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

Now his body had appeared. He was testing the rotten timbers first to make positive that they would hold him.

Bluff hardly breathed as he stared as well as he could, for it was half dark here, even in the daytime. He knew that a mutual surprise awaited all the persons taking part in that little drama, when Jerry reached the edge and looked over. Those crouching below expected to see one of the tattered hoboes, while possibly Jerry hoped he might find his chums awaiting him.

“It’s coming!” Frank heard him say, as he fumbled around for something; but he was so much interested himself that he did not give Bluff a second thought.

Then the creeping boy on the low roof of the cabin reached the edge. They saw him stretch his neck so that his head projected over; and there he remained, as if frozen stiff by the strange sight that greeted him.

It was not so gloomy there alongside the shack but that his keen eyes could see, under the heavy growth of rank trees, the many faces up-turned toward him. At the same time, Pet and his mates made the astounding discovery that it was Jerry Wallington, after all, who had been about to descend in this peculiar way.

Too late, Frank realized what was coming. He heard the old familiar “click” close to his ear, and a thrill of alarm shot through his frame; but ere he could even wink, much less make the slightest movement, the thing was done.

Bluff had fired another cartridge connected with that camera of Will’s. Recognizing the proper elements for a powerful flashlight picture in the remarkable combination before him, he had proceeded to carry out Will’s instructions, regardless of consequences.

Some of the clustering boys seemed ready to scamper off, but the voice of Pet recalled them to a sense of their duty. Besides, the prospect of becoming lost in those gloomy woods was not very flattering, and they huddled together.

“Hey, don’t yuh let that skeer yuh, fellers. It’s on’y some of that crazy Will Milton’s photergraphy business. Stick to it, and get that reward. Don’t a single one of yuh dar’ to run!” was what he shouted.

The situation was rather embarrassing for Jerry. He seemed to be between two fires as it were. If he came down, these angry boys stood ready to attack him; while to stay where he was meant that the hoboes would be able to reach him.

Frank began to wonder whether the time had not come for them to enter the game and stand by their chum. He had even arisen to his feet to make a forward movement when he saw that as usual, Jerry had his wits about him.

The boy on the quivering roof of the old shack was edging his way along. He appeared to be aiming for a certain spot where a big tree swept its branches down so as to brush the roof.

It offered a refuge for any one who could neither come down nor remain where he was, and Jerry knew he could make it. Now he reached the nearest limb, and like a monkey scrambled upward. The one who caught him after that would have to be nimble indeed.

“Hurrah!” shouted Bluff, unable to restrain his admiration for the presence of mind on the part of his chum.

Perhaps, given time, and the Peters crowd might have attempted some further hostile move, looking to the capture of the boy who had just gained his freedom from a prison. Frank was grimly making up his mind that, no matter what happened, he did not mean to stand idly by and see Jerry fall into the hands of these fellows.

“Say, are you going to rush ’em?” demanded Bluff, fairly wild to make a charge.

“Not unless they start after Jerry. Just now they seem to be bent on capturing our friends, the hoboes, and we can afford to let them fight it out until both sides are exhausted, when our time will come. There they go at the door with the log as a battering ram! Whoop! what do you think of that?”

Frank’s last exclamation was caused by a sudden movement on the part of the besieged; for the door had suddenly opened, and a pan of hot water was thrown out on the huddled holders of the log.

CHAPTER XXI – THE LAST STRAW

“Ouch! I’m scalded!”

“Skidoo, boys! there’s more a-comin’!”

“Why didn’t ye shoot, Bill, when ye had the chance? Gee! the skin’s a-peelin’ off me nose a’ready!”

No sooner had Waddy Walsh thrown the pan of hot water upon the advancing group that carried the log than he bolted inside again, and the bar was heard falling back of the door.

Then they heard the young savage laugh loud and long. It was this sound that aroused the passions of the crowd. They no longer thought of flight. With the burning sensation that came with the hot water application, each fellow ached to be revenged. The worst of it was, most of them knew Waddy well, and indeed he had once been a member of this same crowd.

Down went the log to the ground. All thought of using it as a battering ram had left them now.

“Git behind the trees, fellers. It’s us to the foolish house if we let that Waddy Walsh ketch us ag’in,” shouted Pet, who was rubbing his face quite as vigorously as his comrades in misery.

