The next dayeverybody came out to wish bon voyage to Pat and the boys who were leaving on their camping trip for a week. All hands helped them get their paraphernalia aboard the station wagon.
Pat was the last one to get in with the big box of fishing tackle in his left hand and a huge picnic hamper packed with good food in his right hand. Ann Mary had seen to it that they would eat well the first day they started out. For the rest of the week they had the back of the Bronc well stocked with canned foods which they expected to supplement with the fish they caught.
They were all in the best of spirits. This was to be a real adventure. Pat was taking them into the woods to a fishing camp where Jimmy’s Uncle John Allen used to go every summer. Alf Powell and Jimmy werethe chief mechanics in case anything went wrong with the car, and Brook and Pat were to be the cooks.
Marjorie and Judy had their noses slightly out of joint because they had been hoping right up until the last minute before the boys left, that perhaps they too would be allowed to go along. But the boys would not even hear of it, and Penny thought it would not be a good idea, either.
“Never mind,” Judy said in a consoling whisper to Marjorie. “Maybe we’ll find the buried treasure while they’re gone.”
Just then Ann Mary came running out with an armful of freshly ironed shirts for the boys.
“Mr. Taggart brought these,” she panted, “early this morning. I told him he had to get them here before you left. Theresa just finished ironing them.”
“Thanks,” Jimmy said, “but they needn’t have been ironed. For the next week we aren’t going to care how we look.”
“Lucky dogs,” Marjorie said in an aside to Judy. “Do you know what Penny said to me last night? She said, ‘From now on you and I ought to change before dinner into something besides blue jeans.’”
“I guess she’s right,” Judy said reluctantly. “Mother has had the same idea all along.”
But in spite of how they felt, the girls recovered from their sulks long enough to wave cheery goodbyes to the boys.
“Have fun,” they shouted.
“Be careful,” called Penny.
And so at last, Jimmy, Alf and Brook were off on their great adventure.
After driving all day, Pat and the boys pulled into a little grove of pines, deep in the woods near a beautiful, rock-strewn river. They made camp and got out their mosquito repellent. Pat had told them the black flies in this part of the woods were really vicious so they had come well prepared for such an emergency. Jimmy and Alf got into their high boots and waded into the river to fish. The results of this little expedition were not quite as good as they expected, but the few small fish they caught were very sweet when cooked.
They were up bright and early the next morning, but that day brought no better results as far as fishing was concerned. Pat suggested that they move campdeeper into the woods, near a little lake where he thought the fishing would be much better. Jimmy seconded the suggestion and in no time at all they were on their way again. This time they made camp near the tip of the little lake and early the next morning they watched the mist rise from the lake and listened to the birds singing in chorus.
This spot was so beautiful that Brook and Alf said they would like to spend the rest of the week here, even if they didn’t catch a single fish.
“I knew you’d like it,” answered Pat. “Mr. Allen always wanted to stay here awhile,” he said to Jimmy.
“And no wonder,” said Jimmy, “I can’t wait until we get out there in our canoe.”
The boys were all skillful with the paddle, and as they skimmed along the lake widened, then narrowed till it was not much more than a stream. Finally they reached the other end and drew the canoe into a small bay. Pat led them to a small log hut hidden in the nearby trees. Here there was a curious storehouse for food and extra equipment. It was built of small pine logs and was raised high on a few posts. Pat explained that this was to keep the food from getting damp, andthat if it were properly fastened no climbing bear could help himself to the food.
The little bay where they had left their canoe was the outlet for a stream in which Pat said there was wonderful fishing. Pat said they would have to go upstream a way against some rapids to get to the really good fishing spot. He also told them that there was a waterfall nearby and the safest thing would be for all of them to do all of their exploring, fishing, hunting, or anything else they decided to do, in groups. Pat cautioned them about the strong current in the stream, too.
“Come on,” said Jimmy. “Let’s do some fishing now and go up those rapids tomorrow.”
They caught a beautiful trout and a bass for their supper and considered that a perfect end to a successful and happy day. They decided to spend the night in the small log campers’ hut.
The next day’s plan was changed when morning came. The woods about the camp were explored and found to be fairly open. It was full of birds, squirrels, chipmunks and other small animals. Brook almost caught a flying squirrel and claimed that he saw a wildcat. There were beavers building in a small stream that wandered through the pines and widened not far from the lake. A graceful deer took flight as Pat, who was in the lead, approached. This caused considerable excitement and all chatter ceased as they stole on in the hope of surprising another deer or a bear.
They climbed trees, investigated nests and Jimmy kept looking for bees. The boys wanted to know why, and he replied that the bees would lead them to a “honey tree,” and there they might find a bear.
“Go to it, Jimmy,” cried Alf. “I bet we take the honey first.”
They finally did see a bear, a black one of moderate size. It ambled off before them from the water’s edge. None of them had the heart to shoot it or anything else they saw. They were having such a wonderful time just investigating.
