  As Bob approached the fire, Sicum raised his head and whined softly. “Good old boy, what’s the matter,” Bob said as he placed his hand gently on the animal’s head. “Feel um hide,” Kernertok said. Bob did as directed. “Great guns! No wonder he’s afraid. Why he’s been licked.” “Heap big lickin’.” “I’ll say so. Look here, Jack and Rex.” “I’ll never blame a dog for being scared again,” Jack declared, after he had run his hand over the whelts. “It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed,” Rex said. “What or who could have done it?” “Problem number one,” Jack replied. “But whoever did it did a good job.” “And if I ever find out who it was, believe me, he’ll appreciate that fact,” Bob promised. “Will he get over it?” Rex turned to the Indian. Kernertok shook his head. “Him get well bimby.” “But will he get his courage back, I mean?” “Mebby, mebby not. Take um long time.” “I suppose so, and it’s no wonder. A licking like that would take the starch out of most men, let alone a dog,” Rex declared. “I don’t suppose it will be any use trying to get him to follow that trail,” Bob said as they were eating breakfast. “No heap good now,” Kernertok assured them. “How about the weather? Is it going to rain?” Jack asked turning to Kernertok. “Heap much, heap soon. Wind northeast.” “Then we’d better get off and make as many miles as we can before it comes,” Bob advised. They made quick work of washing the few dishes they had used and in rolling the packs, and in less than twenty minutes they were ready to push off. Their way led up the little stream which was hardly wide enough to permit the use of the paddles, and in places they were obliged to push the canoe with a long pole against the strong current. But Kernertok encouraged them with the assurance that it was only a little over three miles to Churchill Lake. Although they did not have to make a regular carry between the two lakes, they were obliged, no less than eight times, to take the canoe from the water and drag it around big rocks or places where the stream was too shallow to allow of its passing. “This is most as bad as a carry,” Jack panted as, for the eighth time, they were obliged to disembark. “They do make awful long miles up here,” Rex grinned as he lifted the front of the canoe from the water. “Well, I reckon we’re holding our own,” Bob laughed. It was nearly noon when at last they paddled out into Churchill Lake. The rain, which had been threatening all the morning, had began to fall as they were dragging the canoe around the last obstruction nearly an hour before, and was now coming down in big drops. “Guess we’ll have to look for a good camping place and hang up,” Bob suggested. “Rain heap cold,” Kernertok shivered as he spoke, and Rex, whose teeth had been chattering for the last hour, heartily agreed with him. They paddled for a few minutes along the shore until Jack spied a good place to make camp. “There’s just the place,” he declared, pointing. “Right there in that clump of spruce.” “See if you can find some dry wood, Jack,” Bob said a moment later, as he sprang to the shore and pulled the canoe up. “The rest of us’ll get the stuff under the trees.” Jack took the little axe and started off. He was obliged to hunt for some time before finding a dead tree, which, lying beneath a thick spruce, was fairly dry. Fifteen minutes later he returned, carrying a large armful of wood, and soon a cheerful fire was as Rex declared, thawing the frost out of their bones. “Kernertok and I’ll get dinner if you and Rex’ll get some more of that wood,” Bob suggested. “Righto. Come on, Rex. We’ll bring in a load big enough to build a house.” “Better make that house a wood shed,” Rex laughed as he followed him into the forest. It rained hard all that afternoon, but only a few drops now and then found their way through the thick spruce branches, and they were fairly comfortable. “It’s too bad to lose all this time,” Bob said late in the afternoon. “But it’s a whole lot better than getting soaked and catching cold. I tell you, Rex, it’s no fun being sick in the woods.” “Although I never had that experience and never want to for that matter, I can readily believe you,” Rex replied soberly. “Injun heap sick alone in woods one time. White boys save him,” Kernertok told Rex. “And Kernertok has more than paid the white boys back,” Jack declared, but the Indian only shook his head. “We could use a good trout for supper, Jack,” Bob announced a little later. “All right. Come on, Rex. The rain has about stopped. Guess we’ll take the canoe, though. It’s pretty shallow along the shore here.” “I believe I’ve got a whale this time,” Rex declared a few minutes later, as his rod bent until the tip was in the water. “Probably a salmon,” Jack said. “Play him easy, now. That’s it, let him run. Now reel in as fast as you can. Don’t give him any slack if you can help it. Now let him run again. That’s the stuff. He’ll soon tire at that rate.” For all of a half hour Rex played the big fish. Now getting him almost up to the canoe, only to have to let him have the