Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp Part 23

Then he said, "Now, Blakeley, I'll tell you what to do. I'm going to start through this place with the kid--he's alive, that's the most I can tell you. It must come out somewhere and I'll bank on its coming out where you say. If it doesn't and--"

"Don't talk like that, Bert," I said; "it's _got_ to, if _you_ want it to. What is it you want me to do?"

He said, "I want you to beat it up through the mountains that close in Nick's Valley. That way you'll get to the lake. Don't expect to see Nick's Cove, because it's off the map. When you get to the lake, find somebody. Get over to camp if you can--I don't care how. Maybe the boat we left in the cove is cast up there--you can't tell. Anyway, keep your head and don't get excited. The lake is there. It'll be lower than it was, but all the water below the valley level will be there. Get some people and take them to Rebels' Cave or whatever you call it and just wait."

"Is that all I shall do?" I asked him.

"What else can you do? Just wait there; or two or three of you might come in with lanterns to meet me."

"Suppose you're not there?" I said, all trembling.

"Well, if I'm not there, you'll know I'm with Skinny anyway, and if anybody ever digs up our bones, they won't know who's who. Hurry up now. Beat it. And remember you're a scout"

"But suppose--"

"You leave that to me," he said.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

TELLS ABOUT WHAT I DISCOVERED IN REBELS' CAVE

"All righto, so long," I heard him say.

After a few seconds I called, "Are you all right?"

And I heard him say, as if his voice was m.u.f.fled and far away, "All right, so far."

I said to myself, "Poor little kid, he isn't very heavy, that's one thing." Then I started off.

It wasn't hard to swim across the old creek bed, because the water was flowing easier now, and pretty soon I was hiking it up through the mountains. Now, the way I went was through those mountains west of Nick's Valley. And I went south toward the lake. You look at the map and you'll see just the way I went.

The woods are pretty thick up in those mountains and a couple of times I got rattled about which way to go. But most of the time I could look down and see the valley and the water in the bottom of it, just like a river. It wasn't rus.h.i.+ng any more and I guessed that whatever happened, the worst of it was over.

Pretty soon I came out where I could look down and see the lake all spread out before me. It was there all right But first I didn't get the hang of things, because Nick's Cove wasn't there at all. There was just a kind of a river flowing from where Nick's Cove used to be, right through the valley. There were lots of trees, all uprooted, down there, too, and the place was so different that I couldn't even tell where the Gold Dust Twins' tent had been. Anyhow, it wasn't there any more, that was sure. All around the lake was a kind of gray border and I guess it showed how much the water had gone down. But, gee, there was enough lake left to satisfy anybody. A scout that wouldn't be satisfied with what was left must be a hog. But, oh, boy, when that flood started, it must have piled up in Nick's Valley. Anyway, I could see Temple Camp all safe across the water, but the spring-board was way up in the air-- gee, it looked awful funny.

There were half a dozen or so of the Temple Camp boats with fellows in them, flopping around near the old cove. It was almost dark, but I could see them plain. I guess they had rowed across just to look around and see how things looked there. A couple of hours before they would have been carried right through on the flood, but when I looked down it was pretty calm there.

I shouted to them and started down the mountainside for the sh.o.r.e. I could see Westy and Pee-wee and a couple of Portland scouts in one of the boats. All the while I was coming down I kept shouting and when I got to the sh.o.r.e, there were half a dozen boats to meet me. Mr. Elting and Uncle Jeb were in one of them. Besides, I could see half a dozen fellows plodding around on sh.o.r.e. I knew they were looking for Gold Dust Camp.

"Don't bother hunting for those fellows," I shouted, all out of breath; "they're all right; they're down at Catskill or somewhere. Bert Winton started through the pa.s.sageway from an old pit--he's got Skinny--take me in and row down to Rebels' Cave. Anybody got a lantern?"

I guess they thought I was crazy, appearing from up in the mountains like that and shouting about pits and pa.s.sageways and Rebels' Cave. But as soon as Mr. Elting and Uncle Jeb took me into their boat, I told them about all that happened.

Uncle Jeb just looked at Mr. Elting and Mr, Elting looked awful serious. Then Uncle Jeb shook his head and said, "It daon't come out through Rebels' Cave, I reckon. I ain't never _explored_ Rebel's Cave, but it daon't come out thar, nohow."

I was just trembling all over when I heard him say that.

"It was the only way he could do, anyway," I said. "It must come out somewhere."

Mr. Elting said, "We're not blaming you, my boy, nor Winton, either."

