  “Say, what’s that up yonder—there, away toward the head of the lake?” Tubby, standing on a rock by the rim of the lake where he had just been performing his morning’s ablutions, pointed excitedly. “I can’t see a thing but the wraiths of mist,” rejoined Merritt, who was beside him. The lads were stripped to the waist. Their skin looked pink and healthy in the early morning light. “Well, you ought to consult an oculist,” scornfully rejoined Tubby, “you’ve got fine eyes for a Boy Scout—not.” “Do you mean to tell me you saw something, actually?” “Of course. You ought to know me better than to think I was fooling.” “What were they then—mud hens?” “Say, you’re a mud rooster. No, what I saw looked to me uncommonly like our missing canoes.” “You don’t say so,” half mockingly. “But I do say so,—and most emphatically, too, as Professor Jorum says,” rejoined the stout youth, “there they’ve gone now. That morning mist’s swallowed ’em up just like I mean to swallow breakfast directly.” “But what would the canoes be doing drifting about?” objected Merritt. “From Rob’s story yesterday, Hunt and his gang had them in that cove. Do you suppose they’d have let them get away?” “Maybe not, willingly,” rejoined Tubby sagely, who, as our readers may have observed, was a shrewd thinker, “but it blew pretty hard last night. The canoes may have broken loose from their moorings.” “Jimminy! That’s so,” exclaimed Merritt, “I’ll go and tell——” “No, you won’t do anything of the kind,” said Tubby, half in and half out of his Boy Scout shirt. “Why not?” “Because if they did turn out to be mud hens we’d never hear the last of it.” “H’um that’s so. What do you advise, then?” “We’ll wait till after breakfast. Then we’ll say we’re going to take a tramp and sneak off toward the head of the lake. If they are the canoes they’ll still be there.” “And if not——” “We’ll have had a tramp.” “Say,” exclaimed Merritt as a sudden idea struck him, “how do you propose to get them, even if they do turn out to be the canoes. Stand on the bank and call ‘come, ducky! ducky!’” Tubby looked at his corporal with unmixed scorn. “We can swim, can’t we?” “I see you have every objection covered, like a good Scout, Tubby. Well, we’ll try after breakfast. If they’re not the canoes there’s no harm done, anyhow.” “Except to our shoe leather,” responded Tubby finishing dressing. The morning meal over, and Jumbo washing the tin plates in silence—he was still regretting that five hundred dollars—the two lads, in accordance with their plan, got ready for their tramp. They buckled on their belts, saw that their shoe-laces were stout and well laced, and equipped themselves with two scout staves. It was against the rules to carry firearms unless the major or one of the leaders was along. No objection was interposed to their going. In fact, the major, worried as he was over the vanished canoes, was rather glad to have an opportunity for a quiet talk with the professor. Rob was still rather fagged by his experiences of the preceding night and day, and Hiram and Andy Bowles had decided to indulge in signal practice. “Well, good-bye,” called the major as the young Scouts strode off. “Bring back the canoes with you,” mockingly hailed Rob. “Sure. We’ll look in all the tree tops. I’m told they roost there with the gondolas,” cried the irrepressible Tubby, with a wave of his hand. The next instant the two adventurers had vanished over the ridge. “Say, what a laugh we’ll have on them if we really do bring the canoes back,” chuckled Tubby merrily, as they plodded along. Distances in the mountains are deceptive. From the camp it had not looked so very far to the head of the lake. But the two lads found that, what with the innumerable ridges they had to cross, and the rough nature of the ground before them, it was considerably more of a tramp than they had bargained for. Of the canoes too, there was no sign. The mists had now vanished and the sun beat down on the smooth surface of the lake as if it had been a polished mirror. “Maybe they’ve drifted ashore,” said Tubby, hopefully. “If they have I’ll bet they chose the other one,” said Merritt, “it’s what they used to call at school ‘the perversity of inanimate things.’” “Phew!” exclaimed Tubby, “don’t spring any more like that. I didn’t bring a dictionary.” It was about noon when they came to a halt in a ravine near the lake shore and sat down on a log to rest. “Gee, I wish we had something to eat,” groaned Merritt. “Ever hear of a fairy godmother?” inquired Tubby, gazing abstractedly up through the tree tops. “Well, if you aren’t the limit, Tubby. What on earth have fairy godmothers to do——” “They were always on the job with what was most wanted, I believe,” pursued Tubby. “Oh, don’t talk rot. Let’s—— Gee whiz! I’ll take it all back, Tubby. You are a real, genuine, blown-in-the-glass fairy godmother.” Merritt’s exclamation was called forth by the fact that Tubby had produced, with the air of a necromancer, two packets of sandwiches and ditto of cake. “There’s water in that spring, I guess,” he said laconically ignoring Merritt’s open compliments. The two lads munched away contentedly. They were seated at the head of the little ravine which ran back from the shore of the lake. Above them towered a rocky cliff from which flowed the spring. Ferns of a brilliant green and almost tropical luxuriance festooned its edges. The water made a musical tinkling sound. It was a pleasant spot, and both boys enjoyed it to the full. They would have appreciated it more though, if they could have stumbled across the canoes which Tubby was beginning to believe were a figment of his imagination. “Wonder if there were ever Indians through here?” said Merritt, after a period of thought. “Guess so. They used to navigate most of these lakes,” said Tubby, stuffing some remaining crumbs of cake into his mouth. “Why?” he added, staring at Merritt, with puffed out cheeks. “I was just thinking that if we were early settlers and an Indian suddenly appeared in the opening of this canyon or ravine or whatever you like to call it, that we’d be in a bad way.” “Yes, we couldn’t get out. That’s certain,” said Tubby, looking around, “I guess the red men would bury the hatchet—in our heads.” “I’m glad those days are gone,” said Merritt, “I should think that the early settlers must have—Hark! What’s that?” A sudden crunching sound, as if someone was leisurely approaching had struck on his ear. “Sounds like somebody coming,” rejoined Tubby. His heart began to beat a little faster than was comfortable. What if some of the Hunt gang were prowling about. “What do you think it is?” he asked, the next moment, in rather a quavering tone. “Jiggered if I know,” said Merritt; “let’s go toward the beach and investigate.” “Better do that than stay here,” agreed Tubby. Picking up their scout staves both boys cautiously tip-toed toward the mouth of the ravine. But before they could reach it a sudden shadow fell across the white strip of sand at the outlet. The next moment a huge body came into view. Its great bulk loomed up enormously to the eyes of the excited boys. “It’s a big deer!” exclaimed Tubby; “what a beauty! Look at those horns!” The deer, a fine antlered beast that was moving leisurely along the beach, looked up at the same instant. It gazed straight at the boys for a moment. Then it began pawing the ground angrily, and tossing its head. “What can be the matter with it?” said Merritt in a whisper. “Bothered if I know,” rejoined Tubby, “it looks kind of mad, doesn’t it? Maybe we’d better try to climb up that cliff.” “I think so, too,” said Merritt, as the stag buck lowered its head and its big eyes became filled with an angry fire. “Quick, Tubby!” he cried the next instant, “it’s going to charge!” Hardly had he voiced the warning before, with a furious half-bellow, half-snort, the buck rushed at them at top speed, its antlers lowered menacingly. |
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