The Y. M. C. A. boys on Bass Island
Date: 2023-08-28T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Camping -- Juvenile fiction; Mystery fiction; YMCA of the USA -- Juvenile fiction

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Title: The Y. M. C. A. boys on Bass Island
or, The mystery of Russabaga camp

Author: Brooks Henderley

Illustrator: Robert Emmett Owen

Release date: August 28, 2023 [eBook #71506]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Cupples & Leon Company, 1916

Credits: David Edwards, Debrah Thompson and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS ON BASS ISLAND ***

The
Y. M. C. A. Boys
on Bass Island

Or
The Mystery of Russabaga Camp

BY

BROOKS HENDERLEY

Author of “The Y. M. C. A. Boys of Cliffwood,” Etc.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

Frontspiece

“STEADY NOW! KEEP HER HEAD STRAIGHT INTO THE WIND.”
The Y. M. C. A. Boys on Bass Island Page 57

BOOKS FOR BOYS

By

BROOKS HENDERLEY

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS SERIES

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS OF CLIFFWOOD;
or The Struggle for the Holwell Prize

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS ON BASS ISLAND;
or The Mystery of Russabaga Camp

(Other volumes in preparation)

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

Publishers New York

COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

The Y. M. C. A. Boys on Bass Island

CONTENTS

CHAPTER | PAGE
I. | THE SCRUB BALL TEAMS | 1
II. | AN INVASION OF PIGS | 10
III. | THE BOY WHO HAD PROMISED | 19
IV. | MR. NOCKER SPRINGS A SURPRISE | 32
V. | A BRIGHT PROSPECT AHEAD | 40
VI. | MAKING CAMP ON BASS ISLAND | 47
VII. | IN THE GRIP OF THE SQUALL | 56
VIII. | THE FIRST NIGHT OUT | 63
IX. | THE RULE OF ORDER AND DISCIPLINE | 72
X. | THINGS BEGIN TO VANISH | 79
XI. | MR. HOLWELL GETS THE WELCOMING CHEER | 86
XII. | HAPPENINGS OF THE SECOND NIGHT | 96
XIII. | THE MYSTERY GROWS DEEPER | 103
XIV. | TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT | 115
XV. | DAN TELLS SOME WHOLESOME TRUTHS | 123
XVI. | WAS IT A WILD MAN OF THE WOODS? | 129
XVII. | DICK’S PROMISE | 137
XVIII. | SETTING THE TRAP | 144
XIX. | A DAY OF REST | 148
XX. | A MISSION OF MERCY | 155
XXI. | THE BROTHERLY SPIRIT | 163
XXII. | WHAT NAT SAW | 169
XXIII. | THE TELLTALE FOOTPRINT | 178
XXIV. | DAN’S NEW IDEA | 188
XXV. | THE BERRY PICKERS | 199
XXVI. | POACHING ON STRANGE PRESERVES | 206
XXVII. | A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN CAMPFIRE | 214
XXVIII. | WHEN THE PIT TRAP WORKED | 222
XXIX. | CLEARING UP THE MYSTERY | 231
XXX. | BREAKING CAMP—CONCLUSION | 239

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS
ON BASS ISLAND

CHAPTER I
THE SCRUB BALL TEAMS

“A dandy drive, Peg!”

“Good for a two-bagger, any day!”

“Look at him cover ground, will you?”

“Nobody’d believe Peg limps when he walks, to see him hustle like that in a game of ball!”

“Look out, Peg, he’s going to get you at second!”

“Slide, Peg! Slide, old scout!”

Amidst a cloud of dust “Peg” Fosdick went down safely to second, the ball arriving just as he clutched the bag with his outstretched hand. Peg arose to his feet, brushed himself off, and waved a hand to his cheering mates on the side that was just then at bat.

Cliffwood boys were having a glorious time on the green devoted to outdoor sports. Still, after all, these were only two scrub teams; for, somehow, up to the present time the bustling mill town on the Sweetbriar river had never mustered up enough energy to put a regular representative nine worthy of support in the field.

Neighboring places, such as Creston, Emoryville, and Barrtown, boasted good teams, and the boys of Cliffwood often found themselves openly taunted on account of their lack of zeal in the matter.

“But things are liable to change from now on!” declared one of the boys on the bench, when casual mention of this lamentable fact was made. “It’s time Cliffwood woke up from this Rip Van Winkle sleep, and made its mark in the world.”

“That time is going to come right away,” asserted the pitcher of his nine, a vigorous lad, Dick Horner by name, and who seemed to be a leader among the boys.

“It’s as certain as can be, or my name isn’t Leslie Capes!” declared the catcher, who was Dick Horner’s most intimate chum.

“Well, Cliffwood,” observed a third youth earnestly, “is a far different town from what it used to be before Mr. Holwell, the minister, and Harry Bartlett, leader of our local Y. M. C. A., organized the Boys’ Department.”

“That’s what nearly every one tells us, Elmer,” returned the sanguine Dick. “And by the coming fall we hope to be able to put a decent football squad in the field, to stand for our home town.”

“I’m mighty glad to hear that, Dick!” exclaimed still another of the players, Phil Harkness by name. And then raising his voice to a shout he went on to say: “Three balls and two strikes, Andy! Make Nat put the ball over, and meet his fast clipper for a homer!”

Almost immediately following the giving of this advice came the crack of the bat as it caught one of Nat Silmore’s speediest balls “on the nose.” The boy on second sprinted for home because he knew that was the play, there being already two out.

Away out in deep center Alonzo Crane made a vigorous effort to get the swift liner. He was coming in on a gallop, hoping to take the ball in his outstretched hands before it could touch the ground.

The onlookers saw Alonzo fairly hurl himself forward in a gallant attempt to make the spectacular play. Then he fell, rolled over several times, and arose finally with the ball held triumphantly above his head.

Nat and his side emitted a roar of applause, and with wild whoops started toward the home plate, as though that play ended the inning.

“Keep on running to second, Andy!” yelled Leslie Capes, excitedly. “He dropped the ball, and snatched it up again off the ground!”

“Sure he did! I saw him do it!” added Phil Harkness, indignantly, for there were several players on the opposing side who, like Nat himself, in times gone by, had been known to attempt just such sly tricks as this; and Alonzo was one of them.

“Aw! what are you givin’ us?” shouted Nat, with one of his old-time bullying frowns. “That was the greatest play ever seen on these grounds! He snatched the ball right out of the air before it ever touched the ground. And he held tight through all his tumble in the bargain. Your man is out, Dick Horner, and you know it, too!”

There threatened to be a furious dispute, which would break up the game; for each side acted as if determined to hold its ground. Fortunately, just at that critical moment a gentleman came sauntering along and approached the squabbling ball players, whose voices were mingled in a warm discussion, while all sorts of accusations were flying broadcast.

“What’s the trouble, boys?” asked the gentleman, who, to judge by the cut of his coat, was a minister.

The clamor ceased immediately. Even the turbulent Nat shrank back a little, as though unwilling that the Reverend Thomas Holwell should see one of his old-time frowns on his face, for Nat was supposed to have broken away from his former life, and to be marching along the narrow road nowadays.

“Why, it’s this way, Mr. Holwell,” explained Dick, himself quieting down considerably, for the minister was known to be the best friend the boys of Cliffwood had, and his unexpected appearance had cooled their ardor as nothing else could have done. “We say Alonzo dropped that liner and snatched it up again, which wouldn’t count for an out. Nat and his side all say he held it tight. So we’re up against a hard proposition, because neither side will give in.”

“Oh! I think I can settle that dispute easily enough,” said Mr. Holwell, with a cheery smile. “You see, I was taking home this pair of opera glasses for my wife, after having had them repaired. As I came along I chanced to be testing them, and as luck would have it, I followed Alonzo as he ran forward to take that liner.”

“Yes, sir!” said Dick, eagerly. “And if anybody could know just what happened at the time he rolled over you should, I guess.”

“Alonzo did drop the ball, though he snatched it up instantly,” said Mr. Holwell. “I saw him do it distinctly. Of course he is just trying to have some fun out of the occurrence. Isn’t that so, Alonzo?”

The boy in question turned fiery red, and his eyes fell under the steady gaze of the minister.

“That’s what I was doing, Mr. Holwell,” he finally managed to say, with a nervous little laugh. “I knew there was a fine chance to have some fun teasing the other side, and I tried it. But I dropped the ball, all right. I did my best to hold on to the crazy old thing, though.”

Dick and Leslie exchanged glances. They felt pretty certain that only for the opportune arrival of Mr. Holwell, Alonzo would have stuck to his story through thick and thin. Nat shrugged his broad shoulders, and looked disgusted at such signs of what he would call weakness.

“Oh! well, if he owns up, of course the play goes,” he remarked, with a sneer, and an ugly glance at Alonzo. “Get back in your places, fellers; and Peg’s run goes. Andy, take second, and count yourself mighty lucky. Anyhow, the rest of us really believed he held it tight.”

Mr. Holwell presently left the scene of action and walked on, with a serious expression on his face. Some time before he and the young man who served as leader to the town Y. M. C. A. had organized a Boys’ Department, which gave promise of doing a vast amount of good among the younger element in Cliffwood.

There had been more or less trouble with Nat Silmore and several of his followers, although just at present they seemed to be getting on pretty well. Mr. Holwell knew boys “like a book,” however, and from the little incident of the day he feared the “snake was scotched, not killed,” as the saying has it.

While the boys are continuing their game after the sudden dispute had been settled by an umpire whose decision none of them ventured to question, a few words concerning Dick and his comrades may not come in amiss, especially to such readers as may not have read the preceding volume of this series, entitled, “The Y. M. C. A. Boys of Cliffwood.”

Dick Horner lived with his mother, grandfather and little sister Sue in a neat cottage close to the bank of the Sweetbriar river. They had been barely able to get along on the veteran’s pension and the proceeds from a small investment. Suddenly bad news reached them to the effect that part of their little property had been swept away.

As has already been related in the previous story, a splendid thing happened for the Horners, and they were now comfortably fixed, so that Dick need not worry concerning his future.

Some of his friends were Leslie Capes, Dan Fenwick, Phil Harkness, Elmer Jones, Andy Hale, “Peg” Fosdick, “Clint” Babbett and Fred Bonnicastle.

Among the new members of the Boys’ Club was Asa Gardner, a boy whose reputation had not been very good in times past, for he had always been called “light-fingered,” being prone to take things that did not belong to him. His mother, whom Asa dearly loved, had died not long before, and the boy was said to have solemnly promised her at the last that he would never again surrender to his strange weakness that had amounted to what is called “kleptomania”—an itching to take the property of others when an opportunity arises.

Some of the boys were doubtful as to Asa’s ability to overcome his faults; but Mr. Holwell stood by the lad, and stoutly backed him up. Dick, too, had a certain amount of faith in Asa, for reasons of his own, in spite of the fact that Dan Fenwick, who was more skeptical, had more than once urged him to “keep an eye on that Asa.”

Dick had been enabled to do Old Jed Nocker, the richest merchant in Cliffwood, a great favor, whereby he found happiness in the possession of a grandchild, little Billy, together with his only son’s widow, Tilly Nocker. Since that time Mr. Nocker had lost much of his former cynicism regarding boys in general, and found numerous opportunities to stretch out a helping hand to the growing Junior Department of the local Y. M. C. A.

It was the unexpected home coming of Silas Langhorne, a brother of Mrs. Horner, from the Alaska gold fields, that had brought contentment and peace to Dick’s family. That was a strange and dramatic homecoming, for an account of which the reader is referred to the previous volume of this series. These summer days were happy ones in the Horner cottage, and little seven-year-old Sue, Dick’s sister, went singing about all the time.

The boys had settled down once more to their game, and the greatest interest was seizing upon them, with the score a tie, when all of a sudden Phil Harkness, out in center field, was seen to be waving his arms excitedly as he gave vent to a series of shouts.

“Hey! look yonder!” they plainly heard him calling. “See all that smoke, would you? It’s Bratton’s barn afire!”

CHAPTER II
AN INVASION OF PIGS

There is nothing under the sun capable of exciting a crowd of lively boys as much as a fire. Consequently when the ball players saw the smoke pouring from Bratton’s barn they instantly forgot all about their game, even with the score a tie, two out, Dick to the bat, a runner on third, and but a single hit needed to win for his side.

Helter-skelter they ran toward the scene, most of them shouting “Fire!” as they went, and thus increasing the already growing confusion. The clang of the suspended locomotive steel rim struck by a hammer added to the din. People came running from every direction toward the Bratton place, about which a crowd had already collected.

HELTER-SKELTER THEY RAN TOWARD THE SCENE.

Silas Bratton was a character in Cliffwood. He had always been at odds with everybody in the town, and seemed to delight in annoying others. There are just such contrary people in nearly every community.

For one thing the man persisted in keeping a host of small pigs about his place. The authorities made him confine them, but even at that they were a constant source of trouble to the neighbors; which was apparently just what Mr. Bratton wanted. He was always in some sort of lawsuit with people, but, possessing means, he hired the best lawyers, and usually came out of the affairs victorious.

“Wonder how it started?” gasped Leslie, as he ran alongside Dick and Dan.

“Huh!” grunted Dan, always suspicious, “wouldn’t surprise me one little bit if somebody just set it going. You know how they detest Bratton, and lots of people will laugh themselves sick if his barn—yes, and house too—goes up in smoke.”

“Better not say that again, Dan,” cautioned Dick. “It might get you into a peck of trouble if some friend of Bratton’s chanced to hear you.”

The boys soon reached the scene of excitement. The smoke was pouring out of the barn worse than ever. Perhaps it was a case of spontaneous combustion, for oily waste and rags often take fire, especially during the warm summer months. No one seemed to be bothering his head as to what had caused the fire; it was enough for all to see that the tongues of flame had commenced to spit through the billowing smoke, showing that the conflagration was becoming serious.

When eighteen lively boys are suddenly brought upon the scene, something is apt to be doing. Nat and a few of the others began immediately to see a fine chance to have some fun out of the affair.

“Hey! let’s try to throw some water on the fire, fellers!” shouted Nat; but those who knew him best surmised that it was the hope of finding a chance for a prank rather than a desire to assist in saving Mr. Bratton’s property that urged him on.

There was a rush forward, and many of the boys started to scale the fence. One of the gates was thrown open, and immediately several squealing pigs commenced to run down the road.

“Hi! shut that gate again, you fools!” shouted the owner of the premises, who, in his excitement, was running back and forth, starting to do one thing and then changing to another. “D’ye want to let all my valuable pigs break away?”

“Here come the firemen on the run!” a voice was heard to call out, one of the boys perched on top of the high fence being the alert scout to convey the news.

Cliffwood firemen had made a good reputation for themselves in times past. It was a volunteer department, but they owned a good engine, as well as a hose cart and a ladder truck.

Galloping horses brought them quickly to the scene of the fire. When they learned whose barn was in danger of being burned down, some of the members of the department may have felt loath to work as hard as usual, for they detested Mr. Bratton.

The foreman, however, who was the town blacksmith, would not allow any shirking on the part of his followers. So the hose was run out, the engine started up, and it was not long before a stream of water began to fall upon the smouldering hay that had been the main cause of the smoke.

Meanwhile, as seems necessary at all fires in country towns, some of the men began to chop at the sides of the barn, and smash in the windows—“to let the smoke out, and give the men who handled the hose nozzle a chance to play on the seat of the fire,” it was explained. Many who witnessed these energetic labors, however, could give a good guess that there were other things back of the professional instinct.

While all this was going on, more and more of the grunting and squealing pigs managed to get away, despite the apparent frenzied efforts of the fire fighters to prevent their egress. They were darting this way and that in every direction. Some ran between the legs of the spectators, and girls screamed in real or imaginary terror as the agile and alarmed little pigs appeared in their midst.

As the fire was already diminishing in vigor, and gave promise of proving a disappointment so far as spectacular effect went, the boys seemed bent on finding some outlet for their activities in chasing wildly after the noisy little beasts, that usually eluded capture in a remarkable way.

Many were the loud shrieks of laughter that arose when some one plunged forward with outstretched hands, only to clutch thin air as the active pig suddenly doubled, and eluded his grasp.

Dan had taken after an old sow that was giving vent to loud and ominous grunts while running in a zigzag manner among the crowds. He must have tripped at a critical second, for suddenly Dan was seen astraddle of the broad-backed animal, trying to keep from tumbling, and evidently much surprised at finding himself having a ride.

However, Dan soon tumbled off, selecting a soft spot for the feat, and arose to his feet not much hurt by his adventurous ride. Boylike, he immediately decided to stick to it that he had carried the trick through purposely, to show what a fine rough-rider he would make.

About this time Elmer Jones tugged at the sleeve of Dick’s coat.

“Look at Nat and his bunch, every one of ’em trying to corral a squealing porker,” he called out. “I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve? I heard Nat tell Dit Hennesy he wanted every fellow to get a pig apiece.”

“Oh! I shouldn’t be surprised if they expect Bratton’ll be offering a reward for the safe return of his ugly pets; and it’ll be easy money for their crowd,” remarked Leslie; and then burst into a roar of laughter when one of the boys in question stumbled and fell flat, to have a whole drove of the pigs scamper directly over him.

Dick and his chums would only too gladly have assisted in putting the blaze out, because it would have been great fun for them. They had done something of the sort not a great while back, when the house next to that of Mr. Nocker had caught on fire, and precious lives were placed in peril.

In the present instance it happened that there was really little or no chance to play the part of heroes. The gallant fire fighters poured enough water on the already damp hay to smother the last spark, and in order to feel in part repaid for their lively run in the heat of the afternoon were doing more or less smashing around. They felt confident that all damages would be settled by the fire insurance companies with whom so careful a man as Mr. Bratton undoubtedly held policies.

Mr. Bratton, indeed, seemed to be more concerned about the disappearance of some two dozen of his pigs than any damage his barn had sustained. Perhaps this was because the animals were not included in the insurance; or it might be he suspected the fire to have been part of a plot on the part of disputing neighbors to rid themselves of a pest.

“Here, bring those pigs back to this other building! Do you hear me?” he was shouting to some of the people who had managed to secure a few of the alarmed pigs, though it was all they could do to hold them.

They resented the tone of authority conveyed by his manner and words, and on that account two men immediately released their prisoners.

“Take them yourself, Silas Bratton!” called out one of these. “Since when have we been in your employ?”

“Drat the pigs!” said one woman, with an expression of disgust on her face. “When I first heard it was Bratton’s place that had caught fire I began to hope I’d smell roast pork. But it seems the whole nest of ’em must have come through scot-free. They’ll be chasing all over town.”

“Glad of it,” said another neighbor, smiling broadly. “I wish some bad spirit would enter into the drove, just as it did long years ago in Palestine, and cause the beasts to run down into the river to be drowned. It’d be a good riddance of rubbish, say I!”

The excitement was gradually dying out. Some of the escaped pigs had been recovered, but many of them had vanished. Perhaps strays would be picked up here and there around Cliffwood for some time to come, especially if the crusty owner thought fit to offer a reward for their return.

“I guess our game is all knocked to flinders by this riot,” remarked Leslie, as he stood and watched the firemen finish the last stroke of their business by turning the stream of water into a hole that had been cut in the side of the barn.

“Oh! we couldn’t get the boys together again after this!” declared Peg, who was one of the group. “Three of the other side have disappeared—Nat, Dit and Alonzo Crane. And say, let me tell you, every one of them had a pig in his arms the last I saw of them.”

“That’s right,” added Dan; “and running off with the same in the bargain. I wonder what’s in the wind? If they were meaning to camp out soon I’d guess you’d get the smell of roast pork if you happened to stroll near their hideout. But anyway, when it comes to playing all sorts of practical jokes, Nat takes the cake.”

“There’s something up, you can depend on it,” asserted Leslie, firmly. “We know Nat too well to believe he just wanted to save those porkers for Mr. Bratton. Keep your eye on Nat, and you’ll hear something drop before long.”

“Oh! bother Nat anyway,” said Peg; “he’s always doing something to keep himself in the limelight. What interests me more than any of his capers just now is trying to guess where we’ll land about that summer camp we’re thinking of starting next week.”

“Well, we may have some news at the meeting to-night,” explained Dick, “because Dr. Madison promised to run over and see about that Morley Camp Mr. Holwell thought would suit us in every way.”

“I was hugging some hope to my heart we might get a chance to go up to Lake Russabaga,” grumbled Dan. “Somehow I’ve always hankered after that place since the time we ran up there on our wheels and stayed one night, camping under the hemlocks.”

“It is a dandy place, all right,” admitted Dick. “For one, I’d like to spend a week or so up there on Bass Island. But there isn’t much chance of our getting there on this trip, I’m afraid.”

The fire being now a thing of the past, the boys started for home. The last they saw of Mr. Bratton he was counting his pigs, and declaring he would have the law on any one found guilty of trying to harbor one of the escaped animals. More or less sly laughter was being indulged in by the spectators, who seemed rather well pleased at the calamity that had befallen their quarrelsome neighbor.

“You see none of the other nine has showed up to finish the game,” remarked Dick, shortly afterwards, as they neared the ball ground; “so we’ll have to call it a draw. See you this evening at the meeting, fellows. So long!”

CHAPTER III
THE BOY WHO HAD PROMISED

One night a week the boys comprising the Junior Department of the local Y. M. C. A. held a meeting in the room in the building Cliffwood’s citizens had presented to the organization that was doing so much good work for young men in the community.

On certain afternoons they were also allowed free use of the gymnasium. A comparatively new swimming pool was enjoyed by many after they had exercised. Then there was a bowling alley, and some of the more expert among the boys ran up pretty high scores.

On the night after the ball game on the commons and the fire at the Bratton barn, the boys commenced gathering before the time appointed for the special meeting to take place. Little knots talked seriously as they came together, for it was known that Dick meant to bring with him a report of the success or failure attending their efforts to secure the camping grounds owned by a Mr. Marley on the small lake named after him.

“Some of you fellows,” Dan Fenwick was saying to a group around him, “who didn’t happen to be at the ball game to-day will be interested to know that Dick says we’re going to have a football eleven this fall, to try to hold up the honor of Cliffwood with the rest of the towns around this end of the woods.”

“Glad to hear that, Dan!” exclaimed one lad, warmly.

“Always said we ought to do something to show our colors,” added another. “And it’s come all because of Mr. Howell and his scheme for getting up this Boys’ Department of the Y. M. C. A. That’s done the trick! You don’t run across many fellows loafing on the street corners these nights. They’d rather be in here reading the magazines, or taking part in some of the things that are going on every little while.”

“And there’s no reason,” a third went on to say, boldly, “why Cliffwood shouldn’t have a hockey team, and a cracking good baseball nine next season, to boot. We’ve got the stuff all right. With good backing we might even hope to fetch a trophy home with us once in a while.”

“There’s Mr. Bartlett, going to call the meeting to order,” remarked Dan.

At this speech every one of the boys settled down in a seat; for these meetings were usually conducted with as much decorum and order as those carried on by the older members of the Y. M. C. A. organization.

Harry Bartlett usually presided at these gatherings of the boys’ club, but he took pleasure in frequently turning the meeting over to Dick, who had been duly elected to the office. This evening as soon as the meeting had been called to order he asked Dick to take the chair.

The secretary was just beginning to call the roll when there came a series of squeals and grunts. At the same time three small pigs were seen running wildly about the room, creating much excitement as they darted back and forth under the chairs and amidst the legs of twenty-odd boys gathered there.

Every one knew that Nat and his two cronies had liberated the pigs, for they were standing in the doorway and laughing heartily at the frantic efforts of the boys to catch the dodging pigs. All thought of business was suspended until this duty had been accomplished, after which the offending pigs were summarily ejected from the building.

Nat pretended to feel sorry over it.

“We meant to lug the little critters over to Mr. Bratton’s house,” he went on to explain, “to find out if he meant to offer a reward for their safe return. But now they’re loose again, and in the night nobody could ever catch the slippery imps. We were goin’ to stop in and let you know we’d be back this way before long, when they broke loose on us. But it’s all right anyway, and no damage done, I reckon.”

Of course every one knew the incident was intended to be one of Nat’s famous practical jokes, but since the excitement had now died down, and Mr. Bartlett said nothing to the contrary, Dick concluded to forget it.

“The meeting will again come to order,” he called out, vigorously rapping the table with the gavel, borrowed from the seniors. “The secretary will start over again with roll call.”

This duty having been carried out, the regular business of the meeting was next in order. It could easily be seen that all of the boys present displayed more or less anxiety to hear the reports of certain of the committees.

“I’ll ask the vice-president to occupy the chair while I make my report as the committee of one to call on Doctor Madison and find out what our chances are of getting Camp Marley.”

When Dick made this remark he vacated his seat, Leslie taking his place temporarily. Every boy present leaned forward and glued his eager eyes on Dick.

“It isn’t just the thing for the presiding officer of an organization,” began the one who was on his feet, “to act on a committee; but in this case it happens that I started the business with Doctor Madison, and he asked me to drop in and see him this evening when on the way here. He went out to Mr. Marley’s this afternoon as he expected. I’m sorry to tell you he brought back bad news for us.”

Some of the expectant ones emitted groans at hearing this.

“It’s all off, then,” said Dan Fenwick. “I just thought things would fall flatter than a pancake when the Cliffwood boys started to do anything worth while. It’s hard luck, that’s what. We’re pursued by a hoodoo, I believe.”

“Go on and tell us the worst, Dick!” urged Peg Fosdick.

“Yes, we can stand it all right, I should say,” added Elmer Jones, grimly. “P’r’aps one knock-down may make us wake up, and think of some other way of spending our summer vacation.”

“Mr. Marley sent word that we had made our application just three days too late,” continued Dick, smiling sadly. “He’s promised the camp on his lake to a party of fellows coming over from Emoryville. They belong to the scouts there, I understand, and mean to stay most of the summer, doing all sorts of stunts.”

As this meeting had been called especially to learn about the result of their effort to secure a good camping ground, interest began to subside as soon as Dick had made his depressing report. Most of the boys looked gloomy. They had been counting so much on this outing that their disappointment was keen.

“Remember this doesn’t mean that we’ve got to give the scheme up altogether,” Dick told a group around him after the meeting had been hastily adjourned. “There are more places than Lake Marley that can be used for camping, though we’d like it a heap better if we could be near the water. Let every fellow hustle, and try to get track of another good site, so as to report to-morrow night when we have our regular meeting here.”

Even Nat looked troubled, for he, too, had counted on having the time of his life, if once the boys of the junior organization found themselves in camp. Nat was always looking for new opportunities to play some of his jokes, and he believed he would find many splendid chances under the novel surroundings of camp life.

Asa Gardner walked part way home with Dick on this night, and Leslie soon caught up with them. Asa was a pale lad who needed outdoor exercise very much. He had been greatly depressed by the fact of their failure to obtain permission to camp on the shore of Lake Marley.

“Oh! you don’t know how much I’ve been counting on getting a week or two out in the open air,” he confided to Dick, as the three of them walked along. “And besides, you promised to show me a whole lot of things about living in the woods that I’d just love to hear about, Dick. My mother told me I ought to stay outdoors all I could, for you know I once had an older brother who died from lung trouble.”

“Well, don’t give it up yet, Asa,” Dick told him. “Some of us are not going to throw up the sponge so easy as all that. Wait and see what can be done. I’m glad that you seem to be enjoying the club. Mr. Holwell takes a lot of interest in you, I notice. He told me only yesterday that he expected to see the day when you’d be up among the leaders, after you got well started.”

“Mr. Holwell is the best man living,” said Asa, warmly. “When he’s talking to me I just seem to feel that I could do anything in the world to please him. He makes you see things the way he does. If I ever do amount to a row of beans it’ll be through Mr. Holwell, and not because it was in me.”

“You’re wrong there, Asa,” said Dick, kindly. “It’s got to be in you first of all, but he knows just how to draw it out. And any fellow who does things the way Mr. Holwell advises is bound to climb the ladder, as sure as he lives.”

Asa left the others soon afterward, as his home lay in a different direction.

“I don’t know just what to make of that chap,” said Leslie, as he and Dick continued on their way. “He used to be the sneakiest fellow going, and was always getting things in his pockets that belonged to others. Just couldn’t help it, I’ve heard people say, for he was like one of his uncles who used to be a shady financier down around Wall Street, New York City, and always grabbing things.”

Dick laughed a little at the queer conceit. Leslie was always saying odd things calculated to make others smile, it seemed.

“Well, if Asa has really conquered that weakness,” Dick went on to say soberly, “he deserves a heap of credit. Other fellows, who never knew what it was to feel that itching come over them so they just couldn’t resist a chance to take something, would never understand what the poor fellow has been up against.”

“You seem to believe he’s really and truly reformed, Dick.”

“I certainly do,” returned the other boy, warmly. “And if you care to hear why I’ll explain, though only if you promise never to breathe a word of it.”

“Count on me to keep the secret, Dick. I’ll be as dumb as any oyster you ever saw, so fire away.”

“Listen, then,” resumed the other, seriously. “One day about a week or so ago I was sent on an errand, and crossed the town graveyard to cut a corner. Somehow, when I was about half-way over, I thought I heard a voice, and yet I couldn’t see any one at first. I confess I was filled with curiosity, and looked around. Then I saw something move, and I stepped that way as softly as I could.”

“Oh! then it was Asa,” interrupted Leslie, feelingly. “And the chances are he was at his mother’s grave.”

“That’s where I found him,” said Dick, winking hard; “though I didn’t let him know I was around. He was lying there with his arms outspread, poor chap, and I guess he must have felt that his mother could hear him saying what he did, for it was to her he kept talking, now and then stopping to cry a little. I tell you, Leslie, it gave me a queer feeling to hear him; and pretty soon I slipped away without his knowing I’d been around.”

“What was he saying, Dick?” asked the other boy, with an intake of his breath.

“As near as I can remember it,” replied Dick, “he said something like this: ‘Oh, Mother! it’s hard to know you’re lying here all alone. But I’ll never forget what I promised you, and I’m trying with all my might and main to fight it out. I’ll win, too, Mother, I promise you I will! But oh! if I could only see you once more I’d be so happy!’”

Leslie was silent for a short time after Dick said this. He was not quite sure of his voice, which did sound a bit unsteady when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry now I ever believed Asa was bound to fall back again into his old ways, Dick. But Dan keeps on saying mean things about him, because once, you know, Asa stole something he valued a heap, and Dan has never quite forgotten it. After what you heard I reckon he will win out, and for one I’m going to help him all I can. The poor fellow needs friends to back him, just as Mr. Holwell said.”

“That sounds just like you, Leslie,” remarked Dick, slapping his chum heartily on the back at the same time. “And I’m with you every time. We may be of some help to poor lonely Asa; and anyway he’ll feel stronger if he sees that we believe in him.”

“Well, here’s where I have to say good night, Dick,” the other remarked, a few minutes later.

“It’s early still, Leslie. Why not come with me over to Mr. Nocker’s house. He’ll be expecting me after the meeting.”

“Hello! what’s in the wind now?” demanded Leslie, with a vein of boyish curiosity in his voice.

“Oh! nothing much,” came the answer. “I promised to let the deacon know how the meeting turned out, that’s all. You remember he’s taking a whole lot of interest nowadays in everything that concerns boys, and especially the fellows belonging to the Juniors of the Y. M. C. A.”

“That’s right; he is for a fact,” said Leslie, with a laugh. “It is one of the latter-day miracles, my folks say. Time wasn’t so long ago when Deacon Nocker seemed just to despise all boys. I guess it was because he made a foozle of bringing up his own son, who got in trouble, ran away from home, and left a wife and child when he died.”