line again, as he made a frantic rush for freedom. Jack stood up in the canoe with the landing net ready. “You almost had him that time,” he cried, as the fish turned for what proved to be the final rush. “He’s a dandy, all right. If only you don’t lose him.” “If I do I’ll go over after him,” Rex panted, as he again began to reel in the line. It was evident now that the fish was nearly at the end of its strength, although he fought every foot of the way. “Steady now. Hold him tight. I’ll have him in a minute.” Suddenly Jack made a dip with the net and the next instant the fish was in the canoe. “It’s a salmon all right, and the largest I ever saw,” Jack declared. “Isn’t he a beauty?” Rex said as he gazed proudly down at the silver white fish. “And didn’t he put up a fight? If we didn’t need him for supper I’d put him back and let him live.” “But, unfortunately for him, we do need him,” Jack said as he picked up the paddle and started for the shore. “Goodness! I didn’t say we wanted a whale,” Bob declared as Rex came up to the fire carrying the fish by the gills. “Let’s see how much he weighs,” he said. “Sixteen pounds and four ounces,” Bob announced a moment later. “Some fish.” “Heap big un,” Kernertok added. “I didn’t know they grew as big as that,” Rex said. “Injun catch one in this pond ten twelve year ago, him weigh nineteen pound. Heap big salmon.” “I’ll say it was,” Rex laughed. Soon after supper the rain began again and Kernertok expressed the opinion that it would keep up all night. They decided to risk the night without keeping watch. “It’s a bad night for ghosts,” Jack declared. “But the trouble is, we don’t know what species this particular ghost belongs to,” Bob reminded him. Along about midnight Bob awoke. It was still raining hard and the wind remained in the same direction that it had held all day. “It’s not apt to quit till the wind changes,” he thought as he turned over. At that instant, above the sound of the wind, he heard the strange cry which had disturbed him the two nights previous. It was, however, a good ways off, and although it was repeated a number of times, it did not seem to come any nearer. None of the others woke so far as he could tell, and he soon drifted off to sleep again. When he again awoke day was just breaking and, to his great joy, he saw that the weather had cleared. “Wonder if we’ll have any tracks,” he thought as he rolled out of his blanket. Early as it was, Kernertok had a fire going and the coffee pot on. “See any more of those tracks?” he asked, as he joined the Indian. “Just same last night, heap big ones.” “Do you have any idea of what it is, Kernertok?” Bob asked in a low tone. “No know um,” the Indian grunted. “You can just bet your last dollar that I’m going to camp right down by the lake to-night, wherever we camp, and find out what it is that makes those tracks,” Jack declared as he joined Bob down by the shore a few minutes later. “You want to look out that it don’t find you first.” “Not if I see him or it first it won’t.” “Won’t what?” Rex, who joined them just as Jack spoke, asked. “Oh, Jack’s going to put some salt on the tail of whatever it is that makes these tracks and catch it to-night,” Bob told him laughingly. “And he said it wouldn’t get him if he saw it first.” “Well, you’d better shoot that salt with a three hundred kilometer gun, judging by the size of those tracks. I’d sure hate to meet the thing that made ’em in the dark,” Rex advised. Just then Kernertok announced that breakfast was ready. Churchill Lake is not large and they reached the upper end shortly after nine o’clock. “What’s the next lake we strike, and how far is it?” Bob asked Kernertok. “Him Big Umsaskis. Him ’bout ten mile up um stream.” “How’s Sicum this morning?” Jack asked, leaning back to pat the shaggy head. “Him heap better. No well yet. Not so much scared now.” They found the stream joining Churchill Lake with the Big Umsaskis, a little larger than the one they had traversed the day before, but it was very swift and rocky and their progress was painfully slow. It seemed to the eager boys that they would hardly more than get into the canoe when they would have to clamber out and drag it around some obstruction. “What time is it?” Jack asked late in the afternoon, as they were resting, after dragging the canoe over a particularly difficult place. Rex laughed. “That reminds me of the darkie who was in jail for life. A friend went to see him and as he was leaving the prisoner asked him what time it was. The friend replied, “Wha’ for you wan’ know the time? Youse ain’t going nowhere.” “And it doesn’t seem as though we were doing much better just at present,” Jack laughed. They entered the foot of Big Umsaskis just after five o’clock and decided to make camp for the night, as they were all very tired. “I feel as though we had made about a hundred miles instead of ten to-day,” Jack declared, as he threw himself down on the ground. As soon as the early supper was over they began to discuss plans for trying to find out what it was that was making the