Upon this they hustled for shelter. Each boy took to a tree that happened to come handy, and feeling safe from a further bombardment they gave vent to their feelings in all sorts of characteristic shouts.

Frank was feeling a bit anxious about Jerry. What if these reckless spirits, aggravated by their hot reception, should try to take it out on the person of the boy they hated? Two of them carried some manner of shotguns, and there was no telling what they might not be tempted to do.

When, however, he looked anxiously up into the tree where he had last seen Jerry, to his delight he found that the other had vanished completely from sight.

“Where’s he gone?” asked Bluff, at this moment, he having apparently likewise just discovered the absence of the other chum.

“I don’t know. Perhaps he’s only hiding behind the trunk of the tree, or he may have found it hollow, like that other one, and slipped in. Watch what those fellows are up to. If they make a move to shoot at Jerry, we’ll have to put in our oar,” Frank answered with considerable feeling.

Pet Peters’ crowd was plainly at a loss to know how they ought to proceed. They saw that hundred dollars reward dangling temptingly before their eyes, and could not bear the thought of letting it pass without straining themselves to the utmost to win it. All sorts of things they had wanted so long could be bought with that easy money, and they were not yet ready to give up their chances.

“Hi! Bill, you an’ Sim git over here. I wanter have a spiel with yuh. Them guns orter fetch our game out on ther knees, if yuh on’y use ’em steady. Kim over, an’ you, too, Miser Lee. P’raps I kin use yuh!”

It was Pet bawling out, and that his word carried weight was manifest by the way in which the three fellows addressed hastened to cross over to where he stood back of the big tree that had the gaping hole in its trunk ten feet from the ground.

Frank could see them talking earnestly, and gesticulating as if to emphasize their words. Finally Pet seized the gun that one of the others carried, and taking a quick aim at the cabin he pulled the trigger.

“Bang! bang!” went both barrels.

The dead grass vanished from the little window under the charges of shot at such close quarters.

“Kim out o’ that, an’ surrender to the law!” bellowed Pet.

Frank laughed to himself at the words; it was more than comical to hear this boy, whose contempt for law and order had made him a marked character in Centerville, so loudly proclaim his sudden conversion.

Silence followed this peremptory command. Those within the cabin either did not care to answer, or else could not.

“Say, Pet, p’raps ye did for ’em that time?” suggested one of the others.

“Git out! Thar wa’nt no chance of that happenin’. Waddy just wants tuh fool us. He allers was that ways, yuh know,” answered Pet; but it was plain that the awful suggestion rather awed him.

“Shall I shoot, Pet?” asked the other owner of a gun, dubiously.

“’Course yuh must. Think I’m goin’ tuh do all the work. Blaze away both of ye, so long as ye got a shell left. Anyhow, p’raps we kin put in a claim fur part o’ the reward, fur holdin’ ’em here. Go on, Sim, I tell yuh!”

So Sim began to bombard the wall of the cabin. He made mighty sure not to fire in at that little gaping hole where the dead grass had hung until Pet knocked it through with his shot. If so be any damage was done to the inmates Sim did not mean to be accused as the guilty one.

Things seemed pretty lively for a time, with those two guns rattling away as fast as the owners could reload. From behind their trees the balance of the attacking crowd watched to see if there came any white flag of surrender. Beyond the boom of the guns, however, not a sound was heard, unless the excited voices of the eager boys were taken into consideration.

Bluff was plainly nervous. He tried to get up several times, and as often Frank pulled him down again.

“I just can’t stand it, with all that racket going on. Why don’t we have a share in it?” he begged, piteously.

“Because we don’t want to expose our hand. Give those silly chumps time and they will play the game to suit us. Wait till their last shell has been fired; then we control the situation. See?” whispered his comrade, soothingly.

“Frank, you hit me again that time. What a goose I am. Why, of course that’s the racket for us. Let ’em go on and roll their hoop!” answered Bluff, who at least was always ready to admit the error of his ways when convinced.

The shooting soon came to an end, for neither Sim nor Bill seemed to have any great amount of ammunition with them.

“That’s my last shell!” declared the former, presently.

“An’ I got my last in the gun. Shall I use ’em, Pet?” demanded the other.

“’Course, an’ send it in the windy this time,” growled the one addressed.

But Bill was too shrewd for that, and proceeded to sprinkle his bird shot over the surface of the ancient logs.