“Well, we had something to do with making the old gentleman fall in love with his own grandson,” chuckled Dick in turn. “For that, it seems he’s never forgiven us, for he keeps trying to do us favors right along.”

They continued walking, and presently turned in at a gate. The grounds belonging to Deacon Nocker’s place were quite extensive. He was the richest storekeeper in Cliffwood, and had been a surly old fellow until recently, when a marvelous change for the better had come over him.

The deacon himself let them in, and his thin face was wreathed with a smile as they shook hands heartily with him. People used formerly to say that it felt like touching a snake to grasp the deacon’s cold hand. But that was when his heart was chilly too. Nowadays he was smiling all the day long, and really there was a vigor in the way he squeezed an outstretched hand that amazed his fellow townsmen.

“Little Billy wanted to stay up when he heard you were coming over later,” he was telling Dick, as he ushered the boys into his library, where his daughter-in-law, Tilly, was seated, doing some sewing at the table.

“I’m sorry he couldn’t,” remarked Dick, shaking hands with the pretty mother of the youngster, and who always had a smile for this boy friend who had done so much to assist her to make peace with Billy’s stern grandfather.

“I have just come downstairs after putting him to bed,” she told Dick. “I wish you could hear him at his prayers. He always insists on remembering you after he mentions his ‘darling mother’ and his ‘grand-daddy.’ You’re Billy’s one hero, Dick. He will never forget how you saved him from the fire,” she added, referring to an incident already related in my previous story.

“Well, he’s a dear little chap, that’s a fact,” remarked the boy, turning red with confusion as he always did when being praised. “But we’ve only stopped in as I promised you I would, Mr. Nocker, to report the poor success we’ve had so far in finding a suitable camp-site.”

The deacon raised his eyebrows, nor could Leslie believe that he looked in the least sorry.

“Tell me how you came out with regard to that site on Lake Marley,” requested the deacon.

“We had news through Doctor Madison that it has been promised to the scout troop over in Emoryville,” Dick went on to say. “So far we seem to be up in the air as to just where we can go. But, of course, we’ll find some place or other.”

“When do you have your next meeting?” asked Mr. Nocker, as the boys prepared to take their departure.

“To-morrow, sir, is the regular night for it,” he was told. “Every one has been asked to pick up any information he can in connection with another camp-site.”

“Well, I certainly hope that you will be successful in finding something to suit you, boys,” the deacon said, as they reached the door. “If I can be of any help, let me know, won’t you?”

“We certainly will, with pleasure, sir, and thank you for the offer.”

As Dick said this he and his chum strode toward the gate. Leslie was muttering to himself in a peculiar way he had. A minute later he broke out with:

“I don’t believe the deacon cares very much whether we get a camp or not, Dick. He was chuckling to himself most of the time, and rubbing his hands together like a miser. Perhaps he’s getting tired of playing godfather to a pack of boys.”

“Wait and see,” said Dick, mysteriously, and soon afterwards the chums separated.

CHAPTER IV
MR. NOCKER SPRINGS A SURPRISE

“Here we are again, right side up with care!” remarked Dan Fenwick on the following night, as he burst into the meeting-room of the handsome Y. M. C. A. building, accompanied by two other lads almost as noisy as himself.

“And it looks as if we might have a cracking good crowd here to-night,” added Elmer Jones, as he glanced around at the numerous occupants of the chairs. “Here’s our new member, Humbert Loft, the nephew of our high-brow town librarian who wanted us to read nothing but classics and the dead languages, instead of splendid stories for boys written by our favorite authors.”

“Yes, but who got beautifully left in the lurch when we started our own circulating library, every book of which has had the approval of Mr. Holwell, and is both clean and uplifting,” observed Peg Fosdick, who made the third of the trio of newcomers.

“I understand,” Dan went on to say, exultantly, “there are more than a hundred and thirty volumes on hand now, and Leslie’s Uncle Henry has promised us another batch just as soon as he can run down to the city and look them all over, to be sure they are of the right sort.”

“There are three of the mill boys here to-night—Eddie Grant, Ban Jansen and Cub Mannis,” whispered Elmer. “I know Dick will be glad of that, and Mr. Holwell too, because they get around so seldom. Eddie said one night that they were usually too tired out after their work.”

“Mr. Holwell says he is more interested in getting those fellows here than in any of the rest of us,” Dan remarked, confidentially.

“Oh, that’s something everybody knows!” exclaimed Elmer. “He says we’ve got good homes, and are under the right kind of influence; but Eddie and his crowd live in the slums, as you might say, and their only place at nights is on the street corners or in saloons. It was largely to keep them from temptation that Mr. Holwell first considered this addition to the regular Y. M. C. A.”

“I understand that some of the mill hands are taking a vacation—against their will,” observed Dan. “You see, every summer the company picks out a week or so to clean up, and, of course, lay a part of their force off. Now, like as not the boys have heard of our going off on an outing, and hope to be able to join the crowd.”

“Say, I hope they do!” declared Elmer. “Those three fellows are all right; and for one I’d like to know more of them. Yes, I’d be glad if they could go along.”

“The only trouble,” continued Dan, “would be that it will cost us so much a head to have a week or two in the woods. Some of these fellows need every cent they earn; and that might prevent them from going along.”

“Just leave all that to Mr. Holwell,” replied Elmer, confidently. “He’s the one to think up some scheme to open the way. There come Dick and Leslie. I must say nobody looks extra gay to-night. See how they all fix their eyes on Dick, just as if they expected him to be a magician and haul a camp-site from his bag as the magicians used to pull out rabbits and such things.”

The meeting was soon called to order by Mr. Bartlett, who again put Dick in charge. After the roll had been gone over the regular business was taken up. Plainly every boy was nervous, for all paid less attention to ordinary matters than customary.

“You see, every one wants to get down to that camping business,” whispered Dan to his nearest neighbor on the left, who happened to be the mill hand, Eddie Grant. “They’re hoping Dick has got wind of a place where all of us can go for ten days or so.”

Eddie Grant sighed.

“I reckon it’s going to be too rich a treat for the likes of some of us fellers,” he remarked also in a whisper. Dan could easily catch the shade of bitter disappointment in his manner, showing that the mill boys had been hugging a hope to their hearts that a way might be provided whereby they could accompany the others of the Y. M. C. A. boys on their outing.

When finally the ordinary routine of business had been brought to a hurried conclusion Elmer Jones was on his feet with a motion.

“I move, Mr. President,” he said, with a broad smile, “that we proceed to the most important matter that engages our attention just now and hear the report of the committee appointed to find a camp-site for the club.”

“Second the motion!” exclaimed Phil Harkness. “Although there’s little need of it,” he went on, “because hearing the report of any committee comes under the head of business.”

Dick knew the boys were anxious to learn whether he had met with success. He hated to disappoint them, but it seemed as though nothing else could be done.

“I took a whole lot of my time to-day running around, making inquiries of different people who might know of something we could get,” he announced. “But so far there’s nothing in sight worth having. Mr. Truesdale said he wouldn’t object if we camped in his woods as long as we behaved, and didn’t leave any fires burning when we went away from camp. But you all know the Truesdale woods, boys.”

“Poor place, where they used to have the Sunday School picnics some years,” ventured one boy. There was a look of disgust on his face as he spoke, as though he were thinking it would be much too tame for them to spend a whole week on the spot where children came to picnic.

“And too near town besides,” added Dan Fenwick. “When we camp out it’s got to be far away from home, and in a regular wilderness. That’s what makes it feel like the real thing. Huh! I’d as soon put up a tent in our back yard, and stick it out there for a week, as go to that old Truesdale wood.”

Dick laughed at the vigor of these replies, though he had fully anticipated hearing something of the sort.

“Perhaps some one else has had the good luck to get track of a place,” he went on to remark. “If so, don’t be backward about coming forward. We’d like to hear what you’ve done, even if it was only to meet with disappointment as I did.”

Clint Babbett jumped to his feet, saying:

“I tackled ever so many people during the day, and had two places offered to me, but on conditions we couldn’t think of accepting. One of these, would you believe it, came from a woman who insisted that we build no fires while in camp, as she would do what cooking was necessary.”

At that a shout went up, nor did the chairman attempt to quell it, for he, too, was shaking with laughter, as was also the amused Mr. Bartlett, sitting near by.

“What d’you think of that, now?” cried Dan Fenwick. “Camping out for a whole week, and not allowed to light even one fire to sit around in the evenings! Say, I can see twenty hungry fellows marching up to that woman’s door three times a day for a cold hand-out!”

“She’d get sick of her bargain in no time. She’d find we’d eat her out of house and home,” laughed Peg Fosdick.

“There’s no doubt,” interrupted Dick, seriously, “but the woman thought she was giving us boys a big help, but it only goes to show how little some women know what a boy’s heart hungers for. It takes a man to understand a boy, my mother says. Why, even girls in these days wouldn’t stand for that sort of camping out.”

Several others got up to tell how they had prosecuted an earnest search, but absolutely without success. No one seemed to know of a suitable site for a boys’ camp within a reasonable distance of town.

As the chances grew less encouraging, some of the boys began whispering among themselves. It really looked as though the plan on which they had set their hearts would have to be given up.

Dick was holding the meeting from being adjourned, though Leslie could not see the sense of further discussion, since no one had been able to offer any real hope of success. Still, had any one watched Dick closely, he would have discovered that the acting chairman cast many anxious glances toward the door of the room, and that his nervousness was really taking on the form of keen disappointment.

Then it came to pass that the door was quietly opened and some one slipped into the room. No one but Dick saw him enter, for all were engaged just then in a warm discussion as to whether it might not be wise to accept the kindly meant offer of Mr. Truesdale, and make the best of it.

Dick smiled now, as though a heavy load had been taken from his mind. Certain suspicions he had allowed himself to entertain were evidently in a fair way of becoming actual realities.

It was no other than Deacon Nocker who had so silently entered. He stood listening to what was being said for and against the Truesdale woods. Dick could see the smile on his thin face, and he noticed the way he kept nodding his head as he followed the arguments advanced.

“I guess it’s as good as settled,” was what Dick was telling himself; though, in reality, he had no means of knowing what kind of offer Mr. Nocker was going to make to the boys of the Y. M. C. A. to whom he owed so much happiness.

“Allow me to say a few words, boys,” remarked the deacon, presently, at which there was a craning of necks, and many eager looks cast in his direction. “Most of you may not know that I own all the land around Lake Russabaga, including a famous camp-site on Bass Island. I’ve come here to-night to make you an offer, which pleases me much more than it can any of you. Now, if the proper arrangements can be made for transportation, and your parents are willing you should go so far from home, I want the Y. M. C. A. boys to camp up there on the prettiest lake in the whole State. I hope you’ll accept my offer, which comes direct from my heart!”

CHAPTER V
A BRIGHT PROSPECT AHEAD

Dick was laughing now. He had had good reason to suspect that Mr. Nocker intended to help them.

Everybody was looking happy after hearing the wonderful offer which the deacon had just made. Led by Dan Fenwick, the boys raised a shout in which the name of Mr. Nocker was plainly distinguishable.

The deacon held up his hand as though he had something more to communicate, so Dick, as chairman of the meeting, knocked on the table with his gavel to bring the wild cheering to an end.

“There are a few things I want to say to you, boys,” began the deacon, evidently enjoying the sensation of being so heartily cheered. “The first is in connection with the expense you will all be under, if you accept my offer. Lake Russabaga is a good many miles away from Cliffwood, and the railroad fare will amount to considerable.”

“We’ll be glad to stand for that, sir!” announced one boy, quickly.

“I have no doubt but the majority of you can spend the money required without feeling it,” continued the deacon, with a quick look toward the three mill boys who were leaning forward and listening eagerly. “But there may be a number who would like to go, and yet who could not spare the money to pay their expenses. I have a little plan to help them out.”

The interest of Eddie Grant and his two companions increased. They seemed to understand that Mr. Nocker had them especially in mind.

“There are some extensive patches of blueberries growing about my property on the lake,” continued the deacon. “Every year up to now I have given permits to certain people to pick all they wanted, and send the results down to the canning factory here in Cliffwood. This season, although the crop I am told is an extra large one, no one has applied for permission to pick it. So I propose that as many boys as wish may spend a portion of their camp time gathering blueberries. I will make arrangements to get them down here, and each boy will be credited with his earnings, which will go to repay the money I agree to advance on tickets and other expenses.”

At that Eddie Grant jumped to his feet with a vim.

“There are some of us here, Mr. Nocker,” he exclaimed, eagerly, “who want to go on this trip, but didn’t feel that we could afford to spend the money that we’ll need a little later for clothes or somethin’. We’ll be mighty willin’ to pick berries, or do anything like that, to help pay our share of the expenses. Isn’t that so, boys?”

“It sure is!” answered one of his mates, and the other nodded his head vigorously, being too agitated to use his voice.

“Well,” continued the deacon, with another smile of satisfaction as though he truly enjoyed being the messenger of good news. “I’ll leave it to you to decide. If your treasury doesn’t hold enough ready cash I’d be willing to help out, or start a collection to tide over.”

“Oh! we couldn’t stand for that, sir!” exclaimed Leslie Capes, quickly. “Nearly all of us can raise the amount needed; and your plan will settle the share of those for whom the expense would be too great. Taking up a collection sounds too much like charity. We’ve got something left from the proceeds of our minstrel entertainment, for one thing, that could be loaned to any member in good standing, to be repaid after we came back from the camp. None of us who hasn’t the money would mind working for it, but I’m sure I can speak for all and say not one of us wants it given to him.”

“There’s another thing I want to mention,” called back the deacon from the open door just before he vanished, “and that is, if you conclude to accept my offer and camp on Bass Island up at Lake Russabaga, you must beware of that thief!”

The boys stared at each other on hearing this, especially since the deacon did not stay to explain what he meant. After he had withdrawn there was considerable discussion as to what his mysterious words signified.

“What sort of people live up that way, anyhow,” one boy asked, “for him to tell us to look out for that thief?”

“If there’s a thief loose up there why haven’t they caught him before now?” another demanded.

“P’r’aps that job is being held off for the Y. M. C. A. boys to tackle,” suggested a third with a grin that told how gladly he would enter into the game if it should really turn out that way.

“It strikes me as a rather poor sort of place for respectable boys to camp in, if there’s such a low character loose in the vicinity. I really will have to think it over before deciding to accompany the rest of you.”

That came from Humbert Loft, a nephew of the librarian whose constant nagging of the town boys, in his desire to have them select only standard works suited to much older heads, rather than the juvenile books they yearned to read, had been the cause of much bad feeling, and had resulted in the boys starting a library of their own.

The peculiar ways of Humbert were well known to the others, so that his present lofty remark did not cause much surprise. Most of the boys indeed could not bear his superior airs, and thus far his associations had not been of a character to give him much joy.

Dick alone stood by him whenever the others started to tease the librarian’s nephew, who had imbibed the notions of Mr. Loft himself. Dick could not agree with the ideas which Humbert advanced, but still he believed he could catch traces of the more natural boy underneath this veneering. Dick hoped that some time or other Humbert might throw off his sham of superior polish and come out as Nature intended boys to be, perhaps rough and careless, but good-hearted, and meaning well even when disposed to be full of boyish pranks.

Asa Gardner in particular heard the remarks made by Mr. Nocker with great joy. As he had told Dick, he often dreamed of enjoying the pleasure of camping out, of which he had read many times; and now that it began to look as though a chance had come for him to experience the sensation he felt very happy.

“The outdoor life is the thing for me,” he remarked to Elmer Jones after the meeting had been adjourned by the temporary chairman.

“Well, for that matter I’m just as crazy about such things as any fellow could be and keep out of the asylum,” remarked Elmer. “I’ve had a few chances to camp out and have managed to pick up some of the tricks of the trade. But there’s a heap I don’t know yet, and I mean to learn it all as fast as I can.”

“But besides the fun of the thing,” continued Asa, seriously, “it’s bound to do me lots of good, you know. My mother told me to keep out-of-doors all I could, because—well, my lungs are a little weak, I guess. You know my brother was taken off that way, and it kind of scares me sometimes when I have a cough.”

Elmer, big and strong, who never had known a sick day in all his life, could still feel for a boy who had not enjoyed such robust health.

“Couldn’t do anything better than to live out-of-doors all you can, Asa,” he went on to say. “They’ve found that fresh air is the best thing going for weak lungs. In fact they’ve stopped giving medicine, and just keep patients in the sunshine and the air all the day, as well as get them to sleep in the open too.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing for a year now,” continued the other, eagerly. “I have a sleeping porch alongside my room, and all last winter I never spent even one night indoors.”

Elmer looked at him with more respect on hearing this.

“And we had several big blizzards at that,” he remarked. “Then you must be in good trim for camping, because you’re used to the night air. But we’re all of us a heap glad we are really going so far away from home, though we’ll miss our moth——”

Elmer stopped suddenly, because he remembered that Asa had lost his mother. He saw the other turn white and gulp hard; but as Elmer walked away just then nothing further was said on the subject.

The boys found it hard to separate that night, there was so much to talk over. Suggestions were made of every kind as to what supplies they ought to take with them and whether this or that would be the right thing.

“Before we leave here, boys,” said Dick as they prepared finally to depart, “it strikes me it would be only fair to give three cheers for Mr. Nocker, one of the best friends the boys of Cliffwood ever had. That is, if Mr. Bartlett doesn’t object.”

The cheers were given with a will, and as the windows of the room were open the man, who happened to be passing, could plainly hear his name mentioned with hearty vigor as the score of lusty voices rang out. And Deacon Nocker felt a warmth in his heart as he listened, such as that organ had never known before.

CHAPTER VI
MAKING CAMP ON BASS ISLAND

A few days later, when a train stopped at the small station of Rockton, a crowd of boys accompanied by two older persons and a smiling colored man, jumped from the cars. They seemed to carry innumerable packages, and not a few had in addition knapsacks fastened to their backs.

Besides this, from the baggage car an astonishing amount of stuff was thrown, consisting of tents and cots and blankets.

Most of the provisions had been properly packed at the store. But Dick saw to it that such things as eggs were carried by some of the boys, since they would not stand much rough handling. They expected, however, to secure further farm products from some farmer not a great distance away from the camp on the shore of Bass Island.

Then the train began to puff again, and the score of boys, together with Harry Bartlett, Mr. Asa Rowland, the physical culture director at the Y. M. C. A., and “Sunny Jim,” the negro cook, found themselves left at the small station.

“They say it’s all of four long miles to the lake,” remarked Peg Fosdick, taking a look over the camp duffle that had been thrown in a great pile alongside the track.

“Oh! if you think that would be too long a tramp for your game leg, Mr. Bartlett would let you ride on one of the two wagons we’ve hired to haul the stuff over,” Dick told him. To this, however, Peg protested, saying:

“Huh! what d’ye take me for, Dick? If I’m not good for a little hike like that I ought to have stayed at home and be tied to mother’s apron strings. I was only wondering how much of this stuff I could hoist in case those wagons failed us, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t bother about that,” called out Leslie just then. “From the cloud of dust rising along the road over yonder I reckon our teams are coming now.”

His prediction turned out a true one, and it did not take the eager boys long to get their possessions loaded. There was more or less merriment as this labor was in progress; and many were the comments made concerning the piled-up wagons.

“Looks just like a gypsy outfit on the road,” suggested Clint Babbett.

“Now it would be a good thing for everybody who cared to do it to put his bundle aboard one of the supply wagons,” Dick suggested. “Four miles is something of a walk on a hot day like this, and it’s going to feel like a bag of lead before you get there. We can take turns carrying those precious home-laid eggs.”

“If we get settled in camp this afternoon we’ll be in good fix for our first night out,” asserted Elmer, after they had started on the tramp, stringing along the dusty country road.

“We ought to have the camp in pretty good shape for Mr. Holwell, if he keeps his promise and comes up to see how we’re getting on to-morrow,” added Dan. “We must let him see that we know how to go about things in a way to make ’em look clean and neat. As Mr. Bartlett says, we don’t mean to stand for any shiftless ways in Camp Russabaga!”

“That name sounds good to me,” remarked Dick, instantly. “If the rest of you are of the same mind let’s begin and call it that from now on.”

“Camp Russabaga it is!” exclaimed Peg, with his customary enthusiasm. “There could hardly be a name that’d suit me better.”

“It’s just the ticket all around!” added Asa.

“I should call it quite euphonious!” observed Humbert Loft, who after all had decided to risk having his feelings hurt many times by his rough comrades, and from sheer curiosity had concluded to accompany them on the camping trip.

The campers plodded along just ahead of the heavily laden wagons, and as is the case when a number of lively boys get together, there was so much laughter and conversation that none of them noticed the passage of time.

“We’re getting near the lake, fellows!” suddenly called out Fred Bonnicastle. “I’m sure I had a glimpse of something that looked like water just then. Yes, it lies yonder—between the two big oaks.”

“And not over half a mile away at that!” added some one else, hopefully, for feet were commencing to drag.

“It’s surely lonely enough up this way,” remarked Leslie. “Not a sign of a cabin around.”

“I heard there were one or two shanties on Bass Island that the berry pickers stay in when it storms, the best picking being over on the island,” answered Peg Fosdick. “We can make use of them for a storage place.”

“And, too, if any finiky chap doesn’t like the idea of sleeping under canvas, he’s at liberty to fix himself a bunk where he’ll have a real roof over him,” put in Dan.

He looked at Humbert when saying this. The “superior” boy colored a little and hastened to say:

“Oh! as for me, I’ve quite made up my mind that when I’m in Rome I shall do as the Romans do. My uncle advised me to forget that we came of an old and honored New England family when associating with——Oh! I mean that I want to do just as the rest of you think is best.”

“He came mighty near calling us common folks!” whispered Peg, gloomily, turning to Elmer, who chanced to be alongside the limping one. “I reckon that is about what he really believes us to be. I hope His Majesty isn’t going to be contaminated while he’s up here in camp with the common herd. ‘Those who touch pitch will be defiled,’ I heard Mr. Holwell say only last Sunday.”

“I’m real sorry for Humbert,” Elmer told him in reply. “He’s so very nice that this rough-and-ready world isn’t good enough to hold him. He ought to be in a glass case, it strikes me.”

The idea caused Peg to laugh aloud. Possibly Humbert may have suspected that he had something to do with their merriment, for he turned and looked at them almost reproachfully, which caused Peg to say in a low tone:

“Oh! well, I suppose he just can’t help it. He’s been fed with soft pap all his life, and had to associate with that lofty Loft uncle of his who really believes all boys should be forced to read nothing but standard works.”

It was not long before they came in sight of Lake Russabaga. The spectacle was so inspiring that the boys broke out into a loud cheer.

“What a whopping big sheet of water it is!” exclaimed Elmer Jones. “It must be a whole lot of miles across there to the further shore that looks so dim in the distance.”

“And that island about a mile from this side must be the one we’re to camp on—Bass Island,” suggested Peg, his voice filled with delight.

“Dick says we’d better be hurrying along!” called out Leslie. “You understand we’ll have our hands full ferrying all this stuff across there; and from the clouds gathering along the horizon Mr. Bartlett seems to think we may have a thunder-storm before many hours pass by.”

“Get a move on, everybody!” cried Clint.

In due time the boys and the two teams reached the shore of the lake. Here the loads were hurriedly taken off, after which the drivers were paid and the teams started back, for neither of the men liked the looks of the clouds, and both prophesied rain before long.

“Where are the two boats we were to use when up here?” asked Mr. Rowland, who was a fine specimen of physical manhood.

“Dick and Elmer have gone to get them,” replied Leslie. “Dick knows where they are hidden away from one summer to another. I only hope they don’t leak too much, that’s all. It’d be pretty rough to have one of them sink under us when half-way over.”

Leslie said this aloud so that Humbert might hear it, his object being to give that “mother’s darling,” as Dan called Humbert, cause for alarm. He accomplished his intention, for Humbert was seen to look long and anxiously out across the waters of the lake, and then heave a tremendous sigh.

The two boats were soon brought around, having been easily found. They were not, as Fred Bonnicastle said, “things of beauty and a joy forever.” In fact, the boys considered them very rough looking, being rudely made, and old in the bargain. They leaked a little, but that defect could no doubt be remedied when Dick and some of the others found time to get to work on them.

By adjusting the loads properly and doing a little bailing occasionally, the boats could be safely ferried across to the island.

Two good loads were sent off, with a number of the boys along to get things started ashore. They were under the charge of Mr. Bartlett and the physical culture director, and had orders to put up the tents and fasten them with extra care, as there could be no telling how much wind would come if the storm finally descended on them, and it would be necessary to have some shelter both for themselves and for their provisions.

When later on the boats returned only two boys came with them, the rest of the party staying on the island in order to get the camp started. Another load was sent off, and with it went a second detachment of the boys, as well as the smiling black cook. All this took considerable time. No one dared mention such a thing as stopping to eat until everything had been safely transferred to the island where the camp was to be pitched.

“There’s only enough stuff left here for a single load now,” called out Dick, as both boats started off for the third time. “Send one of them back with a fellow to row. I’ll be waiting here to clean up.”

It was almost half an hour later when he discovered the boat approaching the shore. Dick was somewhat surprised to see that the boy who wielded the oars was Asa Gardner; and he also noted that the boy had a pretty fair stroke. His cheeks were rosy for one of his usually pale complexion. His eyes, too, sparkled as though Asa was enjoying the experience as far as it had gone.

“You’re surprised at seeing me, I know, Dick,” Asa said, as he drew in to the land. “I just begged Leslie to let me bring the boat back, and he agreed. The others are working like beavers to get the tents up and everything safe before it starts to rain. Do you think we’ll be caught in the storm, Dick?”

There was a little vein of anxiety in the boy’s voice, Dick fancied, as though Asa might already be repenting of his temerity in venturing across the wide waste of waters on such a risky errand.

“Let’s get the stuff packed aboard as soon as we can,” said Dick, as he took up a bundle of blankets and tossed them into the skiff. “The storm is likely to hold off another hour, but then it may catch us half-way over. But you said you could swim, didn’t you, Asa?”

“Oh! yes, pretty well,” replied the other.

A few minutes sufficed to complete the packing. Dick wanted things to be securely fastened in case they met with a heavy sea.

“Now we’re off,” he said, as he entered the boat. “I’ll start rowing, because you must be tired, Asa. If it should get very rough I may have to call on you to take an oar to help out, for two are better than one at such times, you know.”

“I’m willing enough,” said the other, seating himself amidst the load.

Dick threw considerable power into his work. He knew there was more or less danger of being caught far out from land in the storm, and that, considering that their boat was old and leaky, did not present a flattering outlook.

Just as he feared, they had gone little more than half the distance across when a loud peal of thunder followed a brilliant flash of lightning.

“It’s coming, Dick! The squall!” cried Asa. “I can see it racing over the water!”

CHAPTER VII
IN THE GRIP OF THE SQUALL

“We’re in for it, I’m afraid, Asa!” said Dick, as he saw what the other had reference to, for the wind was coming in their track, and promised to drive the boat toward the island rather than from it.

“Tell me what to do, Dick, and I’ll try to follow it out!” Asa exclaimed.

His face was deathly white, and his lips quivered as he spoke. Still Dick could see that the boy had a pretty good mastery over his fears. Indeed, with such a dismal prospect staring them in the face, even a more seasoned camper than Asa Gardner might have displayed nervousness.

“He’s got considerable nerve, anyway,” Dick said to himself, when he saw his companion gritting his teeth, and clenching his hands. Raising his voice he went on to say: “I guess two pairs of arms would be better than one just now, Asa; so drop down on that other thwart and take this oar.”

The boy did as he was bidden.

“Now, what’s the game, Dick?” he asked, as soon as he had clutched the oar after it had been hastily placed in the rowlock by his comrade.

“We must turn around in a hurry, because that big wave might swamp us if it came up over our stern,” he was told.

The boys hurriedly got the boat around so that the bow pointed toward the shore from which they had so recently come, though toward a point farther along the coast line. None too soon was the manoeuver accomplished. The squall rushed across the half mile of water with wonderful rapidity. It carried a “white bone in its teeth,” as a mariner would say, for a line of foam showed directly in the wake of the first rush of wind.

“Steady now! Keep her head straight into the wind, and don’t worry any; we can hold our own as well as we want. Now, row hard, Asa!”

With those words they commenced to work their arms. The boat started directly at the foamy track of the storm, met the wave, and plunged into it.

Both boys were immediately drenched with the spray, but much to Dick’s satisfaction Asa held firm, continuing to labor fiercely. The boat reared up and pitched like a bucking bronco, but as its nose was headed directly into the waves it could not capsize, as would have been the case had they been caught beam on.

Perhaps Asa Gardner had never been in a position of real peril before. He certainly showed considerable grit, Dick thought, for with set teeth he was straining himself to the utmost while tugging at his oar; nor did he once “catch a crab” by missing his stroke and falling backward.

“Take it easier, Asa!” shouted Dick, for the storm was making such a din around them by this time that ordinary talk was next to useless.

“But it’ll drive us along if we don’t look out!” cried the other in return.

“Just what I want it to do!” returned Dick reassuringly.

Asa complied with the orders he had received. Nevertheless he was undoubtedly puzzled to understand what Dick was planning to do.

“But won’t we be washed out there into the middle of the lake, Dick?” he asked, unable to grasp the other’s plan. The very thought of being sent scudding before that howling summer storm into the waste of waters terrified Asa.

“Not necessarily,” Dick snapped out. “From the way we’re going I’m in hopes of striking Bass Island. There’s a long cape or spur that juts out on this side, you may have noticed. When we get to that we’ll try to draw in behind it!”

“Oh!” exclaimed Asa, and it was evident that he grasped the scheme his companion had arranged on the spur of the moment.

The crisis could not be very far away, that was sure, because since they had relaxed their efforts they were being carried swiftly along, always with the bow of their boat pointed directly into the wind and waves.

Many times the billows, growing higher the further they were driven from the shore, would smash against the prow of the boat and scatter spray over the occupants. But Dick cared nothing for that. Getting wet was a small matter beside being swamped, with their lives placed in danger.

“We’re close to the island!” cried Asa, presently, bracing himself for the expected command to row furiously again.

“Yes, and that’s the spur I spoke of,” added Dick. “When we are a bit nearer we must start to work. I’ll turn the boat in a little right now, so as to be ready.”

“I can hear the fellows yelling like mad,” continued the other boy.

Dick heard the shouts too, but paid little attention to them. He realized that Mr. Rowland and the boys who were racing like mad to get out on that jutting cape could not do the least thing toward assisting those who were in peril. If he and Asa managed to reach shore it would have to be through good luck, seconded by their own desperate efforts.

The cape was close by. Indeed, it would have been an easy thing for a boy to have thrown a stone from its extremity to the boat. Dick was carefully keeping track of things, and he knew just when it was time for them to begin pulling with might and main.

“Now, go for it, Asa!” he suddenly called out.

Both strained every muscle. And there was need of their greatest exertions, for the wind and waves combined made a foe worthy of their respect. The old boat seemed like a cork on the surface of the agitated lake.

Just as Dick had calculated, they were now fairly well able to hold their own when taking the waves on their starboard quarter. All the while, however, progress was being made toward the island. If only they could manage to get far enough along they would soon begin to feel the advantage of that projecting arm, or cape, for behind it the waves were far less boisterous.

