Dave Porter and the Runaways Part 41

Our hero had a long talk with the head a.s.sistant, and the upshot of this was that he got permission to go to Maine, to look for the runaways. He was to be gone no longer than was absolutely necessary.

It did not take our hero long to prepare for the trip. He packed a few things in a suit-case and then he was ready. He consulted a map and some timetables, and found he could leave Oakdale on the first train in the morning, and by making two changes, reach Camptown Falls about two o'clock in the afternoon. n.o.body but Roger and Mr. Dale knew that he was going away.

"Got money enough, have you, Dave?" questioned the senator's son.

"Yes, Roger."

"It's a wild kind of a spot, so Buster told me."

"I am not afraid of that--if only I can locate the boys," answered our hero.

"How are you going to look for them?"

"I don't know yet--I'll find out after I get there."

It must be confessed that Dave slept but little that night. His mind was filled with what was before him. He felt that he had quite a mission to perform, first in locating the runaways and then in persuading them to return to Oak Hall to face the music.

He had an early breakfast, Roger eating with him, and then the buggy, driven by Horsehair, was brought around and he got in, and a minute later he was off, the senator's son waving him an adieu from the porch of the school.

Dave found the first train he rode on but half filled with pa.s.sengers, and he had a double seat to himself. He changed at the Junction, and about noon reached Lumberport, where he was to take the train on the little side-line for Camptown Falls. At Lumberport he got dinner, at a hotel frequented by lumbermen. He sat at a long table with half a dozen men and listened to their talk with interest when he heard Camptown Falls mentioned.

"Yes, they tell me there is great danger of the dam giving way just above Camptown Falls," one of the men said. "Doxey reported it hasn't been safe for a week."

"Say, if that dam gave way it would do a lot of damage below the Falls," said another.

"It certainly would," replied a tall lumberman. "It would wipe out some of those camps on Moosetail Island. I rather guess the water would cover the whole island."

"Somebody ought to warn the campers," said another.

"Oh, I guess they know it already," was the answer.

Dave arose from the table feeling very uneasy. He remembered the name, Moosetail Island, now. Buster had once mentioned it, stating he had camped there and would like to go again. Were the runaways there now, and in danger of the dam, should it break?

CHAPTER XXIII

AT THE CAMP

At last the train came that was to take our hero to the railroad station of Camptown Falls. It was merely a flag station, but the conductor said he would stop there for any pa.s.senger who might wish to get off. The railroad was a single-track affair, running through the woods and across the country stretches, and the train consisted of one pa.s.senger car and several freights.

Dave looked at the pa.s.sengers and counted them. There were just an even dozen, and of these, ten were men, farmers and those in the lumber business. One, a bright young fellow, sat near our hero, and Dave resolved to ask him if he knew anything about Camptown Falls and the summer camps in that vicinity.

"Yes, I know all about the Falls," said the young lumberman. "I work not over three miles from there--at Cropley's--the station this side of Camptown. There ain't any town, not since the Jewell Lumber Company busted up. Some folks camp out there, down along the river and on Moosetail Island, but there aren't near as many as there used to be."

"Somebody said the dam above Camptown Falls was dangerous?" said Dave.

"I think it is myself, and I can't understand how they allow folks to camp along the river and on that island. If that dam ever broke it would be good-by to anybody on the island, I'm thinking."

"Have you been up to the island lately?"

"I was there about a week ago."

"Who were there then, do you know?"

"A couple of men from Portland and half a dozen young fellers from Springfield. There was another camp, with some women in it, but I didn't get around to that, I only heard of it. There are half a dozen camps along the right bank of the river, but they are on high ground, and if the dam broke it isn't likely the water would reach 'em,"

continued the young lumberman.

The train rolled along at a rate of twenty miles an hour, making stops at stations and crossroads. Here and there a person got on or off, and by the time Camptown Falls was reached Dave had the pa.s.senger car almost to himself.

The train halted for but a minute and our hero alighted, suit-case in hand. Much to his surprise, not a soul was about the little depot, which looked old and dilapidated. There was a stretch of fields beyond the track, and farther on he made out the glistening waters of the river, and in the center the woodland stretch known as Moosetail Island.

"Well, this surely is Lonesome Land!" Dave murmured to himself, as the train rumbled out of sight and he was left utterly alone. "And not another train until eight o'clock to-morrow morning! I'll have a fine time of it to-night if I don't meet those fellows, or run across some camp where they will take me in."

Dave looked at the sky and this did not tend to increase his good spirits. When he had left Oakdale it had been warm and clear; now dark clouds were forming overhead and it looked as if it might rain before long.

"Well, I've got my raincoat and a waterproof cap, and that is one comfort," he told himself. "But I had better hurry up and see if I can't find Phil and the others before it gets too dark. I wish there was somebody here who could tell me where to go."

He looked around for a sign of some habitation. Far across the river he saw a column of smoke, coming up from among the trees, but that was all. The only building in sight was the deserted depot.

There was something of a path leading from the depot to the river, and Dave followed this. But soon the path seemed to divide, and the various branches became more indistinct at every step, especially as it was rapidly growing darker and darker.

"I'll strike a straight course for Moosetail Island," Dave said to himself. "I'll surely find some people camping out there, and they may be able to tell me about the boys, if they are here."

As he approached the river, going down a small hill, the way became stony, and he had to walk with care, for fear of going into some hole, or twisting an ankle. It was hard work, especially with the suit-case, and he half wished he had hidden the baggage somewhere near the depot.

"I was a big chump that I didn't bring some lunch along," he reasoned.

And then he had to smile at himself, as he remembered how he had imagined that he might put up at some hotel in Camptown Falls! He had not dreamed that the place would prove such a lonely one. It was certainly an ideal spot for runaways who wished to remain undiscovered.

Presently Dave found himself at the bank of the river, a wide but shallow stream, filled with sandbars, rocks, and piles of driftwood.

Not a great distance off was the end of Moosetail Island.

It was now so dark that our hero could see but little. As he stood at the edge of the river, he heard a patter on the leaves of the trees and knew it had begun to rain.

"Wonder how they get to the island?" he mused. "They must either use canoes, or else wade across, or ford along the stones."

He moved along the river-bank, and soon came to a point where the stones in the river seemed to stretch in a line from the bank to the island.

"I guess I'll try it here," he told himself. "But I think I had better leave the suit-case behind."

He placed the case in a tree, sheltering it as much as possible from the rain, which was now coming down at a lively rate. Then, donning his raincoat and waterproof cap, he set out over the rocks in the river, leaping from one to the next and heading for the island.

It was no easy journey, and when but half-way to Moosetail Island Dave slipped and went into the stream up to his knees. He floundered around for a moment, splashing the water into his face and over his coat and cap.

"Phew! this is lots of fun!" was his grim comment, as he at length found himself on a flat rock, catching his breath. "Well, I am half-way over, anyway."

The remainder of the distance proved easier traveling, and ten minutes later our hero stood on the island. It was now raining steadily, and the darkness of the storm had settled everywhere.