Dan Carter and the River Camp Part 8

Jacques' unexpected leave-taking came as a bitter disappointment to Brad and Dan who had hoped to learn more about the boy.

"We don't know where he went or why," Fred explained to the Cubs as they reread the farewell message. "Dad and I carried a basket of trash down to the beach, leaving Jacques here. When we came back, he was gone."

"That was only a few minutes ago," Mr. Hatfield added. "Dan, you and Brad didn't see the boy anywhere on the beach?"

Dan replied that they had observed no one.

"Dad and I weren't away from the Cave ten minutes," Fred further explained. "I can't understand what got into Jacques. He seemed cheerful earlier this morning."

"Maybe he was afraid we'd ask too many questions," Brad commented, his gaze roving slowly about the room. "Say, isn't there something different about this place?"

"Different?" Mr. Hatfield echoed. "A chair has been upset and another one shoved against the wall. Come to think of it, both those chairs were in place when Fred and I carried out the tras.h.!.+"

"Maybe someone came here while you were away and forced Jacques to leave!" Dan exclaimed.

"The boy seemed well enough satisfied this morning," Mr. Hatfield said, folding and b.u.t.toning the note into his jacket pocket. "That's what makes it seem strange that he'd leave without explaining. Suppose we look around down on the beach."

Eager to search for clues, the boys clattered down the stairway ahead of the Cub leader.

At the foot of the steps they noticed several freshly made footsteps in the sand. Scattered among the imprints left by a small shoe were those of a man's heavy-soled footgear.

"Dan, your theory about someone forcing Jacques to leave may be correct!"

Mr. Hatfield exclaimed. "The boy may have gone willingly enough. But that upset chair makes me wonder."

Now rather excited by their discoveries, the Cubs followed the footprint trail for twenty yards along the beach.

Now and then, a small circular mark appeared near the shoe prints. To the observing Cubs this indicated that a stick or similar round object had been carried by Jacques' companion.

"And see here!" Midge exclaimed, staring at a confusion of prints in the sand. "Doesn't this look as if a scuffle took place, Mr. Hatfield?"

"It does," agreed the Cub leader, praising Midge for his observation.

"Either Jacques stumbled or was given a hard shove. One can see plainly where he fell down."

The trail of footprints led the Cubs on to a paved road paralleling the river front. There it abruptly ended.

"Well, we've lost them," Mr. Hatfield said, gazing up and down the deserted highway.

"And now we'll never know who Jacques was or where he came from," Dan said. "About all he told us was that he's a Cub."

"Even that seems odd," Mr. Hatfield commented. "I've checked, and Jacques never was a member of any Webster City Den. I only hope that whoever took the boy away treats him right. Those bruises the doctor mentioned, rather trouble me."

Failure to learn what had become of Jacques disturbed not only Mr.

Hatfield but all of the Cubs. During the next three days, the topic was a major one discussed at the Cave.

The Cub leader reported Jacques' disappearance to police, but was informed that no boy of his description had been reported missing.

At first, the Cubs spent many hours trying to decipher the coded message which Dan and Brad had removed from Jacques' clothing.

Failing to figure it out or to hear more of the boy, the matter began to fade into the background. Only Dan remained determined to work out the code.

Meanwhile, the Cubs turned their attention to an important swimming meet which had been scheduled with the boys of Den 1.

In a meet held the month before, the rival Den had captured top honors by a score of 20 to 16. Defeat rankled in the hearts of the Den 2 Cubs who were determined to make a better showing in the second contest.

A total of three meets had been scheduled for the season. An engraved silver loving cup would be awarded to the Den which won two of the contests.

"I'm afraid Ross Langdon will win the Sat.u.r.day meet too," Dan remarked glumly one afternoon as he practiced with the other Cubs at the "Y" pool.

"That guy swims as if he's jet propelled!"

Although Den 1 boasted several fine swimmers, 11-year-old Ross was by far the greatest threat to the rival Cubs. Muscularly built, the boy had the energy of a youngster of fifteen. His crawl stroke lacked form, but by sheer strength he managed to win every race he entered.

"You swim as well as Ross does," Brad told Dan loyally. "Your form is better."

"Maybe," Dan admitted, "but I lack his endurance. I hold out fairly well in the 25-yard free style, but in the 50, I began to lose my wind. And you know we've got to capture both events to nose out Den 1 in the final tally."

"Sure, I know," Brad acknowledged, easing his body snake-fas.h.i.+on down the pool wall into the chlorinated water. "Just get in and pitch, old boy.

Remember, the Den is counting on you!"

"That's what makes me worried, Brad. I want to do my best. I practice and practice, but where does it get me?"

Sam Hatfield emerged from the dressing room in time to hear Dan's final remark.

"You just keep plugging and top speed will come, Dan," he said cheerfully. "Stop worrying about Ross Langdon. One of these days his lack of form will catch up with him. Now dive into that pool and swim eight lengths."

"Eight?" Dan groaned.

"Eight," the Cub leader repeated firmly. "It's the only way you'll ever build up your endurance. When the going gets hard-just keep going."

Inspired by this advice, Dan dived into the water, and with smooth strokes slashed his way the first length of the pool.

After a turn at the wall, his breath became a little short and he slowed down a little. By the end of the third length, his stroke lost some of its hard drive. At five lengths, his steady six-beat leg thrash became a tired wiggle. Finally at the end of the eighth length, Dan was holding out by sheer will power.

"Keep it up!" Mr. Hatfield called encouragingly. "You're doing fine."

At that moment Ross Langdon sauntered into the pool. Large for his age and a natural athlete, the boy's appearances at the "Y" were few and far between, for he disliked to practice. On this afternoon, however, he had donned satin trunks, showered, and evidently intended to swim.

Observing Dan's now jerky stroke, he uttered a loud horse-laugh. Then to show off, he plunged into the pool, and swam the length with a speed which tossed foam ahead of his thras.h.i.+ng arms.

Thoroughly discouraged by the display, Dan wheeled over to the side to watch.

"What's the use?" he muttered to Brad who slithered alongside in the water. "I couldn't quite finish eight lengths and here Ross blazes in and tears up the pool!"

"That's all right, Dan," Brad encouraged him. "You won't see him doing more than a few lengths before he caves in. You just keep plugging the way Mr. Hatfield said."

"But the meet is Sat.u.r.day. And look at that guy travel! His form may not be so hot, but how he can chop the water!"

Well aware that the Cubs of Den 2 were watching, Ross swam another length, finis.h.i.+ng off with a snappy turn at the wall.

Then he pulled himself from the pool, stretching out on the tile floor to relax.