It was a lively affair while it lasted, and Asa for one would never forget his experience as long as he lived. Though the rain had stopped the thunder still rolled heavily, while the beating of the waves against the land added to the clamor. The waves rushed past the heaving boat with a sharp hissing sound that Asa compared to that made by angry serpents in fear of being cheated out of their intended prey.

The terminus of the little spur of land could be seen now, for they had actually been carried past it. Much progress had also been made in pushing toward the land, and Dick for the first time began to feel satisfied that they would accomplish the object of their hard labors.

The other boys, together with the physical instructor, reached the outer shore by now. They were still shouting, and were wildly agitated, the boys, at least, under the false impression that those in the boat had missed their aim, and were now in deadly danger of being carried away toward the center of the big lake.

Indeed, Dan Fenwick was hurriedly disrobing as though to leap into the water in an attempt to assist his chums, though, in fact, this would have been a most foolish venture, nor would Mr. Rowland have allowed him to attempt it.

Dick already felt the terrible strain lessening. He knew they must be getting the benefit of the shelter offered by that projecting cape, against which the waves were dashing angrily.

“It’s all right, Asa; take it a little easier now. We can make the land without much trouble. Just keep pulling steadily, that’s all.”

Being short of breath Dick jerked out these sentences, but his reassuring words were like balm to the disturbed mind of the boy at his side.

Presently they began to draw nearer the land, a fact that gave the observers the first hint as to what Dick’s plan had been. Cries of alarm changed to ringing huzzas, and several boys could be seen waving their soaked hats in triumph as they pushed through the wet undergrowth to be in a position to meet the others when they landed.

Asa began to recover in a measure from his state of fear. Dick understanding just how he must be feeling, talked confidently to him.

“I must say you did your part well, Asa,” was the way he spoke. “You’re bound to make your mark if you keep on trying. It’s in you I can see well enough. I wouldn’t want a better and pluckier comrade in a boat than you proved to be.”

When the two lads finally drew in to land the thunder was muttering in the distance, the wind had begun to die down, and there was a rift in the clouds overhead. Like many summer squalls, the storm had been of brief duration, and was already of the past.

Still Asa shuddered as he cast a look out toward the main lake, and thought of what might have happened to them except for Dick’s clever handling of the situation.

CHAPTER VIII
THE FIRST NIGHT OUT

Asa was very thankful to be on land again after his recent adventure. He was shivering with cold, and Mr. Rowland realized that the first thing to be done was to push around to the place where the tents had been raised, and get some fires under way.

“Here, everybody turn in and make for the camp!” he called out, when he could get the happy boys to stop shaking hands with Dick and the shivering Asa. “We want warmth, and we want it right away, too. Fire brigade to the fore. Show us what you can do about getting a blaze started.”

Laughing and joking, now that all danger was past, the boys hastened toward the spot where they had pitched their camp. This was at the place used by the berry pickers and what few fishermen came to the lake for sport.

“The first thing necessary,” said Mr. Bartlett, who was serving as camp leader, “is to get a good fire going.”

“We were smart enough to have a lot of fine dry wood thrown into one of the two shanties, Dick,” announced Leslie with a vein of pride in his voice.

“That was clever of you, I must say,” remarked Dick. “Let’s make a number of fires, for we’re all pretty well soaked, and it’s going to be some job, believe me, drying everything after that ducking. Sha’n’t we have several, Mr. Bartlett?”

Presently the first blaze began to crackle. Then others took hold, and in ten minutes there were four good fires burning merrily.

“Now strip off those wet clothes, boys,” ordered Mr. Rowland. “Here are your bags, and if you carried out the directions I gave you the other day, you both have dry stuff in plenty for a complete change, and shoes as well. Keep near the fire, and exercise your arms all you can.”

Asa was looking blue about the lips, and shivering just as you have seen a hungry and cold dog do when begging to be let in at the door on a wintry day. It was evident that only his will power was keeping him up.

As Dick was stronger and was, as well, hardened to such things, he could stand it and not suffer.

Mr. Rowland had Sunny Jim get one of the several coffeepots, and soon had some water heating on a fire in order to make some hot coffee.

“Nothing to beat hot coffee when you’ve been ducked and feel shivery,” Dick said to Asa, after they had got their wet garments off and, under the directions of Mr. Rowland, were rubbing themselves briskly all over with coarse huck towels before starting to dress again in dry clothes.

Already the pinched blue look was leaving Asa’s lips, and a touch of color had appeared in his pale cheeks. His eyes had a sparkle, too, as though the excitement of his recent adventure still possessed him.

In the end all managed to get thoroughly dry. The sun was shining once more, and this helped to make things look cheerful again.

“I move we have a bite to eat before starting to work again at the camp!” Dan Fenwick was heard to say. To this suggestion unanimous assent was given, for like all boys they were made up mostly of appetite.

“A few slices of ham wouldn’t go bad!” exclaimed Phil Harkness, smacking his lips.

“And a few cans of those Boston baked beans strikes me as extra prime!” added Clint Babbett.

So it was ordered by Mr. Bartlett, and before long a delightful odor began to steal about that vicinity, causing some of the boys to groan dismally, and declare they were almost famishing for want of lunch.

“Why, it’s nearly two o’clock I want you to know,” asserted Andy Hale, reproachfully. “And I had my breakfast at six this morning, because I was afraid I might be late and find the rest of you gone.”

In time the call came to gather around a rough table those boys first on the island had put together.

“Any way will do this time,” Mr. Bartlett announced; “but by another meal we must have some system arranged. This camp is going to be systematically conducted, you understand, and not be Liberty Hall, where every boy can go as he pleases.”

“Yes,” remarked Dick. “Mr. Holwell is coming up to-morrow, too, and we want him to see that we can behave ourselves, and not act like a lot of savages.”

The hungry crowd devoured every scrap of food that had been prepared, and drained both coffeepots to the dregs. There was considerable merriment shown during the first meal on Bass Island, and everybody agreed that the prospects for an enjoyable stay looked promising.

Afterwards they rested a little while, and then the camp leader set them all certain tasks. Several commenced to patch the roof of one of the cabins, which was found to be in a leaky condition. Others aired such blankets as had got wet—those which had been in the bundles carried in the boat at the time the storm overtook the voyagers.

Still more of the boys were engaged in cutting wood. Here Eddie Grant and his two chums showed that they were quite at home, for they had long ago learned to use an axe as well as most wood-choppers. In fact, Eddie confessed he had actually spent a winter in a logging camp assisting the cook, and in that way learned many things that promised to be useful now.

Leslie and Dick were looking over the stock of provisions, so that their supplies might be kept track of, the camp leader having delegated this task to them.

“There may be wild animals around here, for all we know,” Dick was saying, “and on that account we’ll make sure to keep things safe. It would be mighty disappointing if we woke up some morning and found that a bear had carried off our entire stock of smoked hams and bacon, or spilt the bags of flour so we couldn’t have the flap-jacks Sunny Jim has promised to make for us at breakfast time.”

“By the way, Dick,” remarked Leslie, lowering his voice as he glanced toward the spot where several of the boys were carrying in armfuls of wood, Humbert Loft among the number, though he carefully brushed himself off each time, “Humbert is showing signs of being a boy after all.”

“Did he turn to and help when you landed, and found so much to do?” asked Dick.

“Just what he did, as well as he could with his dainty ways. You see, Dick, it’s got to be second nature with him to be eternally brushing himself off. He hates the sight of dirt, which is just the opposite of some boys. But then Humbert has been made a sissy by his uncle and his aunts. He should have been called Geraldine or something like that. Still, I will say he did a heap better than I ever thought he would.”

“Give him half a chance, Leslie,” urged Dick. “In spite of his superior airs and high-flown language I think he’s a boy after all. What you saw was a glimpse of the real nature showing under all the veneer they’ve plastered on him. For years this thing of ‘cultuah’ as he calls it has been drilled into the poor chap, so that he just can’t help it if he acts the way he does.”

“Well, I certainly hope he wakes up real soon then,” asserted Leslie; “because some of the fellows say they won’t stand for his lofty ways much longer. A ducking a day would wash some of it out of him, according to my notion. My father says that true culture brings simplicity, and what Humbert’s got is snobbery.”

The afternoon wore on, and much was accomplished. It is true the camp did not present such a trim appearance as Mr. Bartlett intended should be the case; but then they would have most of another day before Mr. Holwell arrived.

Supper was prepared amidst much confusion, which would also have to be remedied.

“‘Too many cooks spoil the broth,’” the camp leader quoted, “and I’ll arrange it so that those who know something about the business of getting up meals will have regular turns helping Jim at the job.”

“What about the greenhorns, sir?” asked Asa Gardner.

“For the moment they get off scot-free,” laughed Mr. Bartlett. “But they will have to act as scullions and wood-bearers to the cook. That’s the penalty for ignorance. The one who understands things always gets to the top of the heap, and the one who doesn’t know beans, except when he tastes them, has to do the drudgery in this world. So if you’re wise, Asa, hang around when the meals are being prepared and pick up all the information you can.”

“I certainly mean to, sir. And I want to say right now that I’ve eaten twice as much supper as I would have done at home. It was just bully!”

“Oh! you’ve come by your camp appetite in a hurry it seems,” laughed Dick.

They sat around for a long time afterwards, chatting, and singing some of their school songs. For the first evening Mr. Bartlett meant to be easy with the campers, he told them. The real discipline would begin in the morning.

It was a novel experience for some of the lads who had never camped out before. The fretting of the water along the shore; the mysterious murmur of the soft wind through the tops of the pines and hemlocks; the cries of certain night birds, such as an owl and a heron and a hawk, foraging for food; gave them an excuse for looking half fearfully around at times, and wondering if the darkness were peopled with all manner of strange creatures. And the boys had not forgotten Mr. Nocker’s remarks about watching out for a thief.

“What did he mean by looking out for a thief?” asked Leslie.

“I don’t know,” answered Peg. “Maybe we’ll find out some day.” And they did—as we shall learn later.

Then came the moon, a little past her prime, peeping over the hills far to the east, and looking down upon them, as though questioning in a mild way their right to the occupancy of that island camp.

It was all very romantic, and even Asa Gardner confessed that he liked it. The day, however, had been a strenuous one for all of them, and several of the boys could already be detected slily yawning when they thought no one was looking; so Mr. Bartlett concluded it would be wise for them to think of taking to their blankets.

Before the order was given for retiring at nine o’clock, however, Mr. Bartlett announced the programme for the early morning.

“At sunrise reveille will be sounded, when every boy is expected on the campus, as we shall call this open space here. Mr. Rowland will put you through the usual United States Army setting-up exercises. After that the flag will be raised on the flagpole we’ve prepared, and will be saluted. Then comes the morning bath and swim in which all are expected to join. After breakfast we will have a brief chapel service in the big tent. At that time I expect to announce the programme for the first day in camp. And now good night to you all, boys. I hope every one of you will sleep well.”

After a little confusion, all sounds gradually died away, and only the crackling of the fire could be heard, together with the wash of the waves against the rocks. Camp Russabaga was asleep.

CHAPTER IX
THE RULE OF ORDER AND DISCIPLINE

When the boys were talking of retiring Asa Gardner, who had been hovering near, approached Mr. Bartlett and Dick.

The former, of course, knew more or less about the strange lad whose past had been of a character to make him unhappy. Dick had managed to explain to both the young men who were in charge of the camp how Asa was fighting his battle manfully, and consequently they sympathized with the boy.

“Do you want to ask me anything, Asa?” inquired Mr. Bartlett, kindly.

“Just a little favor, sir,” came the hesitating reply, for Asa was easily confused, realizing as he did that people looked on him in a different way from what they did ordinary lads.

“Then don’t hold back,” urged the young man, “for you’ll always find that both Mr. Rowland and myself are willing to accommodate any of you when it can be done without disturbing the ordinary routine of the camp too much.”

“It was only this, sir,” continued Asa. “According to the programme mapped out by Mr. Rowland, and which he read to us, I’m selected to sleep to-night in the cabin along with three other fellows.”

“And what objection do you have to that, Asa? I think Mr. Rowland picked out those who were to occupy the cabin with a purpose in view,” the camp leader remarked, kindly.

“I’m sure he did, sir, for he said as much,” Asa admitted. “But you see it’s this way with me. I’ve been feeling a heap better ever since I took to sleeping on that porch they enclosed with wire netting. It’s been nearly a year now since I started to try that sort of thing, and I’ve got so used to it I’m afraid I’d feel awfully choky and queer if I tried to sleep in a room again.”

“I reckon there’s a whole lot in that, too, Asa,” said Dick, with a quick glance at the camp leader, who nodded in approval. “I’ve heard people say they couldn’t bear to go to bed inside four walls after sleeping outdoors for a long time. They complain that it seems to smother them.”

“Just so,” added Mr. Bartlett, “and I suppose that’s why gypsies who used to come to Cliffwood trading horses and telling fortunes said no winter’s storm could ever drive them to seek shelter in a house-dweller’s place. I’ll make arrangements to have you exchange places with one of the boys in a tent, Asa. And I’m glad you spoke of it in time. Remember, both Mr. Rowland and I will be pleased to oblige any of you boys when the request is as reasonable as yours.”

“I don’t suppose there’ll be any danger out here on this big island, sir?” remarked Asa, a little uneasily, Dick noticed, as he glanced around at the moonlit vicinity, and shivered.

“Oh! there’s very small chance that the island holds any wild animals larger than raccoons and squirrels,” replied the camp leader.

“Besides, Asa,” Dick added, “you must remember that even a wildcat is afraid of fire, and as a rule shuns the presence of human beings. The chances are we’ll not be disturbed in any way while camping on Bass Island.”

And so it came about that Asa found a place in one of the tents, where he could make himself comfortable near the entrance, and breathe all the free night air he wished.

Dick slept close to the opening of the tent he occupied in company with three other campers. Mr. Bartlett had constituted him a sort of assistant campmaster, to take charge whenever both he and the physical instructor were absent. Besides this, everybody knew that Dick was better acquainted with certain matters connected with outdoor life than most of the other boys, since he had long made woodcraft a study.

Once, during that first night on the island, on awakening from a sound sleep, Dick crawled softly out of the tent and took a look around. It was a beautiful night, such as filled his boyish heart with delight.

The moon, almost full, was climbing up close to the zenith, and sent down a flood of bright light on the slumbering world below. The soft night breeze continued to whisper among the tops of the tall pine trees. The gentle waves washed the rocky shore of the big island with a soothing murmur never to be forgotten.

Just as the sun began to peep above the eastern horizon a gun was fired and a bugle reveille followed immediately afterward. Those of the boys who were not already up came dashing out of the tents and the cabin, prepared to enter upon the duties of this, the first full day in camp.

They found both Mr. Bartlett and the physical instructor ready for them, while Sunny Jim, who was never seen without a broad grin on his face, had begun to bustle around amidst his pots and pans as though making arrangements for starting breakfast.

“Every one in camp with the exception of our cook will be expected to join in the programme for the early morning!” called out Mr. Rowland, who was a splendidly built young man, the possessor of several medals won in athletic matches. “The first of these will be the setting-up exercises, to start your blood into full action, after which we will have a dip in the lake.”

A number of the boys did not know the least thing about swimming, and were more or less timid about entering the water. Mr. Rowland soon gave them to understand there was nothing to be afraid of. He intended that there should be no skylarking, no ducking, no horse-play among themselves.

“We expect to have swimming classes,” he told them as they gathered around at the edge of the water, clad in their bathing trunks only. “A life saving crew will be organized, and no boy will be allowed to go beyond certain bounds on penalty of having his privileges curtailed, or even cut off altogether. There will be no accidents in the water at Camp Russabaga if we can prevent it. Now listen while I lay down the law, and then every one of you must enter the water.”

Three of the boys looked glum at hearing this talk. As may be easily understood they were Nat Silmore and his two cronies, Dit Hennesy and Alonzo Crane. They had finally decided to accompany the campers in the hope of finding numerous chances to enjoy a joke at the expense of their fellows. It appeared now as though they had deceived themselves and had made a great mistake, and this realization caused them to look “sour,” as some of the boys expressed it, understanding what was the matter with the trio of tricksters.

The flag was already flying in the morning breeze, and it really looked as if the camp had been inaugurated after the customary manner. All over our land similar camps organized by enthusiastic members of the numerous Y. M. C. A. organizations are being conducted along the same lines. Some of these are run during the entire summer, detachments of young fellows coming and going from time to time, and all benefiting greatly through their brief stay in the open, under strict and sanitary rules.

Sunny Jim had been bustling around preparing breakfast. With that broad smile on his ebony face he looked as though he meant to do his part toward making the camp a success. The boys knew him very well, since Sunny Jim had been a character in Cliffwood for many years. They were also aware of his reputation as a first-class cook, and anticipated being treated to many a sumptuous feast while they were in camp.

Some of the boys dressed more rapidly than others, and among the clever ones were Dick, Peg Fosdick and Dan Fenwick. Peg, having a notion that he would like to learn all he could about camp cooking as practised by an experienced man like Sunny Jim, hovered around the fire, watching and offering to assist whenever he saw the chance.

Breakfast was almost ready, and some of the other boys could be seen thrusting their heads out from the tents to sniff eagerly the delightful odors that permeated the camp.

It was just at this time that Peg, who had been looking around and asking hurried questions of the colored cook, was heard to call aloud indignantly:

“Say, I just want to know who’s gone and hid away that new aluminum frying-pan I brought along. I borrowed it from our cook at home just because it was so big and nice and shiny, as well as light. I carefully put it on this nail here, and Jim says he never once touched it, yet you can see it’s gone. Did anybody glimpse a sign of it around?”

“Here, who’s started to playing tricks in this camp so early?” called Dan Fenwick, indignantly. “My nickel watch was in my vest pocket when I undressed, but it’s disappeared like smoke. Mr. Bartlett, make the fellow own up who took it, won’t you please?”

CHAPTER X
THINGS BEGIN TO VANISH

“Are you fellows joking, or is all you’re saying true?” demanded Phil Harkness; while the others began to crane their necks and stare at Dan and Peg.

“Honest Injun, the frying-pan has cleared out, and if it doesn’t turn up, why Sunny Jim and I will have to do the best we can with these common sheet iron ones,” Peg grumbled. “And that isn’t the worst of it, either, because just think what’ll happen to me when I get home again.”

“And you can see for yourselves that my vest pocket doesn’t show a sign of my little nickel watch,” added Dan, with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick look around, as though a suspicion had suddenly clutched hold of him.

“But Dan,” interrupted Elmer Jones, “seems to me that before we crawled into our blankets I saw you hang your watch on to that nail driven through the tent pole.”

“Well, come to think of it, that’s just what I did do,” admitted the mourning Dan. “But you don’t see any watch on that nail right now, do you?” and he rubbed his eyes vigorously as though trying to discover whether they could be playing a trick on him.

Everybody agreed that the nail was destitute of any such appendage as a dollar nickel watch. Mr. Bartlett looked serious, but allowed the boys to talk it over.

“Well, there’s no use mourning for lost things when breakfast is nearly ready,” declared good-natured Fred Bonnicastle. “Mebbe the watch is just having a little joke of its own, and will turn up later in some pocket of your clothes, Dan.”

“I’m as hungry as a wolf!” called out Clint Babbett.

“Huh! I could eat my weight, and then not half try,” ventured Nat Silmore.

If the truth were told, Nat spoke up in this boyish way simply because he fancied some of the others were commencing to cast queer looks in his direction.

Dan did not say anything more but he did much thinking. Dick Horner was bothered. At first he concluded that it must be some boyish prank, and that presently the culprit would confess his guilt with shamefaced looks, realizing that after all it did not pay to play silly jokes, especially in a camp where strict discipline was to be maintained.

The more Dick thought it over, however, the less inclined he was to view it in such a simple light. So far as the vanishing watch was concerned that might pass current, for every one knew how much Dan thought of the present from his father on his last birthday; but when the disappearance of the cooking pan was considered, what boy would be silly enough to hide that?

That the subject was in the minds of most of the campers was evident, for while they were enjoying breakfast the thing came up again. It was Peg who introduced it by saying:

“Seems to me Mr. Nocker knew what he was saying when he warned us to beware of that thief up here on Bass Island. Looks as if we ought to chain things down good and tight every time we go to sleep, because they do seem to have a queer way of walking off.”

Humbert Loft was seen to curl his lip, and those close to him heard him give a scornful sniff while he observed in his drawling, affected way:

“It’s simply shocking, that’s what I think. Why, right now every individual in this camp is really under suspicion of being a vulgar thief! I never dreamed that I should find myself amidst such dreadful surroundings. I imagine some of my ancestors would turn in their graves with horror if they knew a Loft had the finger of suspicion pointed at him.”

He looked as though his appetite had been taken away by the thought. The boys, however, being no respecters of persons, only laughed.

“The walking’s good between here and the station, Humbert!” remarked one.

“And there’s sure to be a train for Cliffwood before night, you know,” another told him in a mocking tone.

Humbert turned red, but for all that there was a glint of defiance in his eyes, Dick noticed, when he flung back his answer.

“Oh! I suppose we’re all in one boat, boys, and if you can stand it I ought to be able to do so. On the whole, I’ll reconsider your offer of some of that bacon, Eddie. Perhaps it may start my sluggish appetite, who knows?”

“But who can it be, hanging around here and stealing everything he can lay his hands on?” persisted Phil Harkness.

“Might be some lunatic that’s escaped from the asylum and is hiding in the woods and brush on the island!” intimated Peg.

The suggestion met with some favor, several of the boys agreeing that there might be a grain of truth in such a thing.

The two camp leaders were amused, as well as puzzled, by all this talk, and waited to see what would come of it.

“I’ve read a lot about the queer things people out of their minds keep on doing,” Andy Hale asserted. “But it seems to me if a crazy man were hanging around up here our grub would be the first thing he’d tackle.”

“Well,” Clint observed, sagaciously, “he might have done that if we hadn’t been wise enough to stack about all of the grub in the other cabin, and fasten the door.”

Dick said nothing, but did considerable thinking. For once he was ready to admit that the mystery of the night gave birth to unusually puzzling questions that would have to be solved if they hoped to enjoy their outing on Bass Island, and he resolved to talk the matter over with Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland as soon as he had an opportunity.

“We might set some sort of trap for the rascal, and make him a prisoner,” suggested Andy Hale, thoughtfully. “Now I reckon I could manage to fix up a deadfall such as they trap bears with in the Maine woods.”

“But that’d be apt to hurt the poor fellow, or even kill him,” protested Clint Babbett.

“With a rope and a bent sapling I can show you how they trap alligators in some countries,” spoke up another boy eagerly. “I was reading about it only last week, and actually tried it on our dog. Why, when the sapling was released the noose in the rope tightened around both his hind legs, and the first thing I knew there was poor old Carlo hanging head down, and yelping to beat the band. I had to cut the rope in a big hurry because he acted like a wild thing.”

“How would that sort of thing go, Dick?” asked Leslie, with a wink at his chum.

“Well,” replied the other, with one of his smiles and a glance toward Mr. Bartlett, “I hardly think any of us would want to be so cruel as to hang a human being up by the legs, with his head down; and especially if, as we suspect, he should be one who was out of his mind and not responsible for what he did.”

Somehow in all the talk that flew around concerning the important subject Dick could not but notice that there were two of the boys who seemed to be tongue-tied.

These were Dan Fenwick and Asa Gardner.

Dick could easily comprehend why Dan should keep silent, because, as the loser of the watch that had so strangely vanished, Dan was feeling more or less morose. And then again, when Dick considered what the past reputation of Asa Gardner had been he felt that there was some reason why the new boy should not seek to draw attention to himself.

Asa certainly looked troubled. He listened to all that was said, turning his eyes from speaker to speaker, but uttering not a word himself. When any one addressed him, merely asking him if he would have another cup of coffee or a little more bacon, Asa always gave a violent start and drew in his breath with a sigh before replying one way or the other.

Breakfast was finally finished and the boys hung around waiting for Mr. Bartlett to read the programme for the day.

He and Mr. Rowland were busy with the details of that programme, and Dick had not yet found the opportune moment for speaking to the camp leader. Dan came over to Dick’s side the first favorable chance he had.

“I want to speak to you about something queer, Dick,” he remarked, as he threw himself down and looked carefully around, as though to make sure some one he had in mind was far enough away not to overhear what he expected to say.

“All right,” Dick told him, “fire away. I can be keeping up my work on this home-made broom of twigs which we’ll have to use to sweep with. Is it about your watch?”

“Just what it is, Dick,” the other went on to say, gloomily. “In a nutshell then, I happened to wake up in the night, and saw some one walking between me and the fire. And Dick, it was Asa Gardner!”

CHAPTER XI
MR. HOLWELL GETS THE WELCOMING CHEER

Dick heard the other make this accusation with a sinking heart. Could it be possible after all Asa Gardner was guilty of taking the things that had disappeared?

“Why, when you stop to think of it, Dan,” he told his informant, “while a boy given to pilfering might carry off a watch if sorely tempted, what earthly use would he have for Peg’s new aluminum frying-pan?”

This seemed to be a poser, and Dan shrugged his shoulders and made a whimsical face. A new idea came to him, however, and almost immediately he spoke up again.

“Well it’s just this way, Dick. My mother always said that taking things as some people do becomes a disease with them. I’ve read of wealthy women who steal things in stores. They call them kleptomaniacs. That means they take all sorts of things when they see a good chance, even if they haven’t the least bit of use for the same.”

“Then your mother thinks Asa was influenced that way when some people called him light-fingered, and some of them said he was a common thief?” continued Dick.

“Yes, that’s what she thought,” replied Dan. “You know I’ve got the dearest mother of any fellow in all Cliffwood, and she hates to think badly of any boy.”

“And we mustn’t forget that Asa hasn’t any mother—now,” added Dick softly, as he cast a pitying look across to where the object of their conversation was helping Sunny Jim gather together the breakfast dishes and pans, and acting as though he really liked the work.

“I hate myself for suspecting him, Dick,” honest Dan went on to say. “And so far as my losing that watch goes I don’t mean to push the thing any further. Whoever took it is welcome to his booty, for all of me.”

“On my part,” said Dick, firmly, “I feel different about it. We can’t go on this way, losing things, and even suspecting each other. The mystery must be cleared up sooner or later. I’ll step over and get to talking with Asa. Perhaps I can ask him if he happened to be up during the night. I’d like it if we could go to Mr. Bartlett and tell him the whole thing was straightened out.”

“Oh, what’s the use of going to Asa?” objected Dan. “He’s sure to deny it. I wonder now,” he added, after a pause, “if there could be such a thing as Asa, or any other fellow here, for that matter, being a sleep walker?”

Dick gave a little whistle of surprise at hearing such a startling suggestion.

“You certainly do have the most original ideas of any fellow going, Dan,” he remarked. “Such a thing might happen, of course, but there’d be small chance of it up here, with twenty boys in camp.”

“Except for my waking up at the time I did,” urged the other, “nobody’d have known about Asa’s being on his feet in the dead of night. But after you’ve had your little talk with him tell me what comes of it, will you?”

“I certainly will,” promised Dick.

Shortly afterwards he joined Asa, and entered into conversation with the boy. A little later on Dick came sauntering back to where Dan was sitting, waiting for the summons to gather on the “campus” which had not yet been given.

“Well, did he deny being abroad in the night, Dick?” eagerly asked the other, taking care to speak in a low voice.

“Not a bit,” Dick told him. “I never even had to ask him. We were talking about whether it would pay to keep the fire going at night when Asa of his own accord remarked that it was still blazing feebly when he felt so thirsty that he had to crawl out and go over to where we keep the bucket of spring water with the dipper. And he added that while he was not quite sure, because he had not got fully used to reading the time of night by the stars, he thought it must have been somewhere in the neighborhood of one o’clock.”

Dan looked thoughtful on hearing that.

“Tell you what, Dick,” he said presently. “I’m going to try to forget all about my watch. Let it go at that. So Asa is trying to be a real woodsman, is he? Well, I wish him luck then.”

With that he walked away, and Dick, looking after him, said to himself that Dan Fenwick had a heart in his breast several sizes too big for him.

Dick later on often found himself watching Asa Gardner when he fancied the other was not noticing. He could see that the boy was not wholly at ease for some reason. Still Dick would not allow himself to believe that Asa was guilty.

“I can’t forget that day I saw him lying there on his mother’s grave and promising her never to break his word if it killed him fighting off the old temptation,” Dick kept telling himself again and again. “No, Asa can’t be guilty, but all the same I’ll feel a heap happier when we do find out who the thief is.”

Presently the boys were summoned into the big tent where Mr. Bartlett carried out the usual short chapel service, for every camp of the Y. M. C. A. is conducted on a religious basis.

“I am ready now,” announced the camp director, “to give you a part of the duties of the day. At noon I shall have formed my plans for the rest of the time, and by to-morrow we shall have gotten things to running smoothly. In the first place this camp is going to be no place for idlers. Every boy will have a share in the work and be expected to do his level best in keeping the camp tidy, doing the chores, and, in fact, whatever is given into his charge.

“Mr. Rowland, who will have entire charge of the athletic proceedings, has arranged a splendid series of events that he expects will create a healthy rivalry among many of the boys who are now with us. Prizes will be given to those who excel in nature study, photography, swimming, diving, rowing, life-saving feats, woodcraft, and a number of other things along the same lines. And now if you listen I will read the programme for this morning, so that every one may know just what he is expected to do.”

The boys showed a keen interest in what the camp director was saying, although Nat and his two cronies still looked disappointed, because they did not fancy the idea of being bound down to iron-clad rules and regulations when they had expected to loaf and to have a roaring good time.

The vicinity of the camp soon took on a bustling atmosphere. Some planks had been brought from the station on one of the wagons. These some of the boys, who aspired to be amateur carpenters, managed to fashion into a very good table, large enough to allow them all to be seated at the same time, to replace the rougher one thrown together when they first landed.

This could be moved at will, so that in case of bad weather they would be able to take their meals under the shelter of the big tent. Ordinarily, however, they preferred dining in the open, for the charm of the thing appealed to the campers.

A number of rude benches had also been put together, so that things would look quite comfortable by the time another meal was ready to be served.

Being appealed to by several ardent fishermen, the camp director had given them permission to make good use of the handy little minnow seine made of mosquito netting. The bait thus secured could be kept alive in a basin constructed near the edge of the lake, into which water from a spring trickled.

Having taken all the bait they needed with a few hauls, the boys were given the privilege of going out in one of the boats to try the fishing. Certain localities were selected that appealed to their instinct as places where the wary bass would be apt to stay during these hot summer days.

When later on the fishermen returned it was discovered that they had met with great success. Quite enough prizes had been taken to provide a fish course for the entire party.

“Some of them are whoppers in the bargain,” remarked Peg Fosdick, proudly, for he had been a member of the angling party. “Why, that big fellow must weigh all of three pounds! And how he did jump and pull! I thought he’d break my rod or line several times. I never before took such a dandy bass.”

“This island is well named then, it seems,” observed Dick, with something of satisfaction in his voice as he looked at the splendid strings of fish. Dick himself dearly loved to spend an hour with hook and line, and feel the thrill that always raced through his system when a gamy fish had been secured, fighting frantically for freedom.

“Who’s going to meet Mr. Holwell this afternoon, sir?” asked Fred Bonnicastle, as they sat around the new table that noon with one of the camp heads at either end and eagerly devoured the lunch that Sunny Jim, assisted by a couple of the boys, had prepared for them.

Harry Bartlett had been a boy himself only a few years back, and he could easily understand what unasked question lay back of that remark.

