Page 22 of The Galloping Ghost


  CHAPTER XXII ON THE "SLEEPING LION"

  That morning, in the ghostly hour just before dawn, Red Rodgers andBerley Todd crept out into the frosty air of Isle Royale.

  "To-day," the girl whispered, "we are to play."

  And yet, as she stood upon the rocks watching the waves that, now roaringas they rose, now whispering as they fell, broke upon those ruggedshores, she seemed to see beneath their surface grim black handsstretching out to grasp her.

  It was strange, those black waters in the eerie hour before dawn. Eventhe staunch young athlete felt it and was silent.

  Once stout oars were in their hands, however, all was changed. To feelthe rise and fall of the boat, to skim the crests of waves, to catch therhythmic rowing that, like a song in the night, seemed to lift them andbear them down--this was life.

  "How she can row!" Red told himself, as he felt the push of her oars sendthe boat along.

  "When the time comes," he said aloud, "we will make it."

  "Yes," the girl replied, "but the time is not to-day."

  That she spoke the truth Red was soon enough to know. In the shelteredchannel of Rock Harbor the waves were mere rushing ripples of foam. Butonce they came to a gap between two small islands that looked out intothe open sea, great swells caught their frail craft and, tossing it back,flecked them with foam.

  "The voice of many waters." In the girl's tone there was a touch of awe."In that storm, on the open lake, no small boat could live. To-morrow weplay."

  Surrendering himself to the will of the elements, Red Rodgers played. Buteven as they sent their boat gliding along to the time of a song, as theyclimbed some rocky ledge to stand breathless looking off at thestorm-tossed waters, or fought their way forward through masses oftangled vegetation to some crag where they might find a broader view, hewhispered to himself:

  "I am keeping fit. Even this is training for the day that is to come."And then, as his mind sobered, he wondered: "Will that day ever come?"

  At noon they built a fire on a tiny beach and brewed coffee. They atetheir lunch in silence. There was that about this day of storm which madesilence seem a mood to prize.

  Just as the sun was sinking in the west, they turned the prow of theirboat into a narrow opening, then shot her squarely into the teeth of astorm. Throwing all the force of their perfect bodies into the businessof rowing, they conquered one gigantic wave, another, another, and yetanother.

  Their boat was but a cork in the midst of a great ocean, yet they daredaccept the wild waves' challenge. Again, again, and yet again, theyfought their way up and over, up and over until they were twentyboat-lengths out to sea.

  Then, with a laugh that was good to hear, Red swung the boat about andthey went riding the waves back to shelter and safety.

  "That," he breathed, "is life--life--life!"

  Five minutes later they lay upon a bed of moss at the back of a tinyisland known as "Sleeping Lion" because of the mane-like crest of bushesthat crowns its ridge, watching the blue-black waters turn to the silverygray of night.

  Never had the boy witnessed such a sight. Starting at the rocks nearestthem, the spray moved along the island shores. And every separate sprayseemed a light that flashed with one white gleam, then faded intodarkness.

  "Old Father Superior is lighting his lamps," the girl whispered. Onceagain there was awe in her tone.

  So they lingered on the "Sleeping Lion" until the afterglow had faded andFather Superior's lamps were lost in the shades of night.

  It was the girl who at last broke the silence. "See!" She spoke in avoice that was mellow as the tones of a cello. "See! The light thatbeckons!"

  As Red looked away across the surging sea he caught the gleam of a lampthat, winking and blinking, cast its beams from afar.

  "The Passage Island light," he murmured huskily. "The light that shallguide us safely when the time comes. But to-night--"

  "To-night we dare not."

  Rising as if to break the spell that had been cast upon her, Berley Toddwent whirling through a wild dance. A weird place for a dance. Sea gulls,wakened by this sudden commotion, circled aloft screaming. The very wavesappeared to lapse into silence, a silence that was to be broken at onceby such a mad onrush as threatened to seize her and drag her away intowaters as black as night.

  "Come!" she cried. "We must go!"

  Shoving their boat off the rocks, they paddled silently back to theisland shore where, after concealing their boat, they made their waycautiously through the spruce trees to Ed's cabin, and one more steamingbowl of Mulligan stew.

  The day, however, was not over. Wild adventures awaited them in thenight.