mysterious tracks. They all felt that it had gone far enough and that they were actually in danger and that it was high time to do something. “Now, how are we going about catching that lalapaloosla?” Jack asked, as they sat around the fire. “What’s that you said?” Rex gasped. “I said how are we going to catch the lalapaloosla?” “And what’s that?” “That’s a second cousin to a ringed-tailed squeeler,” Jack replied with a perfect sober face. “Oh, now I understand. I had one of them once,” Rex said equally sober. “Eh, what?” “I said I had one once.” “One what?” “Why a ringed-tailed squeeler. That’s what we were talking about, wasn’t it?” Jack burst out laughing. “I’ll come down as the squirrel said when it saw Davy Crockett. Anybody’s got to get up early in the morning to get ahead of you.” After some discussion, it was decided that they would divide the night into two watches: Jack and the Indian to watch until twelve o’clock, when Bob and Rex would relieve them. None felt that it would be safe for one to stand watch alone. “If those tracks are made by some four-footed animal it’s a mighty big one, as I said before, and if it’s a two-legged animal, in other words, a man, he’s going to a whole lot of trouble to scare us, and the chances are that he’d be desperate if he was cornered,” Bob said, and all agreed with him. “If I only had my rifle,” Jack said. “I’d feel safer.” “But they had only brought the one rifle and its disappearance left them unarmed, except for their automatics. “Now, remember, there’s to be no funny business to-night. You are to call us sharp at twelve. That will give us all plenty of sleep and we all need it. Promise,” Bob said, as they were all about to separate. “All right, I promise,” Jack replied, and Bob knew that he would keep his word. It was a lonely watch down by the shore of the lake. It was not so dark as on the previous night, although there was no moon. The sky was studded with stars, and by their light they could see dimly for a distance of several feet. Sicum lay curled up close beside his master, and every little while a low growl or a faint whine indicated that his dreams were troubled. “Guess he’s dreaming about that beating he got,” Jack thought, as he rubbed his eyes. Slowly the minutes and hours passed, until after what seemed an eternity, his watch told him that it was time to call the others. Nothing had happened and they had not heard the strange cry. “All quiet along the Potomac,” he announced after he had awakened Bob and Rex. “Hope you have better luck.” “What day is it?” Rex asked as soon as they had taken their places down by the lake. “Search me. It’s funny how one loses all track of the time up here in the woods. But it must be Sunday, I think. Wait a minute, till I reckon up. “Yes,” he said a moment later, “it’s Sunday. We’ll have a good long rest if nothing happens. We never travel on Sunday if it can be helped, you know.” “And that’s right too. A man needs one day in seven to rest.” “I think so.” “About one day in two would be even better,” Rex laughed, “according to the way we’ve been going the past two days.” “It’s been pretty strenuous, for a fact, especially when you’re not used to it. It’s been a wonder to me that you’ve stood it so well.” “Oh, I’m fairly tough when I get my second wind.” “I’ll say you are.” “It’s a good thing it isn’t so dark as it was last night,” Rex said a little later. “It’s a comfort to know that that lalapaloosla can’t get us without us seeing him.” “You said something. Believe me it was dark last night.” “Listen. Did you hear it?” Rex asked about an hour later. “Sure did. It’s that fake wild cat again.” “Are you sure it’s a fake?” “N—o,” Bob replied slowly. “I’m not certain, but I never heard a cat make just that kind of noise. It’s a bit too shrill and drawn out at the end to be genuine. Still, of course, they don’t all sound exactly alike.” “My experience with wild cats has been pretty limited, so my opinion is no good, but if a cat is making that noise, it must be some cat that’s all.” “Oh, they can make noise enough so far as that is concerned. If you ever hear one close to you, you’ll never forget it. It’s enough to raise the hair on a bald man’s head.” “As bad as that?” Rex laughed. “You’ll think so if you hear one, and you may have the chance, because that fellow, whatever it may be, is coming closer and coming at a pretty good clip, too.” The cry was now being repeated at close intervals, and each one was distinctly nearer than the one before. “I don’t know whether there is any connection between those yells and the making of the tracks or not, but we want to keep our eyes peeled pretty sharp, because they seem to happen at about the same time,” Bob cautioned as he looked sharply about him. “I believe the cat’s going farther away,” Rex said a little later. “Sounds like it,” Bob agreed. The cries had for some time been growing fainter and soon they died out altogether. “Guess the show’s over for to-night,” Bob said, as he got to his feet and stretched his arms. “Let’s take the flash and see if Jack’s