“You may go, for one, Fred,” he told the other. “Take Asa along with you. He seems to have taken a fancy to rowing, and has entered in that class for a prize. The exercise will do him good in the bargain. I have other duties I want the rest of you to attend to, there is so much to be done before Camp Russabaga assumes the complete aspect we all want it to wear when Mr. Holwell arrives this evening.”

Asa shot the leader a look of sincere gratitude, though he did not say anything. As a rule Asa was not a talkative boy, and some of them noticed that of late he had seemed to be brooding more than usual.

During the earlier part of the afternoon many things were accomplished, for under the direction of the physical instructor the boys worked like beavers.

“About time you were starting across to the landing, Fred and Asa,” announced Mr. Bartlett, finally, as he consulted his watch.

The pair went off, heading for the mainland. Mr. Holwell had promised to arrive on the train that reached the little station at four o’clock. He would take a team to bring him to the camp, and hoped to be on hand long before sundown.

It lacked a few minutes of five now, and dinner was being gotten ready, though the fish would not be put on the fire or the coffee started until just as the minister should arrive at the landing on the main shore.

Asa persisted in doing the rowing across, and even asked Fred to let him handle the oars on the return trip.

“You see I need all this outdoor exercise I can get,” he explained, and the request was so unusual that Fred, of course, obligingly granted him permission.

“I ought to be satisfied to act as the skipper of the craft, and take my ease, Asa,” he went on to say, laughingly, as he lay in the stern, and stretched his long legs out comfortably; “so just please yourself. I’m always ready to oblige a willing worker.”

After a while those on the island heard a series of loud shouts, and they managed to make out a team that had arrived at the landing. Mr. Holwell then had not failed them, and every one in the camp felt pleased at the idea of having him with them. When a man loves boys from the bottom of his heart it invariably happens that they regard him with something of the same sort of affection.

“There, he’s getting into the boat now!” called out Clint Babbett, whose keen eyes were able to keep track of passing events across that mile of water better than most of the others. “And say! it looks as if he’s brought a heap of packages along with him.”

“Sure thing,” laughed Peg Fosdick, rubbing his stomach vigorously. “Mr. Holwell was a boy himself once on a time, and he’s never forgotten that a fellow gets as hungry as a cannibal every little while. I reckon now he concluded that we’d underestimated our holding capacity, and that we’d nearly starve unless he brought along a new lot of supplies.”

“There they start,” said Mr. Bartlett, presently. “When the boat draws in near our landing be ready to give our honored guest the glad welcome cheer.”

Closer it drew, under the steady strokes of Asa Gardner. Finally, there arose a roar of voices, accompanied by the violent waving of hats and handkerchiefs, that made the minister’s heart beat a little faster than its wont with pleasure.

CHAPTER XII
HAPPENINGS OF THE SECOND NIGHT

When Mr. Holwell stepped ashore to shake hands heartily all around he looked very happy indeed.

“I’m delighted to be with you, boys,” he told them again and again, in his sincere way that always drew young people to him.

“The feeling is mutual then, sir,” spoke up Peg Fosdick, bluntly; “because we’re just tickled half to death to see you up here at Camp Russabaga. And now, you assistant cooks, suppose you get busy with dinner. Mr. Holwell will be awfully hungry after his journey, and Sunny Jim can’t do it all by himself.”

The camp director, accompanied by Dick as his assistant, took the newcomer around to show him what had been accomplished. As Mr. Holwell had never set eyes on the big lake before he was greatly impressed with the picture he saw in the dying sunlight.

“Wait until sunset, sir,” said Dick, eagerly, “and if it’s anything like we had last evening, with the whole sky painted in colors, you’ll surely say you never saw the equal of it.”

“I want to remark right now, Mr. Bartlett, that your boys have done exceedingly well to get this camp in the condition it is. I’ve been in camps before now, and, as a rule, the campers are a happy-go-lucky set, willing to shirk work so as to have what they call a good time. But here everything seems to have a place, and to be where it belongs. Order is a fine thing for any boy to learn; and cleanliness comes next to godliness.”

The minister watched the preparations for the meal with kindling eyes. His memory took him back a good many years to the times when he was a boy himself; and he could appreciate the enthusiasm with which Sunny Jim and his helpers went at their pleasing task of getting the good things to eat ready for the table.

And then that dinner—what a royal one it turned out to be! After the simple and earnest grace the meal was served. Mr. Holwell showered unstinted praise on everything that came before him. The fish were broiled to a turn, the coffee was real ambrosia fit for the gods, the potatoes had been baked just right, the succotash made him constantly feel like asking for more. And, winding up with a dish of rice and milk and sugar, he declared it to be better than any pudding he had tasted for years.

“I think Mr. Holwell is getting his camp appetite in order right away,” suggested Peg, who, of course, was delighted to have the culinary efforts praised in this fashion.

“To tell the truth,” admitted the minister, frankly, “I consider that I showed most wonderful sagacity in fetching along additional supplies with me, because if I stir up any more appetite than I seem to have to-night there’ll be a terrible drain on your stock of provisions.”

“Oh! we know where there’s a farm only two miles away,” said Phil, “and to-morrow half a dozen of us have been detailed by Mr. Bartlett to tramp over there and get all the eggs and fresh butter and such things we can lug back with us.”

“And as long as those dandy bass are willing to take our minnows,” added Peg, “we ought to keep the wolf from the door, somehow or other.”

After the meal they piled high the campfire, and when the dishes had been looked after every one sat around in various attitudes, either taking part in the brisk conversation or listening to what Mr. Holwell and the camp leaders said in the way of congratulation and advice.

Finally, several were discovered surreptitiously yawning, and Dick realized that the bed hour had arrived. So interesting had the talk been that none of them had paid any attention to the flight of time.

“Where am I going to sleep?” asked Mr. Holwell, when Harry Bartlett explained that nine o’clock was the hour set in the camp for retiring. Moreover, they had put in a strenuous day from before sunrise, and consequently all the boys were tired.

“We have provided a cot in the tent we occupy, Mr. Holwell,” explained the physical director. “Some of the boys have made us a small table for our few toilet articles, shaving things, and such. Besides, we have a couple of folding chairs. Only for a shortage of tents we should have been glad to give you one to yourself, sir.”

The minister shook his head vigorously at that.

“I am glad you didn’t,” he told them, smilingly. “I am no tenderfoot when it comes to camping, you will find; for in days that are past I wandered over many parts of the world, and even faced many perils. I have slept in the igloo of an Esquimau, as well as under the haircloth tent of a desert Bedouin. I would never stand for being given accommodations that differed in any degree from those of the boys.”

When they heard him say that, some of the campers felt like shouting their appreciation, only this early in the outing they had come to understand that boisterous ways must be kept under control.

Somehow or other, there had been so much to talk about while they sat around the bright crackling fire after supper that no one had thought to mention the little mystery of the first night of their stay on Bass Island.

Dick remembered about it when he was undressing, and was half tempted to break rules by crossing over to the tent where the three gentlemen were to sleep, with the intention of speaking to Mr. Holwell.

“What’s the use?” he asked himself on second thought. “It would only bother him more or less, and perhaps make him have a sleepless night; because I’m sure he’d begin to think something about poor Asa. In the morning I’ll watch my chance and tell him about it.”

Accordingly, Dick held his peace. His tent mates were Leslie Capes, Peg and Andy Hale, all congenial companions, and Dick expected considerable enjoyment during the nights they would be together.

Talking aloud was prohibited after half-past nine, so that if any fellows like Nat and his cronies, who had their quarters together, wished to converse they would have to do it in whispers.

Mr. Bartlett had laid down strict rules, and the penalties for breaking these would fall heavily on the heads of the offenders. Curtailing all privileges might cause the guilty ones to repent of having been so rash.

For once in their lives Nat, Dit and Alonzo found it necessary to do as they were told; and they were already regretting their step in deciding to accompany the campers on the outing.

Dick had purposely chosen a particular spot near the exit when arranging his blanket. He did this for several reasons. In the first place he liked the idea of attending to the fire in case he happened to wake up during the night, just as all old woodsmen and hunters were in the habit of doing, Dick understood. Then again, if there came any sort of alarm, and he wished to get out in a hurry, it would be more convenient for him than if he had to stumble over several boys who were beginning to sit up and get in the way.

Truth to tell, about this time the mysterious events of the preceding night began to take hold of his mind. Much to his chagrin, for some little time Dick could not banish them, try as he would.

“Here, this will never do,” he finally told himself after he had turned over as many as four different times, his thoughts busy all the while. “Just forget everything but the one fact that you’re sleepy, and it’s getting pretty late.”

Resolutely holding his mind in check after that, the boy finally succeeded in falling asleep though it required considerable force of character to control his feverish thoughts.

Several hours must have crept by when Dick chanced to awaken. One of his arms felt numb from the weight of his body which had been resting on it.

“I suppose I might as well throw a log on the fire while I’m about it,” he told himself, as, yawning, he commenced to push aside his blanket and crawl forth. “And a few swallows of that cool water wouldn’t go bad either, for I’m thirsty after all that salty ham I ate.”

The moon was well up in the heavens when he crept forth from the shelter of the tent and was shining just as brilliantly as on the preceding night. Without making any sort of noise calculated to disturb even a light sleeper Dick crossed over to where the flickering fire lay.

As he did so something caused him to glance beyond, and he felt a thrill as he believed he caught a glimpse of a crouching moving figure over by the bushes.

CHAPTER XIII
THE MYSTERY GROWS DEEPER

“Why, it’s gone!” muttered Dick, immediately afterwards, for the object that he had seen so dimly had now vanished.

He stepped over to the red ashes and threw on some small stuff that, taking fire immediately, blazed up brightly and allowed him to see much better.

“I wonder if it slipped into those bushes, or went around another way?” he asked himself.

Was it one of the campers he had seen slipping along in a bent-over attitude, or could it have been a shadow moving? Dick’s heart was thumping against his ribs, for he was more or less excited over the occurrence, especially after what had happened on the preceding night.

“WHY, IT’S GONE!” MUTTERED DICK.

“I’d like to see if anybody is missing from his blanket,” he continued to mutter, “but to do that I’d have to wake the whole bunch up, and there would be the mischief to pay. Perhaps I fooled myself after all, and just imagined I was seeing things.”

So concluding to let the matter rest until morning came, Dick proceeded to toss a couple of big pine-knots, that would burn for several hours, on the fire. Then he glanced dubiously around him once more, after which he returned to his blanket.

But not to sleep immediately, for his brain was too excited for that. Indeed, the boy lay there, turning from side to side, until the morning star had arisen above the horizon and shone in upon him, which fact announced that it was three o’clock.

After that his tired brain allowed him to forget his troubles for a time; and when he opened his eyes again the first peep of dawn had come.

Dick crawled softly out and proceeded to get into some clothes. There was no need of arousing everybody in the camp at such an early hour, and he knew very well that if he chanced to awaken some of the noisy ones there would be no further peace until the last sleeper had been dislodged.

He was building up the fire a little later when Leslie appeared in his pajamas, stretching himself, having evidently just awakened.

“Always the first to be on deck, Dick; there’s no getting ahead of you,” he said. And then he added: “But why are you looking over our cooking outfit that way? Peg made sure to hide the aluminum kettle he brought along, if that’s what you miss. He said it was bad enough to lose his frying-pan without having the kettle follow it.”

“I had forgotten,” remarked Dick, relieved, and it was evident that he had feared the unknown thief had paid the camp another of his nocturnal visits.

“Looks as if we might have another good day,” continued Leslie, as he began to change from his pajamas to his “work clothes,” as he called the old suit he had been wise enough to wear on this outing.

“I certainly hope we shall have a bright day,” Dick observed, “because Mr. Rowland has a programme laid out that fills in the whole of it for everybody.”

“I can see that they mean the boys sha’n’t rust out while we’re up here on Bass Island,” chuckled Leslie. “They believe with the ant that every shining hour ought to be improved, because there’s always lots to do.”

“Oh! it isn’t that alone,” he was told, calmly. “As Mr. Holwell says, boys have just got to be doing something all the time or they’ll think up mischief; so it’s policy to chain that restlessness to good works. Most of us seem to like it first-rate in the bargain.”

“Haven’t heard the first whine so far,” admitted Leslie. “Those boys from the mill are certainly doing great stunts. They never had a chance before really to camp out decently, with plenty to eat along. And then there’s Nat and his cronies behaving like human beings for once, though I shouldn’t be surprised if they did manage to break out before we get home again.”

“Let’s hope not,” said Dick.

Several other boys now made their appearance. They were not in the habit of getting out of bed at such an early hour at home; but in camp the surroundings were so entirely different that they could not get to sleep again, once they opened their eyes at daybreak and heard whispering going on outside. Besides, they expected the bugle to sound at any minute now.

Then again with some of them it was a case of hunger, for those terrible appetites had taken complete possession of them, and hardly had they disposed of one meal than they began to talk of what they would like to have for the next one.

Eddie Grant and Ban Jansen, being the assistant cooks for the morning, were soon helping Sunny Jim. Peg hovered near them, having first of all hastened to where he had secreted his aluminum kettle which he brought back to the kitchen department with considerable satisfaction, if the grin on his face meant anything.

“Gave us the go-by last night, it seems, Dick,” he observed, as he flourished the shiny article in which their rice had been cooked on the preceding night.

“I hope we won’t be troubled any more by having our things disappear,” was all Dick remarked, for somehow he did not feel altogether certain that the crisis had passed by.

Just then the loud notes of the bugle sounded, for Harry Bartlett had practised the various army calls and had them down to perfection, from the “reveille” to the “assembly” and “taps.”

Once again the boys went through the customary manual drill, while Mr. Holwell, ready for his morning bath, stood and watched the display with considerable interest.

“I can see that you mean your boys shall get the full benefit of their outing up here, Mr. Rowland,” he told the athletic trainer as all started down to the brim of the lake to enjoy a brief plunge. “I can easily understand now what wonderful benefit any lad is sure to get from a few weeks spent in one of the many Y. M. C. A. camps spread all over this broad land, especially if they are being conducted on the same principles you and Mr. Bartlett have instituted here.”

“Oh! this is only a very small edition, sir,” laughed the other, who had had considerable experience in Y. M. C. A. camps. “I’ve been in camps where there were as many as a hundred and fifty boys and young fellows coming and going all summer.”

“When you have time,” said the minister, eagerly, “I wish you would tell me more about how these wonderful camps are conducted. As you say our attempt is only a small beginning, but if all goes well next season we can have this camp running for two months. Mr. Nocker has become greatly interested in the matter, and offers to erect a few buildings up here, such as an ice-house, a dining hall, and the like, though tents would still be used for sleeping purposes.”

“I am delighted to hear that, sir,” said the athletic instructor, warmly. “From what I have seen I believe this to be one of the finest movements ever started to give boys the right kind of outdoor life under clean and religious surroundings. They can have all the fun necessary, and at the same time build up both their bodies and their minds in a healthy fashion. Now if you will watch I can show you some of the work of our life-saving corps. You will see that with such well-trained helpers there will be no danger of even the most timid or awkward bather incurring any risk of losing his life.”

Mr. Holwell was deeply interested.

“Tell me more about the life-saving crew, and what requirements they must be able to meet before they are fully qualified to serve as members in good standing,” he asked the athletic director, as they stood, after coming out of the water themselves, watching all that went on.

“I shall do so with pleasure,” replied the other, his eyes sparkling. Truth to tell, that was the very thing he took the keenest interest in. “You see the crew in one of the big Y. M. C. A. camps is really an auxiliary branch of the United States Volunteer Life-saving Corps. To become a member a boy must pass through a stiff test. This consists of swimming one hundred yards, using three different strokes; swimming on the back without the use of his hands; swimming one hundred yards, starting with his clothes on, and removing them while doing it; diving into water about eight feet deep for a ten-pound rock, and bringing it to shore; knowing how to handle a boat, and being familiar with its different parts, as well as tying various sailor knots.”

Mr. Holwell looked surprised.

“Quite an education in itself, I should say,” he remarked.

“Oh! that is only a beginning,” continued the other. “The candidate must show himself capable of rescuing a drowning person, and must actually carry him to safety. He must be able to break a ‘death-grip’ so as to be in a position to keep himself from being dragged down by a frantic victim of cramps. He must also know the best way to resuscitate a person who has apparently been drowned. When a young fellow can pass this strict examination with flying colors he receives a certificate from headquarters, and is entitled to wear the official badge.”

“And that whistle which you have just given three times, calling the boys up out of the water—does that stand for anything in particular?” asked the minister, as the entire party hurried to their tents to rub down and dress.

“Yes, indeed, sir,” he was told. “That is the emergency whistle when we are in camp. Whenever it is sounded every life-saver runs for the shore, ready for business. It is on this account that scores of big camps are held every summer without a single drowning. Parents may feel perfectly safe in allowing their boys to spend a term at such well protected camps.”

“I shall never hear three blasts from a whistle again,” said Mr. Holwell, “but that I shall think of this time up here.”

“Indeed, sir,” continued Mr. Rowland, “I understand that some of the young volunteer life-savers on returning to the city after a summer in the woods, confess to having a shock whenever they hear a whistle. When the emergency call sounds, no matter whether in the midst of the swimming hour or at dead of night, the rule is to drop everything and run.”

Dick had noticed that Asa Gardner seemed to be enjoying himself greatly when in the water. He was turning out to be a clever swimmer. Evidently, the boy had included this in his programme when he decided to take all the open air exercise he could. Dick mentioned the fact to Peg while they were dressing as fast as they could, urged on to speed by the odor of breakfast that was in the air.

“Why, yes,” the other boy remarked, immediately, “that fellow acts as if he had sprung from a fish family.”

“What makes you say that?” demanded Dick, smiling at the same time on account of the queer way Peg had of describing things.

“Oh! only that he seems to go fairly wild when he gets in the lake,” was the reply. “Eddie Grant says he really believes Asa can stay under water longer than any fellow he ever knew. And did you see him dive off that high tree stump overhanging the edge of the deep hole? He turned a complete somersault in the air, and struck the water as clean as a knife. Mr. Rowland complimented him on his feat, though he also cautioned Asa to be careful not to overdo it.”

“Yes, Asa is improving right along,” confessed Dick. At the same time he could not help wondering deep down in his mind whether the strange boy could be as successful in overcoming his one terrible fault as he seemed to be in regaining his health. For somehow Dick could not quite forget about the shadowy figure that had vanished from his sight on the preceding night, not far from the tent where he knew Asa had been quartered.

“I never thought he had it in him,” admitted Peg; “but I’m ready to say Asa is beginning to pick up considerably, and show the stuff he’s made of.”

It was kind of Peg to say that, for, truth to tell, as Dick well knew, the other had had good reasons in the past for looking on the lonely boy with anything but friendly feelings. But then Peg could never hold anything against another who showed signs of being sorry for faults. Peg believed in giving every one a second, yes, even a third, chance to make amends.

After finishing his dressing and coming outside again, Dick looked toward the tent which Mr. Holwell occupied. He knew the minister must be dressing, for he had seen him peer out once. Perhaps he was shaving, for he had laughingly said on the previous night that he hoped they did not have any iron-bound rules in the camp prohibiting brushing the hair, or using a razor during the whole stay, such as he had heard was the case with some outing parties.

Just then Dan came along, and stopped to exchange a few words with Dick.

“To-morrow being Sunday, I expect we’ll be pretty quiet up here,” he observed; “so we ought to do all we can to-day. The fellows who go fishing will have to try to get a double quantity, if we think to have a course dinner to-morrow. I’m one of the six selected by Mr. Bartlett to go over to that farm we heard about. If we can buy a few chickens or ducks or anything in that line, don’t you think we’d better go prepared to dicker?”

“Not a bad scheme, Dan,” Dick told him. “And don’t forget that while there are just twenty-one of us all told, besides Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett and our physical director, we’ve got the storage capacity of twice that number.”

“Oh! we’ll take on all the supplies we can stagger under, make up your mind to that, Dick. But here comes Mr. Holwell straight this way, and, tell me, doesn’t he look kind of queer? I wonder if anything could have happened to him in the night.”

Dick almost held his breath as the minister hurriedly drew near them.

“A ridiculous thing has happened to me, Dick,” remarked the minister, as he reached them. “The very first night I’m in camp I have been guilty of the fault of carelessness. To tell you the truth, I am unable to find my gold watch this morning, though Harry Bartlett thinks I wound it up as usual, and hung my vest upon a nail driven part way into the tent pole.”

Dick felt as though a cold hand had clutched his heart. He and Peg exchanged anxious looks, but before either of them could say a word Mr. Holwell went on.

“I wouldn’t care so much, you understand, boys, only it was presented to me years ago by my people in a church of which I formerly had charge, and consequently I value it many times over its intrinsic worth. But, of course, I have mislaid it. I’ll go back once more and turn things over. The chances are I’ll find it where I placed it. On account of my strange quarters and having no regular spot for it, I must have dropped it down at random and don’t know just where.”

CHAPTER XIV
TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT

Dick knew it would not come out that way. He seemed to “feel it in his bones” as he told Leslie afterwards, that the terrible mystery with which they had been confronted on their first night in camp, was closing around them with even a tighter grip.

When Mr. Holwell had left them to hasten back to his tent Dick and Dan looked at one another with blank expressions on their faces.

“Whew!” gasped the latter. “Say, Dick, this is what I call piling it on thick.”

“It begins to look like a bad business I must admit,” returned the other, trying to grasp the situation fully.

“All these things couldn’t just happen by accident, you see,” continued Dan, as if arguing with himself. “Mr. Holwell is a careful man, and wouldn’t be guilty of leaving so valuable a watch around loose, so it could be mixed up with the bed clothes in his tent. I tell you we’re up against a real old-fashioned mystery, and no mistake.”

“There’s something queer going on around this camp, for a fact,” said Dick, and taking advantage of the fact that they were alone for a brief time he confided to Dan what he had seen during the night on coming suddenly out of his tent.

The other was deeply impressed by the story. His eyes grew round with wonder and curiosity.

“Let’s go over to Mr. Holwell’s tent and see if we can help him hunt,” he proposed presently. “I used to be a master-hand at finding lost things, and mebbe my luck may hold good in this case.”

“I certainly hope it will, Dan. Nothing would tickle me more than to have you unearth that watch somewhere in his tent. All the same I don’t believe it can be done.”

“Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk, anyhow,” said Dan with philosophy.

When the two boys reached the minister’s tent they met Mr. Holwell, accompanied by Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland, coming out. The minister looked a little grave and deeply puzzled, though on seeing the expression of anxiety on the faces of the two lads he smiled encouragingly.

“We haven’t been able to find it so far, boys,” he remarked. “Suppose you step in and root around a bit. Young eyes are sharper than older ones. I hope it turns up, because I should very much dislike to lose anything that was endeared to me by so many precious memories.”

Although Dick and Dan turned everything upside-down, they failed to discover any sign of the lost watch. Breakfast was soon announced and they were forced to abandon the search.

Some of the other boys had noticed that something unusual had happened. The doings of Dick and Dan had struck them as suspicious, especially after their previous experience.

Accordingly, Harry Bartlett, knowing that there was no use of trying to keep things secret, announced the new catastrophe that had befallen Russabaga Camp. It came like a thunderbolt upon the assembled boys, who exchanged puzzled and anxious looks, as though a great fear had fallen upon them.

Conversation languished after that. It was as though a wet blanket had been suddenly cast upon them. Every one was busy with his own thoughts, wondering if it could be possible that the dreadful finger of suspicion pointed anywhere in his direction.

Mr. Holwell it was after all who, laughing as though he did not have a care in the world, started to raise their spirits.

“Come, this will never do,” he told them. “You look as if you had lost all interest in life. We mustn’t let a thing like this spoil the whole outing. Doubtless in good time the mystery will be cleared up. And now let’s talk of all our good friends here, Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland, have planned to do to-day.”

By degrees he had the boys looking much more cheerful, though when they got together in clumps after the meal, the conversation was naturally almost wholly of the last strange happening.

Nat and his two cronies were seen talking earnestly. Some of the others could hazard a pretty good guess as to what must be troubling the trio. This was a time when a person’s past reputation was going to come back to haunt him. Nat, aided and abetted by Dit and Alonzo, had engineered numerous dubious enterprises in times that were gone, some of them of a questionable nature. And now being reproached by their consciences, they felt that the others must of a certainty be eyeing them with suspicion. Alonzo showed signs of wanting to desert the camp at once, being only restrained from doing so by the stronger wills of his companions, who realized that this action would look too much like guilt.

Altogether it was not a very happy lot that proceeded to take up the various duties laid out for that morning, and in doing which they had expected to enjoy themselves hugely.

After the excitement had died down the six who had been selected to visit the farm went off in one of the two boats. And while the chosen fishermen were making deft use of the mosquito-net seine in order to secure minnows for bait, Dick found an opportunity to have a little talk with Mr. Holwell.

Eddie Grant, Ban Jansen and Cub Mannis, with tin pails in their hands, hurried past, looking as though they meant business.

“We have found where the blueberries are as thick as clover in a field,” called Ban. “It’ll be an easy job filling these pails by noon. Never saw such big berries as there are on this island. It’ll be a picnic getting stacks and stacks of ’em, and we can pay our way easily as we go.”

Mr. Holwell looked at Dick on hearing this, as though he did not quite understand. Accordingly, the boy hastened to explain that Mr. Nocker had proposed that boys belonging to the association who wanted to go on the camping trip and could not spare the ready money to pay for their share of the expenses should earn enough while on the island by picking the blueberries that found a ready market in Cliffwood.

“That’s a very good scheme,” declared the minister, smiling. “And it shows that our friend, Mr. Nocker, knows more about boys than some of us gave him credit for. Of course he could have offered to pay the way of Eddie and the rest, but after all it’s the wise thing to do to make boys feel that they have earned things, and are not objects of charity.”

“Of course,” Dick went on to explain, “that sort of thing is unusual, and will break in on some of the customary rules that govern all Y. M. C. A. camps. But Mr. Bartlett says that after all this is only a beginning, and on that account we can’t expect to do everything with perfect regularity.”

“Another year,” said Mr. Holwell, “it may perhaps be different. We will find some way whereby a score or two of the mill hands can spend a week or two up at a regularly organized camp. And when we get things to working smoothly, such an outing is bound to be of great benefit to everybody concerned. I’m in it heart and soul, and so is Mr. Nocker.”

“I want to talk with you a little more, sir,” said Dick, boldly, “about this queer disappearance of your watch. I wish now I had gone to Mr. Nocker and asked him to explain what he meant when just before leaving the meeting that night he warned us to beware of the thief up here in Bass Island.”

“Did he say that?” demanded Mr. Holwell, quickly. “Then there must have been a reason for it. Others who have camped here, fishing parties, perhaps, have lost things. And Dick, what you have told me actually raises my spirits considerably, even if it does not promise to bring back my missing property.”

Dick could understand. The kind-hearted minister must have been oppressed by some of the same dreadful thoughts that ever since the first raid had been tugging at his own heart-strings. He feared that one of the boys might be guilty, and the very suspicion caused him unhappiness. It would be so much easier to bear if in the end the culprit proved to be some outside person, possibly a crazy man who had escaped from his keepers, as Peg had suggested.

Long and earnestly did the minister and Dick converse while sitting there. Dick found much encouragement from what the gentleman told him. He even took occasion to mention the suspicions that had oppressed him concerning Asa Gardner; but Mr. Holwell shook his head as though determined not to harbor such himself.

“I have studied boy-nature for many years, Dick,” he said, with feeling; “and I know how hard a fight poor Asa is doubtless putting up against the strange weakness that used to dominate him. The memory of his dead mother will cause him to be victorious in the struggle, I fully believe; and just now he needs all the encouragement he can get. And you are the one best fitted to stand by him as a faithful friend.”

“I’ll willingly do everything I can to help him along,” said Dick, with a look of determination on his young face. “I’ve known times myself when I needed a friendly hand to help me along, but never one half so much as he does. There go Nat and his two chums into the woods. Mr. Bartlett must have given them permission to explore the island.”

“I wonder if they are thinking of hunting up Eddie’s crowd, and helping pick berries,” remarked Mr. Holwell. “It would be a kindly thing if some of the other boys would lend a helping hand. The berry pickers will find it no easy task to collect enough at a few cents a quart to pay their expenses.”

Although Dick did not say so, he was of the opinion that Nat and his cronies were hardly the kind of boys to be anxious about anything excepting their own welfare.

CHAPTER XV
DAN TELLS SOME WHOLESOME TRUTHS

“How is Humbert Loft getting on with the rest of the boys?” asked Mr. Holwell, glancing over to where the lad in question was talking earnestly with Dan, who had changed his mind about going with the “foraging party,” on account of a bruised heel, caused by a shoe that chafed him.

Dick shook his head as though he rather despaired of weaning the nephew of the town librarian from his stilted and unpleasant ways.

“He’s been well drilled at his home, sir, I’m afraid,” he went on to say, “by that uncle of his who knows about as much about real boys as he does of Egyptian mummies, and perhaps a good deal less. I’ve talked with him a number of times, but everything he says is just an echo of what Mr. Loft has been telling us right along.”

“Then you don’t really believe these lofty ideas are his own, but acquired from association with older people?” asked the minister, looking amused, for he personally had no sympathy with the principles of the pedantic librarian.

“Why, Mr. Holwell, it’s impossible for a boy to think as he claims to do, unless he was brought up among a lot of stuffy people who filled him with their ideas. A boy to be natural is just bound to want to read stories that are full of action. We all think that the writer who can give us healthy adventure, and perhaps put some good, strong traits into his characters, is doing us all the good we’ll stand for.”

“My opinion exactly,” said the minister, heartily.

“Still,” went on Dick, “Humbert has waked up some and is taking to the water and to swimming like a fish; so, you see, there may be hope for him in other things as well.”

“Let us hope so,” the minister said with a smile.

“I hope you have told Mr. Loft how we boys feel about our reading, sir,” ventured Dick, boldly.

“Oh! many times when we have been warmly discussing these same matters,” came the reply. “But it seems as useless as water dropping on a stone. In the course of ages it may wear the stone away, but neither of us is likely to live to see the day. Mr. Loft is very bigoted, and has a false idea concerning boys and what they ought to read.”

“Still, he seems to be more civil to us nowadays,” observed Dick, with a gleam of amusement in his eye as he spoke.

“H’m! for a very good reason,” laughed Mr. Holwell. “Since you and your comrades started the Boys’ Library, with a select list of books, all approved by myself, Mr. Henry Fenwick, and several other gentlemen who love boys, Mr. Loft has been reading the handwriting on the wall. He begins to fear that if he keeps on thrusting his classical ideas of boys’ literature upon the patrons of the town library he may lose his job. So he believes it good policy to quiet down.”

“Let’s wander over a little closer to where Dan and Humbert are sitting, sir,” suggested Dick. “I’d just like to hear what they are saying, because from the way Dan is laying the law down I expect it’s about books and Mr. Loft’s ideas for boys. Dan, you know, is head and heels interested in that library of ours; and he fairly despises Mr. Loft. I’ve heard him call him a ‘human icicle’ many a time.”

“Just as you say, Dick,” consented Mr. Holwell, smiling at the apt designation given by Dan, for, regardless of the librarian’s intellectual gifts, it seemed to fit him.

When the two sauntered near the place where the boys were talking, Dan was getting up as though to leave. He did not notice the presence of Mr. Holwell, but was shaking his forefinger in Humbert’s face. That individual looked worried, as though he felt the crushing force of the arguments Dan had been heaping up before him.

