Oakdale Boys in Camp

by Morgan Scott

  CHAPTER XIX.

  THE HERMIT’S CABIN.

  Not until an hour or more after dinner did any of the boys set out tovisit Spirit Island. With the exception of Crane, all showed someeagerness to go; with the stingers extracted from his wounds, Sile wasmuch more comfortable, but he made his condition an excuse for remainingat the camp. And, as the canoe was not large enough comfortably to carrymore than three, Stone also self-sacrificingly agreed to remain behind.

  The day was hot and muggy and still, and there were some masses ofclouds bulking up along the western horizon as the canoe put forthbearing the three investigators. The two who remained behind watchedthem from the shore and wished them luck.

  “Bring back that dog with ye, Sleuthy,” called Sile. “Yeou’ve got lotsof courage in the daytime, even if yeou be rather chicken-hearted afterdark.”

  “Bah!” flung back Piper from the waist of the canoe. “Anything we’llfind isn’t liable to make me run half as fast as you did this morning.As a sprinter, Craney, you could cop the blue ribbon if you happened tobe chased by a ‘gouger’ or two.”

  “Thinks he’s smart, don’t he?” muttered Sile, turning to Ben. “Why, he’sthe biggest coward I ever saw. He’d run from his own shadder.”

  In the full light of day Spirit Island wore a harmless, peaceful look,and the cool shadows of its pines seemed genuinely inviting to theperspiring lads who wielded the paddles. As they drew near the islandGrant cast a glance toward the heavy black clouds, which were steadilymounting higher in the sky.

  “Think there’s going to be a shower, Phil?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t wonder,” answered Springer. “Those look like thunderheads,though we haven’t heard any thunder yet.”

  At this very moment, however, a low, muttering, distant grumble came totheir ears, as if far away beyond the mountains the storm was gettinginto action.

  “I think, comrades,” said Piper, “it will be wise for us to make allpossible haste to conclude our investigations and return to the securityof our tent. Without sufficient shelter, I’d scarcely find pleasure inbeing caught upon this island by a thunderstorm.”

  “There’s the hermit’s hut, you know,” suggested Rod.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” returned Sleuth. “And, at any rate, it’squite possible that the roof is rotten and leaky.”

  Again the thunder was heard, somewhat more distinctly this time, and theclouds seemed to increase in blackness and density as they rose.

  Choosing a place to land, the boys brought the canoe to the shore, gotout and pulled it up safely. There they paused for a moment beforeseeking a way through the pines, thrilled a bit in spite of themselvesby the fact that their feet were at last upon the haunted island.

  “Come on,” said Rod. “I agree that it will be a right good plan to hurrysome.”

  He led the way into the deep shadows of the pines, which seemedstrangely hushed and silent in the hot, breathless air. In those woodsno bird was heard chirping and no squirrel chattering. It gave them afeeling that flesh-and-blood creatures of all kinds had for some reasonlearned to avoid the mysterious island.

  Presently they came to a small opening or glade amid the pines, andthere before their eyes were several deep excavations in the ground.

  “Look!” said the Texan in a surprised voice. “There are the holesGranger told us about—the holes made by people seeking to recover someof the plunder Old Lonely was supposed to have buried.”

  Only a few moments did they linger there. The thunder was growinglouder, and they hurried on until they came into what apparently hadonce been a well-beaten path. Following this path, they reached anotherand much larger tree-surrounded open spot, which seemed to be locatednear the center of the island. And there before them they saw the hut ofthe old hermit.

  It stood at one side of the opening, close beneath the shadows of athick cluster of pines which were taller than the other trees upon theisland. Indeed, so close to these tall trees had the cabin been builtthat, having sagged and lurched like a person overcome by age anddisease, it was now supported by the very largest tree of the group,against which it leaned. Only for this tree, the crude, ill constructedbuilding must have long ago fallen to the ground. A part of the roof hadcaved in, leaving a ragged hole, and the remainder seemed likely to dropat the slightest provocation. In one side of the cabin there was a smallsquare window, in which remained no fragment of glass or sash. In thefront of the cabin the remnants of a stout door made from hewn timbersstill hung upon heavy rusty hinges.

  So lonely, wretched and repellant was the appearance of this ruin thatthe three boys, who stood gazing upon it in silence, were all deeplymoved, and they wondered that a human being could have lived in such aplace for five long years with no friends or neighbors and only a dog ashis companion. Truly, it seemed that no one save a hunted criminal, inconstant dread of the prison from which he had escaped, would havechosen to dwell there, aloof from other human beings and shut in by thesomber pines which protected him from inquisitive eyes.

  The silence and gloom of the island, the sight of the old hut, thedistant mutterings of thunder, and a subtle, electrical tension in theair combined to give the young investigators a most unpleasant sensationof nervousness, which was revealed by the sudden cackling burst oflaughter that came from Springer’s lips—laughter that was suppressedalmost as suddenly as it began.