“Now we control the situation. Our guns are not useless, if theirs are!” exclaimed Frank, with a chuckle.

Still he did not seem in any hurry to open hostilities. Perhaps he hoped these eight followers of Pet might find a way to capture the hoboes, upon which they could appear on the scene and menace the enemy until they were glad to run away, leaving the fruits of their victory in the hands of Frank and his friends.

“Pet’s up to something tricky. I bet it’s the old game of firing the shanty. You remember, Frank, how he tried to burn us out last Fall when we were in camp. There goes some of the lot creeping up with armfuls of leaves. Say, are we going to stand by and see it done?” queried Bluff, warmly.

“At the last minute we can stop it. When Pet starts up to strike a match, then we’ll take a hand. No hurry. The chaps inside won’t thank us, remember. It’s out of the frying-pan into the fire with them,” came from his companion, who was observing all that went on with a critical eye.

“Looks like they meant to have a big enough pile of leaves there,” said Bluff, as the line of creeping forms kept depositing more and more fuel close to the wall of the cabin.

“Yes, and I reckon she’d burn like tinder if once started. Suppose those two hoboes rushed out suddenly, do you suppose Pet and his crowd have got sand enough to tackle them?” asked Frank of the recruit on his other side.

“They want that reward bad, I reckon, and would do some tall fightin’ to get it. Fightin’ is ther main suit, ye know,” answered Tom Somers, as he caressed the cut on his face tenderly.

“Now they’ve stopped piling up the leaves. Looks like they expected Pet to go in and put a match to the bunch. He don’t appear to hanker after the job, but to back out would put him on the blink with the crowd. There, Frank, he’s going to make the riffle, you see. Now, what?” panted Bluff, again seeking to rise, as he fumbled his gun nervously.

“There’s no need of our doing anything, after all,” remarked Frank.

“Then you mean to let ’em set the cabin on fire, and perhaps roast the poor hoboes before our very eyes?” exclaimed Bluff, in dismay.

“Not at all. I only mean that the job of frightening the bunch off is going to be taken out of our hands, for that wild man is coming back!”

“You don’t say? Where – point him out to me, Frank. Oh! if I could only get a chance to snap him off; but, just like the luck, the last flashlight cartridge is gone. Ginger! I see him now. Ain’t he a terror though? And won’t they go into fits when he rushes ’em? There he comes, as sure as you live! Wow! watch the circus, boys. My! my! ain’t I glad I’m here to see this!”

Tom Somers had said that his former teammates loved nothing better than a fight, but there were evidently times when such a condition of affairs was far from their thoughts. Such seemed to be the case now, for as they heard the shrill whoops of the outlandish hairy figure that came prancing headlong toward them, every boy took to his heels in a mad flight, heedless alike of direction or obstacles in the way, so long as he could escape a close encounter with that terrible creature.

CHAPTER XXII – HOLDING THE FORT

“Look at them run, Frank! Such a scared crowd of singed cats! Did you ever see such a sight? But where is that old wild man gone?” exclaimed Bluff, who had arisen fearlessly to his feet the better to watch the mad flight of Pet Peters and his cronies through the dense thickets.

“I couldn’t say, Bluff. I was too much taken up with the way some of those boys banged headlong into the trunks of trees to notice anything else. Did you see, Tom?”

“He climbed the same old tree, and popped into that hole like a jack-in-the-box,” declared the one addressed, quickly.

At that Frank laughed again and again, though Bluff looked at him as if hardly understanding what there was about the manner of the wild man’s disappearance to amuse his chum so.

“Jerry!” he called presently.

“Tell me about that, will you?” a familiar voice said, and they saw the object of their solicitude clambering down from a tree not far away from the house.

In another minute the three chums were shaking hands with a vim. It was certainly good to see Jerry again, and Bluff could hardly keep from embracing him.

“Did they treat you mean, old pard?” he asked, looking darkly toward the cabin, as if meditating an immediate assault if Jerry complained.

“Well, it wasn’t a nice experience, I tell you; but on the whole they didn’t kick me more than a dozen times, and I reckon I sassed ’em enough to expect that. Glad to see you again, fellows, I tell you. Who’s this? Hello! what’s Tom Somers doing with chums of mine, I’d like to know?” demanded the escaped captive, curiously.