“I tell you, Humbert Loft,” they heard Dan say with emphasis, “boys can’t be treated as if they were machines. Boys have feelings, and they know what kind of reading they want every time. Their books have got to have a certain amount of good, lively, healthy adventure in ’em, or else nobody’s going to bother spending his time over ’em.”

“But my uncle says——” began Humbert feebly, when Dan interrupted him.

“Oh! what does your uncle know about boys, tell me? I guess when he was a baby they must have fed him on Latin verbs and Greek nouns. All he thinks of is stuffing us boys with ‘standard literature,’ as he calls it, when we’re just shouting for things that appeal to our boy natures.”

“But what he wants boys to read are the books that all cultivated people consider the finest fruits of human endeavor!” urged Humbert, desperately.

“Who says they ain’t?” demanded Dan, with a reckless disregard for all rules of grammar that must have chilled the other boy’s heart. “But they never were meant for boys’ consumption. When we get older we’ll gradually drop reading boys’ stories, and some of us may take up the classics, while others will get out in the busy world and go to work.”

“I don’t know—I’m only telling you what my uncle thinks about it,” pleaded Humbert, weakly.

“Stop and think for a minute, will you?” continued Dan, still waving that threatening forefinger back and forth. “If every boy in Cliffwood were built on the same model as you, Humbert Loft, what a terrible desolation there would be in that poor town. Why, with not a single boy playing ball, or giving a shout when he felt real good, the people would think the end of the world had come. Isn’t that so, Humbert?”

Humbert smiled in a sickly fashion.

“Why, I guess it would seem pretty queer,” he admitted, slowly.

“And another thing, Humbert,” finished Dan as a clincher, “since you’ve been up here with us I’ve noticed that you begin to show some interest in our doings. I really believe you’re beginning to find your real self, and that when we go back to Cliffwood you’ll be a different sort of fellow. Think it over, won’t you, and just join in with the rest of us in our fun? Forget your uncle, and remember that you’re a living, breathing boy, not a mummified classic.”

With that Dan tore away to do something he had in mind. Mr. Holwell touched Dick on the arm, and the two of them retreated without Humbert’s being aware that his heart-to-heart talk with Dan had been overheard.

“See him shaking his head, and then smiling, sir,” said Dick, with considerable interest. “I really do believe those sledge-hammer blows Dan gave him have made an impression on Humbert. Given a week or ten days up here, and he may throw off the heavy load he’s been carrying so long, and act like a regular boy for once.”

“We’ll hope so, Dick,” returned Mr. Holwell. “But while Humbert is growing less pedantic and dropping some of his foolish pose, I trust the rest of you will pick up a genuine love of books. The love of good books is always a joy and sometimes a solace when other things fail one.”

The morning passed away, and those in the camp found many things to do under the supervision of Mr. Bartlett and the athletic instructor.

It must have been all of half-past eleven when Dick heard the sound of hasty footsteps in the woods near by. Then several figures burst into sight, hurrying toward the camp, and making extravagant gestures as they stumbled along. At the same time they cast frightened looks over their shoulders, and Dick heard Nat Silmore cry:

“This here island’s no place for our camp, fellers. There’s a terrible wild man loose on the same, and he roared at us something fierce. We’d better get away from here while the going’s good, I tell you! Wow! I’m nearly all in.”

CHAPTER XVI
WAS IT A WILD MAN OF THE WOODS?

“What’s all this you are telling us, Nat?” asked Mr. Bartlett, with a show of interest, while the boys of the camp crowded around the trio of newcomers, and Mr. Holwell and Mr. Rowland stood listening not far to one side.

Dit and Alonzo seemed pretty well exhausted. They sank down on a log, panting as if they could hardly catch their breath. Despite the color in their flushed faces they looked alarmed, as well as sheepish on account of having given way to their fears.

“Why, we certain sure did see something, Mr. Bartlett!” urged Nat, with emphasis. “The woods happened to be kind o’ gloomy right there, so we couldn’t be dead sure what it was, but he made a horrible drumming sound, and waved his arms above his head. Ugh! did we run? Well, to say we tore along’d be hitting it closer.”

“And I reckon the wild man chased after us for a little, too,” Dit Hennesy managed to say between his gasps. “Leastwise I could hear something comin’ back of us, and it made me smash into a tree, I was that worried.”

He put a hand up to his forehead, where they could see that a lump had made its appearance. This at least was evidence that the boys were not trying to play one of Nat’s customary practical jokes. Bumps like that have a way of telling a story of their own. Bumps seldom lie.

“What makes you think it was a wild man?” asked Harry Bartlett, trying to get all the information possible from the boys.

“Oh! well,” replied Nat, slowly, “he just seemed to act wild, I reckon. When we glimpsed him he was squatting down, and as soon as Dit here let out a whoop he commenced growling at us something fierce.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alonzo, thinking he ought to add the weight of his testimony to that given by his two companions, “it was a wild man as sure as anything. And right away, sir, there were three wild boys tearing through the woods like fun. As luck would have it we came in the right direction, and didn’t get lost. Whew! I’d hate to spend a night alone on this island with that thing roaming around loose!”

The camp director and Mr. Holwell walked aside, Dick going with them.

“What do you think about it, Mr. Holwell?” asked the boy.

“They evidently did see something that frightened them,” admitted the gentleman. “But whether it was an animal or a crazy human being remains to be found out later. When boys are suddenly thrown into a bad scare they can easily mistake a hog, or even a harmless calf, for a monster.”

“But if there is some sort of strange creature loose on Bass Island,” pursued Dick, eagerly, “mightn’t that explain the thefts that have been taking place?”

“True enough, Dick,” answered Harry Bartlett, “and for one I earnestly hope that may turn out to be the case. It gives me a heartache to think of suspecting any boy among us of being a thief.”

Several other boys joined them just then. They were all trying to figure out how much dependence could be placed on the story told by Nat and his cronies. In times past they had cried “wolf” so often that now no one felt like believing them, though, in fact, there might be real cause for alarm.

“Huh!” said Dan, skeptically, “like as not they were looking to see what the chances were to leave the island when they could hook one of the boats, and then got scared at their own shadows. It’s nearly always the way with bullies like Nat.”

“But why should they want to desert us, Dan?” asked Mr. Holwell.

The other shrugged his shoulders in a way that stood for a great deal.

“Oh! well, sir,” he went on to say, “I don’t want to accuse any one, you understand, and right now I’m not hinting that Nat had a hand in those thefts; but you see they think we suspect them, and that makes it disagreeable here for them.”

“To tell the truth,” said Elmer Jones, “I never thought they’d tag along with us up here, in a regularly organized Y. M. C. A. camp, because they’re always in fear of being lectured on account of their ways. But they came, and now they feel uneasy when this queer mystery is afoot.”

“We mustn’t make them feel that they are suspected,” said the minister. “So far they seem to have behaved themselves fairly well, and I have been allowing myself to hope that by degrees those boys may see that it pays to be decent. I would like to show them that there’s more genuine fun to be gotten out of the clean method of living than in the way they’ve usually carried on. Besides, we mustn’t forget that none of those boys has the best of home influences back of him.”

“There comes the boat with the bass fishermen!” called Dan just then, as a shout was heard from the water.

“They act as if they had met with at least fair success,” said Mr. Holwell, who could read boys like the printed page of a book, though for all that he confessed that he found something new every day to study in their make-up.

“And unless my eyes are deceiving me,” remarked Harry Bartlett, “there’s the other boat pushing out from the shore across the lake.”

“Just what it is,” added Clint Babbett, who possessed keen vision. “And say! let me tell you they’ve got a load of stuff along with them. Must have about cleaned that farmer out of eatables.”

There was more or less excitement as the boats came in, one after the other. The fishermen had succeeded beyond their most ardent expectations, and showed a splendid catch of bass, several of which exceeded in weight the largest taken on the preceding day.

When those from the second boat landed they proudly exhibited the results of their visit to the farm. There was butter, beautiful golden in color, and many dozens of eggs, some of them from ducks, though it was pretty late in the summer for these fowls to be laying, Mr. Holwell observed.

“And here’s six of the finest spring chickens you ever saw,” said Phil Harkness, one of the foragers, exultantly. “They had just fixed them for market, and were only too glad to sell them to us.”

“The farmer’s wife treated us to all the buttermilk we could swallow,” observed Fred Bonnicastle, another of the returned pilgrims. “She said we could have gallons of it if only we had some way of carrying it back with us, which we didn’t—only in us.”

Lunch was prepared with the customary breezy accessories in the way of directions called back and forth. Mr. Holwell seemed just the same as usual. If he felt his late loss keenly he knew how to hide his feelings, so that he might not cause the spirits of his boys to droop.

One lad, however, said nothing. This was Asa Gardner. Dick could not help noticing that the boy heaved a deep sigh every little while, when he thought no one was noticing him.

“He certainly looks unhappy,” Dick told himself, as once more suspicions began to force themselves into his mind, though he hurriedly put them aside, remembering the promise he had made to Mr. Holwell to believe in Asa and help him all he possibly could.

The three berry pickers had returned with full buckets. They reported the supply of berries as literally inexhaustible. Still it could be seen that they were beginning to wonder where the fun of their outing was to come in if they had to spend most of their time in doing this sort of work.

“On Monday,” Dick told Mr. Holwell and Mr. Bartlett, “I’ll give some of the fellows a tip, and see if many hands won’t make light work. We’d all like to pick berries for a while, I expect, and every quart will count so much to their score. And I’ve an idea Mr. Nocker means to see that they get a price for those berries that no one ever had before.”

“That’s the right spirit to show,” Mr. Holwell remarked as he placed a hand affectionately on Dick’s shoulder.

It happened that a little while after lunch Dick wandered down to the landing to take a look at one of the boats which had been reported as leaking again. He believed he knew of a way in which it could be mended so as to stay dry and serviceable.

He turned the boat upside-down; and, while stooping over examining the bottom of the flat craft, he heard some one coming. Turning his head he saw it was Asa Gardner. Like a flash it struck Dick that the other wanted to say something to him in secret, and was taking this chance when no one else was near.

A chill gripped Dick’s heart. He seemed to feel that something dreadful was coming, though he could not guess its nature as yet.

Asa drew alongside.

“Dick,” he said, and the other boy noticed how his voice trembled.

“Yes, what is it, Asa?”

“I’ve been waiting to catch you alone, because I’ve got something to say to you that I wouldn’t like anybody else to hear, especially Mr. Holwell.”

Dick felt the chilly sensation again; but he looked up smilingly.

“All right, Asa,” he said, cheerily, “here’s your chance to tell me what’s bothering you. If I can do anything to make you feel easier just make up your mind I want to help you. Now, what’s gone wrong?”

Asa’s eyes were growing wet, and evidently he labored under great emotion.

“It’s just this, Dick,” he said, weakly, “I never should have dared come along with a bunch of decent fellows like your crowd. I ought to have known I just couldn’t keep from falling back into my old ways, that have got such a terrible grip on me. And Dick, there’s only one thing to be done—send me home right away!”

CHAPTER XVII
DICK’S PROMISE

Dick could hardly believe his own ears when he heard Asa make this terrible confession. He gripped the other boy by the shoulder almost fiercely.

“Look here, Asa Gardner, do you mean to tell me that it was you who took those things in the night—Dan’s watch, the aluminum frying-pan, and last of all the gold watch which your best friend Mr. Holwell thinks so much of?”

Asa groaned, and drooped pitifully in his grasp.

“I don’t know for sure, Dick, but I’m awfully afraid I did,” he said, huskily.

“That’s a queer way to put it,” Dick told him, sternly. “Anybody ought to know if he were guilty of doing such a mean thing as that. You’ll have to explain yourself, Asa. Do you remember taking those things?”

“No, no, that’s the strangest part of it, you see, Dick,” pleaded the boy. “But they disappeared, and I was in the camp both nights.”

Dick began to breathe a little easier.

“But that isn’t any proof at all, Asa, that I can see,” he hurriedly remarked. “How could you take them, and not know it, tell me?”

“I wish I could, Dick, but then nobody else here would be low enough to steal except me, and so I’ve figured it out that I must have done it in my sleep, just because the old habit was so strong. While I was awake I could fight it off, but you see once I lost my senses my grip was broken, and I must have done it. Oh, I must!”

“Well, that’s a funny thing to tell me, I must say,” Dick replied. “You haven’t the least remembrance of doing it, yet you’re ready to take all the blame on your shoulders because once on a time you had a weakness that way. Brace up, Asa; you never took Mr. Holwell’s watch, I tell you.”

It was wonderful to see how new hope seemed to come immediately into the heart of the erring boy. The look of misery began to die out of his face, and through the tears gathering in his eyes Dick could see a new sparkle—that of hope.

“Oh! it’s kind of you to say that to me, Dick!” he exclaimed between his sobs, for he was completely aroused and could not control himself, though he tried hard to do so. “Tell me who did take the watch, then, that Mr. Holwell, the finest man on this whole earth, thought so much of?”

Dick laughed breezily, more to cheer the poor fellow up than because he considered it a joke.

“I wish I could tell you, Asa,” he said, quickly. “But so far it’s a mystery that has yet to be solved. But I’m dead sure you hadn’t a thing to do with the robbery, if that’s what you mean.”

“There was one favor I meant to ask you, Dick, if you thought I hadn’t better leave the camp,” continued Asa, presently, when he could master his emotion.

“All right, let’s hear it,” he was told encouragingly.

“To-night, and every night after this I want you to let me sleep next to you in your tent. Yes, and Dick, if only you’d fix it with a cord of some kind so that I couldn’t move about without your knowing it I’d feel easier. Then if another robbery was committed I’d begin to understand that I couldn’t be doing these terrible things in my sleep.”

“I’ll think it over, Asa,” the other told him. “Though I’m sure nothing like that is going to be needed to prove your innocence. Besides, since we’ve heard of Nat and the other fellows meeting with some sort of strange man in the woods, Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland begin to believe the secret of the robberies will be solved when we run across the wild man.”

Asa winked hard to clear his eyes from the tears.

“You’ve made me feel a whole lot easier, I tell you, Dick,” he said, and he persisted in squeezing the other’s unwilling hand with boyish fervor. “I hope and pray that it may come out that way. I’m trying as hard as I can to keep my promise to my mother, and she knows that it would nearly kill me if I found that I was going back to those old ways in my sleep.”

“Cheer up, Asa, and don’t let any of the other fellows see you looking as if you had lost your last friend. Mr. Holwell believes in you, and so does Harry Bartlett, and so do I. You’re going to be all right and as good as the next one. Sure! you can sleep alongside of me if you feel like it. But about that cord you mentioned, I hardly think it’ll be necessary.”

Asa wandered off until such time as he could recover from his emotion and Dick continued his examination of the boat’s bottom. After all, he was glad the other had spoken as he had, because somehow it seemed to clear the air.

“And,” he told himself, humorously, “I’m beginning to get a hunch that before a great while we’ll find some way of explaining this mystery. If that was a wild man Nat and the others saw, surely he must be a lunatic who’s escaped from some asylum. We may be the means of capturing him, and restoring him to his quarters. He’ll be frozen to death if he has to stay on Bass Island all winter.”

The idea pleased Dick exceedingly, and when he once more joined the others by the fire some of the boys wondered what could have happened to make him appear so cheerful again.

He took the first favorable opportunity that arose to get Mr. Holwell aside. Asa had not yet returned to the camp, though they could see him sitting on the end of a fallen tree that jutted out over the water, possibly a hundred yards further along the shore of the island.

“I had a pretty bad scare a short time ago, sir,” was what Dick started to say, which caused the gentleman to start, and look at him strangely.

“Have you been seeing things too, Dick?” he asked. “Would the wild man become so bold as to approach our camp in broad daylight?”

“No, but I’ve been hearing things that gave me a bad turn at first, though it came around all right pretty soon,” and with that Dick repeated what Asa had said to him near the boat landing when they were alone.

Mr. Holwell was of course stunned at first, but as Dick went on with his story his eyes grew moist, and he shook his head as though he felt exceedingly sorry for the boy whose past haunted him so persistently.

“Poor Asa,” he said, later on, when he had heard all, “it must be terrible to feel as he does, and be compelled to fight so desperately to keep from doing things that other boys have no fear they will be tempted to do. I give him all credit for his gallant fight, and if he wins, as I firmly believe will be the case, I shall be proud of him. You must continue to help him in every way you can, my boy.”

“I certainly will, sir,” declared Dick, with a strong remembrance of the moist eyes Asa had turned on him when he made that humiliating confession that after all had proved to be only a dreadful suspicion, and not a reality.

That was a busy afternoon, all things considered. Some of those who had been out fishing in the morning decided they had had enough angling for one day. Besides, they knew very well that others were desirous of testing their skill against the game qualities of the black bass of Lake Russabaga.

So it came about that Dick Horner had a chance to be a member of the quartette that left camp with dark designs against the finny inhabitants of the inland sea. They carried a goodly number of live bait in a pail constructed for that purpose, and also some artificial minnows, as well as trolling spoons to fall back on in case the other supplies were exhausted.

Mr. Holwell had entered into the work with almost as much enthusiasm as any of the boys.

“To-morrow being Sunday,” he explained as he worked, “we will do just as little manual labor as possible. My flock in town will have a supply in the pulpit, for they have given me a little holiday. And if you boys care to hear it I expect to give you a sermon I wrote for some lads of my acquaintance many years ago, though it touches on truths that are just as pertinent to-day as when it was first delivered.”

Dan had not gone off with any of the others, but at the same time he failed to mingle with those in the camp. They could hear him pottering away close by, now hammering, and again coming back for bits of stout twine or rope. Nobody but Mr. Bartlett knew what Dan was about.

All this naturally aroused something akin to curiosity among the boys, and as the afternoon wore on many guesses were indulged in as to what Dan Fenwick could be doing. Finally, one of his companions, more daring than the rest, sauntered over his way to ask him pointblank what it was he kept working on so industriously. Andy Hale, for it was he who had approached Dan, presently came hurrying back, with a half grin on his face, at the same time laboring under partly repressed excitement.

“Hey! would you believe it?” he announced as he arrived near the fire. “Dan up and told me he was building a cage to trap that wild man Nat saw in the woods.”

CHAPTER XVIII
SETTING THE TRAP

Of course when Andy made this surprising report the rest of the boys were of a mind to rush over in a body to joke Dan, and perhaps make fun of his labors. Mr. Holwell, however, dissuaded them.

“Better leave Dan to finish his trap, boys,” he told them. “He’s a busy fellow these days it seems, and deserves success if anybody does. If he needs any help you’ll hear him call for it. In the meanwhile don’t thrust yourselves where evidently you’re not wanted.”

Accordingly, all dropped back into their comfortable seats, and took it out in speculating as to what the worker could have in mind when his ambition led him to want to trap a real wild man of the woods.

Dan did not show up in time to take part in the customary preparations for dinner. There were plenty of recruits, however, for with hunger urging them on the campers showed an eagerness to hasten the getting of the evening meal. Sunny Jim grinned more broadly than ever when he found his tasks so cheerfully lightened.

They managed to hold themselves in check until Mr. Holwell had asked the customary blessing. Somehow this influence for good was felt even by those lads who had never known such a custom in their own homes. It seemed especially well suited to the leafy canopy overhead, the gurgling waters lapping the shore near by, and the sense of freedom around that brought them closer to nature and to God.

Dan made his appearance about the time they were half through, and the twilight shadows were stealing timidly out of the recesses of the mysterious woods.

Many curious looks were cast in his direction, but somewhat to his surprise no one ventured to joke him about his ambitious labors. Dan himself, when the edge had been taken from his appetite, introduced the topic voluntarily.

“Course you fellows are wondering what I’m up to,” he said, with a grin. “Well, I got a little idea into my cranium, and have been working the same out, with the aid of a hatchet, a hammer and some nails. In fact, I’ve set a trap hoping to coax the escaped lunatic to go in, after which it’ll drop and hold him for us.”

“But what will you bait it with, Dan?” demanded Peg, with seeming innocence, “because you know my aluminum frying-pan is gone, and we haven’t got another shiny watch in the camp nowadays.”

“Oh! that’s easy,” said Dan, carelessly. “I reckon now that even a crazy man is liable to get hungry right along. I’m going to bait the trap with some sort of food that I think ought to draw him on. Just wait and see, that’s all.”

The evening passed in the usual occupations. Some of the boys busied themselves in one way and some in another. Some had writing to do; some worked with pictures they had taken during the day, and which were to be developed at night time.

Already the keen spirit of rivalry had taken complete possession of the campers. The prizes that had been offered to those coming in with the best flashlight photograph, the cleanest score in nature study, the highest marks in knowledge of woodcraft, and numerous other courses laid out by Mr. Rowland, may have had something to do with their perseverance.

There was more, however, than this desire for gain urging the boys on. Most of them really yearned to improve themselves along certain lines, and to be adjudged first in their class would be considered proof that they had met with success.

So there was hardly a boy in the camp aside from Nat and his two sombre cronies, Dit Hennesy and Alonzo Crane, but found himself entering into the spirited rivalry that would act as a spur to achievement.

When finally “taps” was sounded on Mr. Bartlett’s cornet, Asa was given a place next to Dick, Andy Hale being transferred to another tent, though no one thought to ask why this was done. If the boys talked it over at all they must have reached the conclusion that Asa was growing nervous about sleeping in a tent further removed from the fire at a time when there was a creature of an unknown species prowling about on Bass Island.

By degrees the camp fell into an utter silence, though occasionally some one, who may have been lying on his back, would begin to breathe louder than his mates liked, whereupon he was punched in the ribs, and made to roll over.

It must have been well on toward midnight when the sleepers were suddenly aroused by a tremendous crash not far away; and immediately an exodus from the several shelters began. Boys, clad in various patterns of pajamas, all looking a bit frightened, gathered about in groups.

CHAPTER XIX
A DAY OF REST

“It’s a terrible storm coming, like as not!” Elmer Jones was exclaiming, as he started to unwrap a rainproof coat he had been thoughtful enough to provide for such occasions.

“Sounded more like a house falling down to me!” called Clint Babbett.

“I was dreaming of two railroad trains coming together, just when that smash came,” announced Leslie Capes.

“And I was heading straight for the falls of Niagara, and could hear the water roaring like everything,” confessed Nat Silmore.

Dan had not said a word up to then, and Dick, glancing toward him, could see a proud look beginning to take possession of the other’s face.

“You’re all wrong, fellows!” exclaimed Dan, unable to hold in any longer. “You’ve got another guess coming, I tell you. Don’t you remember that it was over there that I set my trap? Well, she worked all right, and mebbe I’ve got our wild man safely caged at this very minute!”

The announcement created great excitement.

“Hey! let’s hurry and get some duds on, so we can go and see!” called Peg, who was hopping about on one foot, as he had stubbed a toe in the haste with which he rushed forth from his sleeping quarters.

“How about that, Mr. Bartlett?” asked Dick, seeing the camp director among them, he having hurriedly slipped on a bath robe before making his appearance.

“We ought to get there with as little waste of time as possible,” replied Harry Bartlett, looking interested. “If it should turn out that the trap has done what Dan intended, the poor fellow may be hurt in some way, and it would be cruel for us to wait until morning to investigate.”

“Whew! from the racket I should say something fierce had happened!” declared Phil Harkness, as he hastened back to where his clothes hung suspended from nails driven into the pole of sleeping tent Number Three.

There was some hurried work done about that time, as every lad wanted to get himself in readiness as quickly as possible. Many hands quivered with excitement, and buttons were much more difficult to fasten than ordinarily.

One by one the boys assembled by the resurrected fire, some still hurriedly fastening their garments. It was an excited group that collected around Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett, the physical director and Dick, as camp leaders.

“Hadn’t we better take something along with us, to defend ourselves in case he turns out to be ugly?” asked Dick.

“Yes, I suppose that would be only a wise provision,” returned Mr. Holwell, “for one never knows what a crazy person may do. They are also possessed of enormous strength as a usual thing. Get any sort of club you can find, boys.”

There was an immediate hustling around on the part of the half-dressed campers. Some managed to find suitable cudgels. Others picked up anything they could see that promised to prove useful in an emergency. Peg appropriated the camp hatchet, Ban Jansen the axe, while Andy Hale, in lieu of anything better, armed himself with the stout iron rod which they used across the fire when hanging a pot over the blaze.

Mr. Rowland had lighted the lantern. Others found blazing brands from the fire, which they made into serviceable torches by whirling them swiftly around their heads.

“Now come along,” said the camp director, smiling as he glanced around and noted the unique character of the procession ready to trail after him.

“I’d give a dollar, sure I would, to have a snap-shot of this bunch right now,” declared Clint Babbett, who was becoming quite an expert photographer, and aspired to win a prize by taking flashlight pictures at night time of little wild animals in their native haunts.

Indeed, they certainly did look comical as they passed from the camp and headed toward the spot where Dan had set his great trap. He bravely acted as pilot of the expedition, since none but he knew just where they were going.

Presently, from his cautious actions, the rest understood that they were very close to their destination.

“Can you glimpse the trap yet, Dan?” asked Peg, eagerly, lowering his voice as if afraid lest he start the prisoner into making new and desperate efforts to escape from the toils.

“And is he inside?” inquired Fred Bonnicastle, with a gasp that told of his interest.

“I can just begin to see the thing,” announced Dan, slowly, and Dick thought he could detect the first shade of growing disappointment in the other’s voice.

A few more steps, and then Dan spoke again.

“Hey! what does this mean?” he grumbled.

“Didn’t the trap work after all, Dan?” asked Peg, in a grieved tone.

“Work!” snorted Dan, huskily. “I should say it did. Only the maniac was too much for me after all. He’s gone and busted my trap to flinders.”

Groans of disappointment welled up from numerous throats, and there was a quickening of footsteps as all drew closer to the spot where the wreck of the clumsy contrivance lay scattered around.

They stood and stared at the ruin. Dan shook his head, and drew in his breath with a faint whistle that expressed intense astonishment.

“Say, he must have been a buster of a man!” he finally exclaimed, bending down to examine some stout limbs that had been actually broken in two as though by a mighty force. “He just got as mad as hops when it dropped around him, and smashed things right and left. But, fellows, he carried off the bait all right, I notice.”

“That shows he has an appetite after all,” remarked Mr. Holwell, considerably amused at the happening, though at the same time feeling that the situation bordered on a grave one, with such a terrible denizen of the woods visiting their camp so frequently.

“After this he’ll be feeling kind of peeved at us for hurting him, I guess,” ventured Peg.

“Well, if it comes to the worst,” Phil remarked, “we can some of us sit up each night, and stand our turn on guard.”

“That sounds pleasant, I must say,” observed Elmer, with a half laugh.

The party once more returned to camp, and Mr. Bartlett told them not to sit around talking matters over, but to get back to their blankets. Indeed, the night air felt rather chilly, and the boys were not loath to take this advice.

“Plenty of time to talk it all over in the morning,” the camp director told them. “Perhaps by that time we may run across some sort of clue that will put us on the track of the poor fellow. It strikes me we ought to do our best to make him a prisoner while up here. If, as we suspect, he turns out to be a lunatic, it would be little short of a crime to leave him here to freeze in the winter time.”

One thing Dick noticed, and this was that while most of the boys thought the visit from the wild man almost a tragedy one of their number seemed to be particularly pleased over it.

This was Asa Gardner, who, from the time they first gathered after the alarm was given, had been smiling contentedly. Dick could give a pretty good guess why.

“Asa knows now,” Dick told himself, “that it couldn’t have been his fault those things disappeared from our camp. He was lying beside me sound asleep when the alarm came. So he figures that after all it must have been this strange being who crept into our camp and stole the bright things that caught his attention. Well, I’m glad for Asa’s sake, that’s all.”

Some of the boys were nervous as they lay down. They half anticipated a further visit from the unknown. The remainder of the night passed, however, without further annoyance.

Sunday morning found the boys up early, and taking their cold plunge. Mr. Holwell joined them, for from boyhood days a dip in the water on a fine summer morning had always been a delicious treat for the minister. The usual morning exercises were dispensed with, for Sunday is always conducted on strictly religious lines in every genuine Y. M. C. A. camp.

After breakfast had been eaten and everything cleaned up about the camp, the campers assembled to enjoy a little song service, after which Mr. Holwell had promised to deliver his famous “boys’ sermon.”

Asa Gardner sought out Dick. Plainly the sensitive boy was feeling much better than when he had had his last interview with his friend, Dick, a fact the latter was pleased to note.

“You’re coming around to my way of thinking, I guess, Asa?” he remarked.

Asa turned his eyes up toward Dick.

“Yes,” he said, softly, “I believe it’s going to come out all right now, Dick, for my dear mother came to me in my dreams last night, and she told me I would win the fight! Oh! I’m so glad, so glad, and I owe a heap to you, that’s right!”

CHAPTER XX
A MISSION OF MERCY

To some of the boys the day seemed unusually long. Their restless spirits chaffed under the strain of doing nothing save looking after the fire, lying around talking, roaming through the woods at that end of the island, reading, and at noon eating the meal that had been prepared.

Possibly except for the restraining influence of Mr. Holwell and Mr. Bartlett and the knowledge that they would forfeit certain privileges if they broke the posted rules of the camp, Eddie Grant and the two other mill boys, perhaps Nat Silmore and his chums also, might have gone off in one of the boats to fish.

But to Dick and some of the others that was a day long to be remembered. Mr. Holwell talked more about his early struggles and difficulties than they had ever heard him do before. They learned that he had had a most adventurous career up to the time he decided to follow the ministry for a calling.

It was about three in the afternoon, and some of the boys were sighing over the fact that the day still had several more hours to run, when there came a sudden interruption of the Sunday quiet that enveloped the camp.

“Listen!” exclaimed Dan Fenwick, jumping up. “Some one’s coming through the brush back yonder. Lickety-split, too!”

All could hear the noise made by the hurried passage of some body; and more than one boyish face lost much of its usual color as the lads exchanged uneasy glances.

“What if it’s the wild man?” ventured Andy Hale, thus voicing the alarm that had begun to hammer at every heart.

“Wow! get your clubs, everybody, and stand ready to repel boarders!” snapped Peg, immediately pouncing on the handy camp hatchet.

“Hold on, fellows,” Dick called out. “It’s a man, you can see, and he looks to me as though he might be more frightened than we are. See, he’s waving his hands.”

“Why, seems as if I ought to know that man!” exclaimed Fred Bonnicastle just then. “Yes, sure as you live, it’s the farmer we got the butter and eggs from.”

“Say, I bet you he’s run across the monster that gave us the scare the other day!” ventured Nat Silmore. “Now, mebbe you’ll believe what we told you.”

The farmer soon reached the camp. He was breathing hard, but tried, as best he could, to talk. It was to Mr. Holwell he addressed himself, for he saw that the minister was older than any of the rest and looked as though he might be in charge.

“I thought you were camping on the other site,” he stammered; “so I landed at the wrong place. Oh! I want somebody to go back with me and try to stop the bleeding, or I’m afraid the poor lad will not last long, and I never could get to town, for my horse is sick.”

“What does this mean, my friend?” asked Mr. Holwell, laying a kindly hand on the agitated farmer’s arm, to calm him, for he was very much excited.

“My little boy managed to cut his foot frightfully with the axe,” explained the man, drawing a deep breath; “and I’m a poor hand at anything like binding up a bleeding artery. My wife has done the best she knew how, but in spite of the rags she tied around his leg it keeps on bleeding. Say you’ll come back with me, please, and do something for my poor little Josh!”