lalapaloosla has slipped anything over on us.” “You bet.” For some minutes they searched about close to the shore of the lake, but somewhat to their surprise no tracks were to be seen. “Well, he may come yet,” Rex said as they once more sat down. “You never can tell,” Bob agreed. The time dragged slowly on, until Bob’s watch told him that it was nearly three o’clock. “Goodness, but I’m sleepy,” he said as he got to his feet. “Same here.” “I’m going to take a look up back, if you don’t mind,” Bob said. “I’ll only be gone a few minutes.” “Go ahead. I’ll keep watch here.” Bob was gone a little longer than he expected. He was very thirsty, and running across the tiny bed of a stream, he followed it up hoping to find a spring. He soon located it and, after drinking his fill, he stopped to cut a strip of birch bark from a tree. With this he fashioned a dipper that he might take some water back to Rex. “I’ll bet he’s thirsty,” he thought as he started back. To his surprise Rex was nowhere in sight when he returned. He sat the birch bark dipper down and, with the aid of the flash light, looked about all around the place where they had been sitting. “Guess he thought he’d take a stroll,” he thought. “But it’s rather strange he didn’t wait till I got back.” Not really alarmed, but a trifle uneasy regarding his friend’s absence, he sat down and leaned back against the trunk of a tree. The minutes passed and Rex did not return. “Hope he hasn’t gone and got lost,” he thought. “I’m afraid he doesn’t realize how easy it is to get lost in these woods.” When a half hour had passed and still no Rex, he began to be really uneasy. Taking the flash light, he made a wide detour of the camping place, calling every few minutes as loudly, as he dared for fear of waking Jack and Kernertok. “This is getting serious,” he told himself, as he returned to his previous position. “Wonder if I’d better call the others.” Somewhat against his better judgment he decided to wait a while longer, hoping that Rex would return. He knew that it would be light in a little more than an hour, and he hated to disturb his brother and the Indian. But when the first tinge of the coming day lighted up the eastern sky and Rex had not returned, he was really alarmed, and decided to wait no longer. “Eh, what’s up?” Jack asked sleepily, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Rex has gone.” “Gone where?” “That’s what I’d like to know,” and Bob told him what had happened. “It’s mighty funny how he could get lost so quickly.” “I wasn’t gone over thirty minutes,” Bob assured him. Their talking awakened Kernertok, and Bob quickly told him of Rex’s disappearance. “That heap bad,” the Indian grunted. “Him get lost take long time mebby find him.” “Well, to-day’s Sunday, so we won’t be losing any time,” Jack said. “Do you think Sicum can track him?” Bob turned to Kernertok. “We try um.” But although they let the dog sniff at Rex’s cap and took him to where he had been sitting when Bob left him, the dog refused to stir. “Him heap fool dog,” Kernertok declared disgustedly. “You mustn’t blame him,” Bob cautioned. “Remember, we don’t know what he has been through.” “It doesn’t seem as though he could have gone very far in the darkness,” Jack said, “and we ought not to have a great deal of trouble in finding him.” By this time it was nearly daylight even in the woods, and, after a short discussion, it was decided that they would separate. Jack was to go up along the shore of the lake and Bob in the opposite direction, while Kernertok was to strike off at right angles to their course. “Remember now, two shots will mean that he’s found and three that there’s trouble and help needed,” Bob told them. “It’s now a quarter to five, and we’ll keep on till seven o’clock, if we don’t find him. He wouldn’t go very far in the dark, and if we don’t locate him in that time it’ll mean that we’ve probably passed him. And don’t be afraid to yell. He may have fallen into a bear pit or something.” After Bob had left him, Rex fell into a light dose for a moment, but was quickly aroused by a slight noise to his right. Instantly he was wide awake and straining his eyes. Was that something moving up along the shore of the lake? He was not sure at first, but a moment later he was certain that there was something there. Getting to his feet as quietly as possible he stole softly through the darkness. He could just make out a dim shape which seemed to glide rather than walk a few yards ahead of him. He followed slowly, careful to make no sound. If this was Jack’s lalapaloosla he had no wish to come into close quarters with it. But here was a chance to solve the mystery he felt, and the thought of not doing his best never entered his head. For some thirty yards the shape led him along the shore of the lake and then seemed to turn and plunge into the thick woods nearly at right angles. As the shape disappeared he ran quickly forward to where it had turned, and listened. He could hear it as it made its way between the trees and, after a moment’s hesitation, he struck off after