The Strange Cabin on Catamount Island
L >>
Lawrence J. Leslie >> The Strange Cabin on Catamount Island
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 Produced by David Garcia, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE STRANGE CABIN ON CATAMOUNT ISLAND
[Illustration: "THE VOYAGE WAS RESUMED"]
THE STRANGE CABIN ON CATAMOUNT ISLAND
BY LAWRENCE J. LESLIE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.--HOW THE DARE WAS GIVEN
II.--BANDY-LEGS IN TROUBLE
III.--ON THE ISLAND WITH THE BAD NAME
IV.--THE SUDDEN AWAKENING
V.--EXPLORING THE ISLAND
VI.--WHAT THE ASHES TOLD MAX
VII.--THE MYSTERY OF THE CABIN
VIII.--AN UNWELCOME DISCOVERY
IX.--WATCHED FROM THE SHORE
X.--THE BUILDER OF THE STRANGE CABIN
XI.--WHAT HAPPENED ON THE SECOND NIGHT
XII.--A BOLD PLAN
XIII.--UNSEEN PERILS THAT HOVERED NEAR
XIV.--HOW THE SCHEME WORKED
XV.--UNEXPECTED ALLIES
XVI.--THE LAST CAMP FIRE ON CATAMOUNT ISLAND
THE STRANGE CABIN ON CATAMOUNT ISLAND.
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE DARE WAS GIVEN.
"And so Herb Benson dared you, Max, you say?"
"That's what he did, Steve."
"To camp on Catamount Island?"
"And stay there a full week. He said that even if we did have nerve
enough to make the _try_, he'd give us just one solitary night to hang
out there!"
"Huh! just because Herb and his old club got scared nearly to death a
while ago by some silly noise they thought was a ghost, they reckon
every fellow is built on the same plan, don't they, Max?"
"I guess that's what they do, Steve."
"So they challenge us to make a camp, and stick it out, do they? What
did you tell Herb? Oh, I hope you just took him up on the spot!"
"Well, I said I'd put it up to the rest of the chums, my cousin, Owen
Hastings, Toby Jucklin, Bandy-legs Griffin, and yourself."
"Count me in as ready to accept the dare. Why, I'd start this blessed
minute if I had my way, Max!"
"I know you would, because you're always so quick to flare up. That's
why they all call you 'Touch-and-go Steve Dowdy.' But come along, and
let's get the other fellows. We can go down to the boathouse and talk it
over, anyhow."
"But tell me first, when _can_ we be ready to go, Max--some time
to-morrow?"
"You certainly are the most impatient fellow I ever knew," replied Max,
with a laugh; "yes, if the other boys are willing, I guess we might get
off at noon to-morrow. It wouldn't take long to lay in our supplies; and
you know we've already got tents, cooking things, and all that stuff on
hand."
"Oh, shucks! leave the grub part of the business to me," remarked Steve,
instantly. "What's the use of having a chum whose daddy is the leading
grocer in Carson if he can't look after the supplies. But I'm just
tickled nearly to death at the chance of this little cruise up the Big
Sunflower."
"I can guess why," Max observed, as he kept pace with his nervous
companion's quick strides.
"The new canoes!" exclaimed Steve; "it gives us the chance we've been
wanting to find out how they work in real harness. We've only tried
little spins in them so far, you know, Max. Gee! I hated like everything
to let my motorcycle go; but the folks put their foot down hard, after
that second accident to our chum, Bandy-legs; and, like the rest of the
bunch, I had to send it back to the shop for what it was worth. It was
like going to the scrapheap with it, because I lost so much money."
"Well, let's hope we can make it up in fun on the water with our boats,"
was the sensible way the other put it. "Here's Ordway's drug store, and
we can use his 'phone to get the rest of the crowd along."
A minute later, and inside the booth they were calling for M-23 West. It
was not later than eight-twenty in the evening when the two boys met
down in front of the hardware store, where a brilliant light burned all
night long; so that the evening was young when Max caught the well-known
voice of Toby Jucklin at the other end of the wire.
Toby stuttered, at times, fearfully. He kept trying to overcome the
habit, and the result was that his affliction came and went in spasms.
Sometimes he could talk as well as any one of his four chums; then
again, especially when excited, he would have a serious lapse, being
compelled to resort to his old trick of giving a sharp whistle, and then
stopping a couple of seconds to get a grasp on himself, when he was able
to say what he wanted intelligently.
