CHAPTER XXV
PAUL LAYS DOWN HIS BURDEN
"There! I just caught a squint of him, back of the trees!" whoopedWilliam.
"And he's coming lickety-split, to beat the band, too. Oh! I hope itisn't a messenger from Stanhope to bring us any bad news!" cried TomBetts; who had left a sick mother when he came on the trip, and whoseconscience, perhaps, caused him to have a sudden fear.
More than one pair of cheeks lost some of their color, in that quickspasm of alarm, following this suggestion on the part of Tom.
"Listen, fellows; he's tooting his auto horn like fun! It gives me ascare for keeps!" ejaculated Philip Towne.
But Paul laughed aloud.
"Don't get frightened, fellows," he exclaimed, "I sure ought to know thesound of that old siren. That's my wheel; and who do you think's on itbut our good scoutmaster, Mr. Gordon!"
"Hurrah!" came from a dozen pairs of lips, as the boys swung their hatsaloft.
And this was the exciting picture that met the eyes of the scoutmasterwhen he burst into view around a bend, and sighted the camp on the lakeshore.
Mr. Gordon was a very bright young fellow, with considerable experiencein training boys. He had a fair grasp of the grand possibilities of thisBoy Scouts' movement, and never lost an opportunity to pick upadditional information. Nor did he disdain to ask some of his scoutsconcerning matters they had studied, but along which lines he did nothappen to be well informed.
There was a grand "pow-wow," as William called it, after he came. He hadto hear all that had happened since his leaving Stanhope on thatunfortunate business trip. The adventures at the church on both nightswere recounted by those who had taken part; and it was plain that thestory lost none of its comical features in the telling.
After that he heard about the grand march, the meeting with the circus,and what the scouts had done to clear up their record for the day. Thencame the various things that had occurred; until at last the dismaltruth about the missing ham made Mr. Gordon laugh heartily.
"How did you manage with the Indian sign letters I left with you, sir?"Paul asked, when he found a chance.
"Pretty well," replied the scoutmaster; "though once or twice yourmeaning was not quite clear. I had to use a lot of commonsense tounderstand whether a boy was pulled from the river, and brought aroundall right; or if a poor fellow had been taken with the colic, and youused a stomach pump on him. But then, as I said, my good sense told methe former must have been the case. Who was it, and is he all rightagain?"
"I'm the victim," declared Tom Betts, promptly; "and I guess the wholeshow would have been broke up if Paul here hadn't yanked me out like hedid."
Mr. Gordon turned a look of sincere affection on Paul. He had studiedthe boy often, and always found something new to admire about him.Still, he knew it was not always wise to praise a lad to his face; andso he only squeezed Paul's hand.
Paul was a happy fellow just then. It seemed to him that the load ofresponsibility had slipped from his shoulders like magic with the comingof Mr. Gordon. Now they could undertake all manner of interestingstunts; and each day would be taken up with dozens of events in whichthey wished to shine.
Presently the fishermen made their appearance. A shout went up at sightof the glorious strings of fine trout they carried. Although they hadheard the cheers of their mates, and understood that Mr. Gordon musthave arrived, really they did not have the heart to break away, whilethe fish were feeding so savagely.
"Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest!" cried Bobolink; "good-byeham, and how d'ye do Mr. Trout. I really don't know which I like best.When I'm eating trout my thoughts go out to ham; and when I'm sittingdown to a rasher of bacon I do long so for a mess of trout. But they'reall to the good, fellows. Do it some more, will you?"
And when William and the other cooks served the fish at noon the boyswere loud in their praises. Some had suggestions to offer about the waysof cooking them; but it was noticed that half the inmates of the campbusied themselves immediately after lunch in hunting fishing tackle; andthe prospect for peace among the finny tribes in that lake was small.
There was no little rivalry between the trio of cooks. Usually this tookthe form of good-natured chaffing, and trying new dishes, in order toarouse the envy of other patrols.
Bobolink always hung around to hear these discussions; but William madea great mistake when, thinking to bolster up his cause at one time, hedemanded to know what the member of the Red Fox Patrol thought about it.
"Huh!" grunted the wise Bobolink, "I'll tell you, if you promise not tohold it against me, and give me the poorest grub in the bunch forspite."
"All right, go on," said William slowly, as though he already began todoubt the wisdom of asking his comrade's opinion; "I don't know as youc'n settle this important question at all; but I promise not to holdanything against you. Give us a straight yarn, now, Bobolink, hear!"
