Oakdale Boys in Camp

by Morgan Scott

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE LEGEND OF LOVERS’ LEAP.

  An hour or more after dinner, as the boys were lounging about, a canoecontaining a single occupant was seen approaching the point. The personwho wielded the paddle headed for the sandy beach of the little cove,upon which lay the canoe of the campers, and, as he drew near, he wasseen to be a youngish man dressed in khaki. A bamboo fishing rodprojected upward over one of the thwarts of the stranger’s canoe.

  “I judge he’s coming to pay us a visit,” said Grant, starting toward thebeach.

  Rod was right. Smiling pleasantly, the young man, who had a small blackmoustache and seemed somewhat in need of a shave, brought his canoe onto the beach with a soft grating sound and stepped out into the shallowwater, his feet being protected by water-tight boots.

  “Hello,” he nodded in an agreeable manner. “Saw your smoke and thoughtI’d come over. Camping out here, I see.”

  “Yes,” answered Rod, equally affable and a bit curious. “Are you fromthe hotel?”

  “No. My name is Granger—Charles Granger, and I’m stopping in an old logcabin about two miles from the hotel. How’s the fishing over this way?”

  “Pretty good, I reckon. We’ve tried it only once, but we had good luck.You see we got here last night barely soon enough to make camp.”

  “I didn’t think you’d been here long,” said Granger, “for if you had I’dbeen likely to have seen you before. How long do you plan to stay?”

  “A week or so; perhaps two; if everything goes all right. My name isGrant. Won’t you come up and meet the rest of the fellows?”

  “Sure,” beamed Granger; “I’d like to.”

  He followed Rod, who presented him to the others. Apparently he was alanguid sort of a chap with a dreamy eye, and, for all of his seemingfrankness, it was not long before the boys fancied they could perceivesomething mysterious in his manner. He told them he was occupying theold log cabin quite alone, his doctor having advised him to spend asmuch of the summer as possible in the open air. Nevertheless, althoughhe was somewhat slender of build, he did not have the appearance of aperson in poor health. Springer, seeking to draw him out, soondiscovered that he knew very little about fishing and fishing tackle.

  “Oh, I’m a greenhorn,” laughed Granger; “but I enjoy the sport just thesame. It’s about all I have to do besides read, and a man gets tired ofreading after a while. I have amused myself, however, by picking up someinformation concerning the legends hereabouts. You know this is really amost romantic spot, as well as one of the prettiest sheets of water tobe found in all New England. If people looking for a summer’s outingjust knew about it, they’d pack the Cliff House over there until itwould be necessary to build an addition.”

  “The lake would soon be spoiled if rusticators overran it,” was Grant’sopinion.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” retorted the visitor. “In one way,perhaps you’re right, but it would mean tremendous business and a lot ofmoney for the hotel people. They took a big chance when they put up thathouse over there and sunk so much money in it. You see there’s a certaindisadvantage in the fact that they’re so far from the nearest railroadpoint, although to many people that would seem like an advantage. Thefirst two years they lost money hand over fist, although they advertisedextensively in the regular manner. This is the first season that theyhave really done a fair sort of business, and I understand the businessis increasing.”

  “You sus-seem to be interested in the hotel,” said Springer.

  “Oh, not at all, not at all,” returned Granger. “I’m simply telling youwhat I’ve heard, and it’s by the way of gossip, you know. We must havesomething to talk about.”

  “Sir,” said Piper, “I reckon maybe you’ll pardon me if I inform you thatwe’re not much interested in the affairs of other people who have rashlyventured into the remote regions of these virgin wilds. It is only theirignorance or their foolish bravado that has led them thus to exposetheir lives to the perils of the primeval forests, and were theWampanoags to take to the warpath, it is not at all improbable that thefoolhardy palefaces over yonder would be butchered to the last man,woman and child.”

  Mr. Granger looked at Sleuth in a puzzled way.

  “What’s he talking about?” he asked.

