LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

said the young lumberman. "I work not over three miles from there--at Cropley's--the station this side of Camptown. There ain't any town, not since the Jewell Lumber Company busted up. Some folks camp out there, down along the river and on Moosetail Island, but there aren't near as many as there used to be."

      "Somebody said the dam above Camptown Falls was dangerous?" said Dave.

      "I think it is myself, and I can't understand how they allow folks to camp along the river and on that island. If that dam ever broke it would be good-by to anybody on the island, I'm thinking."

      "Have you been up to the island lately?"

      "I was there about a week ago."

      "Who were there then, do you know?"

      "A couple of men from Portland and half a dozen young fellers from Springfield. There was another camp, with some women in it, but I didn't get around to that, I only heard of it. There are half a dozen camps along the right bank of the river, but they are on high ground, and if the dam broke it isn't likely the water would reach 'em," continued the young lumberman.

      The train rolled along at a rate of twenty miles an hour, making stops at stations and crossroads. Here and there a person got on or off, and by the time Camptown Falls was reached Dave had the passenger car almost to himself.

      The train halted for but a minute and our hero alighted, suit-case in hand. Much to his surprise, not a soul was about the little depot, which looked old and dilapidated. There was a stretch of fields beyond the track, and farther on he made out the glistening waters of the river, and in the center the woodland stretch known as Moosetail Island.

      "Well, this surely is Lonesome Land!" Dave murmured to himself, as the train rumbled out of sight and he was left utterly alone. "And not another train until eight o'clock to-morrow morning! I'll have a fine time of it to-night if I don't meet those fellows, or run across some camp where they will take me in."

      Dave looked at the sky and this did not tend to increase his good spirits. When he had left Oakdale it had been warm and clear; now dark clouds were forming overhead and it looked as if it might rain before long.

      "Well, I've got my raincoat and a waterproof cap, and that is one comfort," he told himself. "But I had better hurry up and see if I can't find Phil and the others before it gets too dark. I wish there was somebody here who could tell me where to go."

      He looked around for a sign of some habitation. Far across the river he saw a column of smoke, coming up from among the trees, but that was all. The only building in sight was the deserted depot.

      There was something of a path leading from the depot to the river, and Dave followed this. But soon the path seemed to divide, and the various branches became more indistinct at every step, especially as it was rapidly growing darker and darker.

      "I'll strike a straight course for Moosetail Island," Dave said to himself. "I'll surely find some people camping out there, and they may be able to tell me about the boys, if they are here."

      As he approached the river, going down a small hill, the way became stony, and he had to walk with care, for fear of going into some hole, or twisting an ankle. It was hard work, especially with the suit-case, and he half wished he had hidden the baggage somewhere near the depot.

      "I was a big chump that I didn't bring some lunch along," he reasoned. And then he had to smile at himself, as he remembered how he had imagined that he might put up at some hotel in Camptown Falls! He had not dreamed that the place would prove such a lonely one. It was certainly an ideal spot for runaways who wished to remain undiscovered.

      Presently Dave found himself at the bank of the river, a wide but shallow stream, filled with sandbars, rocks, and piles of driftwood. Not a great distance off was the end of Moosetail Island.

      It was now so dark that our hero could see but little. As he stood at the edge of the river, he heard a patter on the leaves of the trees and knew it had begun to rain.

      "Wonder how they get to the island?" he mused. "They must either use canoes, or else wade across, or ford along the stones."

      He moved along the river-bank, and soon came to a point where the stones in the river seemed to stretch in a line from the bank to the island.

      "I guess I'll try it here," he told himself. "But I think I had better leave the suit-case behind."

      He placed the case in a tree, sheltering it as much as possible from the rain, which was now coming down at a lively rate. Then, donning his raincoat and waterproof cap, he set out over the rocks in the river, leaping from one to the next and heading for the island.

      It was no easy journey, and when but half-way to Moosetail Island Dave slipped and went into the stream up to his knees. He floundered around for a moment, splashing the water into his face and over his coat and cap.

      "Phew! this is lots of fun!" was his grim comment, as he at length found himself on a flat rock, catching his breath. "Well, I am half-way over, anyway."

      The remainder of the distance proved easier traveling, and ten minutes later our hero stood on the island. It was now raining steadily, and the darkness of the storm had settled everywhere.

      "I guess the best thing I can do is to move right around the shore of this island," he reasoned. "By doing that I am bound to strike one of the camps, sooner or later."

      He moved along as rapidly as the rocky shore of Moosetail Island permitted. He had to proceed with care, for there were many dangerous pitfalls.

      At length his heart was gladdened by the sight of a rude log cabin, set in the trees a little back from the water. He hurried to it and found the door and window closed. Evidently the spot was deserted.

      "Nobody here," he murmured, and his heart sank for the moment, for he could see that the camp had not been used for a long time. Then he went on, the rain in the meanwhile coming down harder than ever. The downfall made him think of the dam that was said to be weak. What if the present storm should make that structure give way?

      "I wish we were all out of this," he murmured. "I wonder if it would do any good to call?"

      He set up a yell and listened, and then he yelled again. From a long distance came an answering cry.

      "Hurrah, that's somebody, anyway!" he exclaimed. "I hope it was one of the boys!"

      He stumbled in the direction of the cry. Then he yelled once more, and again came the answering call. But now Dave was sure it was a man's voice, and he was somewhat disappointed.

      "Where are you?" he called out, a moment later. "Where are you?"

      "This way! Come this way!" was the reply, and soon Dave passed through a patch of timber and around some rocks and reached a spot where there was a tiny cove, with a stretch of fine sand. Facing the cove was a neat log cabin with a small lean-to, the latter containing a tiny stove.

      A tall, good-natured man stood in the lean-to, peering out into the rain. He watched Dave's approach with interest. He looked to be what he was, a camp-cook and general worker.

      "Hello!" he exclaimed, as Dave hurried in out of the rain and shook the water from his cap. "I thought you were one of our crowd."

      "What camp is this?" questioned our hero, eagerly.

      "Well, it ain't no camp in particular," answered the man, with a grin. "It's jest a camp."

      "But who is stopping here?"

      "Three young fellers and myself."

      "Are their names Beggs, Lawrence, and Basswood?"

      "You've struck it. Maybe you are a friend to 'em?" went on the man, inquiringly.

      "I am, and I have

Скачать книгу