  Now it is in strange and silent places that the echo, once believed tobe a mocking elf, chooses always to linger, mischievously waiting tomake itself heard. And in the depths of the pines beyond the hut thetaunting elf awoke in mockery of Springer. The laughter flung back fromthose recesses, like that of the perturbed boy, yet strangely andweirdly dissimilar, caused Phil to gasp a bit and clutch at Grant’s arm.

  “Hear that!” he whispered.

  “Nothing but an echo,” said Rodney in a low, even tone, although herealized that his own nerves were unusually tense.

  “Gee! that’s right,” breathed Phil in relief; “but it gug-gug-gave me ajump.”

  “It must be evident, comrades,” said Piper hurriedly, “that yonder hutcan scarce afford us shelter from the storm which is advancing apace.”

  The dark clouds had now shut out the sun, and the shadows beneath thepines were swiftly becoming so dense that the eye could pierce them fora short distance only, save when a flash of lightning made every objectstand forth with great distinctness. The thunder which followed theseelectrical discharges was of the snappy, crackling kind, but theprotracted space of time between each flash and report made Grantconfident that the heart of the storm was yet miles away.

  “You’re right, Sleuth,” agreed Springer eagerly; “we cuc-can’t get awayfrom the rain in that old sh-shack.”

  “Let’s take a look inside the hut, anyhow,” suggested Grant. “I hate tohike away without doing that much.”

  Starting forward as he spoke, he stepped into a shallow excavation,which he would have observed before him under different circumstances.Annoyed, he scrambled up from his knees, to which he had plunged.

  “Look out, fellows,” he warned, noticing for the first time that therewere many similar excavations in the glade. “The treasure hunters surehave near dug up the whole place.”

  With some reluctance Phil and Sleuth followed Rodney. At the open doorof the hut the Texan stopped to look inside, and his companions peeredover his shoulder. But the gloom was now so intense that little of thehut’s interior could be made out.

  “Nun-nothing there, anyhow,” said Phil.

  “Nothing that anybody need be afraid of,” declared Piper. But his teethclicked, and his voice was filled with an odd vibration that betrayedthe agitation he sought to conceal.

  “I’m going in,” said Rodney. “Let’s all go in, so that at least we cansay we’ve done so.”

  “Lot of good that will dud-do us,” muttered Springer.

  “Here goes,” said Grant, stepping inside.

&nb
sp; Moved by a sudden desperate impulse, Piper pushed Springer aside andfollowed Rodney.

  “If you’re afraid,” he flung back at Phil, “you don’t have to come; youcan stay out.”

  “Who’s afraid?” indignantly snapped Springer. “I guess I’ve gug-got asmuch nerve as you have.”

  He entered also, and the three boys stood there in the hut of the oldhermit. Their feet were on the bare ground, for there had never been afloor.

  Dimly, at one side of the hut, they could see the framework of a bunk,on which, doubtless, Old Lonely had drawn his last breath, with thefaithful dog watching at his side. A chimney, made of stones and claymortar, had, with the lurching of the hut, broken in two halfway to theroof, and it now seemed ready to come tumbling down in one mass. Thestones of the fireplace had been torn up, and doubtless this was thework of those who had fancied it possible some of the man’s plundermight be found beneath them.

  “Looks to me lul-like the old shanty is liable to tut-tumble down almostany minute,” whispered Springer chokingly. “I don’t want it to dud-dropon my head.”

  Grant lifted his hand. “Listen!” he urged.

  With lips parted, they did not breathe for a few moments, and their earswere strained to hear any unusual sound. What they heard seemed to bethe dull, muffled regular ticking of a clock coming from some hiddenspot which they could not locate.

  In the semi-darkness the whites of their eyes shone distinctly as theyturned significant glances upon one another. Granger had told them ofthis mysterious ticking, and it brought vividly to their minds hisdescription of the finding of the dead man with his clock beating offthe seconds upon a shelf above the bunk. Perhaps it was the electricityin the atmosphere that produced a tugging sensation at the roots oftheir hair. Springer’s eyes rolled toward the open doorway, throughwhich he longed to dash, being restrained only by fear that such anaction would subject him to the joshing of his campmates. Piper wasscarcely less eager to depart.

  Such dim light as sifted into the old hut came through the small windowand the ragged hole in the roof, above which black clouds were nowoutspread. Suddenly athwart these clouds streamed a writhing streak oflightning, which illumined the entire interior of the cabin, causingPiper to crouch and cringe, his mouth and throat dry, his heart beatinglike a hammer.

  “By Jinks!” said Rodney. “That was a good one. I reckon it strucksomewhere.”

  It seemed that it must have struck among the mountainous hills to thewestward, for suddenly they echoed and re-echoed with a tremendouscrashing, rumbling, earth-jarring roar that gradually and reluctantlydied away. Following this a light rush of wind passed through the topsof the tallest pines, dying out quickly and seeming to make the silencestill more profound.

  And in that silence the three boys distinctly heard a faint tapping, asof ghostly fingers beating feebly against the cabin wall. This wasaccompanied by a sound still more disturbing, resembling a low,half-whining wail.

  “Gug-good by!” choked Springer, as he dashed from the hut.