"That you, Max?" asked Toby, who had lived with an old, crabbed uncle
and been treated harshly, despite the fact that his father had left
quite a little fortune for him when of age; until Mr. Hastings took hold
of the case, had the court depose Uncle Ambrose, and place the boy in
charge of a generous gentleman whose name was Mr. Jackson, with whom he
now lived in comfort.
"Just who it is, Toby," replied the other. "Say, can't you hike down to
the boathouse and meet us there?"
"Now?" demanded Toby, his voice beginning to show signs of wabbling.
"As soon as you can get there," was what Max answered.
"Hey! what's on the carpet now, tell me, Max?" demanded Toby, quickly.
"Keep cool," warned the boy in the booth. "Steve is here with me in the
drug store. We've got a scheme for a little outing in our canoes, and
want to put it up to the rest of the bunch. How about coming down,
Toby?"
"S-s-sure I'll b-b-be there!" exclaimed the other.
"Then make a start soon," and with that Max rang off, because he knew
Toby would hold him indefinitely if once he got started asking questions
and stuttering at the same time.
He soon had another boy on the wire, this time Bandy-legs. And the
response was as rapid and favorable in this quarter as it had been with
Toby. From the tone of the inquiries Max made, the boys understood there
must be something out of the common on tap, and their curiosity was
therefore excited. They would have been at the place of meeting, even
though they found it necessary to crawl out of bedroom windows and slide
down the post of the front porch; which in neither case was required,
for both Toby and the other chum had plenty of freedom.
When Owen, who, being an orphan, lived at his cousin's house, had been
brought to the 'phone and asked to join the rest for a serious
consultation, Max "shut up shop," as he called it.
"Let's get a move on ourselves now, Steve," he remarked, as they left
the booth, "and hustle around to the little boathouse my splendid dad
bought for us when we got the canoes. It isn't a beauty, but it answers
our purpose fine."
"Just what it does," replied Steve, as they walked out of the store. "I
reckon all the boys are on their way by now, eh, Max?"
"I'd like to see anything hold them back after the way I stirred things
up. Why, just as like as not even poor old Bandy-legs is tumbling all
over himself, sprinting down to the river through the dark."
"He does have the greatest time trying to keep his legs from tripping
him up," remarked Steve; "but all the same there never was a better chum
going than Bandy-legs Griffin. In a pinch he'd stand by you to the
limit, no matter what happened. But hurry, Max; as we did the calling,
it's up to us to get there ahead of the rest, and have the lamps lit.
Wow! I barked my shin then to beat the band. Hang the dark, say I!"
"A little slower, Steve," cautioned the other, catching hold of his
chum's coat sleeve. "Rome wasn't built in a day, you know. We'll get
there just as soon, and with our skin whole, if only you don't rush
things so hard."
"I can see the boathouse ahead there, I think," suggested Steve,
presently.
"That's right; and we're the first after all, you see, because every
fellow has a key, and if any one got in ahead of us we'd notice a light
in the window. Hello! who's that?"
"Think you saw something, did you, Max?" asked the other; "but as there
wasn't any answer, I guess you must have been off your base that time."
"Perhaps I was," replied the other; "but here we are at the door now,
and as I've got my key handy, I'll open up."
The boathouse had once been some sort of low, squatty building, which,
being made over, answered the new purpose very well. And when Max had
started a couple of lamps to burning the prospect was cheery enough.
Several canoes were ranged in racks along one side. Three of these were
single canoes; the other a larger boat, which two of the boys paddled,
and they called it the war canoe.
Hardly had they reached this point than there was heard the sound of a
voice at the door. Steve opened it to admit a panting boy, whose short
lower extremities had a positive inclination to pattern a little after
the type of bows, which gave Bandy-legs the name by which he was known
far and wide.
Then came Owen Hastings, a quiet sort of a fellow, looking very like his
cousin Max; and a minute later Toby Jucklin appeared.
"Now open up, and explain what all this fuss and feathers means?"
demanded Owen, as the five gathered around the table upon which the
larger lamp stood.
The boys expected to fit this building up as a sort of club room later
on, and in this place during the next winter keep all their magazines,
as well as other treasures connected with their association, together.
So Max explained just how it came that Herb Benson, the leader of
another group of Carson boys, had challenged them to spend a certain
length of time on Catamount Island, far up the Big Sunflower branch of
the Evergreen River, which flowed past the town.
Some time previous to this Max and his four chums, wishing to secure
funds in order to carry out certain pet projects for the summer
vacation, and early fall, had conceived the notion that perhaps the
mussels, or fresh-water clams, that could be found, particularly along
the Big Sunflower, might contain a few pearls such as were being
discovered in so many streams in Indiana, Arkansas, and other Middle
Western States.