Then he said, kind of serious, "Let me go ash.o.r.e, Uncle Jeb. Some of you row over to the cave. Here, some of you boys, come along with me.

Who wants to volunteer to go back through the mountains? George," he said (he's in a Boston troop, that fellow George), "you row across and get some lanterns--quick. You go with him, Harry; get your fists on those oars--hurry up. Bring some rope and an aid kit. You stay with Uncle Jeb, Roy."

Gee, I can hardly tell you how things happened. The next second fellows were hurrying back and forth, getting in and out of boats, while the one boat skimmed across to the camp landing.

In a half a minute Mr. Elting and about a dozen scouts were standing on the cove sh.o.r.e, waiting for the boat to come back, and meanwhile we rowed down along the south sh.o.r.e to where the cave is. It's about half way down to the outlet. You can see about where it is. Several other boats went down there with us. Westy was in one of them and I made him come in our boat, because now that Bert was gone, maybe dead, and Skinny, too, I just felt as if I'd like to have one of my patrol near me--I just felt that way. Besides, Westy was my special chum and after all I liked him best of any. When you're feeling kind of shaky, that's the time you like to have one of your own patrol with you--you bet.

Soon we heard the boat coming back and could see the lanterns bobbing.

"Pull hard," I heard Mr. Elting call from the sh.o.r.e. It sounded awful clear in the night. The fellows in the boat rowed straight for us and gave us an aid kit and a couple of lanterns.

"That you, Blakeley?" I heard a fellow say. It was young Mr. Winter; he's Mr. Temple's secretary, and he always spends his vacations at Temple Camp. "Who's there?" he asked.

"Uncle Jeb and Westy and I," I said; "I don't know who's in the other boats; everybody, I guess."

They didn't stop but a second and they pulled for where Mr. Elting and the fellows were waiting. I could hear their voices and see the lanterns rocking, as they hiked up the side of the mountains.

"Maybe I ought to have gone with them," I said.

"They'll find the place, I reckon," Uncle Jeb said. "Naow let's pull ash.o.r.e and root around."

The fellows in the other boats waited, just rowing around close to sh.o.r.e, while Uncle Jeb and Westy and I climbed up to the cave. It was higher above the lake than it was before, on account of the water escaping and we had to scramble up through a lot of mud.

I was so excited I couldn't keep still and I just stumbled into the cave and stood there for a couple of seconds, holding the lantern. It was as dark as pitch and smelled like earth. I kind of had a feeling that it was a grave. I was sorry I had ever shouted down to Bert Winton that maybe the pa.s.sageway came out there. Anyway, I held the lantern into the pa.s.sage way. It was a sort of an opening between two big rocks inside. Then I squeezed myself in and went ahead about thirty or forty feet, I guess. And that was every bit as far as I could go. The pa.s.sageway just fizzled out against a great big rock. It didn't lead anywhere at all.

Then, all of a sudden, a cold feeling came over me and my fingers just loosened and I dropped the lantern. It sort of scared me when I heard the gla.s.s crash on the ground. For about half a minute I couldn't budge; I just couldn't go out and tell Westy and Uncle Jeb that it was all up with Bert Winton--I just couldn't do it. Because I knew I was to blame for shouting that down to him like a fool.

If I had been a good scout I would have _known_ that pa.s.sage didn't lead anywhere. Look how Bert was always finding things out and how he knew all about the country around there. I could just kind of see him poking around with his stick. And I just couldn't call and I felt sick, as if I was going to fall right down.

"It was me that killed him," I cried, and I heard a voice say, "_killed him_."

It was just an echo, I guess.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

TELLS ABOUT HOW WESTY AND I WAITED

Uncle Jeb and Westy came in and saw how it was and there wasn't anything more to do, so we went back to the boat. The fellows who were waiting around in the other boats said it wasn't my fault, but anyway, I knew it was.

Uncle Jeb said, "Wall, naow, you take it kinder hard, Roay. Remember thars two strings ter this here bow, as the feller says. We got another party uv good scouts ter hear frum yet. You jest come over ter camp 'n get a cup uv hot coffee."

I said I didn't want any hot coffee and that I was just going to wait around with Westy. I just wanted to be with Westy. So Uncle Jeb went back in one of the other boats and Westy and I just rowed around together. At the spot where the others had started up the mountain, a couple of boats were pulled up so that the fellows could cross when they got back. It was pitch dark up the mountainside and I looked up to see if I could see any lights that might be their lanterns.

"They can't get back for an hour yet," Westy said; "don't let's get too close to the new outlet. It may be running pretty strong, even yet."

I said, "I don't care a lot what happens to me now."