it. It never occurred to him that he could get lost so near the camp, and to wait for Bob might mean that he would lose the chance entirely. It was pitch dark in the thick woods and he had only his sense of hearing to guide him as he hurried along. It seemed to him that, for so bulky a form, the thing moved with amazing swiftness, and he was hard put to it to keep in hearing distance. So intent was he on not losing track of the thing that he was wholly unaware of the passage of time, and it was with a start of surprise that he noticed that it was getting light. He had no idea as to how far he had come. Rex stopped and listened. Not a sound of his quarry could he hear. Either the thing had stopped or else it had outdistanced him. “Guess I’ll have to wait till it gets a little lighter and see if I can follow his tracks,” he thought. “It ought not to be hard if he makes as big ones in here as down by the lake.” He sat down on a dead tree trunk and waited for perhaps a half hour. “Guess it’s light enough now,” he said half aloud. He began his search for the trail of the mysterious creature, full of hope that he would quickly pick it up. But in this he was disappointed, for he was unable to locate it. “It’s a case of now you see it and now you don’t,” he muttered as he looked about him. “Well, guess I might as well get back to camp. I’ll bet they are wondering what has become of me,” he chuckled. But which way should he go? Not until he was ready to start had it occurred to him that there could be any question about so simple a matter. He would simply go back the way he had come. But now, as he paused and looked about, he was forced to admit to himself that he had no idea as to the direction of the lake. “I wonder if I’m lost,” he thought. He remembered now how many times the boys had warned him how easily a man could get lost in the big Maine woods. But he was not worried. He would, of course, find his way out in a short time. It would at the most mean only a few hours’ delay. “I’ll go in a straight line till I run across a brook, and then all I’ll have to do will be to follow it to the lake, and then follow the lake round to the camp,” he told himself as he started off. He pushed his way through the woods as rapidly as possible, for he wanted to get back without any unnecessary delay. But he came to no stream, and after more than an hour had passed, he decided to take another short rest. He again sat down on a fallen tree trunk. “Brooks don’t seem to be as thick up here as I thought they were,” he said to himself, as he took his jack knife from his pocket. It had long been a habit with Rex to carve his initials on the trunk of a tree whenever he was in the woods, and now he started to do it almost without thinking. He had cut an R through the bark close to his side, when he happened to raise his eyes to meet the log a little farther toward the end. There, only a few feet from where he sat, were some initials cut in the bark. He moved over so that he could read them. His eyes opened wide with astonishment as he saw R. D. in large letters. “It’s sure a wonderful coincidence that another fellow having my initials should cut them on this very same tree,” he thought. “Don’t look as though they had been cut very long, either,” he muttered, as he moved over to examine the marks closer. Then suddenly the truth came to him. They were the marks he had cut only an hour or two before. “And that means that I’ve been traveling round in a circle and have come back to where I started,” he muttered. “Now what do you know about that?” He remembered then that he had heard that a person lost in the woods is very apt to walk in a circle, owing to the tendency to take a slightly longer step with the right foot than with the left. “Right back where I started from,” he mused, as he stared at the letters. “How the dickens is a fellow going to keep a straight line? If the sun would only come out from behind those clouds I might go by it, but it doesn’t look as though it had any intention of doing it. Well, here goes for another try at it. I may be back later,” he grinned as he looked again at the log. Starting off in the same direction that he had taken before, he picked out a tree as far away as he could see through the thick woods and made his way to it. “I’ve come straight so far at least,” he smiled, as he leaned against the tree and with his eye picked out another for his second goal. In this way he kept on for what seemed to him a long time. He kept looking about half expecting to find himself back where he started from a second time. But as the time passed and he saw no sign of the fallen tree he began to take heart. “I really believe I’m going straight this time,” he told himself. It was nearly noon and he knew that he must have gone many miles before he thought of being hungry. But now the thought came to him with striking force. He remembered that he had eaten nothing since the night before and, as he expressed it, he felt empty clear down to his toes. |
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