  “Injuns!” hissed Piper, unabashed. “We pioneers know full well theperils that menace us in this redskin haunted land, but years ofexperience amid such dangers have taught us to baffle the varmints.Those who lack our knowledge should cling close to the settlements,where they may seek the protection of the block houses whenever thepizen warriors go on a rampage.”

  The visitor turned from Sleuth to Grant. “Anything the matter with himup here?” he asked, touching his forehead.

  “Nothing but illuminated literature,” answered Rod, laughing. “At homePiper has Sherlock Holmes and Old Sleuth backed against the ropes, andgroggy. He’s the greatest detective that ever solved the mystery of adark and terrible crime. Here in the woods he is the emulator of DanielBoone, Simon Kenton and ‘Deadeye Dick, the Boy Scout of the Border.’That’s all.”

  “Oh, I see,” laughed Granger. “It’s the effect of a vivid imagination,spurred by a line of reading that some fussy people call pernicious. Ifancy he’ll get over it in time and be none the worse for it.”

  Which caused Sleuth to snort disgustedly.

  “Speaking of Indians,” pursued the visitor, “I suppose you’ve heard thestory of Lovers’ Leap? That’s the cliff over behind the hotel, the topof which is marked by that white cross which you can faintly discernagainst the sky.”

  “Well,” replied Crane, “we’ve heard something abaout it.”

  “It’s a most romantic legend,” said Granger glibly. “In the days beforethe invading whites drove them out, two small, warlike tribes ofIndians, the Passagonquays and the Mattagamons, were almost constantlyat war over this particular territory, which was coveted by both. Evenin times of peace these tribes had little in common and shunned eachother as far as possible. According to the story, Lolokana was abeautiful princess of the Passagonquays, and Agamenthan, a young braveof that tribe, desired her to brighten his wigwam. But, for some reason,Lolokana had no use for Agamenthan and steadily repulsed his wooing. Oneday while Lolokana wandered alone in the forest she was attacked by apanther.”

  “Who says there are no cougars hereabouts?” muttered Piper.

  “The princess would have been slain,” continued the narrator, “only forthe prompt and fortunate appearance of a tall, handsome young brave, whorushed to her rescue and slew the panther with his knife. The youngIndian was wounded, but not seriously. His name was Woganock, and he wasa Mattagamon. Nevertheless, in spite of the hostility between the twotribes, Lolokana promptly fell in love with Woganock. Of course theyknew their love-making would not meet with the sanction of their people,and therefore it was carried on in secret through clandestine meetingsin the woods.

  “But Agamenthan was keeping a jealous and watchful eye upon Lolokana,and one day he followed her and saw the lovers meet in the forest.Without hesitation he rushed upon Woganock, shouting for him to defendhimself. Armed only with their knives, the two young braves fought abloody battle, in which both were badly chopped up. Woganock conquered,however, and Agamenthan was left apparently dying upon the ground.

  “Supported and aided by Lolokana, Woganock, though desperately wounded,made his way back to his tribe. But when he told the story of the battleand confessed his love for Lolokana his father, a chief, rose in wrathand drove the princess away, vowing that no Passagonquay should evertake a Mattagamon for his squaw. Weak and helpless, Woganock could notlift a hand in remonstrance, and doubtless it would have availed himlittle had he been able to do so.

  “Lolokana returned to her people and learned, to her astonishment, thatAgamenthan had been found by some warriors, who had bound up hisinjuries and brought him back, alive, to the village. He must have beena tough one, this redskin,
for he did not die. However, he told thestory of the duel with Woganock, and thenceforth Lolokana was heldpractically a captive by her father, who promised Agamenthan that sheshould become his squaw. When the wounded brave recovered his strengthand health he was to have her, whether she wished it or not.

  “Now, as it affects every girl of spirit, this attempt to coerce heragainst her will made Lolokana only the more determined that she wouldnever belong to Agamenthan. If she had lost Woganock, if she was to seehim no more this side of the Happy Hunting Grounds, she was resolvedthat she would die the squaw of no man. A prisoner, watched vigilantlyby night and by day, she dreamed splendid dreams of a reunion with thelover who had saved her from the panther and defeated the warlikeAgamenthan in a fair and even battle. For, even as she had been drivenaway by the angry Mattagamons, although he could make no effort toshield her and could scarcely whisper a remonstrance, Woganock had casther a look from his dark eyes that was a pledge and a promise. So shewaited for him to come, confident that sometime he would do so and takeher away.