"Well," said Bobolink, with a grin, "when I hear you learned cooksdisputing about how to do this, and that, I just have to think about theblind men and the elephant, you see."
"What about 'em?" demanded Nat Smith, who belonged to the third patrol,and had carried his mother's big cook book along into camp, thinking tosurprise his rivals by the vast extent of his knowledge concerningcookery terms.
"Oh! shucks, d'ye mean to say you never heard that story?" saidBobolink. "Well, a lot of blind men in the Far East disputed about whatan elephant looked like, though nary one had ever seen the critter. Sothey went, one at a time, to find out. Now what d'ye think happened?"
"How under the sun do we know? Get along with the yarn!" exclaimedWilliam.
"Each feller came back with a different story," went on Bobolinkgravely; "the one that grabbed the tail of the elephant vowed thewonderful animal was mighty like a rope. Another says a snake, because,you see, he got hold of the swinging trunk. A third vows the elephantwas like a wall, just because he slammed up against his side. And afourth hugged his leg, and was ready to take his affidavy the famousbeast was made just like a tree! Get the idea, boys?"
Apparently they did, for a minute later Bobolink was seen flying for hislife through the woods, with three mad cooks in full pursuit, shakingtheir fists after him, and threatening all sorts of vengeance.
Paul and Mr. Gordon concluded to push out from shore on the big raft,and try the fishing in that style. Fortunately there was little airstirring, so that the clumsy contrivance could be readily managed.
Mr. Gordon was not an expert fisherman; while Paul had had considerableexperience in the art during his several Summers in Maine. He cast hisflies with such skill that the scoutmaster expressed admiration, andtook lessons in sending out the oiled silk line, so that the imitationflies dropped on the water softly.
They cast in toward the shore, of course, and near the spot where acreek sent its waters into the lake, each of them had a strike.
Paul succeeded in landing his fish, which proved to be a fair-sizedspecimen. Then Mr. Gordon tried again. In a short time he had a strike,and with a quick motion of the wrist succeeded in fastening the barb ofthe hook in the jaw of the fish.
"It's a dandy too, sir!" exclaimed Paul, as he saw a flash of rainbowcolors, when the big trout jumped wildly into the air, trying to breakloose by falling on the line; "keep a tight pull on him, sir, and if hedrags too hard let him have just a little more line. Oh! but he's abeauty."
So coaching Mr. Gordon by degrees, he finally got the landing net ready;and after the prize had been played until almost exhausted it was liftedupon the raft with one swift and accurate movement.
After that the fishing seemed to slacken. Though the lake wasundoubtedly just teeming with fish, still they had their times forfeeding, and between these nothing could induce them to take hold.
Later in the day there were swimming tests started, and Mr. Gordon, whowas at home in this sport, showed the boys many tricks whereby theirprowess in the water might be doubled.
Paul had dressed, having cut his foot a trifle while walk
ing on therocks. He and the scoutmaster, were standing there talking, Mr. Gordonstill had on his swimming trunks.
"I was just thinking, Paul," he remarked, "what a queer lake this is.Have you noticed that it seems to have no visible outlet? Possibly someof its waters manage to get to the Bushkill because there are severalstreams running in; but where does it flow out?"
"Why, yes," returned Paul, "I did notice that. I suppose there must bean outlet in the bottom of the lake somewhere."
"Just what I had concluded; and it would stand to reason that such ahole might be somewhere near here. I'm a little anxious, because I'vehad an experience myself with such a sucker-hole, and came near losingmy life in one. I managed to get hold of rocks on the bottom, and clawedmy way outside the terrible suction that was drawing me steadily intoward the centre."
"Why, I noticed a peculiar swirl down just below where the boys areswimming now. There, Andy Flinn has dived right into the spot! Oh! Ihope nothing will happen to Andy, sir. Perhaps you'd better call themout, right away!"
Mr. Gordon uttered an exclamation of alarm. He turned his head andseemed to be looking for something. Then Paul saw him snatch up a ropethat was coiled, and hanging from the stump of a tree close to the camp.Mr. Gordon had placed it there himself, and for a purpose.
"Come with me, Paul!" he called over his shoulder; but there was littleneed of his saying this, for the young patrol leader was alreadyhurrying after him, his face white with sudden fear.