They had been fairly successful, and during a search discovered a number
of really valuable pearls. From the proceeds of the sale of a portion of
their find they had purchased motorcycles, with which they enjoyed a few
runs. Then, as Steve had remarked so forlornly, Bandy-legs being so
clumsy with his mount as to have a few accidents, which, however, had
not been serious, their folks had united in declaring war on the
gas-engine business. Consequently they had been compelled to dispose of
the machines at a sacrifice. And the canoes had been their second
choice.
After the other three had heard what the proposal was, they united in
declaring their perfect willingness to take up the dare, if only to show
Herb that there was a big difference between his brand of nerve, and
that which the five chums possessed.
Of the lot possibly Bandy-legs was the only one who did not show great
enthusiasm over the project. Max noticed that he seemed to simply let
the others do the talking, though when a vote was taken upon whether or
not they should accept the challenge, the Griffin boy's hand went up
with the rest. Still, that was certainly a sigh that broke from his
lips.
"What's the matter, Bandy-legs? Don't you feel like making the try?"
demanded the impetuous Steve, quick to notice that the other was not
brimming over with the same kind of eagerness that actuated himself.
"Oh! I'm going along, all right," declared the shorter chum, doggedly.
"Ketch me staying out when the rest of you want to go. But I never
dreamed I'd ever pluck up the nerve to stay a night on that blooming
island. Why, ever since I c'n remember I've heard the tallest yarns
about it. Some say it's just a nest of crawlers; and others, that all
the varmints left unshot in the big timber up beyond have a roost on
that strip of land in the middle of the river."
"Rats!" scoffed Steve, derisively. "That's all talk; hot air, you might
say. Don't believe there's any truth in it, any more'n that story about
ghosts, and queer noises that Herb and his crowd tell about. Anyhow, I
never let a dare go past me."
"That's right, Steve," remarked Owen; "it acts on you just like a red
flag does on a bull. But it's decided, is it, fellows, that we go
to-morrow noon?"
"We ought to be able to paddle up there in five hours or so," remarked
Max.
"Sure, and I'm in fine trim for the job; how about you, Toby?" Owen
continued, for the stuttering boy was to be his mate in the double
canoe, which could hold the tents, and some of the more cumbrous luggage
devoted to camping comfort.
"Just aching for exercise," the other managed to say, promptly enough.
"Well, I reckon we'll all get what we want," Max remarked, as they
prepared to quit the boathouse; "for the current is pretty strong in
places, and the island lies a good many miles off. Everybody be on hand
early to-morrow, for we've got a heap of things to do before lunch time.
Skip out now; I'm going to douse the glim."
As the chattering boys walked away in the darkness they were followed by
a stealthy figure that seemed desirous of not being seen. And a little
later, when passing a house where a light gleamed from a window, this
figure came for just a second in the shaft of light; so that had any one
of the five chums happened to glance behind just then they might have
recognized the evil face of their most vindictive enemy, Ted Shafter,
the bully of Carson!
CHAPTER II.
BANDY-LEGS IN TROUBLE.
At noon on the following day there was more or less excitement around
the spot where the boathouse stood. The canoes, already loaded, lay
moored near by, awaiting the word to be given that would send the little
expedition on its way up-stream.
Of course the news had got abroad, though Max would much rather have
kept it a secret, if they could. But Herb and his friends, as well as
some other boys of the river town, were on hand to see the start.
And as was natural, a heap of good-natured chaffing was indulged in. All
sorts of dismal predictions were made by Herb, and those of his comrades
who had been in his company at the time of their wild midnight flight
from Catamount Island.
"We'll expect to see you to-morrow, all right, fellows!" cried one.
"Yes, and we're going to keep tabs on you, if you don't show up,"
remarked still another. "It won't be fair to sleep on the mainland, and
just go over in the day. You've got to stay right there a whole week,
night after night, to win out. See?"
"A week," answered Steve, laughing in a scoffing manner; "why, if it
wasn't a waste of good time, we'd have made it a month. But we've got
other fish to fry, and don't want to spend all our vacation on that
measly old island."
"Yes, say what you like," called Herb, as the canoes began to leave the
shore, and the paddles to flash in the noonday sun's bright rays;
"you'll have another story to tell when you show up to-morrow, or I miss
my guess."
"Wait till you see that old cabin, that's what!" called out another, in
a mysterious way that somehow caused Bandy-legs to look uneasy, Max
thought.
He knew that if there was going to be a weak link in the chain it would
lie in that quarter; for the short chum had a few silly notions
concerning certain things, and was not wholly free from a belief in
supernatural happenings. But with the backing of four sturdy chums,
Bandy-legs ought to brace up, and show himself a true boy of nerve.