“To be sure we will!” cried the minister. “It’s Sunday, but the better the day the better the deed. One whom we love and worship went about doing good on the seventh day of the week. I’ll be ready in a minute, my friend. Dick, I’d like you—yes, and Leslie also, to accompany me. Perhaps Mr. Rowland will come with us, if you, Harry, can get along here with both of your assistants gone.”

“To be sure, Mr. Holwell. We are all under your direction and at your disposal, you know.”

Some of the other boys would have been glad to go along, but evidently Mr. Holwell thought he had enough helpers.

“We’ll use one of our boats,” he said as they gathered, ready to depart on their mission of mercy. “We’ll save considerable time by not pushing through the woods to where you landed, sir. Later on you can recover your skiff.”

Accordingly, they started. Dick rowed across to the mainland, and as the lake chanced to be very still he found little difficulty in making fast time. Leslie was fairly itching to take a turn, but Dick laughingly declared he could do his rowing on the way back.

Upon landing they pulled the boat up on the shore, and then, with the farmer acting as pilot, the expedition of relief set forth. Their pilot knew every foot of ground in that neighborhood, and followed a trail that the boys, thanks to his advice, had used in coming back from their visit to his farm in search of provisions.

Now and then the worried father would turn to Mr. Holwell, and the piteous look on his face always brought forth words of hope and cheer from the kind-hearted minister, who knew full well how the man was suffering.

After a short time the party reached the farm. The man hurried them across by way of a short-cut, meanwhile shouting to his wife that he had brought help.

She met them at the door, a pleasant, motherly looking woman, though just then white of face, and evidently suffering greatly.

“Is he still alive, Mother?” gasped the farmer.

“Yes, but the wound still bleeds in spite of everything I can do to stop it!” she told him. Then her eyes fastened on the minister, whose calling she could guess from his white cravat and clerical clothes, donned because of the day. “And oh! sir, I do hope you can do something to help save our boy, even as the Master whom you preach went about doing good for those in trouble,” she pleaded.

“We will do everything possible,” said Mr. Holwell, quietly. “I know very little about surgery myself, but Mr. Rowland, here, has some surgical knowledge, and I’ve heard it said that one of these boys has done things that have won him warm praise from Doctor Bowen in Cliffwood. Please take us to the lad, Madam.”

They found Josh in a bad way, and looking ghastly white, for he had indeed lost a large amount of blood. It was Leslie Capes of whom the minister had spoken so highly as they entered the house. Mr. Rowland had before this discovered Leslie’s dexterity and ability, and motioned to him to go ahead with the work, standing back ready to give instant help if necessary. Without a second’s delay Leslie undid the rude bandages with which the anxious parents had swathed the limb, and exposed the gash.

It was indeed a serious wound, and if no help had come, within another hour or so the boy would probably have died from loss of blood. Dick himself could see that neither of the parents knew the first thing about anatomy, or where to place the knot when they tried to form a tourniquet that could be twisted, and by pressure on the artery cause the bleeding to cease.

The two boys set to work with a vim that pleased Mr. Holwell and Mr. Rowland exceedingly, and it was pitiful to see how the distracted father and mother followed every little move the amateur surgeons made.

First of all Leslie constructed a new tourniquet, and managed to stop the loss of precious life fluid. Then he had the mistress of the house fetch him warm water and a basin, and washed the boy’s foot and leg, after which he bound the limb up.

“You must hurry over to your nearest neighbor, Mr. Jones,” he told the farmer, “and borrow a horse, so as to go to town for a doctor. That artery will have to be sewed, and I’m not quite able to tackle such a job yet, though I hope to do it in time. This tourniquet will prevent the blood from coming, though it isn’t good to keep it on for more than a few hours.”

“Then you think he’ll pull through all right, do you, Doctor?” asked the mother, so filled with gratitude that she gave Leslie a title that he was proud of ever afterwards.

“Not any doubt about it,” he told her, so warmly that the man and his wife turned and looked into each other’s eyes, and then cried for sheer joy as they embraced each other.

Mr. Holwell saw to it that the farmer hurried off to the neighbor’s house, which lay a mile or so further on. He could get a horse there, and reach the nearest town.

Of course none of the party felt like returning to the camp until it was known that the doctor had been reached; so they spent the rest of that never-to-be-forgotten Sunday afternoon on the farm. The good woman of the house bustled about from time to time when she dared leave her boy, and saw to it that the visitors were well looked after, pressing fresh buttermilk upon them, apples and cake and everything that she thought the heart of a genuine boy could wish for.

Finally, when it was getting along toward sunset they heard an automobile coming, and upon sighting it discovered that the farmer, as well as a fat little man with a professional air, occupied the seat of the runabout.

When the physician looked at Leslie’s work he smiled and patted the boy patronizingly on the head.

“Keep on doing this sort of thing, son,” he observed, “and some of these days you are bound to be a good surgeon. I never saw a finer bit of work done, and I’ve been an army surgeon in my time, too, during the Spanish-American war.”

Mr. Holwell said that since they were no longer needed it would be wise for his party to take its departure, especially since the trail led through the dark woods, and they had some two miles to cover before arriving at the lake. So, overwhelmed by the gratitude of Josh’s parents, they presently started forth.

In the gloaming they covered the last half mile of their journey, and the thoughts of the kind-hearted minister were very pleasant ones as he considered that he had been given a gracious opportunity to follow in the footsteps of Him who delighted in going about, Sunday or week-day, doing good to all who were in distress.

“There, you can see the light of our campfire over the water!” said Leslie, presently. “And we’ll soon be in the boat pulling across. My turn to row, remember, Dick, if you please.”

CHAPTER XXI
THE BROTHERLY SPIRIT

“Tell us all about it, please!” was the way the party was greeted as the boat drew to shore.

“Will little Josh get over his hurt, do you think?” asked Ban Jansen.

“And did Leslie, here, show what he could do along the line of first aid to the injured?” demanded Elmer Jones. “I’ve seen him do stunts that took my breath away, and I just guess he ought to be able to stop an artery from bleeding.”

“That was just what he did, I’m proud to say,” the minister announced. At this there were whoops of delight, and many heavy slaps dropped on Leslie’s back as they started up to the camp, where Sunny Jim had supper ready.

While they sat around the supper table the story was soon told, interrupted from time to time as some one wished to learn a few more particulars. Mr. Holwell and their physical director could not say enough about the work of the boys who had accompanied them.

“I’m constantly being reminded,” the minister went on to remark, “of the fact that boys of to-day are away ahead of those of my generation in a good many ways. They are learning to do all sorts of things calculated to make them better citizens of our glorious republic when they grow up. I take it that there are myriads of lads who are capable of stanching a bleeding wound just as Leslie did this afternoon; of bringing back the breath of life to a boy who has apparently been drowned; and in fact of doing a dozen similar deeds of incalculable value.”

“How about another trap, Dan?” asked Andy Hale, as they sat around later on that Sunday evening.

Mr. Bartlett had given them a short talk that he thought they might appreciate, since it was not at all in the nature of a sermon. It really interested even such indifferent fellows as Nat and Dit and Alonzo, who had never had thrust upon them the idea of looking upon any one day of the week as differing from the rest.

“Yes, that’s so, Dan, what do you expect to do about it?” Peg added. “Are you ready to cry quits with one knock-down?”

“I don’t know just yet,” admitted Dan, shaking his head dubiously. “I might try to get up another sort of scheme, but let me tell you it’s no joke to make a trap able to hold a giant like that. Why, he broke oak limbs as if they were paper. He must be a terribly strong man, if that’s any sign.”

Dan was deeply puzzled. Dick did not wonder at it either; and if he had been asked he would have found it difficult to suggest a plan whereby the mysterious prowler could be secured without hurting him to any extent.

The campers spent a quiet evening. There was considerable singing, but Mr. Bartlett saw to it that the choruses were all of a character suited to the day. The entire group of boys joined in, and they made a volume of sound that carried far across the lake, and might even have been heard miles away on the other side of Bass Island.

Then Leslie, who had a splendid tenor voice, obliged them on request with a number of songs that were old favorites with Mr. Holwell.

“I must say,” remarked that pleased gentleman, “I have never heard them sung better, or under more romantic surroundings than here and now. I assure you all I shall write this little camping trip down as one of the most enjoyable experiences of my whole life. I am glad to be with you, boys, glad to feel that all of us are here to have a good time, and to be helpful to each other.”

Even Nat and his pair of cronies seemed to be fairly satisfied. As for Eddie Grant, Cub Mannis and Ban Jansen, they frankly admitted they had never in all their lives enjoyed anything one half so much.

“Mr. Bartlett has promised to let some of us go off with you in the morning, Eddie,” remarked Dick, casually, as they sat together during the evening, “to see if we can beat you three filling a bucket apiece with blueberries. It’s too bad that you should have to spend so much of your time while up here doing that sort of thing; and we mean to fix it so you’ll have more time off, anyhow.”

The three mill boys looked as though they could not find words to express their gratitude. It was not the fact that they wanted to shirk work. They had always been forced to labor for their living; but the idea of any one voluntarily offering in this brotherly way to assume their tasks in order to let them have a little enjoyment touched their hearts deeply. This outing on the part of the mill boys, along with their pleasant intercourse with the others, was bound to have an influence upon Eddie Grant’s crowd. Mr. Holwell and Mr. Bartlett both felt sure there would be an accession to the club from the mill part of Cliffwood’s young people when the three boys got back to town, and they could tell what a glorious time they had experienced.

Some of the boys wondered when the time came to go to bed whether they would be disturbed again by a visit from the unknown creature that had taken to prowling about the camp on Bass Island. Most of them, however, were of the opinion that what had happened on the preceding night might deter the wild man from making any more of his visits, at least until several days had passed.

Nevertheless, it was to be noticed that some of them took especial pains to examine the fastenings of the tents close to their heads. Dick playfully asked Peg Fosdick if he anticipated another thunder-storm some time in the night and feared that a wild wind might carry the covering away and leave them exposed to the weather, that he was so particular about having the lashings of the tent secure, and the various pegs well driven into the ground.

Nat pretended to be above these petty weaknesses. He imagined that Alonzo and Dit after his disclosure of a panicky condition on the other day were thinking less of his boasted valor, so he boldly declared his intention of sleeping right out in the open, if the camp director allowed him the privilege.

“It’s all right for those that feel timid to huddle like a flock of sheep in under the canvas,” he remarked with a sneer. “But shucks! what do I care about this here old wild man of the woods. If he comes bothering around me, I’ll pretty soon show him what’s doing. Nothing’d tickle me more’n to have him bend down and let me get my arms twisted around his neck. I’d soon make all your slick traps, Dan Fenwick, look like thirty cents. Huh!”

The last the others saw of Nat he had actually placed his blanket in the open and was making ready to “camp out” in truth. It must have been like balm to his heart when Alonzo remarked:

“Gee whiz! I don’t see how you’ve got the nerve to do it, Nat. I wouldn’t like to be in your boots, that’s all I can say.”

The night was not half over when again the sleepers were awakened—this time by a wild shriek close at hand. And as the boys came tumbling out it was to see Nat rolling about in his blanket and shouting amidst its folds.

CHAPTER XXII
WHAT NAT SAW

“Nat’s got a fit!” yelled Andy Hale, giving vent to the first thought that flashed into his mind when he saw the other carrying on so wildly.

“More likely the wild man tackled him!” cried Peg Fosdick.

“Whee! hold on to him then, Nat! Don’t let him get away!” Eddie Grant admonished, while Clint Babbett added to the din by adding:

“We’re right here, Nat, ready to help you! Sic him, Nat. Get a strangle hold on the ferocious burglar!”

Suddenly Nat stopped whirling about so furiously. He even managed to poke his tousled head from under the folds of his blanket, and seemed to squint cautiously about him, much as a tortoise does after an alarm.

“Is it gone?” he demanded, faintly, as though short of breath.

“What ails you, Nat?” asked Dick.

“Been having an attack of the nightmare, I reckon, and dreamed he saw something as big as a house and as ugly as Bill Biddon’s bulldog!” snapped Dan Fenwick, with a perceptible sneer in his voice.

It was noticed that neither Alonzo Crane nor Dit Hennesy uttered a single word. Apparently they knew Nat would not act in this way simply after having had a silly dream. Both of them had been in his company that afternoon in the woods of Bass Island when Nat claimed to have seen the unknown monster that was haunting their camp.

“Say, what d’you take me for, anyway?” demanded Nat, as he crawled out of the tangled folds of his blanket, and looked defiantly around him. “I tell you I’ve seen a terror of the woods all right, and I only hope never to set eyes on the same again. If I had my way I’d start for Cliffwood to-morrow. I didn’t come up here to have Old Nick, or something just as bad, play leap-frog over me, I want you to know.”

Some of the boys could be heard muttering to themselves. Plainly these strange words on the part of Nat gave them cause for worry.

“Tell us all about it, Nat, won’t you?” pleaded Alonzo, who was looking rather white under the eyes, Dick noticed—a plain indication of a craven spirit, boys are always ready to avow.

“Oh! I’m willing to tell all I know,” replied the other, readily enough, “even if ’tisn’t much. When a feller gets waked up all of a sudden like, and sees such a thing hoppin’ right over him, he’s not agoin’ to stop and take too long a look. I own up I ducked under the blanket right away, and started rollin’ around, meanin’, of course, to keep it from grabbin’ hold of me.”

“What was it like, Nat?” asked Dick, while Mr. Holwell stood by an interested listener, a puzzled expression on his kindly face. Mr. Bartlett and the physical director were also on hand, while a black face thrust out from the cook tent told that Sunny Jim was listening.

“Oh! say, when I try to tell you I just seem to get all balled up,” complained the boy who had been the cause of the midnight alarm.

“But you can give us some idea,” persisted Dick. “Already you’ve gone and compared it to Satan himself. Did he have a forked tail and cloven hoofs?”

Nat failed to catch the satire in Dick’s question and voice.

“I shouldn’t be ’tall surprised if it did,” he calmly replied, “though I don’t want to exactly say I seen all that. But I give you my honest word, cross my heart, if it didn’t look like it must a come from down below. Ugh! but it certainly gimme a bad feelin’.”

“Must have thought they’d sent for you, on account of some of the fierce things you’d done in the past, eh, Nat?” quizzed Peg, boldly, for he knew the bully of Cliffwood was in no frame of mind to take offense just then, and pick a quarrel.

“Never you mind what I thought, Peg Fosdick!” said the other, still trembling. “If you’d had the same experience I did, I reckon your nerves’d a been shaky too.”

“Which way did it seem to go after jumping over you, Nat?” asked Dick, bent on extracting all the information possible from the alarmed one while the incident was still fresh in his memory. Later on he would be apt to become hazy about particulars, and even contradict himself it might be.

“Shucks! as if I bothered much takin’ any notice of such foolish little things as that,” replied Nat. “The only thing I do recollect was that it hopped over me comin’ from the left side. So I rolled the other way, you see.”

“And you lay down with your head toward the north, didn’t you, Nat?” came from Leslie, who realized that Dick was trying his best to get hold of some sort of clue, though really it did not appear to matter much.

“Here’s the way I was lyin’, so you can figure it out for yourselves,” said the other, throwing himself down for a moment, and then regaining his feet to continue his tale.

“But you want to understand that I’m done sleepin’ out here alone after this. I ain’t hankerin’ about bein’ waked up to find things like that playin’ leap-frog over me.”

He picked up his blanket with an air of determination that could not be mistaken. Dick understood from this that Nat must have been pretty badly frightened by his sudden awakening, and what he claimed to have seen.

These things aroused in Dick’s mind a greater determination than ever to learn the answer to the puzzle before leaving Bass Island. When the morning came one of the first things he meant to devote his attention to was searching for a clue to the character of the unknown terror.

It was not very pleasant standing around in the chilly night air, and lightly clad at that, so when Mr. Bartlett suggested that they turn in again no one offered any objection.

If the unknown creature that had taken to haunting Russabaga Camp came again between midnight and the break of day no one was any the wiser for his visit. With the first streaks of early dawn there were signs of activity about the camp, and one by one the boys began to make their appearance.

There was a chill in the air on this morning, making it quite different from several preceding ones, and many of the boys were seen to shiver when indulging in the usual morning dip.

But it would have to be something wonderful that could hinder those amazing appetites of theirs from gripping them. Every one seemed anxious to have a hand in assisting Sunny Jim in getting breakfast, until Mr. Bartlett was compelled to call half a dozen of the boys away.

“‘Too many cooks spoil the broth,’” he told them. “You’re only hindering Jim when you hang around that way. Some of you swing the axe, and cut more firewood. It disappears mighty fast, you notice. Others can fetch the blankets out and fasten them on the lines for their morning airing.”

In the end breakfast was announced. The main dish on this morning consisted of fried slices of home-cured ham and fresh eggs turned over in the skillets. There was besides plenty of boiled hominy, of the fine variety which in the South goes by the name of “grits.” To finish up with all the pan-cakes were provided that any boy could swallow. They were, however, called “flap-jacks” by the campers, it being understood that a heavy fine or penalty awaited the one who dared designate them as “griddle-cakes,” “pan-cakes,” or “flannel-cakes.” That would make them feel as if they were eating at home, with a white table-cloth and china in evidence, instead of off in the wilds far from the busy haunts of men.

There were some other “haunts” apparently, that bothered several of the boys considerably, Nat in particular. He had not recovered from his shock of the preceding night, nor could any of the other boys find it in their hearts to blame him very much.

Nat Silmore had always been known as a bully, afraid, in fact, of nothing that walked on two legs; and to hear him candidly admitting that he was genuinely disposed to quit the camp on account of his anxieties gave several of the boys a feeling of real alarm.

Dick managed to get Leslie aside after they had finished breakfast, though most of the others still lingered at the table. In fact some of them could not find the heart to get up so long as a single “flap-jack” remained.

“What do you think of it?” Dick asked his best chum.

“I have to jump at conclusions when you fire that question right at me,” replied Leslie, with a broad smile; “so I reckon you must mean about the thing Nat saw, or thought he saw last night.”

“Well, I’ve been turning it all over in my mind,” continued Dick, frankly, “and have come to the conclusion that he must have seen something. Nat isn’t a timid chap by any means, as every one knows; and if you watch him right now you’ll notice how he keeps looking to the right and left all the while he eats. He’s half expecting to have something jump out at him.”

“That’s right, as sure as you live,” admitted Leslie. “If things keep on like this much longer, Dick, our camping trip will be spoiled. Why, none of the fellows will care to wander into the woods, and before we came they had laid out all sorts of schemes that would take them there.”

“Yes, I know they had planned to explore every foot of Bass Island,” said Dick, moodily. “They’re beginning to care only for going out on the water.”

“Humph! a good reason why,” grunted Leslie. “That mysterious wild man can’t get them out there, it seems. Yes, just as you say it threatens to upset all our jolly plans. What’s got to be done about it, Dick? I’m ready to try anything you say.”

Dick scratched his head as if in deep thought.

“Well,” he remarked, finally, “of course one of the first things I did this morning was to get down on my hands and knees and examine the ground where Nat says he was sleeping when he woke up to see something jump over him.”

“And did you make any discovery worth while, Dick?”

A shake of the head answered this question even before Dick could frame words to reply.

“Why, no, I can’t say I did,” he went on to say. “The fact of the matter is the ground was so well tramped over that there couldn’t be any way of finding the footprints of the wild man, even if he did hop over Nat as he lay there. I had to give up in the end, and call it a bad job.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Leslie, who apparently had begun to indulge in the hope that his clever friend might have come upon a clue.

“But there’s another chance for us,” ventured Dick.

“To find a track, you mean, do you?” questioned Leslie, taking fresh courage.

“Why, somehow or other,” Dick explained, “none of us thought to look closely into that trap of Dan’s which was smashed by the wild man the other night. Now, let’s the two of us slip away as soon as the morning service is over without telling any one what’s in the wind. We can prowl around there, and see if some sort of sign is to be picked up that will give us the clue we want.”

As soon as the religious service, which was held every morning after breakfast, was over, Dick whispered to his chum:

“Let’s be moving, Leslie, while the crowd is still sitting around. Mr. Holwell seems to be telling them one of his stories about his experiences. Every little while something that happens seems to stir up his memory. He’s seen a heap of queer things in his day.” Accordingly, the pair walked away unnoticed by any of their comrades.

CHAPTER XXIII
THE TELLTALE FOOTPRINT

As the spot Dick and Leslie were heading for lay only a short distance away from the heart of the camp the two boys quickly reached it. They could plainly hear the laughter of the others when the minister reached some comical part in his story of the early experiences associated with his checkered career.

“Here’s the wreck of Dan’s trap,” remarked Leslie. “He lost heart when the wild man smashed things so easily, and hasn’t managed to hatch up another scheme to catch him, though I know he’s thinking about it all the time.”

“Let’s take up every piece of wood first, and see if they can tell us anything,” suggested Dick.

Leslie looked as though for the life of him he could not see how a mere piece of broken branch could speak and explain; but at the same time he knew Dick must have a meaning attached to his words.

Accordingly, they commenced to handle the remnants that told of Dan’s wonderful trap, which had failed to hold the wild man.

Leslie suddenly heard his chum give a low bubbling cry.

“What have you found?” he asked, hurriedly, all excitement.

“Come here and see,” he was told.

“Well, I declare! that’s a bunch of hair clinging to a broken bit of wood, or I miss my guess!” ejaculated Leslie Capes almost immediately.

“And sort of reddish-brown hair at that, you notice,” Dick told him. “That must have come from the hide of an animal, mark you, and not from a man at all!”

“Gee whittaker, Dick! What are you saying?”

“The wild man, as we’ve been calling him, isn’t a human being at all, it seems,” Dick continued, slowly, as though he were trying to grasp a stupendous idea.

“But, Dick, don’t forget that Nat has seen the creature twice now,” urged Leslie.

“I know that,” admitted Dick.

“Yes, and there was Alonzo Crane and Dit Hennesy, too, who told us they glimpsed him before he vanished into the brush. All three vowed it was a short-looking man with awfully broad shoulders and long arms, and that he bent over as he moved.”

“Granting all that,” persisted Dick, clinging to his rapidly forming theory, “it could have been an animal just the same.”

“A four-footed animal do you mean, Dick?”

“Why not?” came the steady reply. “Some animals that can be called four-footed sometimes walk on their two hind feet, such as monkeys and apes. Even bears can do the trick without much trouble; and we’ve seen elephants dancing in a circus, keeping their forelegs elevated all the while.”

Leslie gave a whistle to indicate his surprise.

“Look here, Dick, you’re getting close to the truth of this mystery, I just know it from your ways. Tell me what you think, please, Dick.”

“Wait a bit,” admonished the other. “Let’s look around here and see if we have any better luck than I did in the camp.”

“You mean hunting for signs, don’t you?”

“Yes, see if you can run across any footprint that doesn’t look like those the boys would make with their shoes,” he was advised.

Both busied themselves at that, bending low the better to examine closely every foot of the neighboring ground. It was Leslie who gave utterance to a cry this time.

“Oh! come over here, Dick!” he exclaimed, as though thrilled by a discovery he had made. “I’ve found something!”

When Dick bent over and took a look he laughed.

“Just what I was expecting we’d run across somewhere around,” he said. “The plain imprint of a bare foot! And no human being, wild man or not, ever made that mark, let me tell you, Leslie.”

“It does look somewhat queer I own up, Dick.”

“For a human being I should say it was impossible,” continued the other. “Notice its peculiar shape in the first place. And the foot is hardly longer than the toes. Yes, and they’ve got long nails on them in the bargain. There’s also a pad to the sole that no human ever has.”

Leslie’s eyes were staring. He turned them on his companion with an interrogation point in each orb. Somehow Dick was usually to be depended on to rise to an occasion like this, and find out the truth. His chums had long ago learned how absolutely they could depend on him when the necessity arose.

“What sort of animal, Dick, would have feet like those?” he asked, boldly.

“WHAT SORT OF ANIMAL WOULD HAVE FEET LIKE THOSE?” HE ASKED.

“Well, a gorilla might, for one,” Dick declared.

No wonder Leslie gasped his amazement.

“A gorilla, Dick? An ape loose in the woods on Bass Island! Why, surely I must be dreaming, or else you’re joshing me.”

Dick, however, stuck to his guns manfully.

“Remember, Leslie,” he went on to say, steadily, “I can’t even guess how such an animal could get across from the mainland, even granting that one escaped at some time from a menagerie that was wrecked in a storm. We’re dealing with facts now, not theories. There’s an animal over here, because some of our crowd have seen it, and all of us have looked on the wreck of the trap set to hold it. I honestly and truly believe it’ll turn out to be a gorilla.”

“Well, let’s figure out how that explanation agrees with what we know,” was the sensible way Leslie commenced. “All the boys who have glimpsed the creature agreed that it was short in stature, and with broad shoulders, as well as long arms. I remember that gorillas are built that way, Dick.”

“Yes, and travelers say they are very powerful,” added the other. “I’ve read how a wounded gorilla will snatch the rifle out of a hunter’s hands, and twist the barrel as easily as if it were made of wire, tying it in a knot.”

“So he would have no trouble in smashing Dan’s silly trap, that’s right,” Leslie went on to say. “Yes, and I can also remember reading, Dick, that such an animal, when it gets mad, thumps on its chest and makes a rumbling sound like the beating of a drum.”

“Sure enough!” Dick exclaimed, smiling with glee over the probability of having solved the mystery that had been haunting the camp so long, “didn’t the boys tell all about hearing some one drumming, when they glimpsed the wild man as they thought, going through the brush?”

“Dick, I do believe we’ve solved the puzzle at last!”

“I’m dead sure of it!” Dick declared, “after finding this telltale scrap of reddish hair on the stick, and seeing that queer footprint. One thing certain, it’s likely we’ll never know just how the creature managed to get across here.”

“You mean from the mainland, I suppose,” ventured Leslie. “Can a gorilla swim, do you think, Dick?”

“I don’t know, but I should say not,” came the dubious reply.

“Well, then we’ll just have to make a stab at it, and let the thing go at that,” Leslie continued, philosophically. “Mebbe the beast was on a log that drifted away from the shore when he was washing his face or trying to catch a fish for his dinner—if gorillas ever eat such things, which I doubt. Then the floating log carried him across to the island, and he’s been marooned here ever since. How about that for an explanation, Dick?”

“For want of a better it will have to stand, I suppose,” Dick told him. “But let’s go and give the rest of the bunch a surprise.”

Leslie, of course, was willing, and away they hurried to startle their camp-mates with the recital of the discovery they had just made.

Every one had to examine the stick that had the clump of dun-colored hair fastened to its splintered part. Then all rushed to the spot where the remains of the man-trap lay scattered around, Dick taking care that no one crowded so close as to endanger the strange and telltale footprint.

Long and earnestly every boy gazed at this mark. Queer feelings came over them as they realized that in all probability Dick had indeed solved the mystery.

Nat in particular was triumphantly declaring that he had been vindicated.

“Say, what did I tell you?” he demanded of Dan and Peg as a grin crept over his face. “A gorilla can hop if it wants to, can’t it? Well, that’s what the critter did with me when it saw me startin’ to sit up. And say! ain’t a gorilla somethin’ like a short, squatty man with wide shoulders and long arms? Well, didn’t all three of us try to describe the thing we saw in the brush like that? Huh! next time don’t get quite so fresh with your remarks, Peg Fosdick!”

“Oh, so far as that goes, Nat,” the other said humbly enough, “we all admit that you must have been right. Yes, and I’ll go further when I say that if a gorilla hopped over me in the night, and I saw him, I’d think it was the Old Scratch himself. You’re all right, Nat, even if you were scared half to death.”

Nat flared up as though inclined to resent this imputation regarding his well-known courage. On second thought, however, he held his tongue. Perhaps he remembered that he had frankly admitted being frightened. And on the whole the sooner that matter was dropped the better.

Mr. Holwell, as well as the other two gentlemen, had, of course, taken a decided interest in all that passed. In this he found a good reason for adding to the high opinion he already had concerning Dick’s abilities. Any boy who could figure out an answer to such a baffling mystery deserved worlds of credit, and the minister was prouder of Dick than ever.

Indeed, Mr. Holwell was feeling more and more pleased every day, that he had decided to take a little vacation and spend it on Bass Island in camp with the boys of the Junior Department of the local Y. M. C. A. He dearly loved to study boy-nature, and watch the development of those faculties that in the years to come might carry the possessors on to fame or fortune.

Clint Babbett was coaxed to get his camera and take a photograph of the strange footprint. He had more or less trouble in arranging things to suit his ideas, but after several attempts declared that he believed he had succeeded, and, in time, when he had developed that film, they would be able to prove their claim by displaying an exact reproduction of the telltale track. Others who possessed cameras were not deterred from trying the same task.

“But I hope we don’t let it go at that, fellows,” the first photographer said, after completing his last effort.

“Not much,” remarked Andy Hale. “Some of the knockers down in Cliffwood wouldn’t believe a word of what we said unless we had better proof to show than just a picture of some marks on the ground. Why, they’d claim we’d made them in order to pull the wool over their eyes.”

Looks were exchanged, that spoke of hidden thoughts and grim resolutions. Peg Fosdick undoubtedly voiced the sentiments of many when he went on to remark seriously:

“One thing sure, boys, we must think up some way to kill this Jabberwock of the Bass Island woods. We could have the skin stuffed, and stood up in our room at the Y. M. C. A. building, you know. Every one who called would ask for the story of what happened up here in camp.”

Harry Bartlett glanced over at Mr. Holwell. He would have said something himself, only he seemed to guess that the minister would express his thoughts if given a chance.

“Wait a bit, boys,” said Mr. Holwell, gently. “Let’s consider this thing well before deciding to try to kill this poor animal. The rooms of a Y. M. C. A. building are hardly suitable for the exhibition of stuffed wild animals. The rules of the organization do not encourage the hunting instinct, only a laudable desire to build up the human body, so that a healthy mind may be better qualified to grasp the precious truths that are so frequently proclaimed within these walls. In fact, I can easily imagine several patrons of the association staring in wonder and displeasure upon discovering a stuffed gorilla standing guard in your department.”

“But do we have just to keep on enduring his visits night after night, sir?” Peg asked, appealingly. “Would there be any objection to Dan here getting up some sort of trap that would hold the gorilla a prisoner, so we could return him to the Zoological Gardens that mebbe he escaped from?”

Mr. Holwell smiled on hearing that.

“I’m sure there could be no objection to such a scheme, provided Dan is able to conjure up a plan that will turn out better than the last trap did,” he answered. At this Dan blushed, and then grinned as though he felt the remark was intended as a compliment.

“Oh! leave all that to me, sir,” he said, boldly. “Right now I’m figuring on a bully scheme that is bound to work. And this time I don’t mean to trust to just plain snares or traps.”

CHAPTER XXIV
DAN’S NEW IDEA

“Somehow I’m feeling unusually smart this morning,” said Peg Fosdick, as he came face to face with Dan Fenwick, after the excitement had somewhat abated, “and I’m going to challenge you to a spin in the rowing shells across to that little island away over there and back again. I dare you to accept, Dan!”

Dan was one of those who seem to be always carrying chips on their shoulders, and any one knocking that chip off would have his hands full immediately.

“Count me in the game!” he quickly exclaimed. “That is, if Mr. Rowland will give us the necessary permission. I’ve been wanting to make a test of your boast that you were a better oarsman than any of the rest of us, barring Eddie Grant and Ban Jansen.”

