Part 21 (1/2)

THE STORM BREAKS

The Jolly Rovers were agreeably surprised when they reached Mose Hocker's ”place.” Instead of the farmhouse, which they had confidently expected, it proved to be a snug little cabin standing in a dense bit of woods along the creek, and distant from Rudy's Hole about one mile.

Mose was a tall, wiry, middle aged man, with a smooth shaven face.

”I've always been fond of hunting and fis.h.i.+ng,” he explained to the boys, ”an' about two year ago I built this place, an' moved in. It stands on my own land. I have a farm back yonder, but after my wife died I put a tenant on my property. The life didn't agree with me, somehow or other.”

”I reckon I've got a streak of my daddy's wild blood. He was a great hunter in his day, and that's why I prize this gun so much. It was made in London by John Armstrong in 1874--so that silver plate on the breech says--and if it is old fas.h.i.+oned it kin shoot. You chaps ought to be here in the fall when the ducks and geese are moving--I'd show you some sport.”

Mr. Hocker proved himself a delightful host. His cabin was crammed full of curious contrivances for catching fish and trapping game, the various uses of which he took delight in explaining to the boys. He was an adept at cooking--as the bountiful evening meal proved--and he possessed a fund of adventurous stories that made the hours pa.s.s quickly until bedtime.

He spread blankets and pillows on the floor for his guests, and after the wearisome events of the day they slept soundly until dawn.

A plunge in the creek was first in order, and then came a warm breakfast. An hour later, with many sincere expressions of regret at parting, the Jolly Rovers resumed their cruise. Mr. Hocker pressed them to stay a couple of days, but they deemed it best to push on, since they were yet many miles from home.

Little did they think as they paddled away from the cabin, that they and their friendly host would meet again under far different circ.u.mstances in the near future.

All that day--which was Wednesday--the boys paddled steadily. They camped in the evening at the water works dam, one mile out from Carlisle, and while Clay and Randy prepared supper, Ned and Nugget went to town for mail. Fortunately they visited the express office as well, and found a cake there addressed to Randy. They brought it triumphantly back to camp--a straight road precluded the possibility of losing the way on this occasion--and had a glorious feast before going to bed.

Thursday was a repet.i.tion of the previous day. Nothing occurred worthy of special mention. The boys covered ten or fifteen miles in spite of the dams that frequently blocked the way.

About four o'clock in the afternoon, while pa.s.sing through a lonely and beautiful strip of country, they came upon five tiny islands grouped together in mid channel. The largest was not more than a dozen yards long. All were gra.s.sy and shaded by trees, and they made a pretty picture with the water rippling softly through the narrow winding channels that separated them.

As the bushes and timber on both banks of the creek were very dense, the boys chose one of the islands for a camping place--the left hand one of two that lay a little farther down stream than the others. It was two or three feet above the surface of the creek, level and gra.s.sy on top, and contained seven or eight good sized trees.

The largest of these--a ma.s.sive b.u.t.tonwood--stood at the extreme lower end, and its whitened, far stretching roots had been laid bare by the current that came sweeping down each side, formed a shallow swirling eddy.

Here the boys landed, and seeing that the steepness of the bank would make it a difficult task to carry the canoes up--if indeed there was room to spare above--they tied them in a bunch to the roots of the tree. Then stripping off their shoes and stockings, they waded about in the shallow water unloading what articles they wanted, and carrying them up on the bank.

The tent was staked in the center of the island, and the boys did not discover, until too late, that the entrance faced up stream.

”Let it go,” said Ned. ”It's a little unhandy for the canoes, that's all. We must be careful not to trip over the ropes, though.”

There was another reason why the tent should have faced the opposite way. It was exposed, in its present position, to any storm that might come up from the west.

But this did not occur to the boys, and very naturally, since the sky was cloudless and the air but moderately warm. It had not been such a day as usually brews July thunderstorms.

After considerable searching, two stones suitable for the fireplace were found in the eddy. There was an utter lack of fuel on the island, so Ned and Randy paddled to sh.o.r.e and loaded their canoes with driftwood.

Two weeks of camp life had now familiarized each lad with the duties that were a.s.signed to him, and by working in unison supper was soon prepared.

The boys lingered over the meal a good while, and it was quite dark when the dishes were washed and put away.

At nine o'clock all were sleeping soundly behind the tightly drawn tent flaps, and the fire was mingling its red flashes with the moonlight glow on the rippling surface of the creek.

Ten o'clock came--eleven--twelve. Not a breath of air was stirring; a dead, oppressive calm, like the sultriness of noonday, had settled down on land and water. Half an hour later the west was inky black with ma.s.sed storm clouds and fleecy forerunners of the coming tempest were straying one after another across the moon.

All unconscious of impending danger the boys slept peacefully, nor did they awake until the storm was upon them in all its fury. Dazed and terrified they crouched close together, watching the jagged purple flashes that turned night into noonday, listening to the furious patter of the rain and the cras.h.i.+ng of thunder, and s.h.i.+vering where the oozing drops fell in their faces from the saturated canvas.