"Look at that Shack Beggs making faces after us!" remarked Steve, who,
as usual, threatened to take the lead in the push up the Evergreen
current.
"I noticed him hangin' around all the time," added Bandy-legs; "and
every now and then he'd seem to grin, and shake hands with himself, like
he felt nearly too good to keep the thing quiet. Whatever ails him, d'ye
think, Max?"
"Well, as I never stood for a mind reader, I can't tell you," was the
reply of the one addressed; "but as we know he belongs to that Ted
Shafter crowd, it's easy to understand that he just believes something
terrible is going to happen to us up on Catamount Island."
"Oh! I hope he's barking up the wrong tree, then!" exclaimed Bandy-legs.
"Just what he's doing, take my word for it," Owen put in, from the stern
of the big war canoe, which he and Toby were urging against the flowing
current with lusty strokes, and evident keen enjoyment.
"How does it go?" asked Max, who was in a sixteen-foot canvas canoe like
the one Steve handled so dexterously; while Bandy-legs, fearing to trust
to anything so frail, had insisted on getting one of the older type
lapstreak cedar boats, that were so marvelously beautiful in his eyes.
"Fine as silk!" announced Steve, from up ahead.
"Ditto here!" echoed Toby, and Owen added his words of praise.
"It seems like bully good fun!" declared Bandy-legs, who was puffing a
little, his boat being somewhat more weighty than the other two single
canoes, and who consequently was somewhat behind the rest; "but I wish
you'd get a rope on Steve there, and hold him in. He ain't fit to be the
pace-maker. I just _can't_ keep going like wildfire all the time."
"That's right, too" remarked Max. "We ought to let up a little in the
start. It never is good policy to do your best in the beginning of a
race. And we've really got loads of time to make that island before
nightfall."
Of course Steve could do as he pleased; but since the others dropped
back a little so as to accommodate the less skillful Bandy-legs, he had
to follow suit, or be all alone in the van. Steve grumbled more or less
because some fellows never could "get a move on 'em," as he complained;
but outside of making an occasional little spurt, and then resting, he
stuck pretty well by his mates during the next hour or two.
Then something happened, something that they had never once dreamed of,
and which was at first utterly beyond the understanding of any of the
paddlers.
Bandy-legs seemed to find more or less trouble about getting himself
settled in the best attitude for his work. It was all pretty new for
him, though Max thought the other did very well for a greenhorn. He
wriggled about in his cedar boat like an uneasy worm, changing his
position often, and each time thinking that he had improved his paddling
powers, only to find the same old fault.
All at once he set up a whoop that startled his chums.
"Hi! looky here, what's happenin' to this old coffin!"
The others saw nothing wrong, save that Bandy-legs himself seemed to be
engaged in scrambling about more or less, as though he had suddenly
discovered a venomous spider crawling out from under the false bottom of
his delicate craft.
"What ails you?" called out Max, stopping the use of his handy spruce
blade, as he turned his head toward the one who appeared to be in
trouble.
"Wow! I tell you she's sinkin'!" continued Bandy-legs, as if aghast.
"What! your canoe?" cried Owen, as if unable to believe his ears.
"Sure she is, boys! Water's just bubbling up in her to beat the band! I
felt it gettin' wet down by my feet, and looked just in time. What'll I
do--jump over and swim for the shore right here?"
"Don't be silly, Bandy-legs!" cried Max. "If something has happened to
your boat, why, head for the shore, and paddle hard. It ain't so far
away but you can reach it easy enough. You must have hit a snag, and
punched a hole in the skin of the canoe."
"I never hit nothin'!" called back the other, as in his clumsy fashion
he managed to presently change the course of his boat, and start for the
nearest bank, with the war canoe and that of Max accompanying him.
"Hey, what you goin' to do, have a snack?" yelled Steve, who at that
moment chanced to be a little way ahead of the others.
"Bandy-legs is sinking, and we've got to see what ails his boat!"
answered Max, making a speaking tube or a megaphone of his hands.
No doubt Steve, impatient to reach their destination, and make camp
before dark, would be saying things not at all complimentary to the
sufferer, as he retraced his course, in order to join them.
Meanwhile, when the canoes reached a pebbly stretch of shore, they were
beached; and then Max set to work to ascertain what could have happened
to the cedar boat to make it start sinking in such a mysterious way.
First the bundles were taken out, and they all observed that it was
fortunate they had decided at the last minute to let Bandy-legs have one
of the tents instead of the foodstuff he had been given in the
beginning.
