pose of some scout ortrapper he had seen on the cover of such a lurid yarn as pleased hisfancy, calmly surveying the prospect from the most sightly spot of thepoint.
“We should not forget,” he said, “that we’re in the heart of the Darkand Bloody Ground, afar from the nearest settlement. What seems sopeaceful and serene to the naked eye may hide a thousand deadly dangers.Though the pizen redskin may no
t be near, through these trackless wildsprowl innumerable ferocious beasts that—”
“Wake up,” cried Crane. “Turn over; yeou’re on yeour back.”
“Let’s get busy,” suggested Stone. “There’ll be plenty of time to lookaround tomorrow, and we’ve got to hustle to pitch that tent and getsupper before dark.”
“Sure,” agreed Grant. “Everybody get busy. Come on.”