“He had a fight with the rest, and they left him on the island, tied to a tree?” explained Bluff, eagerly.

“Oh; yes, I see, and you rescued him, so that out of gratitude he joined forces to storm the stronghold of the common enemy. Say, this beats anything we ever met up with. That wild man is sure the greatest thing that ever came over the pike,” and to Bluff’s surprise Jerry also had a fit of laughing.

“You fellows seem to be tickled over something that I don’t just grab. I didn’t think you were the kind to laugh at a poor, silly fool that has escaped from the asylum, and imagines, perhaps, he’s Father Adam in the woods,” he complained.

At which remark the others had another burst of laughter. Frank looked at Jerry, made a gesture with his head, and placed his finger on his lips to indicate silence, upon seeing which, Jerry nodded and grinned.

“Tell us about your experiences, will you?” asked Bluff.

“Only a few words. The rest will have to keep until we’re settled around the fire in camp,” returned Jerry.

“But we have no camp, now,” retorted Bluff.

“What’s happened? Did those criminals burn you out, boys?” asked the other, with clenched hands; for he had a few things he prized among the traps they had carried along with them, and the loss of which would be deeply regretted.

“No, but we decided that while off hunting for you we couldn’t leave Will there alone; so we dug up stakes, piled the ‘duffle’ in the canoes, and he’s off somewhere on the lake waiting a signal to land again,” remarked Frank.

“Great scheme. I can guess in whose brain it originated. But you don’t know how bully it is to see you again, fellows. Hang it, if it doesn’t seem like a month since I saw you last. And as to feed, I’ve just had a few things pushed into my mouth as if I were a bird in a nest. I’m just longing for a decent meal again.”

“What happened while I was examining that Indian mound?” asked Frank.

“I was dozing when something landed like a thousand of brick on my chest. For the life of me I couldn’t say a single word. I guess I must have fainted, though perhaps I ought to be ashamed to admit it. Next thing I knew I was being toted off on the shoulders of the big tramp, a fellow called Biffins, who, I expect must be a yeggman, because he seemed to know all about blowing open safes in country stores, and such things,” went on Jerry.

“Just to think of it, and carrying you on his shoulders like a log!” palpitated Bluff, listening with eagerness to these disclosures.

“They fetched me here to this cabin, and kept me tied up part of the time. That night was a long horror to me. Sometimes they were in with me, and again off somewhere. In the morning I saw that they had made a raise of some provisions, and it was then they fed me like a baby.”

“But you got your hands free after a while, didn’t you?” asked Bluff, too anxious to wait until the other reached this point.

“To be sure, and commenced that tunnel. You see, the hole in the wall was too small to crawl through, and they were in the other room where the door lay. When I caught hold of a hand I seemed to guess instantly that it must belong to one of you fellows, and then the signal squeeze told me so. Biffins caught me just then, and threw me aside. They filled up the hole and drove some stakes down alongside so I couldn’t tunnel any more. After that I thought of the old roof, for it was full of holes. So I climbed up and got out that way.”

Jerry showed by his actions that he did not wish to talk any longer on the score of his adventures. He kept looking toward the cabin suggestively.

“What do we do now, fellows? Want to trek back to the shore and leave these two in peace?” he asked.

“Not for me,” answered Bluff, readily enough; “I say that after the way they held you a prisoner it’s our duty to turn the tables on the rascals. We’ve got ’em in a hole, and all we have to do is to wait until Mr. Dodd comes.”

Jerry glanced inquiringly toward Frank.

“Yes, we heard whistles a bit ago, and imagine the posse must have landed. If we could only communicate with them in some way now, and get them to come here, we might hold the fort meanwhile.”

Frank looked at Tom Somers as he spoke. The other could not mistake his meaning.

“Oh! I’ll go, all right, if so be you write a little note to the sheriff. Him an’ me ain’t on the best terms, I reckon,” grinned that worthy.

“Done. Got a pencil with you, Bluff – mine seems to have disappeared.”

The pencil being forthcoming, Frank dashed off a few lines to Mr. Dodd, and signed his name.

“Sure you can get to the beach, Tom?” he asked.

“Easy as fallin’ off a log. I’m off, then, fellers.”

Saying which, Tom entered the bush, and disappeared from view.

“Now, what is the programme?” asked Bluff.

“Wasn’t that a boat whistle again? It seemed to come from another quarter, too?” remarked Frank.