"Give me a hand here, fellows," remarked Max, "and we'll turn her over
to let the water get out faster. I can see right now where the trouble
lies, and it's right down in the bottom. There's a leak as sure as
anything!"
"Then its good-by to my bally little canoe right in the start, I
reckon," complained the owner, sadly. "I'm a Jonah, all right. All sorts
of things keep happening to _me_. What does it look like, Max?" as the
boat was finally turned completely over, so that the bottom was fully
exposed.
Max uttered an exclamation that told of astonishment.
"Well, that is queer!" they heard him mutter, as he thrust a finger
through the hole in the garboard streak of the boat.
"What strikes you as so funny, Max?" asked Steve, who had by now joined
them.
"Look for yourself," replied the other, moving back.
Four heads were instantly bent over, as the boys took his advice.
"Must have been a round snag, all right," commented Steve; "because
that's as pretty a circular hole as I ever saw."
"Tell you I never struck no snag!" declared the indignant Bandy-legs;
"guess I'd 'a' felt it, wouldn't I, Max?"
"Listen, fellows," said the one appealed to, in a tone that caused the
others to stop their wrangling, and pay attention; "as Bandy-legs says,
he didn't run foul of any snag on the river since we left home. That
hole was made by an auger, or a bit held in a brace. Some mean fellow
had the nerve to lay this trap for our chum, in order to give us all the
trouble he could."
"Shack Beggs!" shouted Steve, always quick to make up his mind.
"That was why he kept grinning like he did, when he watched us go off,"
observed Owen, in a disgusted way. "When do you suppose he could have
found a chance to do such a dirty trick, Max?"
"Well, we don't know for a certainty whether it was Shack or one of his
crowd," replied the other, shaking his head; "but whoever did it must
have found some way to get into the boathouse after we left last night.
You remember, boys, we've got a ratchet brace there, and several bits.
One of them would just about fit this hole. But he must have been mighty
careful to take away every little splinter, so as not to make us suspect
there'd been any funny carryings-on."
"How d'ye suppose he fixed it, so as to keep the water out till just
now?" asked the bewildered owner of the canoe.
For answer Max made a crawl underneath, and almost immediately came out
again holding something in his hand, which he showed them. It was
apparently a plug of wood, and must have come from the hole that had
caused the sudden flooding of the cedar canoe.
"There, you can see what a neat little game he played!" Max exclaimed.
After he bored that round hole he made this plug and drove it in from
above. Underneath he made sure that it was evened off so it wouldn't be
seen unless any one examined the bottom of the canoe close. Then he had
it fixed so when Bandy-legs got to moving about, as he always does, you
know, any time he was liable to loosen the plug and the pressure of the
water'd do the rest.
"Oh! what a wicked shame!" cried the owner of the wrecked canoe.
"H-h-he ought t' b-b-be hung f-f-for it!" exclaimed Toby, just as
indignant as though it had been his own boat that was injured so
wantonly.
"What can we do, Max, to fix her up?" asked Owen, quietly.
"Oh!" put the plug in again, and make sure that it will hold this time.
Later on, when we get back, we'll have to get the boat builder in Carson
to put a new streak of cedar planking in, to take the place of this
one."
"Sure you can fix it so there won't be any chance of my going down?"
asked the anxious owner.
"Easy enough. Just give me ten or fifteen minutes, and I'll answer for
it," came the confident response, as Max immediately set to work.
"While this is going on the rest of us can rest," remarked Owen,
dropping down on the ground.
"Here's the sandwiches I made this morning; might as well take a bite,
now we've got to hang out here a spell," and Bandy-legs began passing
them around.
"Looks to me like we had reached the junction of the Big Sunflower and
the Elder," observed Steve, as he munched away contentedly at his ham
sandwich.
"Just what we have," Max spoke up, working away at his little job, and
stopping occasionally to snatch a bite. "It lies right around that bend
yonder. I remember it well, and how we made our first haul of the
mussels there."
"Yes, and found a bully old pearl in the first lot," declared Steve,
watching Bandy-legs poke around in the grass nearby; for the boy with
the short legs was of an investigating turn, and liked nothing better
than to search for things; "hey! what you think you'll find there,
diamonds this time?"
"Oh! I just run across a lot of wriggling little snakes, about as long
as lead pencils, and I'm seein' 'em twist and turn. It's just fun to
watch the little beggars get mad."
"Huh!" grunted Steve, as he turned his attention to what Max was doing;
"some fellers get fun out of mighty little things, sometimes."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9