“Well, here’s your chance to make good!” jeered Peg.

The athletic instructor, coming along just then, was appealed to in such terms of entreaty that he laughingly consented to the trial of skill and strength, for rowing combines both these necessary qualifications.

The knowledge that another rivalry had broken out interested most of the campers, although a very few were so much taken up with other tasks and hobbies, such as photography, that they declined to become enthusiastic.

The two clumsy boats which Peg had ambitiously called “shells,” were overhauled and put in as good condition as possible. Though, being old craft and rather dilapidated, there was a fair chance that one of them might leak so badly that it would necessitate a stop during the contest in order to bail. To make things fair, however, it was arranged that should such a delay occur a certain signal was to be given by the victim, which would call for a halt on the part of the other competitor until the leaking boat had been relieved of its unwelcome cargo of water. Then again would operations be resumed.

At a signal from Mr. Rowland away went the rivals, both using the oars at a furious rate, although they had been cautioned by the athletic conductor to be deliberate, and not to exhaust themselves in the beginning of the race.

Both lads had stripped, and donned their swimming trunks, the better to be able to take care of themselves should any serious accident befall them while speeding across the water toward the small island that was to represent the turning point. Moreover, each boat contained a life preserver, for those who had the safety of the Y. M. C. A. boys in their keeping took no unnecessary chances.

In their excitement both contestants forgot most of the instructions so carefully given by Mr. Rowland. When one found that the other was forging ahead ever so little it meant that on his part he had to row harder in order to close up the gap before it grew to discouraging proportions. Those on Bass Island could see that neither contestant rowed in a manner that was to his credit, for there seemed to be an unusual amount of splashing done as the oars fell hurriedly into the water.

Peg turned the island a little in the lead, and from this the onlookers fancied Dan’s boat must either be leaking, or else his energies were flagging under the heavy strain.

On the way back Peg seemed to be increasing his lead, and it looked as if the race were bound to go to him. But Dick, who knew that Dan was a hard fellow to beat, did not share in that conviction.

“Wait!” he told the group of shouting boys. “No race is decided until it is finished. Dan may have a card up his sleeve yet. See! both have stopped and are resting on their oars. I think Dan has given the signal that he must ‘pump ship,’ for I remember that his boat is a shade the worse of the two. But the rest will give Dan the second wind he often needs. Then watch him make things fly.”

As it turned out Dick was exactly right in his prediction. After the race was resumed it seemed that Dan had received much more benefit from the rest than had Peg, for it was noticed that the gap between the two boats was closing. Despite the almost frantic efforts of Peg the distance separating the rivals grew less and less. When the boats were a short distance away from the shore of Bass Island they seemed to be on even terms. But this was not to last.

Dan had a certain amount of strength left which enabled him to push the nose of his boat ahead of the opposing craft. That discouraged Peg, and he lost heart in the race, well knowing that in his exhausted condition he could never regain the lead. Indeed, the boy crumpled up in his seat, and allowed his boat to push on with its acquired momentum until it reached land.

Meanwhile, Dan had been welcomed with a great din, and yet his first act was to brush the many hands aside and wait for his rival to come along.

“You’d have beaten me easy, Peg,” he told the disappointed chum, “except for that little trick I played. There wasn’t nearly so much water in my boat as I made out. But it was a lively race, all right, and you’re a game one to the bone.”

Shortly afterwards a number of the boys started off with pails. Eddie Grant and his two comrades from the mills realized that since the weather was propitious and the harvest of blueberries abundant on the island, they must not lose any more time than could be helped.

Just as had been planned by Mr. Bartlett and Dick, a number of the other generous campers insisted on accompanying the pickers. Eddie objected at first, but seeing that the boys were intent on going along his remonstrances died away.

“We want to say we’ve picked a few bushels of those whopping big berries ourselves,” said Peg, honestly. “It’ll be heaps of fun, you know, and give some other fellows an afternoon off to try the fishing.”

“Besides,” added Fred Bonnicastle, just as determined to be of assistance to the workers in the mills, who he had discovered were fine chaps, “we all of us like blueberries, and have been dipping a little into the stock of those you gathered on Saturday. We want to make the loss good, and feel that we’re returning good measure every time. So don’t say another word, Eddie. You just can’t shoo us back.”

At that Eddie Grant laughed.

“Oh, well,” he said, “now that we know for sure that a real live monkey is loose on Bass Island I reckon there’ll be safety in numbers. If he tackles us, six are better than just three.”

“Oh! you can’t frighten us by that kind of talk,” jeered Peg. “All of us will go with a club in our hands, as well as a bucket. And say! perhaps we’d better manage to keep within call of each other. Seems to me I’ve read about these gorillas carrying children off sometimes.”

“Well, that may be worrying you, Peg, but the rest of us don’t consider ourselves in the baby class,” remarked Phil, at which there was a general laugh in which Peg joined.

Mr. Holwell took a fancy to try the fishing himself that morning.

“Not that I lay much claim to being a master-hand at angling, you understand, boys,” he apologized, when making up the party. “But those bass do taste so fine that I’d like to say I had pulled a few of them in myself. Once upon a time, away back, I can remember as a barefooted boy going after bass along the Susquehanna river. Yes, and seldom coming home without a nice string, too. But in those days my rod was one I’d cut myself in the woods; and I had no reel, or even a modern snell attached to the hook. But I took the fish.”

Dick was one of those who went out in the boat. Mr. Holwell asked him to join them, for he said he would need the advice of an “expert,” as he neither knew where the bass were likely to be found during the hot weather, nor how to manipulate his line when he had a strike.

“Just as likely as not,” he explained, “I should jerk the bait away when by rights I ought to give the bass a certain amount of time to turn it in his mouth. I know there are a great many things connected with fishing that a tyro does not understand; though when I was a lad I must have been acquainted with the habits of the tricky bass, or I never could have had the good luck I did.”

Some of those left ashore had portioned out the morning for various tasks or pleasures. It was a part of the plan that there should not be too much labor attempted while they were in camp. They had come all this way from home not so much to work, as to have a delightful time, although certain camp duties had to be observed, for those in charge would allow no shirking.

For instance, Clint Babbett and other photographers were allowed to prowl around and take as many pictures as they chose. If they preferred it, they could learn where certain small animals, such as raccoons or opossums or squirrels or possibly even a mink, had a home, so that they might plan the arranging of a camera and taking a flashlight picture of some animal tugging at the bait left exposed.

Then there was Dan. Nobody was to bother him as long as he wished to sit and ponder and figure with pencil and paper. It was known that Dan was trying to get up some wonderful scheme whereby the monster with the thieving instincts of the monkey race might be entrapped and made captive.

Everybody would, of course, feel greatly relieved could this be attained, and for that reason, if no other, the camp director wished Dan to have all the opportunity possible to expand his scheme.

The anglers were not quite so successful as on former occasions. Dick knew that black bass could be considered whimsical, in that they often refused to take any sort of bait, even when the wind, the water, and other conditions made it an apparently ideal day for fishing.

“Nobody understands just why they act as they do,” he told Mr. Holwell, when the bites were few and far between. “I’ve been fishing most of the day, with never a strike. Then about four o’clock the clouds would come up and the wind shift to a new quarter, when it seemed as if every bass in the whole lake must be fairly wild to get something to eat. You never can count on bass.”

Nevertheless, they managed to take a few good-sized fellows. The fish proved so gamy that Mr. Holwell enjoyed their capture immensely.

“It seems to me the same thrill passes up my arm when I feel that fierce tug that I used to experience in those wonderful days of old,” he went on to say in a ruminating way, as memory once more awakened the scenes long since passed.

“Do you think the savage feels just so, when he brings down his game, or fastens to a big salmon or trout?” asked Dick.

“Well, that’s a question I can hardly answer,” said Mr. Holwell. “From my observation I imagine the only sensation he is apt to feel is gratification over having attained his end, which was to provide food to satisfy his appetite. Only civilized sportsmen have reached such a condition that they fish for the delight of matching their skill against the cunning of the gamy denizens of the lake. After winning the victory the sportsman will often gladly restore the fish to the water again unharmed.”

When lunch was ready at noon the berry pickers came trooping in, looking somewhat wearied, but all in good spirits. They had full buckets, every one, and this meant that the pile of berries would be considerably augmented.

“We intend to try it again to-morrow morning, if things look right, and Mr. Bartlett agrees,” asserted Peg, valiantly. “It was great fun, let me tell you! Why, we could have filled two buckets apiece if we’d had them along.”

“Say, did you happen to see anything of our friend, Bob?” demanded Dan.

“I suppose you mean the gorilla by that,” responded Fred Bonnicastle. “We’re glad to inform you that he was only conspicuous by his absence.”

“And his room was a whole lot better appreciated than his company,” added Eddie Grant. “For one I’m not hankering after running across any Old Man of the Woods just now. If he leaves me alone I’ll promise not to bother him while we’re here on Bass Island.”

“My sentiments every time,” said Phil.

When two or three more had expressed themselves as of the same opinion Dan looked pained.

“Looks as if you were all going to leave it to me to grab that monster,” he told them. “And make up your minds I can do it, if only some of you’ll promise to give me a helping hand.”

At that several immediately announced their willingness to assist.

“Of course we all want to feel that it’s going to be safe for us to wander around anywhere on the island, Dan,” said Fred; “and on that account we hope you’ll get busy. No matter what you want me to do I’ll promise to do it, only please don’t ask me to stand and offer to feed the old scamp out of my hand.”

“You won’t have to,” Dan told him. “Fact is, it’s a spade you’ll have to use more than anything else, a spade and a pick and a shovel, all of which fortunately we brought along with us.”

“Do you mean to dig a grave for the gorilla after you get him?” asked Peg.

“Well, hardly, when we promised Mr. Holwell that we wouldn’t hurt the poor creature,” laughed Dan. “What I want you to do is to dig a pit about ten feet deep, with walls so smooth that no gorilla that ever walked on two legs could manage to climb up again, once he fell in.”

“Oh, so that’s the game!” exclaimed Phil. “A pit trap, is it? Seems to me I’ve read of them in books about life in the jungles of Africa and South America.”

“That’s just where I cribbed the scheme!” exclaimed Dan. “Don’t you remember, Phil, lending me those books that you said used to belong to your father years ago? But what’s the difference anyway who was the originator of the idea? The author of the books got it from the natives who were accustomed to catching wild animals in pits. As soon as we’re through lunch I want some of you fellows to go with me and show what you’re worth as diggers.”

None of them backed out, though all realized that their muscles would be stiff and sore before a ten-foot pit could be finished. Still, “Rome was not built in a day” the minister told them, and they must not expect to rush things. Better divide the job into two periods, and by the close of the next day it could easily be completed.

CHAPTER XXV
THE BERRY PICKERS

That was an unusually long afternoon to the “willing workers” in the pit. From the way in which every little while one or another would stop digging and, climbing out of the hole, take an anxious look toward the west, it could be easily seen that the diggers were getting weary.

Dan, of course, noticed it, and chuckled slily. He realized that they would stand by him to the finish. At the same time he was not above taking what he called “a rise” out of Fred Bonnicastle, who emerged from the pit oftener than the others.

So, on one occasion, when about to suggest stopping work for the day, he casually remarked, as Fred again climbed up out of the hole, now some four feet in depth:

“I guess you think the old days have come around again, Fred.”

Fred looked at him blankly.

“Oh, the days of the Children of Israel when they took possession of the Promised Land, you remember,” continued Dan, grinning.

“I’m still groping in the dark. What have we got to do with Moses and his followers, when they fought with the Philistines?” asked Fred.

“Well,” replied Dan, drily, “from the way you fellows keep staring into the west I just made up my mind some of you had begun to believe Joshua had come along with us, and that he was again commanding the sun to stand still.” At this Fred laughed, as did the others.

“So far as that goes,” acknowledged Peg, “it certainly has seemed a coon’s age since we started grubbing here. Four hours, with only little rests in between when some one spelled me, is going some for my father’s son.”

“Whee! wouldn’t my folks at home stare though, if they could have watched me actually work?” added Phil Harkness, greatly amused. “Why, it’s always been the hardest thing going to coax me to weed a little flower bed up to now.”

“I’m sore, all right,” admitted Fred, candidly; “but it may wear away by morning. Guess Nature didn’t mean me to earn my bread by the sweat of my brow. I think after all I’d better take to the law, as my dad wants me to.”

“Perhaps some of the other fellows may want to change places with you three in the morning,” said Dan, calmly. “My pit is more’n a third completed now, though the worst is still to come, for every shovel of dirt has to be lifted out, and carried away, so as not to excite the suspicions of the beast. Let’s call it off, and meander into camp.”

There was much animated talk around the supper table that night, as Dan and his assistants entered into arguments with some of the others. It ended in three new recruits offering to do their turn in the pit on the following day.

Fred and the two others did not say much, for fear of alarming the volunteers, and causing them to back out. At the same time they might have been observed exchanging significant winks, and the expression on their faces showed satisfaction.

Nothing unusual happened on that night, though some of the boys felt restless. If the prowling animal came around no one saw or heard him; nor was anything missing when morning finally arrived, so far as any one could discover.

“But that means he’ll be with us to-night, never fear,” ventured Dan, with such confidence in his manner that every one knew he did not mean to abandon his pit-digging.

The plans for the day had already been laid out. Dick had concluded to accompany the berry pickers during the morning. He wanted to feel that he had had a hand in helping Eddie, Ban and Cub accumulate a large store of the berries, for they were to be shipped to the market in Cliffwood on the following morning.

Leslie’s father, Mr. Capes, had promised to run up on this day in his car, to see what the boys were doing. He would spend a night in camp, and start back on the following morning. He was also to bring with him receptacles in which such blueberries as had been gathered could be carried back to town.

That was one reason why Dick planned to go out with the three mill boys on this morning, so as to feel that he had helped give them a half holiday. In the afternoon he planned to go fishing with the trio, for Eddie and the others dearly loved all manner of sports, though not able to indulge in them as frequently as some of the other boys, unless, as usually happened, they took Sunday for their outings.

There was certainly no lack of the large berries on Bass Island. Eddie Grant told Dick he could take him to a place they had hardly touched as yet, and where their buckets could easily be filled in two hours.

The berry pickers set off, Fred and Peg going with the party.

“We haven’t seen a sign of a snake so far,” Eddie remarked, as they walked along through the brush and amidst the trees.

“Well, since this is an island, and so far from the mainland,” observed Dick, “perhaps there isn’t a single snake of any kind on it.”

“I’m glad of that,” ventured Ban Jansen, frankly, “’cause I’m not any too fond of the crawlers. My folks told me to keep my eyes peeled for rattlers up in this region. I’d sure hate to run across one of ’em just when I was in the middle of a thick patch of berry bushes.”

The berry pickers enlivened the time with pleasant chatter as they pushed along through the brush, heading toward the distant spot where Eddie had noted the unusually heavily laden blueberry bushes.

Arriving on the ground the boys began to pick. It is slow work at the best, no matter if the berries can be fairly stripped off by a deft motion of the hand; and they could count on a couple of hours at the work if they expected to fill their pails.

By degrees they would, of course, separate as each became absorbed in his own picking. At the same time, they had agreed not to drift so far apart but that a loud shout would bring them together again.

Dick busied himself. And as his fingers worked, so his mind also found employment in going over some of the recent happenings that had served to enliven their camp life.

Among other things he remembered Asa Gardner. It was nice to know that the poor chap had brightened up so much of late. The pitiful expression had left his pinched face.

“He begins to feel now,” Dick was telling himself, “that he has really mastered that old weakness of his about taking things, whether he needed them or not. It was a terrible thing to have grip him, and I’m mighty glad he’s won out. Besides, he needs all the outdoor exercise he can get, so as to throw off that tendency to tuberculosis that runs in his family.”

Thus Dick was thinking of others as he deftly stripped the small twigs of their rich stores. Suddenly he stopped work and stared at the ground.

“Whee! there’s another of those queer footprints again,” he muttered. “Seems that the monkey likes blueberries as well as any human can, or the partridges even. He’s been browsing around here all right, for I can see where something has cleaned off a heap of branches.”

The thought that even then the gorilla, or whatever it was, might not be far away gave Dick a thrill. He was a brave boy, however, as he had proved on numerous occasions in the past; and this was made manifest when he almost unconsciously started to follow the spoor of the animal.

A short distance away he came to a well defined trail. It looked as though the gorilla must have passed along back and forth scores of times.

Dick stood still and stared.

“Here’s a find,” he muttered to himself. “Chances are ten to one that this leads to his den, all right. A nervy hunter might follow it up and come on the big beast in his own quarters; but I reckon it would be silly for me to think of doing such a thing as that.”

The temptation to follow just a little way, to see where the trail led, caused Dick to start hesitatingly forward. A gorilla in his native Borneo haunt is considered one of the most terrible creatures known to big game hunters the world over, not even excepting the grizzly bear of our own country, and Dick’s pulses were bounding, and his nerves were on edge, for he realized that at any minute he might find himself face to face with the animal.

And, indeed, that was just what did happen, for Dick suddenly heard a horrible gurgling sound close by, and turning his head found himself staring at a squatty, hairy figure that looked like a misshapen man with amazingly broad shoulders, and long dangling arms.

CHAPTER XXVI
POACHING ON STRANGE PRESERVES

“Oh! good-bye!”

As Dick gasped these two words he flung himself squarely around, and ran wildly. At the same time he listened, with his heart almost in his mouth, to ascertain whether the terrible animal were chasing after him. Yes, he could catch that odd thumping sound so like the roll of a distant bass drum.

The boy ran in the direction that would take him close to where his companions were busily engaged in picking berries. He did not mean to lead the beast so as to include Eddie and the rest in his own danger; but he wished to warn them so that they, too, might flee from that perilous section.

When they heard him shout they quickly understood. Even before that it had dawned upon their comprehension that something was amiss, for they had caught the noise made by Dick’s frantic passage through the bushes. Besides, the booming sound from beyond had also been carried to their ears.

Now all six were tearing off like mad, and for a brief time it seemed as though the berry picking must be abandoned for that day at least. Dick soon found that they were not being pursued. Then the ridiculous character of the wild flight broke in upon him, and he laughed aloud.

This caused the others to feel safer. Surely the situation could not be so very desperate if Dick, wise Dick, could give way to merriment.

Eddie Grant joined in the laughter, and Ban and Cub, not to show the white feather, followed suit, until all of them threw themselves down on the ground and tried to catch their breath again.

There was considerable badgering, for each chose to believe that all save himself were panic-stricken. Of course, he had galloped along just because it was the fashion, and he did not wish to be left to face the ugly beast alone.

When Dick candidly admitted that he had been badly scared the others realized that confession was good for the soul; and in the end everybody owned up.

“Do we give up the job then for to-day?” asked Fred Bonnicastle.

“Oh! I know lots of other places where the berries are just about as thick as off there,” asserted Eddie Grant, who, having undertaken a task, however unpleasant, never wished to relinquish it.

“Who’s afraid?” demanded Cub Mannis.

Of course, after all this manifestation of valor no one dared hint at stopping work just because there chanced to be an escaped gorilla loose on Bass Island.

“We can arrange to keep closer together after this,” suggested Eddie, “and have a signal to close up in a bunch if the old critter bobs up again. But like as not we happened on his private preserves when we tackled that batch of berries, and he ain’t goin’ to bother us if we keep away.”

It was natural that the boys remained in a nervous frame of mind during the remainder of that morning. If a bird flew up suddenly, or a branch scraped against the trunk of a tree, emitting a harsh sound, some of them were sure to take in a long breath and stare around uneasily.

The pails were slow in filling up, too, on account of this vigilance and of the fact that the pickers stuck close together. In fact, the time dragged until it was well on toward noon before Eddie announced that his pail was running over.

“Can’t seem to hold another handful, fellows,” he observed. “And as you’re all in the same fix I move we start back to camp.”

“That suits me all right!” declared Fred; and not a murmur of dissent was heard, for every one was only too glad that the long strain had come to an end.

When the berry pickers told of their experience that noon, as they munched the lunch that had been prepared, dinner being reserved for the evening when Mr. Capes would in all probability be with them, the others listened with a sort of awe.

Although, boy like, some of them ventured to make fun of the berry pickers on account of their panic, secretly they were ready to confess that under similar conditions they would have done the same thing—would have run wildly.

“Well, my pit is four-fifths dug,” announced Dan, proudly. “And if I can get a new shift of workers this afternoon I’ll have it done easily, so the trap could be set this very night.”

Several volunteers were immediately forthcoming, among others Asa Gardner, who, while not as strong physically as most of the others, wished to do his share.

“You see,” he explained to Dan when making the offer, “I don’t want to be left out of the running.”

“Well,” observed Fred Bonnicastle, drily, “you wouldn’t have if you’d gone off with our bunch this morning, I can tell you that. Eh, fellows?”

Dick, true to his promise, after certain camp duties had been performed, went out in one of the boats with Eddie, Ban and Cub to try for the bass.

“We’d like to give Mr. Capes a treat and the finest dinner possible while he’s up here over night with us,” he told his companions, while rowing toward his favorite fishing grounds. “So everybody must do his level best to land some big fellows, if only we can tempt them to take hold.”

The conditions seemed especially favorable. The sun was hidden much of the time behind friendly clouds, and a gentle wind blew from the southwest, causing a ripple on the water such as fishermen delight to see.

The sport turned out to be excellent, and some extra fine fish were taken during the several hours the quartette spent at their pleasant task.

“Let me tell you this beats picking berries all hollow,” remarked Eddie, as he played a sturdy bronze-backed warrior, and watched the captive leap wildly from the water time after time, always attempting to throw his weight upon the line so as to break the hook loose from his jaw.

“I never seem to get enough of it,” added Cub, all aglow as he, too, felt a savage jerk, and succeeded in fastening a mate to Eddie’s fellow, so that there were lively times at both ends of the anchored boat.

Indeed, the pleasures of that single afternoon were enough to repay the mill boys for all their labors. One and all they confessed, when later on heading for the camp, that they had never had such glorious fishing in all their lives.

Dan was found in camp fairly palpitating with satisfaction. Dick knew before a single word had been said that the pit was completed.

“Come out and see it, Dick,” urged the proud architect. And as there was still an hour and more before sundown, Dick gladly complied.

He found that the pit had been neatly covered with a matting of slender poles, upon which both earth and leaves had been deftly strewn. In fact, Dick might himself have stepped upon this disguising covering only that Dan caught his arm and held him back.

“You see where I’ve hung the bait,” he observed, pointing upward as he spoke. “The gorilla can’t reach it without stepping squarely out on the weak platform, and he’ll go plump down so fast there’ll be no chance for him to throw out those long arms of his and grab a branch above. I guess his goose will be cooked all right if only he browses around this way to-night, as I hope will happen.”

Dick shook hands with the originator of the pit trap.

“Here’s hoping he comes—and stays, Dan!” he said.

“You like the way we fixed it, then, do you, Dick?” demanded the other. For according to his way of thinking commendation from Dick was always to be accepted as a certificate of real merit.

“It couldn’t be better, Dan, and you have cause to be proud of your work.”

They had just returned to the camp when one of the boys was heard shouting:

“There’s a big car arrived across the bay from us, where Leslie and Phil are waiting with the boat.”

“Seems to be something of a crowd along,” remarked Dan; “I can see the chauffeur all right, and Mr. Capes; but there’s another, too. Wonder now who he brought up here with him to-day?”

“They’re fixing some sort of canvas over the car, so as to leave it there for the night,” ventured Asa, straining his eyes in the effort to make things out.

“Now they’re beginning to get into the boat, after the boys have taken aboard some bundles that may be containers for the berries,” said Dick. “I can give a pretty good guess who that third person is, boys.”

“Mr. Nocker, Dick, don’t you think?” asked Peg. “Seems to me he looks kind of familiar, with his tall figure, and queer way of walking.”

“Just who it is,” replied Dick, without hesitation. “Mr. Nocker has taken the trouble to come all the way up here to spend a night with us boys, and see how we carry on when in camp.”

“Just to think of him, doing such a thing,” ventured Dan, “when only a short time ago he detested every type of boy, because they reminded him of his own son who gave him so much trouble, and finally ran away from home and died.”

“Yes,” interrupted Dick, softly. “But that was before Mr. Nocker met his little grandson, Billy, and felt a new sensation in his withered old heart. Nowadays he loves boys, and can’t do too much for them. Forget all about the past, fellows, and only remember that Mr. Nocker is now one of our best friends.”

CHAPTER XXVII
A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN CAMPFIRE

When finally the boat arrived at the island landing, and the passengers came ashore, they were greeted with three rousing cheers by the score of lads. Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett and the athletic director added their voices to the chorus, and then shook hands with the guests, who were soon made to feel at home.

A brush shanty had been erected during the day by some of the busy workers. This was to be used to house the “overflow.” It was intended that one of the tents should be handed over to Mr. Capes. The deacon would occupy a part of it, while the chauffeur could be taken care of elsewhere.

There was a great feast that night, the assistant cooks “doing themselves proud,” so they declared, in their desire to let these gentlemen see that boys know how to serve as accomplished chefs when they are in camp.

“I don’t remember enjoying a meal so much as this in many a long day,” admitted Deacon Nocker, when he had to decline any further helping.

“That fresh bass was simply delicious,” observed Mr. Capes, smacking his lips, and then adding, when several started to try to fill up his pannikin again: “Not another mouthful, or I’ll be foundered. This takes me away back to the days when I too was a boy, and used to camp out. I quite envy you, Mr. Holwell, the opportunity to spend a week with these fellows.”

After the meal was finished what a glorious time they had sitting around the blazing campfire, and talking “a blue streak,” as Leslie called it. Scores of things had to be told, all connected with the trip, though it could easily be seen that the chief subject of all was the presence of the gorilla on the island.

To the surprise of the boys Mr. Nocker, as soon as he learned about the animal, declared that he could explain where it had come from, though probably no one would ever be able to find out how the gorilla managed to get to the island, almost a mile from the main shore.

“Last spring there was an accident to a circus that was showing over in Hastings,” he went on to say, “and some of the animals escaped. I remember that among them was an enormous gorilla, though I never learned whether the animal had been captured again or not. Apparently he never was, and has found his way up here, to frighten a lot of people, and rob their camps on the island.”

“Then that was what you meant, was it, Mr. Nocker,” asked Dick, “when you told us to beware of the mysterious thief while up here on your property?”

“Exactly,” replied the gentleman, grimly. “Though it never once occurred to me to connect the thievery with the disappearance of the gorilla. Some gentlemen I knew came up here when the fishing season opened, to enjoy casting the fly for the gamy black bass of Lake Russabaga. They camped on this island, and had a fine time. The only thing that annoyed them was the remarkable manner in which through some unknown agency various valuable articles vanished.”

“He seems to like things that have a shine to them,” remarked Mr. Holwell, humorously, “judging from the fact that he took not only my gold watch and Dan’s nickel one, but the aluminum frying-pan as well. We don’t believe he could have any particular need for that, unless to use it as a looking-glass.”

“Well,” Mr. Nocker continued, “according to my recollection those gentlemen from Creston lost a field-glass they valued highly, as well as a watch, and several other things, that they would surely pay a good reward to recover.”

“That makes me think of something,” Dick spoke up.

“Tell us what it is, then, please?” urged Leslie, quickly.

“The trail I started to follow at the time I glimpsed the gorilla standing so close by, was so well beaten that I felt sure it must lead to his den, somewhere in the thickest part of the jungle.”

“It stands to reason that would be the case,” admitted Mr. Nocker. “I suppose you are going to say, Dick, that if the pit trap works and the monster is caught, so there need be no further fear of him, you mean to follow up that trail and find his den?”

“Why, yes, sir, that was what I had in mind,” admitted the boy, modestly. “If he is like some monkeys I’ve read about, that had such a weakness for pretty and shiny things that they stole them, he’ll keep his trophies there, and we’ll be apt to get back everything that’s been taken.”

“Thank you for that comforting assurance, Dick,” said Mr. Holwell. “There’s a standing reward of ten dollars out for the safe return of my watch. I’d feel that I was getting off pretty cheap at that, for I cherish that keepsake considerably above its intrinsic value. Then Dan, here, is to be heard from also, for he’s in the same boat with me.”

“Ten cents reward, and no questions asked,” declared Dan, “for the safe return of my dollar watch! That’s ten per cent. you know. I only hope the rascal hasn’t gone and stowed it away in his cheek, as I saw a tricky monkey do when he’d hooked a man’s watch right from his pocket.”

Many times during the evening Dan might have been observed listening eagerly. He half fancied he had caught some significant sound which indicated that his expected guest had arrived at the trap, and taken the plunge.

On each occasion, however, he concluded he must have been mistaken. At any rate Dan did not see fit to ask any one to accompany him thither, lantern in hand, to investigate. Indeed, it is questionable if he could have found a single recruit had he proposed such a thing. The boys were not keen to wander far from the protection of that jolly campfire, knowing, as they did, what sort of terrible beast was making its home on Bass Island.

Both Mr. Nocker and Mr. Capes asked so many questions that it is doubtful whether anything escaped being told during those delightful hours spent around the crackling fire. The evening had turned out a bit chilly, too, which made the blaze all the more appreciated.

Then at the suggestion of Mr. Holwell, who knew how splendidly the Y. M. C. A. boys could sing, they gave a number of their school songs, and patriotic airs as well. Dick, learning that the minister had a special liking for “Onward Christian Soldiers,” coaxed Leslie to strike up with his clear tenor, and the rest came thundering along in the chorus, greatly to the delight of Mr. Holwell, in whose eyes dewdrops sparkled when they were through.

“I have heard that inspiring song on many notable occasions, boys,” he assured them, “but I give you my word for it, never sung as to-night. Here on this lonely island in the vast lake the sound seems to roll over the water with telling effect. I never before realized how wonderfully charming songs can sound on the water. It gives them a special value that could not be attained in any other way. I shall never, never forget this night, and the ones who have entertained us so well.”

Mr. Nocker was almost as enthusiastic in his praise.

“I want to say to you, young fellows,” he told them, with considerable emotion in his voice and manner, “that I am proud to be reckoned your friend in these days of reconstruction. I would not go back to the life I used to lead for all the money in the United States. Since little Billy came into my life it seems as though the scales have dropped from my eyes, and the whole world has taken on a new and glorious aspect. And I owe it mostly to Dick here. God bless him.”

“Hear! hear!” shouted some of the lads.

“The best chum going!” others roared.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow, which none can deny!” chanted Leslie and several of the rest in chorus. Nor did the camp director have the heart to restrain this boisterous demonstration.

Dick laughed, and turned red; but, of course, he would not have been human if he had not felt his heart beating faster than its wont with happiness, when he realized that these good friends thought so well of him, and that Mr. Nocker no longer deemed all boys “Sons of Belial,” as he used to affirm.

Much as they enjoyed that evening, the hour grew late, and some of the campers were found to be secretly yawning behind their palms. So Mr. Bartlett said it would be just as well for them to consider retiring, as they would want to be up early in the morning.

“Don’t forget we’ve got to have breakfast,” he remarked at the same time. “And all that heap of fine, hard blueberries must be placed in the containers our friends have taken the trouble to bring along with them. They wish to make a start before the sun gets too high, because it’s a long and rough ride to Cliffwood.”

Dan lingered around while the others were preparing to seek their blankets. He often cast an anxious look off toward the place where his trap had been set, and Dick found no trouble in guessing what his thoughts were.

“Try to forget all about it until you wake up in the morning, Dan,” he told the other. “I’ll want to go over with you, remember, to see if anything happened while we slept.”

