The Outdoor Chums on the Lake Part 18

Frank heard him talking to himself inside the tent, but paid no attention to what he was saying, for at that moment he noticed a moving object up the lake, which he really believed might be the canoe of his chum, Bluff, returning alone.

If this proved to be the case another disappointment awaited the campers, and the rescue of poor Jerry might again be postponed to an unknown time. The sheriff being away, no one could tell when he would receive the letter Bluff was to leave for his perusal, and hence it might be many hours ere a move was made.

By that time the hoboes could have quitted the island and lost themselves in the dense woods of the mainland, while Jerry's hiding-place would remain unknown, so that he might even die of neglect.

The coming of Will broke in upon Frank's gloomy communion.

Apparently Will had some reason for excitement. He was holding a developed film in his hand as he rushed up to Frank.

"What do you think it was set my flashlight trap off last night?" he demanded.

"A 'c.o.o.n, doubtless--that seems most likely," answered the other, carelessly.

"Guess again,"

"'Possum--wildcat--surely not a bear, though I did hear quite a scramble over in that quarter at the time? Go on and tell me," said Frank.

For answer Will held the film up so that it was between the light and the eyes of his companion.

"It's been in the hypo, and is fixed, but not thoroughly washed; but you can see for yourself," he exclaimed triumphantly.

Frank gave an exclamation.

"Why, you caught a man!"

"Yes, and his face is turned exactly toward the camera. The snap made him look, and with the flash he was indelibly impressed on the film.

What is more, if you look at it on the other side and partly turned away, you can see the positive of his face as plain as day. It's Waddy, all right. I got him!" laughed the photographer, in glee.

"Well, that's worth something. I'm beginning to realize the tremendous possibilities of a camera at times. That evidence would be accepted in court as conclusive. Go, and wash the film carefully, Will. If you fail to get a few great scenes, you don't lose everything, it seems."

"Isn't that the Peters tribe setting sail, Frank?"

"Why it is, as sure as you live. I wonder they stayed so late. They must be pretty hungry by this time if that educated ape got away with all they had. Perhaps we might have made a master stroke if we'd gone over this morning with an offering of some bacon, coffee and such things. Too bad neither of us thought of it before."

Will looked strangely at his companion. He could not wholly understand the impulses that guided the actions of the other. His experience in the world had not been as varied as that of the boy from Maine, or he might have realized what was meant; though possibly the act of kindness might, after all, have been wasted on those tough young citizens.

"They're going home, all right, and good riddance. If we could only get rid of the balance of undesirable people on this same island, there might be a chance for us to finish up our outing in peace," he remarked bitterly.

"I hope they don't give Bluff any trouble," said Frank, as if musing.

"Bluff--is he in sight, then?" demanded his comrade, eagerly.

"Yes, over there, and coming," replied Frank, pointing to the advancing canoe.

"Here are your gla.s.ses. Suppose you take a look and see."

Will handed over the marine gla.s.ses as he spoke. As he adjusted them to his eyes, Frank swept one glance at the coming Bluff. Then he turned his attention to the departing disgusted campers.

"Something has been going on among those fellows, I declare," he announced.

"What do you mean?" asked his companion, in surprise.

"They seem to have been up against it, or else having a fight among themselves. I can see a couple who have bandages about their heads, and one seems to be holding his arm mighty tenderly. I believe it is broken."

"You don't say? Well, come to think of it, I do remember hearing something of a commotion a while back, but thought they were only having their usual rough-house time. Please let me look, Frank."

A minute later he uttered an exclamation.

"What now?" it was Frank's turn to ask.

"Seems strange to me. I think there must be one of them lying down in the bottom of the boat," returned Will.

"That would indicate something pretty serious. Perhaps they've had a fight with those hoboes, or it may have been our wild man. But what makes you think such a thing, Will?"

"I counted seven of them when they came, and so did Bluff. Now there are only six in sight, and as you say, three of them are fit for the hospital. Where can the seventh be?"

"Perhaps the hoboes got him, just as they did Jerry. If so, what under the sun can their scheme be? Why load down with a variety of Centerville's leading citizens when they find it so hard to provide food for themselves?"

"I give it up. The conundrum is too much for me. But I think my idea is more apt to cover the truth, and that the seventh boy is laid out in the boat, wounded, or perhaps dead," continued Will, in an awe-struck tone.

"Oh! I hope not the latter. They're a rough bunch, but they've had little opportunity to learn better, and we mustn't be too hard on them.

Such fellows can do things that would be little short of a crime for those of us who have decent homes and indulgent parents. Bluff seems to be coming along rather slowly, don't you think?"

As Frank said this his companion turned the gla.s.ses upon the canoe.

"Something has happened to him. Perhaps his paddle has broken; I remember it gave way while we were coming here, and he spliced it yesterday. Yes, that must be what ails him," he exclaimed.

"That's too bad," observed Frank, looking at the other boats, as though wondering whether it might be worth while to launch one, and speed out on the lake to the a.s.sistance of the chum who was coming.

But the distance was too great, and he could not hope to reach the scene before whatever was fated to happen had occurred.

"Why do you say that Bluff could get here with only a piece of his paddle?" remarked Will.

"If those ugly chaps let him. See, they have already changed their course several points. They mean to intercept him."

"You don't think they'd bother with him, do you?" cried Will.

"I'm afraid they're in a bad humor, and ready to tackle anything that offers a chance to work off old scores. If Bluff only had his paddle in decent order he could laugh at them. How foolish of him to take only his single blade along."

Frank now clapped the gla.s.ses to his eyes again.

"Look at that, will you? Why, the breezy chap doesn't even think it worth while to turn and run, or even try to slip past. He's coming directly on, and in another minute will run slap into that rowboat, loaded with toughs. I'm afraid there's going to be a bad spill for our headstrong chum," he sighed.

"Perhaps he is only holding himself in reserve, and means to make a spurt for it at the very last second. Bluff is smart, I tell you. He knows what those boys are up to, and is far from being asleep. Tell me what he is doing, Frank. I can hear them shouting angrily at him now.

Oh! I wish we were out there to help him."

Will even forgot his natural timidity, and had the chance been given him, would doubtless have proven a hero in defense of his chum.

"He seems to have stopped paddling altogether. Now he reaches down into the bottom of his canoe after something. He is aiming it at them--it's his paddle--no it isn't either--as sure as you live, he's got that repeating-gun of his!"