“I heard it, all right. Perhaps the tug is circling the island so as to make sure the thieves get no chance to make off,” suggested Jerry.

“You’re right, that is just what their programme must be. Meanwhile they’ve landed the posse to search the whole place over. I hope Tom meets up with them in good time,” continued Frank, earnestly.

“There’s somebody shouting in the woods,” remarked Bluff.

“Oh! that’s the Peters tribe trying to get together again. Reminds me of a covey of quail that has been flushed and scattered, calling to each other from the brush,” laughed Frank.

“Will they come back here again?” Bluff continued.

The others exchanged looks, and chuckles followed.

“Talk to me about your sprinters, I don’t think you could hire any one of those same chaps to come within fifty yards of this place after the scare they got!” exclaimed Jerry.

“And the dose of hot water in the bargain. My! but they must feel sore! I saw several bang headlong into trees as they galloped away. There will be some lumps as big as goose-eggs among that crowd to-night. And, after all, they don’t get even a look-in on that prize money,” chuckled Bluff.

“I’ve got a proposition, fellows. If the reward should happen to come our way I move we turn it over to Tom Somers. His family is poor, and perhaps this may be the turning point in Tom’s life, who knows?” said Frank.

“Hear! hear! Them’s my sentiments!” cried the impulsive Bluff.

“Ditto,” echoed Jerry; for since they all belonged to families of wealth the promise of a reward held no attraction for Frank and his chums.

“But perhaps if we simply hold these chaps where they are the sheriff may claim he did the bagging of the game; how about that?” asked Bluff.

“You mean we ought to try and make them surrender to us?”

“If it could be done. I’ve got an idea in my head. You’ll say it isn’t original, and perhaps the trick they were going to play may have had something to do with it. But suppose they made a sneak while we talked here and left us to hold the bag?”

“No danger of that, Bluff, while we keep a watch on the door. Presently we can circle around the old rookery and make sure that they don’t take up your plan of tunneling out. Jerry, I’m going to keep an eye on this tree with the hole in it. If our friend, the wild man, ventures forth, it shall be my pleasant task to hold him up. What do you say?”

Bluff looked at Frank as he made this remark, with uneasiness in his eyes.

“Seems to me you ain’t afraid of anything, Frank. That crazy man gets on my nerves, and I don’t think I could stand for a tussle with him at close quarters. Better be careful how you let him get hold of you. They say these lunatics are just as strong as grizzly bears, and this one must be, to see the way he swung about in that tree like a big ape. Ugh! Excuse me!”

Bluff shuddered as he spoke, and consequently did not see the look that passed between his two chums, and which was more of amusement than concern.

CHAPTER XXIII – THE WHITE FLAG

“What time of day is it?” asked Jerry presently.

He had evidently lost all track of time while a prisoner in the cabin.

“Just ten o’clock,” replied Frank. “What’s become of your watch, pard?”

“Decorating the vest of Waddy, just now, though I have hopes of wearing it again after he’s tired of it,” grinned Jerry.

“Hope we get fixed up again before night. I’m thinking all the while of a bully camp dinner. Say, wasn’t this the day the girls promised to come over and bring us some home grub?” asked Bluff suddenly.

“Just as you say, and they’ll be along this afternoon on schedule time. Too bad if they have that long row for nothing. I expected to have dinner waiting for them when they got here, and then we could take them home in the canoes. This rumpus has upset all our plans,” remarked Frank dismally; for secretly, Violet Milton had promised to cook a dish that was an especial favorite of his and bring it over, to prove her accomplishments in the culinary line.

“Oh, I hope it may all turn out right yet. Now, that reminds me of my plan. If we could only force these two rascals to surrender it would shorten our stay out in the bush, and we could make for the beach, call Will ashore, and have our tents up again in a jiffy.”

“Talk to me about your persistent youngsters, ain’t he all to the good, though? What is this jim-dandy plan of yours, Bluff? Suppose you give us a look-in, so we can cheer you on, or condemn it as altogether too ridiculous?” suggested Jerry.

“Smoke!”

“You mean, make it so uncomfortable for the hoboes that they’ll be glad to come out and hold up their little hands for us – is that the programme?”

“Well, don’t you think it would work, Jerry?” demanded the originator.

“Who’s going to do the smoking act? Tell me that.”