“I’ll be mighty glad to have you along, Dick,” Dan replied. “I reckon I fixed everything just right, and if the creature comes snooping around and tries to hook the bait hung up out of his reach, he’s liable to take a sudden tumble, believe me! All right,” he went on, “I’ll turn in, as you say; so good night, Dick!”

Ten minutes afterwards the camp was wrapped in silence.

CHAPTER XXVIII
WHEN THE PIT TRAP WORKED

Dick had just succeeded in hurriedly dressing on the following morning, after the regular turn in the lake, when some one nervously gripped his arm. Turning, he discovered, just as he expected, that it was Dan with an eager look of anticipation on his face.

“Dick, you haven’t forgotten, I hope?” was his anxious greeting.

“Oh, no! if by that you mean I’m to go along with you to the trap,” answered the other, smiling at the look on Dan’s face.

“You won’t be long, I hope, Dick?” Dan continued, pleadingly, as the other turned back toward his tent.

“I’ll join you just as quickly as I can, Dan.”

“And Dick, did you happen to wake up during the night? If so, tell me: Was there any sort of noise from that region?”

“Nothing that I noticed, Dan; though I slept sounder than usual I’m afraid. But we’ll soon settle that, you know.”

“Whew! I’m all in a tremble to find out,” muttered the other, as he cast another quick glance toward the quarter where his thoughts were centered.

Dick took pity on him, and did hurry, even postponing some of his customary morning duties until later. He found Dan waiting, almost consumed with impatience. No one noticed them steal quietly off, which was just as well. Indeed, Dan breathed an audible sigh of relief when he made sure of this fact.

“Course if there isn’t any Old Man of the Woods squatting down in my pit trap,” he went on to explain as they walked, “we needn’t hurry to say anything about it. If anybody happens to mention the subject later on I’ll tell ’em I hardly expected to strike oil the first thing, and that they’ve just got to give me time.”

Like most boys Dan was very sensitive to ridicule, as his words proved. Dick said nothing further, for already they were beginning to draw near the spot where the pit had been dug.

That Dan was very much on the alert his actions speedily proved. He suddenly clutched his companion rigidly by the arm, and his voice was husky with self-suppressed excitement as he gasped:

“Dick, I do believe it worked after all!”

“What makes you think so?” asked Dick, who had as yet seen nothing to disclose this fact.

“Because the bait is gone!” continued Dan, growing more and more excited. “I hung it up on that branch you can see moving in the wind, and now it’s bare. No danger of its having fallen off either. Something’s taken it, Dick!”

“So? Then let’s move along and make sure,” remarked the second boy.

Ten seconds later Dan made another discovery.

“Oh! the mat over the hole has been broken in, Dick—it certainly has!” he cried in growing excitement.

“Good enough!” his chum observed. “Then let’s hope Mr. Gorilla is right now down in the pit, waiting for us to come and explain what we mean by deceiving a poor old simian in such a mean way. Come along, Dan. The chances are you’ve caught him.”

All doubt was removed shortly afterwards, when creeping cautiously up the two boys peered over the edge of the pit. Most of the covering had been dragged down with the heavy descending body of the gorilla when he fell in, so that enough daylight managed to struggle to the bottom to disclose a fearful sight.

There sat the gorilla, blinking his wicked little eyes up at the faces of his captors, of whose presence he seemed to be fully aware. He was all that Dan had pictured him, short of stature, with an immense girth of chest, long muscular arms, and squatty lower limbs. Ugly though he seemed to the boys, Dick was rather of the opinion that the animal could not be quite as ferocious as those of his species when met in their native Borneo haunts.

“He must have got used to folks in the years of his captivity,” Dick remarked to the shivering Dan; “and that’s why he doesn’t take on dreadful, now that he understands he’s caught in a trap, and will have to go back to his cage again.”

“My stars!” muttered the entranced Dan, “if he’s a tame gorilla deliver me from ever running across a real wild one. All the money in the world couldn’t tempt me to drop down in that pit alongside that old chap. Ugh! excuse me! Even the thought of it makes me creep all over.”

“We’ll try not to have any such accident as that,” remarked Dick, experiencing a squeamish feeling himself at the idea. “And now, what are you going to do with Bob, since you’ve trapped him?”

“I’ve figured all that out,” replied Dan. “We’ll have Mr. Capes find where that circus proprietor is holding out this week. There must be ways of doing that, you see. And then he can wire him that his gorilla is trapped, and for him to come along as fast as he can, with a cage and experienced help to get him out.”

“That’s a good scheme, Dan,” commended the other, slapping his chum on the back. “And in the meantime we’ll have to see that the old fellow doesn’t want for his regular allowance of grub.”

“No danger of his climbing out, is there, Dick?”

“I should hardly think so,” the other replied, after again taking a survey of the deep pit. “The only way he could ever do that would be to dig holes in the side, and I don’t believe he’s up to that game. Anyhow we’ll keep tab of his doings, and if we find he’s trying a game like that we’ll check him in a hurry.”

Dan began to take on the airs of a world conqueror. The look of anxiety gradually left his face, giving way to one of conscious triumph. Indeed, it must be confessed that he puffed his chest out a little as, in company with Dick, he returned to the camp.

Their coming was noticed, if their flitting had passed without comment.

“Any luck, Dan?” called Andy Hale, who was trying to get his refractory crop of bristly hair to stay down, always a difficult morning task with him.

“Say, do we have gorilla steak for breakfast?” demanded Nat Silmore, trying to be funny, though his recent actions had shown that the presence of the animal in the vicinity of the camp was anything but a joke with him.

“Oh, well, you can settle that yourself,” said Dan, carelessly. “I make a standing offer right here and now. Any fellow who cares to drop down into that pit this morning may have all my coop of homing pigeons free, gratis, for nothing.”

The offer caused a sensation.

“Did you get him, Dan?” demanded Eddie Grant.

“Whoop! Dan’s trapped the old thief after all! Bully for Dan!” yelled Peg.

“Did you, Dan, and is the Jabberwock mad about it?” asked Andy Hale.

Even the grown members of the party evinced considerable interest in the matter. Mr. Bartlett knew that some of the boys, more impetuous than wise, would be apt to rush toward the pit in order to gratify their curiosity. He wished to warn them of the danger involved in carelessness.

“Mr. Holwell,” he said, “Dan invites us all to come and see for ourselves. But before we go I wish to tell the boys to be very particular not to crowd up close to the edge of the pit. If the earth crumbled under any one and he fell in I’m afraid he’d never come out alive again.”

Accordingly, the boys promised to exercise the greatest care. Then the whole troop followed in the wake of the proud originator of the scheme to trap the disturber of their peace.

Judging from the broad grin decorating the face of Dan Fenwick when he looked around once or twice, it was the happiest moment of his whole young life. He could understand the feelings that must have filled the heart of some ancient conqueror, when crowned with the laurel wreath of victory and watching the strings of captives paraded before the throngs filling the public square in Rome.

The captured gorilla must have been quite used to seeing human faces about his cage, for he never once got up from his squatting position, but just blinked up at them, and scowled frightfully.

“Deliver me from meeting that chap in the woods after night sets in!” remarked Clint Babbett.

“And Nat, I’m going to ask your pardon for laughing at you because you yelled when that monster took to playing leap-frog over you,” said Peg Fosdick, humbly. “If I waked from a sound sleep and saw him sailing past I reckon my heart would nearly jump out of my mouth with fear. Say, he’s the limit!”

“Look at the muscles in his arms, would you?” cried Andy Hale. “Huh! no wonder he smashed that first trap of yours to flinders, Dan. After this I can easily believe the stories about a gorilla tying a gun-barrel into a knot.”

The sight of the beast sitting so close to them, though unable to do them injury, was so fascinating that Mr. Bartlett had to order the boys back to the camp.

“And remember,” he added sternly, “not one of you except Dan or Dick must ever approach this place without special permission. What that rascal might do should any one fall into the pit I am not prepared to say. So far we’ve managed to get on without any serious trouble; and we don’t want our camping trip to be marred by tragedy. Please remember those are my positive orders, and I shall hold each one of you responsible for any disobedience.”

The boys had never seen Mr. Bartlett so serious, and his words made a deep impression on even Nat and his two reckless cronies. But the camp director knew it was no time for trifling; and he believed in closing the stable-door before the horse was stolen, not afterwards, when it was too late.

Breakfast followed, after which preparations were made looking to the departure of the guests. All of them declared they had enjoyed their too brief stay greatly, and shook hands with each member of the camp guard. The berries had been placed in the carriers provided and were loaded into one of the boats, which Elmer and Peg offered to row over to the landing.

Mr. Bartlett had been privately asked by the minister to select Asa Gardner to help Leslie ferry the three guests across to where their car awaited them. Of course, Mr. Holwell had an object in so doing, wishing Asa to understand that he was considered a member in good standing of the party, and that whatever the past held in the shape of regrets need not bother him a particle now.

Asa looked quite cheerful. With the capture of the thieving gorilla the last doubt had been removed from his mind. Dick secretly found himself rejoicing with the boy who had had to fight so desperately in order to conquer his evil tendencies. He meant to keep in close touch with Asa after this, realizing that the person who has won a victory over himself deserves ten times more credit than those who have never had to engage in a fight with their weak natures.

In good time the car started back toward Cliffwood, with a long journey before the travelers. And across the intervening water came the cheers of those who from the distant island watched the departure of the guests. A few half wished they, too, were starting for dear old Cliffwood. It was only natural that a feeling akin to home-sickness should for a moment grip their young hearts. But all this was soon forgotten, when they began to plan for another day of good times.

CHAPTER XXIX
CLEARING UP THE MYSTERY

“Feel like coming with me this morning, Leslie?” asked Dick, after one party had set off to fill the pails with berries, and while another group was busy catching minnows for bait, as the supply had got somewhat low in the reservoir where the bait was kept.

“Count on me if Mr. Bartlett is willing,” laughed Leslie Capes. “And I say that without even asking what’s in the wind. I know that when you get an idea in your head it’s generally worth something.”

“Listen,” said Dick. “When I saw that well-trodden trail the gorilla had made you remember I remarked that it must lead to the place he’d been using for his den. Now that the old fellow is safe, and there’s no danger of meeting him on the way, I’m thinking of taking a look-in on his home.”

Leslie was interested immediately.

“Thank you then for selecting me to go along, Dick,” he cried.

“Just as if you weren’t always first choice with me, old fellow,” returned Dick. “But honest, I’m curious to find out what sort of place the wily old beast picked out for his den. More than likely we’ll never know how he got across to this island; but we can find out what he’s done here in these months since he broke away from the circus in that storm.”

“And,” continued Leslie, “I rather think you hope we may be lucky enough to find some of the many things the thieving rascal has made away with, not only from our camp, but from that of the sporting party up here for the fly-fishing earlier in the summer.”

Dick nodded his head in the affirmative.

“There’s no telling,” he admitted. “Though perhaps we’d better not count our chickens before they’re hatched. Even if we find nothing, it’ll be interesting to follow that path made by the feet of the gorilla.”

“Sure it will,” agreed Leslie, “now that we know where the old gent is stopping temporarily. If he were foot-free nothing could tempt me to meander in that quarter, and take chances of meeting him face to face in the brush, where running would be a hard job. Whee!”

He shrugged his shoulders to add emphasis to his words, and Dick evidently quite agreed with his partner, to judge from the look on his face.

Some time later on the pair found themselves in that part of the big island so well remembered by Dick as the scene of his panic of the former day. They caught the sound of voices near by, and understood from this that Eddie Grant and the other pickers had concluded to visit that rich harvest field, now that all danger had been removed.

“No need of their knowing we’re around as yet,” whispered Dick. “So come along over this way, for that’s where I struck the well-worn trail.”

He had made no mistake, Leslie soon learned. Even though so soon afterwards compelled to fly for his life, Dick had noted the ground, and a few minutes later he was pointing down at his feet.

Both boys examined the earth with interest, but their curiosity was so great that they did not care to linger long. Following that plain trail was the easiest kind of work, for the gorilla had not attempted to “blind” it in the least.

At the end the boys reached a sort of strange shelter undoubtedly made by the Borneo man-monkey. It was fashioned from branches, and matted in such a clever way that the boys declared it would shed water as well as any thatched roof they had ever seen.

“I never dreamed a gorilla could do such work as this,” Leslie said, as they stood and examined the shelter.

“Oh!” explained Dick, quickly, “from what I’ve read about them, over in Borneo, where they mostly come from, they have their homes in trees and make many such shelters so the baby gorillas can be kept dry when the tropical rains come on.”

“Well,” continued the wondering Leslie, “it seems that this old fellow hadn’t forgotten the lessons of his younger years, even if he was shut up in a cage for goodness knows how long.”

“That can be set down as the instinct,” said Dick, “which animals and birds have in place of the reasoning powers of the human mind. A wild bird can be taken from the nest when it’s just hatched, reared in a cage, and if set free will be able to construct a nest exactly like those its species has been building ever since the world began.”

“It’s just wonderful, that’s what, Dick! But let’s creep underneath and see if we can find anything of the lost articles.”

No sooner were they inside the rude shelter than both boys uttered cries of wonder mingled with delight.

“Here’s his treasure-chest as sure as anything!” yelled Leslie. “Oh, look, Dick! Mr. Holwell’s gold watch, and not a bit hurt, either! Won’t he be tickled half to death at getting it back? When I start winding it up I can hear it begin to work. And here’s Dan’s nickel time-keeper too, as well as Peg’s precious aluminum frying-pan.”

“Yes, and I’ve found the field-glasses that other party lost, as well as lots of things besides,” added Dick, laughing happily, for it really did seem as though the very last of their troubles had now been smoothed out.

“This is certainly a great picnic,” asserted Leslie. “I’d like Clint to come and take a good picture of this ape-made shack. It’d be well worth showing, with our crowd grouped around it as evidence that we’ve been here.”

“I’ll ask Mr. Bartlett to have it done to-morrow, for Mr. Holwell talks of having to go back home on the next day!” Dick declared.

“We’ll all be sorry to see the last of him, Dick.”

“That’s right,” agreed the other, earnestly. “Mr. Holwell is one man among a million when it comes to knowing just how to wind boys around his finger. But then that’s because he loves boys so. No man can have control over them unless he is thinking and planning for their benefit night and day.”

“I reckon you’re right there,” Leslie asserted. “Boys are a heap like animals. A dog knows by instinct who’s his friend. He’ll come up to one fellow wagging his tail the minute he hears his voice, even if he never saw him before; and growl as soon as another chap speaks to him. That’s the way with boys—they just know.”

As there was nothing more to detain them, Dick and his chum set off to find the berry pickers and lead them to the strange shelter fashioned by the escaped gorilla.

Great was the astonishment of the mill lads when they looked upon the “den,” and learned that everything that had been taken from their camp, as well as numerous other articles, had been recovered.

That very afternoon all of the campers made their way to the spot, and Clint, as well as several other contestants for the photograph prize, managed to get several pictures of the “monkey shack” as the boys called it. They took inside views also, with the array of recovered articles in plain sight, as a reminder of the thievish propensities of the big ape.

Several days later some one was discovered making gestures, and signalling from the mainland. Upon this a couple of the boys rowed over and found that two men had arrived in a sort of wagon, that could be also called a cage.

This was the circus proprietor and one of his assistants, who had come to get the valuable animal that had been loose so long. The proprietor brought a letter from Mr. Capes, as had been agreed upon. This told of the reward of two hundred dollars which had been offered for the capture of the gorilla, and which the proprietor had agreed to pay to the boys in camp.

After some little time the experienced circus men managed to get the gorilla into the cage. Dick suspected that they made use of chloroform or something of that nature, though he was never sure about it, because no one was allowed to accompany them when they went to the pit.

On the following day the two skiffs were fastened together, and in this way served as a ferryboat to take the cage and its occupant across to where the wagon awaited them.

The money in cash was handed to Dick, greatly to the delight of Dan and the rest of the boys; for it had been decided that the reward was to go into the club treasury for future needs.

This was not all the good fortune that came their way. Mr. Holwell had insisted in redeeming his word, and he placed ten dollars in Dick’s hand when he was handed his valued gold watch, unharmed save by a single scratch that would always serve to bring the exciting events of the occasion fresh to his mind.

Not to be outdone, Dan also handed his “magnificent reward” over, swelling the aggregate receipts of the treasury by another ten cents. And later on, when the sportsmen from Creston were communicated with and told the wonderful story, they sent twenty-five dollars to Mr. Bartlett for the boys of the Cliffwood Y. M. C. A. with their compliments.

Returning again to the afternoon just after the ape had been trapped, it can be easily understood that there were many lighter hearts in the camp, now that all danger of a night visit from the gorilla was past.

Nat and his two cronies in particular seemed to have recovered their lost nerve—a fact that Dick was none too glad to see, for he half feared Mr. Bartlett might have trouble with the trio after Mr. Holwell left. Still, as the loyal ones were so overwhelmingly in the majority it hardly seemed likely that Nat would try any of his tricks, with the odds so greatly against him.

The day finally came when Mr. Holwell had to leave the boys. He showed that he disliked doing so very much. He had so heartily enjoyed himself while among them that he felt keenly the severance of those friendly ties that bound him to his boys.

In fact everybody was more or less subdued, and no one displayed any ambition to do anything until after Mr. Holwell had said good-bye.

CHAPTER XXX
BREAKING CAMP—CONCLUSION

Dick chanced to be talking with Mr. Holwell on the morning of departure, asking his advice regarding several things that might arise later on, when Asa Gardner approached.

Seeing the boy hesitate the minister smiled, and beckoned to him.

“I’m glad you’re having such a good time up here, Asa,” he said in his kindly fashion, as his strong hand grasped that of the boy in whom he felt such a deep interest.

“Oh! I certainly am feeling splendid just now,” Asa told him, brightening up. “I was worried for a while, as Dick knows, sir, because I had begun to be afraid that in spite of all I could do my old trouble was getting the better of me. But when we found out about that gorilla, why, of course, I just knew it couldn’t be so.”

“Take my advice, Asa,” said Mr. Holwell, steadily, “and never allow yourself to believe for even a minute that you can go back to the old ways again. That weakness is dead, I tell you! It lost its grip when you gave your dear mother that solemn promise. I knew you would win out, and redeem the past; and I’m proud of the way you’re doing it, son.”

Asa should have beamed with pleasure on hearing this, but then he was an odd sort of boy, Dick knew. He was therefore not much surprised to hear him give a big sigh, and then go on to say with a whimsical smile:

“Sometimes I do feel that I’ve done pretty well, sir; and then I think of the story I once heard you tell at a meeting of boys.”

“What was that, Asa?” asked the minister, realizing that the shadow of the past would be likely to haunt the sensitive lad for a long while, until time had healed the wound.

“I’ll tell you, sir. It certainly did make a great impression on me,” said Asa. “There was once a boy who got to doing so many bad things that his father took him to task. He had him set up a nice clean post, and made him promise that every time he did a thing that he shouldn’t he would drive a nail into it. Then when he did a good deed he could draw a nail out.”

Mr. Holwell knew what was coming, but he only smiled, and said encouragingly when Asa stopped to catch his breath:

“Yes, go on, Asa.”

“One day, sir, as you told us, that boy suddenly began to notice that his post was getting pretty full of nails. That scared him, and made him feel bad; so he set himself to stopping his bad deeds, and did things worth while. Then one day he took his father out to look at the post. There wasn’t a nail left in it, sir. He had drawn them every one out!”

Again Asa gulped hard, and then managed to continue.

“The boy’s father was proud of him, you said, because he knew he had managed by his little scheme to make the boy think, which was just what he had wished to do. So he told him that he was pleased to see the post without a nail. And then, Mr. Holwell, the boy turned to him and said sadly: ‘But Father, the holes are still there!’ And that’s the way with me, sir. I seem to have managed to reform, but every little while I see all those terrible holes in the post to remind me of what I’ve done in the past!”

Mr. Holwell patted Asa on the shoulder.

“Cheer up, my son,” he said, heartily. “It is that regret which is bound to make your footing sure on the rocks. When any one can forget his weaknesses of the past he is in danger of slipping again. That conscience of yours is going to be your best asset. Don’t fret about what is past, but look hopefully into the future. If the chance ever comes your way, help some other fellow to get his feet on a firm and sure foundation. Remember, I believe in you, and I have no fear.”

Dick’s hand-grip, too, caused Asa to color. With such good friends beside him what boy need worry about the future? So the look of foreboding began to leave his face from that hour, and Asa showed that he could be a good comrade in the sports of the camp, as well as in its obligations.

The campers gave Mr. Holwell a royal send-off. The cheers followed him across the water, and broke out again when he and Dick started for the station, for the latter insisted on accompanying him that far on his way, to carry his bag, and have a last little talk.

It was well on toward noon when Dick and Asa returned to camp. The boys, together with Harry Bartlett and the physical instructor, settled down to enjoy the remainder of their stay on Bass Island as best they could. There could be no doubt about their having a fine time; but all the same most of them would miss Mr. Holwell very much.

Nat Silmore was beginning to grow tired of it all. He missed something that he was accustomed to having when off on any such trip as this. This was the liberty to play pranks without being reprimanded by Harry Bartlett or the athletic director.

So Nat and his two cronies fretted under the galling conditions. They would have only too willingly accompanied the circus men when they went away with the captured gorilla, except for the fact that Mr. Bartlett had the return railway tickets, and the distance was much too far for them to dream of trying to walk.

Nat and his cronies on one occasion refused to do their share of the work, whereupon Mr. Bartlett promptly gave them to understand that those who did not take part in the camp routine and daily exercises could not have anything to eat. That, of course, brought the rebels to terms, but from that time on, while they picked berries and chopped wood in turn, and forced themselves to play their parts, they kept pretty much to themselves, and looked gloomy, as though counting the days when this irksome camp life would come to an end.

With the three mill boys the exact opposite came about. They learned that these other lads were not in the least snobbish. Then the kindly spirit in which most of the boys helped pick berries so that Eddie, Ban and Cub could enjoy their afternoons in any way they wished, made a deep impression on the three.

“One thing sure!” Eddie told Dick, on the day before they were to break camp and start back to Cliffwood. “You’ll see a lot of the mill boys fairly tumble over themselves to join the Junior Department of the Y. M. C. A. when they hear how royally we three have been taken care of up here. From Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Rowland, all the way down, I want to say you’re the whitest bunch that I ever traveled with—all but Nat Silmore and his pair of black sheep.”

The last night came, and the camp paraphernalia was pretty well packed up. Mr. Bartlett had made arrangements for the wagons to be on hand early on the following morning to haul the camp material down to the railroad, where it could be put aboard the same train which Mr. Holwell had taken, coming along about ten o’clock.

Although they had certainly had a wonderfully fine time of it, apparently nobody seemed sorry because they were about to start back to Cliffwood. Home yearnings had commenced to be felt of late, and some of the boys could hardly wait for the dawn to break. Indeed, the last night in camp promised to be about as sleepless as the first had been, judging from their excitement.

All through their stay keen rivalry had continued between those who were entered for the various prizes. The result would not be known until Mr. Bartlett and the physical director could have a chance to count up the scores and announce results. This, of course, served to keep the interest of the contestants at fever heat.

There was also the interest in the plan aided and abetted by Mr. Bartlett, who contributed liberally toward raising a certain sum. This was presented to the genial cook, whose good nature had endured through the entire stretch of camp life.

Mr. Bartlett made the presentation, heartily applauded by the boys.

“Here’s ten dollars we’ve chipped in, Sunny Jim,” he said to the astonished cook, whose eyes danced with pleasure. “We want you to buy the best watch you can find in Cliffwood for the money. Every time you look at it think of Camp Russabaga. And I voice the sentiments of every boy here when I say we hope to have you cook for us again next summer. Give Jim three cheers, lads, for he deserves well of us.”

That was one of the proudest moments of Sunny Jim’s life, though he had lost his voice apparently, so that he could only stand, nod his woolly head violently and grin.

We shall hope to meet Dick and his many friends again in the pages of another volume. That the seed of his prophecy regarding the brightening of Cliffwood’s skies in the matter of athletic sports among the younger element was not doomed to fall by the roadside, or among thorns that would choke it, can be guessed from the title of our next book, which will be called “The Y. M. C. A. Boys at Football; Or, Lively Doings On and Off the Gridiron.”

All of the lads were up before daylight on the last morning on Bass Island. The tents came down and were hastily packed, while breakfast was being prepared. Indeed, a trip across with both boats had been made before the campers sat down to the morning meal.

“It’s our last breakfast on Bass Island, boys,” said Mr. Bartlett, looking around at the circle of eager faces; “and if I know what I’m talking about we’ll all remember for many a day the great times we’ve had up here. We hope we shall have good luck in developing and printing the pictures, because they’ll illustrate our story about the gorilla. And last, but not least, we’re glad to know that little Josh Jones is well on the road to recovery. When we get all the stuff over to the mainland we’ll stand around and give dear old Bass Island one last jolly cheer. Then it’s home for us. Now hurry and finish, for we ought to start before long.”

With this last glimpse of the Y. M. C. A. Boys we will draw the curtain and say good-bye.

THE END

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS SERIES

By BROOKS HENDERLEY

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

This new series relates the doings of a wide-awake boys’ club of the Y. M. C. A., full of good times and every-day, practical Christianity. Clean, elevating and full of fun and vigor, books that should be read by every boy.

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS OF CLIFFWOOD
or The Struggle for the Holwell Prize

Telling how the boys of Cliffwood were a wild set and how, on Hallowe’en, they turned the home town topsy-turvy. This led to an organization of a boys’ department in the local Y. M. C. A. When the lads realized what was being done for them, they joined in the movement with vigor and did all they could to help the good cause. To raise funds they gave a minstrel show and other entertainments, and a number of them did their best to win a gold medal offered by a local minister who was greatly interested in the work of upbuilding youthful character.

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS ON BASS ISLAND
or The Mystery of Russabaga Camp

Summer was at hand, and at a meeting of the boys of the Y. M. C. A. of Cliffwood, it was decided that a regular summer camp should be instituted. This was located at a beautiful spot on Bass Island, and there the lads went boating, swimming, fishing and tramping to their heart’s content. There were a great many surprises, but in the end the boys managed to clear up a mystery of long standing. Incidentally, the volume gives a clear insight into the workings of the now justly popular summer camps of the Y. M. C. A., throughout the United States.

Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue

CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK

WHITE RIBBON BOYS SERIES

By RAYMOND SPERRY, Jr.
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

This new series deals with the great modern movement for temperance. Clean-cut, up-to-date stories that will please all growing boys and girls and do them a world of good.

THE WHITE RIBBON BOYS OF CHESTER
or The Old Tavern Keeper’s Secret

Chester was a typical factory town with its quota of drinking places. The father of one of the boys was a foreman in one of the factories, and he advocated temperance so strongly that some of the men, urged on by an old tavern keeper, plotted so that he lost his position. One day, when partly intoxicated, the tavern keeper’s son climbs in a factory window, smashes things, and is badly burned by acid. He is rescued by the boys who are advocating temperance, who take him to his mother. When the tavern keeper sees the condition of his son, he breaks down, and confesses to the plot against the discharged foreman. Temperance wins out, and the town of Chester becomes far more prosperous than ever before.

THE WHITE RIBBON BOYS AT LONG SHORE
or To the Rescue of Dan Bates

In this tale the scene is shifted to the seashore, where the boys are having a vacation for the summer. Encouraged by the temperance work done in their home town, they join a local crusade to close the various drinking and gambling houses. They fall in with another lad, the son of a well-known drunkard of the summer resort, and do all they can to aid him. A good, clean-cut boys’ story, full of life and action, not at all preachy, but teaching the best of morals.

Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue

CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK

THE MOTOR BOYS

SECOND
SERIES

(Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of.)

By CLARENCE YOUNG
12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

This, the Second Series of the now world famed Motor Boys virtually starts a new series, but retains all the favorite characters introduced in the previous books. The Motor Boys Series is the biggest and best selling series of books for boys ever published.

NED, BOB AND JERRY AT BOXWOOD HALL
or The Motor Boys as Freshmen

Fresh from their adventures in their automobile, their motor boat and their airship, the youths are sent to college to complete their interrupted education. Some boys at the institution of learning have heard much about our heroes, and so conclude that the Motor Boys will try to run everything to suit themselves.

A plot is formed to keep our heroes entirely in the background and not let them participate in athletics and other contests. How the Motor Boys forged to the front and made warm friends of their rivals makes unusually interesting reading.

Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue

CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK

Transcriber’s Notes

Inconsistent word hyphenation has been regularized.

On the title page, the subtitle “The Mystery Russabaga Camp” was changed to “The Mystery of Russabaga Camp”.

Page 22: “report as the commitee” changed to “report as the committee”.

Page 41: “They seeemed to understand” changed to “They seemed to understand”.

Page 86: “taking the things that has disappeared” changed to “taking the things that had disappeared”.

Page 153: “sit around talking maters over” changed to “sit around talking matters over”.

Page 160: “the boy would would probably have died” was changed to “the boy would probably have died”.

Page 177: “Every little while somthing” changed to “Every little while something”.

Page 236: “from Mr. Capes, as has been agreed upon” changed to “from Mr. Capes, as had been agreed upon”.

Page 237: “the aggregate rereipts” changed to “the aggregate receipts”.

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Table of Contents

- The Y. M. C. A. Boys on Bass Island
- Frontspiece
- BOOKS FOR BOYS
- CONTENTS
- THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS ON BASS ISLAND
- CHAPTER II AN INVASION OF PIGS
- CHAPTER III THE BOY WHO HAD PROMISED
- CHAPTER IV MR. NOCKER SPRINGS A SURPRISE
- CHAPTER V A BRIGHT PROSPECT AHEAD
- CHAPTER VI MAKING CAMP ON BASS ISLAND
- CHAPTER VII IN THE GRIP OF THE SQUALL
- CHAPTER VIII THE FIRST NIGHT OUT
- CHAPTER IX THE RULE OF ORDER AND DISCIPLINE
- CHAPTER X THINGS BEGIN TO VANISH

- CHAPTER XI MR. HOLWELL GETS THE WELCOMING CHEER

- CHAPTER XII HAPPENINGS OF THE SECOND NIGHT
- CHAPTER XIII THE MYSTERY GROWS DEEPER
- CHAPTER XIV TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT
- CHAPTER XV DAN TELLS SOME WHOLESOME TRUTHS
- CHAPTER XVI WAS IT A WILD MAN OF THE WOODS?
- CHAPTER XVII DICK’S PROMISE
- CHAPTER XVIII SETTING THE TRAP
- CHAPTER XIX A DAY OF REST
- CHAPTER XX A MISSION OF MERCY
- CHAPTER XXI THE BROTHERLY SPIRIT
- CHAPTER XXII WHAT NAT SAW
- CHAPTER XXIII THE TELLTALE FOOTPRINT
- CHAPTER XXIV DAN’S NEW IDEA
- CHAPTER XXV THE BERRY PICKERS
- CHAPTER XXVI POACHING ON STRANGE PRESERVES

- CHAPTER XXVII A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN CAMPFIRE

- CHAPTER XXVIII WHEN THE PIT TRAP WORKED
- CHAPTER XXIX CLEARING UP THE MYSTERY
- CHAPTER XXX BREAKING CAMP—CONCLUSION
- THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS SERIES
- WHITE RIBBON BOYS SERIES
- THE MOTOR BOYS
- Transcriber’s Notes
- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE