Canoe Boys and Campfires Part 14

"Oh, no," replied Ned rea.s.suringly. "We'll probably strike it before long. The only thing we can do is to follow the creek until we reach it."

Ned's words were far from expressing what was really in his mind. He knew that the camp might be very close in a straight line, and yet miles away by the tortuous windings of the creek. And the latter was the only possible course to take. If they attempted the former they would almost certainly become hopelessly lost.

It was soon evident that the worst might be expected. In the deepening gloom the boys hurried along the sh.o.r.e as fast as their weary feet would take them. Then the blackness of the night settled down on the water and the forests, and they were compelled to move cautiously; for trees and bushes were thick, and here and there a ravine had to be crossed, or a brawling stream.

Ned bravely kept up his spirits, and did his best to cheer Clay.

"It can't be much farther," he would say now and then; "keep your ears open for the roar of those rapids. That will tell us when we are near camp."

But the night lengthened without bringing the welcome sound, and at last the boys found their progress abruptly barred by a steep bluff that fell abruptly into the water. It was not the hill that lay in the vicinity of camp, else the rapids could surely have been heard. The night was very still, except for an occasional noise in the forest that made the boys start.

They were confronted now by two equally unpleasant alternatives--either to remain where they were until morning, or to make a detour around the hill, and try to reach the creek on the lower side.

They chose the latter, and started up through the woods hand in hand.

They might have foreseen what would happen. The night was very dark, and after floundering about through the bushes they became hopelessly lost, and knew not which way to turn in search of the creek.

Clay was quite in despair, but Ned persuaded him to move on, and after tramping for ten or fifteen minutes without the least idea which way they were headed, they reached a fence that separated the woods from an open field. As they mounted the top bar and perched themselves there for a short rest, Ned uttered a cry of delight, and pointed out a flickering yellow gleam far across the field.

"Hurrah! that must be the camp," exclaimed Clay, springing impetuously from the fence. "Come on; let's run for it. I don't feel a bit tired now."

"Not too fast," cried Ned warningly. "You're jumping at a rash conclusion now, Clay. That light is in the window of some farmhouse. It stands to reason that it can't be at our camp."

Clay stopped and retraced his steps.

"I was dead sure it was the campfire," he said dismally. "I thought our troubles were over."

"Perhaps they are," replied Ned slowly. "We'll go up to that farmhouse and find out exactly how the land lies. If the camp is not far off, we'll borrow a lantern and push on--otherwise we'll ask for a place to sleep until morning."

This arrangement was thoroughly satisfactory to Clay, and the boys started briskly across the field. They found an orchard at the farther end, and after pa.s.sing through this and rounding the corner of the barn, they saw the house in front of them.

It stood in a good sized yard inclosed by a picket fence. The light was in one of the upper front rooms, where some late retiring member of the family was no doubt preparing for bed.

"It won't do to make any racket," said Ned, "because there may be a dog around. We'll go quietly in and rap on the door."

The boys softly opened the gate and entered the yard. In spite of the utmost caution their feet made a crunching noise on the gravel path, and the consequence was that before they were half way to the house a dog began to bark furiously. Worse still, the sound came from between them and the fence, so that escape was cut off.

"This way," cried Ned, dashing toward the corner of the house. "We may find shelter in the outbuildings."

He had taken but a dozen steps when his feet clattered on some loose boards. These gave way with a crash, and after a brief drop through empty s.p.a.ce, he plunged into ice cold water, going clear under the surface.

The noise of the splitting wood that followed warned Clay of his danger.

He stood stock still, trembling in every limb.

The dog did not appear to be coming any nearer, and his shrill barking was now mingled with the clank of chains. All at once Clay comprehended the situation. The brute was fastened to his kennel somewhere near the gate, and was therefore powerless to do harm.

Clay's presence of mind quickly returned. He drew a match from his pocket and struck it on his shoe just as a feeble cry for help came apparently from the bowels of the earth.

As the blaze flared up Clay saw the partially covered mouth of a well just in front of him. The gap between the planking showed where Ned had fallen through.

Clay was terribly alarmed, but he had sufficient presence of mind to kneel beside the orifice and hold the match down.

"Are you hurt, Ned?" he cried huskily. "Can you hold out for a moment or two?"

"I'm all right so far," came the reply in a feeble, chattering voice. "I can't stand it long, though. The water is over my head, and I'm holding on to the cracks in the wall. Waken the family, quick!"

CHAPTER XIII

OVER THE CLIFF

Ned's last injunction was quite unnecessary. The loud outcry of the dog had already roused the family.

Heads were poked from two or three windows, and a shrill feminine voice was shouting: "Get the gun, pap, get the gun!"

Meanwhile Clay continued to call for help at the top of his voice, finally drowning out the ferocious barking of the dog, and after what seemed an interminable length of time the door of the house opened and the farmer appeared on the threshold, attired in shirt and trousers.

He had a gun in one hand and a candle in the other. Behind him were two good sized lads armed with clubs, while the flutter of a petticoat was visible on the stairway.

"Hurry! hurry!" cried Clay. "There's some one down the well."

The farmer crossed the yard with provoking calmness, holding his gun ready for use.

"Why, it's only a boy!" he exclaimed, on catching sight of Clay. "What are you doing here, you young rascal?"

"Don't stop to ask questions now," implored Clay. "Get my friend out of the well, or he will be drowned."

The farmer uttered an exclamation, and peeped through the broken boards.

Then he seized the bucket that was suspended by a windla.s.s over the well and quickly lowered it.

"Catch hold down there," he shouted gruffly.

"All right, go ahead," came the sepulchral response, a moment later.

The farmer and his two sons threw their weight on the handle of the windla.s.s, and after considerable creaking and groaning Ned was brought to the surface and helped out on the ground. His face and hands were blue and his teeth chattered violently.

"Bring the poor fellow right in," called the farmer's wife from the porch, where she had witnessed the whole affair. "I'll go light the fire."

"The rascal don't deserve it," muttered the farmer, but nevertheless he led the boys into the house, and thence to a large room containing a stove, a table, a huge settee and half a dozen chairs. A lamp was burning on the mantel, and a pleasant faced old lady was bustling about the stove.

Ned's wet clothes were quickly stripped off, and he was rolled in blankets and made to lie down on the settee. Presently the old lady brought him a bowl of steaming camomile tea, and after he had swallowed most of the nauseous mixture he began to feel quite himself again. Then, seeing that the farmer was suspicious and anxious for an explanation, he insisted on talking, and related the whole story in such a clear and concise manner that his hearers were thoroughly convinced.

The farmer thawed out, and showed himself in his true colors--a genial, kind-hearted old man. He told the boys his name was Adam Plunkett, and laughingly apologized for mistaking them for thieves.

When Mrs. Plunkett heard that they had eaten nothing since breakfast she immediately began to set the table--in spite of the fact that it was then half past ten o'clock. Ned refused to be treated as an invalid any longer, so Mr. Plunkett gave him a suit of clothes to wear while his own were drying.

The food was soon ready, and the famished boys did it full justice.