The Outdoor Chums on the Lake: or, Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island

“What will we have for our first supper?” Bluff asked; for he did not mean to let Jerry carry off all the honors in the cooking line this trip.

Secretly Bluff had been getting the hired girl at his home to teach him some of the kitchen lore, and he had a few surprises up his sleeve which he intended to spring upon his unsuspecting chums when the occasion came around that he was left alone in charge of the camp.

“Nobody thought to bring a steak this time,” ventured Frank; “so if you’re all agreeable, I say that we begin our cooking with a little canoeist’s menu something along this order: Tea, succotash, a can of corned beef, fresh bread and butter, and finish with a jar of preserves and cake from home. How does that strike you?”

“It suits me. And as the sun is sinking low, the sooner we get to work the better,” declared Bluff, readily enough; for he was fairly ravenous, and kept wetting his lips like a hungry dog that scents a rich, juicy bone.

“Talk about your feasts, what could equal that programme? Me for the corned beef every time. Why, it’s my best hold, and I just worship it – hot, cold or medium. How do you stand, Will? Any further suggestions?”

“Well, I brought some imported Switzer cheese along, and you know, fellows, I’m particularly fond of it; so if it’s just the same to you, I’ll add that to the list,” replied the one addressed.

“Oh, my! that’s what I get for speaking too hastily. Now I shall certainly be punished. I suppose as long as that cheese lasts my appetite will vanish at every meal. I only hope that gay old wild man takes a fancy to it, and elopes with the whole blessed bunch. Why didn’t you fetch limburger and kill us outright, instead of our dying by inches? But it will help draw the wildcats around, that’s one comfort,” groaned Jerry.

Preparations for supper went on apace.

They had set the tents at the base of a little bluff; for Wildcat Island was a singular formation, being quite hilly in parts. Indeed, some people were fond of comparing it to the volcanic islands that suddenly rise up out of the sea in regions like the Alaska coast; and as frequently vanish in a night. It was moreover heavily wooded, and the rank vegetation made it anything but an easy task to do any exploring.

Frank had calculated that this steep bluff overhanging the camp would be of considerable benefit to the expedition should a severe storm set in from the west.

As the boys busied themselves with various tasks they chatted and joked after their custom.

The stew of succotash and corned beef, which Frank had called the Canoeist’s Delight, was now ready. He set it aside on a stone to cool a trifle while the table was being prepared.

“How’s the coffee getting on, Jerry?” asked the chief cook of the evening; for they usually changed around, and gave each fellow a chance to show what he knew along the line of preparing appetizing dishes, or of exposing his ignorance, which method of procedure naturally created some rivalry.

“Just about ready. I’ve allowed it to boil furiously three times, and settled it with a dash of cold water on each and every occasion. Talk to me about the nectar of the gods, this suits me all right.”

“Oh! please hurry up. I’m almost trembling with eagerness, after sitting here and sniffing those delicious odors for so long a time,” pleaded Will, who happened to have nothing to do with the supper on this occasion, his time coming on the morrow.

But they gave him no heed, those unfeeling wretches.

The one who camps out must expect to prove himself a hero daily by conquering his appetite and holding it in check with a firm hand until the head chef declares that all is ready for the feast to begin.

Frank had just finished placing the aluminum plates and cups, and was about to reach out for the kettle of steaming stew, when to his astonishment he found the stone, where he had laid it, empty.

Thinking that one of the others might be playing some trick, he opened his mouth to remonstrate, when a cry from Will caused him to turn his eyes upward.

There he saw the little kettle swinging in mid-air, and being drawn hastily upwards by some unseen mysterious agency!

CHAPTER VI – FRANK MAKES A GUESS

No one seemed able to say a single word.

Standing or crouching there, with staring eyes those four lads watched the marvelous ascent of their supper. It was as though an unseen hand had reached down and plucked the kettle from the rock to carry it heavenward.

Now it had reached the level of the top of the bluff, and as they continued to gape, an arm was thrust hastily out from the rank vegetation that grew there; they saw eager fingers clutch the kettle, and then it was drawn from their sight.

“Tell me about that!” gasped Jerry, as soon as he could catch his breath.

Bluff made a dive for Frank’s gun. His own repeating shotgun was at home, out of commission, for which Jerry, who hated the modern arm as the devil is said to hate holy water, never ceased to give thanks.

But Frank caught his arm.

“No, I wouldn’t do that, Bluff. We can afford to lose our stew, for we’ve got plenty more behind it. We can even let the little kettle go, if necessary; but we should hate to have any man’s life on our hands, no matter if he is a crazy being.”

“Did you see him, Frank?” exclaimed Will, in great excitement.

“No more than the rest of you. An arm came into view, and the kettle was drawn in. Somebody is going to enjoy a fine supper to-night. Perhaps the poor fellow has not tasted decent food for ages. Much good may it do him,” said Frank.

“What are you going to do about it, then?” demanded the warlike Bluff.

“Well, the best thing is to open another can of succotash and one of the corned beef, since we seem to have set our minds on that stew,” smiled Frank.

He immediately started operations.

“But are we going to sit here like a lot of babies while that scamp runs off with our supper?” demanded Bluff, indignantly.

“And he’s stolen one of your charming little aluminum kettles, too, Frank,” put in Will, in added horror.

“Well, there are plenty more where that came from, and an indulgent dad will, I am sure, supply me with all I want; but I should hate to have to tell him that I had filled a poor demented being with bird-shot just because the tantalizing odor of my favorite canoeist stew had tempted him beyond endurance.”

“How do you think the beggar ever did it?” asked Jerry at this juncture, as he craned his neck to look straight upward.

“I think I can see how. I noticed a cord of some sort. Evidently he had a hook attached. This he passed over that branch of a tree sticking out from the top of the bluff, so that the kettle might be kept away from the face of the cliff as it rose, and in that way prevented from spilling its coveted contents,” replied the one addressed.

“Talk to me about your aeroplanes, that was an ascension to beat the band! Wow! I had a chill run up and down my spinal column, for I give you my word, fellows, at first I really thought of ghosts, and that some invisible agency had reached down and gobbled our supper.”

“And I thought I was dreaming – that I’d fallen asleep by the fire, and you had eaten up all the stew, while Bluff was throwing up the empty kettle to practice shooting at, like he did our wash-basin that other time,” admitted Will.

“And that chap was angling for the bale of our kettle while we sat here and never once suspected what was going on. Say, we’re a husky lot of tenderfeet. Why, some night a thief will come and steal the blankets off us, and no one be the wiser until morning,” declared Bluff, in disgust.

After a while the second kettle of stew was pronounced ready. It was laughable to see how those four crowded around to protect it against an invading force; and what suspicious looks they cast upward at the brow of the innocent little bluff.

But there was no further manifestation of the Presence near them. Jerry kept an eye on the coffee-pot, and was ready with a keen-edged knife to immediately proceed against any dangling cord and hook that might come in sight.

They enjoyed the supper in spite of the uncanny feeling that this unprovoked and early attack had produced.

“Who was it predicted that the odors of our cooking would stir up the old hermit, and awaken his appetite for the things of the civilized world? Frank, it was you. And sure enough that’s what came to pass. He’s got tired of feeding on roots and birds’ eggs and fish,” remarked Will, feeling better after he had quieted the gnawings of his appetite.

“Provided that it was the so-called wild man,” said Frank, quietly.

At which remark there was a chorus of cries.

“It certainly must have been a human being and not an animal. Even an educated ape or chimpanzee could never have had that cord and hook and managed it as this chap did. What do you mean by doubting it, Frank?” demanded Bluff.

“Yes, tell us what you’ve been thinking?” asked Will.

“Say, that gives me an idea. I wager I can guess what he’s got in mind,” ventured Jerry, looking exceedingly wise.

“Well, go on then,” from Frank.

“The two runaway tramps!”

“Jerry, that head of yours will get you into trouble some day. You are too good a guesser,” laughed Frank.

“Then that was it? You think the tramps have come over here to Wildcat Island to hide while the sheriff is hunting the woods high and low for them? I declare, if that’s so it means warm times in store for us,” exclaimed Will.

“Talk to me about your war scares, what could equal that? Why, we’ll capture the blooming hoboes, and let Mr. Dodd know there are others besides himself who can do things.”

“What makes you think that?” pursued Bluff, who always wanted to know the why and wherefore of everything, he being the Doubting Thomas of the quartet.

“I may be mistaken, remember; for I’m just speculating, you see. In the first place, I doubt if our wild man would be provided with such a convenient cord and hook. Then again I saw that arm, and it was covered with a sleeve that looked wonderfully like that of the taller tramp’s coat, a dun-colored affair.”

“Bravo! Frank’s logic carries the day. I’m going to take it for granted that we are entertaining angels unawares on this blessed old island,” cried Will.

“Angels?” snorted Jerry. “Talk to me about that, will you? They must have had their wings singed, then, or else they’d have flown down and scooped our grub instead of using a measly old string. Angels! Wow! Will’s turning poet as well as artist.”

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