Around the campfire that night they sang and told stories and when it began to turn very chilly they turned in. They were awakened early in the morning by the bird chorus. Alf said it was not so hard to get up here as at home, in school time! They took the canoe up the rocky stream with its dashing waters andstrong current. By noon they had reached the highest point from which these rapids started. It was quiet at noon and the sun was hot. The perspiring boys sat around in their bathing shorts and ate a cold lunch. Then they got down to the real business of fishing. Jimmy drew in a handsome black bass, and then the competition became keen. Brook caught a beautiful brook trout, and it was a jolly group of boys that sat near the shore to clean their fish in the late afternoon when they had returned to the hut.
Jimmy had started the fire and then joined the rest, picking up the first fish at hand, a fine trout. “Who caught this?” he asked.
“I’ll have you know that I’m the guy,” grinned Pat, looking up from the bass he was cleaning and waving his knife in the air. “It’s worth-while fishing where there’s something to catch!”
“Isn’t this a walleyed perch, Jimmy?” asked Brook.
“I guess so.” Jimmy had started in vigorously to clean the trout and now raised a loud voice in the ditty of “Ham and Eggs.” The others joined in, making the shore ring with the sound. The fact that supper was to consist mainly of fish made no difference. Withyoung appetites and overflowing energy they managed to consume all of the day’s catch.
The next day Jimmy and Alf wanted to take things easy and do some swimming and lounging, but Brook wanted to do some more exploring. They finally decided to spend the day near the hut, and Brook made a mental note to do some exploring on his own when he could. While they were all in swimming, he paddled off alone, down the main stream. He had gone only a little distance before he was concealed from view by trees and a curving shore. He entered the main stream, which was quite wide as far as the fork.
There the division of waters left the wider stream to the right. But that to Brook’s left offered the prettier outlook. It stretched almost straight before him to some distance and descended in a little rapids. These looked easy, he thought, and though there were rocks, the water looked shallow enough for a good swimmer not to be troubled with any difficulty about reaching shore or a rock in case the canoe upset.
A little peninsula, dotted with green trees and bushes, jutted out from the left shore. Brook thoughthe caught a glimpse of someone moving there and started into the left fork of the stream.
“After all,” he reflected, “as the crow flies I’m only a couple of miles from camp. Maybe Jimmy and Alf have been out exploring and are over there on the point.”
Then he saw something that made him paddle faster than ever. He could hear the sound of dashing waters further on but he was too excited to pay any attention to it. What he had glimpsed looked like a human body, sprawling half in and half out of the bushes of a cove on the point.
Brook nosed his canoe into the cove, beached it, and climbed up the gentle incline. Then he saw that what had attracted his attention was only an old tattered coat. It was rain-shriveled and had obviously been flung over a rock to dry. But from the stream it had looked like the torso of a human body.
“Well,” Brook sighed with relief. “Thank goodness no one was hurt or killed.”
He went into the brush, past a few spruces, and found a small clearing. In the mud here were footprintswhich had obviously been made very recently. It had rained the night before, clearing just before dawn. Sometime between then and now someone had walked across the clearing and into the brush. And back again into the woods on the other side of the clearing, Brook reflected as he studied the footprints.
Whoever it was might have hung his coat on the rock to dry if he had been caught in the early morning rainstorm.
“Probably a tramp,” he decided and went back to the coat. He lifted it rather gingerly, and then, because he could not resist the temptation, turned its pockets inside out. To his surprise, he found in the last pocket a letter. It looked as though it had been soaked by the rain and had been dried again by the sun which had been shining upon the coat and rock all morning.
The address upon the torn envelope was blurred, and Brook’s curiosity was hindered by the fact that it was almost lunch time and it might be well to hurry back. Sticking the letter into the waterproof zippered pocket of his bathing trunks, he hurried to his canoe, pushed out and entered the stream again.
As Brook got back into the middle of the stream he suddenly discovered that no paddling was necessary to make his canoe go! The descent which looked so gradual drew canoe and the water itself down rapidly. The current was much stronger than one would have thought! Brook used his paddle skillfully. He was enjoying this exhilarating experience. It was great!
But when he tried to skim around a few rocks to the point, he almost upset the canoe and only by a quick push from a rock did he avoid being thrown out. But the canoe righted and Brook sped on, past the peninsula, around into a wider channel, for which Brook was at first glad. There was more space between rocks.
But the current was stronger, his control over the canoe was getting a little out of hand. Brook was just beginning to realize that he had had no business coming off by himself, when he heard the sound of the falls. His face grew pale, but he set his lips. The current drew the canoe out into a wider part of the river, and when Brook looked ahead for a minute he could see a white spray dashing high over a pile of obstructingrocks. It did not seem so bad off to the right, and Brook tried to edge over in that direction.
But what he saw ahead of him made him sick. It was still some distance away, but the water was boiling over at a little curve and fell somewhere below—he could not tell where!