  “At last, however, she began to fear that she had waited in vain, forAgamenthan, bearing many terrible scars upon his person, had recoveredhis strength and was asking of her father that the time should be setwhen he could lead her to his wigwam. Though she knew of these councilsand of the impatience of the young brave, Lolokana kept her lipssealed—kept her dark lashes always lowered, that Agamenthan might notread in her eyes the resolve to die rather than submit. A knife, whichshe had found, was hidden upon her person, and this, if nothing else,would enable her to escape at the last moment. One strong, swift thrustdeep into her bosom would set her free.

  “At last the day was named, and the chief of the Passagonquays told hisdaughter that on the morrow she was to become the squaw of Agamenthan.That night she did not close her eyes in sleep, although, lying quitestill, without a single movement to arouse suspicion, she led hervigilant guard to believe she slumbered. It was her purpose to try tocreep forth from the teepee in the darkest hours and take flight.

  “As she lay thus she heard something—the faintest rustle, like themovements of a toad in the leaves; yet something told her it was not atoad, and, with her heart pounding, she listened and listened. Presentlyshe heard her name whispered almost in her ear, and she knew it had beenbreathed by the lips of Woganock. She knew her lover had come at last.With all the skill and stealth of his race he had crept into thevillage, not even disturbing a sleeping dog. He was outside the teepee;only the thin wall divided them.

  “Lulled by her apparent submission to the decree of her father, thechief, the guard dozed. Woganock’s hands found his throat and strangledhim with scarcely a sound. Then, with the same caution, he led Lolokanaout of the village and away into the black depths of the forest.

  “What had happened was not discovered by the Passagonquays until morningdawned. Then, as you may believe, there was something doing. The oldchief called upon Agamenthan to bring the princess back, and Agamenthanpromised to do so. With a dozen young warriors at his heels, he took upthe trail. Three days and three nights they pursued the fleeing loverswith the tenacity of bloodhounds. Early on the fourth day the pursuersclosed in upon Woganock and Lolokana, for the princess was weary. Themoccasins were gone from her bleeding feet, and even Woganock’s greatstrength had been terribly taxed through bearing the maiden in his armsover many of the rough places. They were trapped in the mountainsyonder. No matter which way they sought to flee, they found themselvescut off, and eventually, with the pursuers closing in, they were drivenout upon the very brink of that great cliff where the cross now stands.They could not descend, and to turn back into the forest from which theyhad come meant nothing save final capture, even though they were to slipthrough the cordon of pursuers.

  “There upon the cliff, with half his followers at his heels, Agamenthanfound them. His eyes blazing with triumph, the Passagonquay advanced,shouting exultantly that this time the dog of a Mattagamon should surelydie.

  “With their hands clasped, Woganock and Lolokana looked into eachother’s eyes and spoke a few low words. When Agamenthan was less thanforty feet distant Woganock laughed at him and cried, ‘Fool! idiot!warrior with the heart of a rabbit! spawn of a crawling snake! creaturethat I have conquered and spit upon! if you would take Lolokana from me,follow.’

  “In a twinkling he had caught the princess up in his arms, and her armswere around his neck. In another twinkling, before the eyes of thehorrified Agamenthan, he leaped far out from the brink of the precipice.No sound, no cry did the lovers make as they fell. Even the ragged rocksat the foot of the cliff could not tear them apart. They were foundamong those rocks, dead, but still locked fast in each other’s arms.

  “That’s the legend of Lovers’ Leap. The hotel people have put up thecross to mark the spot from which Woganock sprang. There is a path,passing round the cliff, which may be climbed by anyone who wishes tovisit the cross and has the energy and perseverance. Each day several ofthe guests at the hotel climb that path.”