Dave Porter in the Far North/Chapter 10
CHAPTER X
AN ADVENTURE ON ROBBER ISLAND
The way to the lonely cabin was not an easy one. There was no path, and they had to scramble over rough rocks and across fallen trees and through thick masses of brushwood. They forgot about the gully, and only remembered it when they found themselves floundering in snow up to their waists.
"For gracious' sake!" cried the senator's son, as he crawled out the best way he could. "I fancied the bottom had dropped out of everything!"
"I remember this hollow now," answered Dave. "We haven't got much further to go."
It was a clear December day and quite light under the leafless trees. There were a few evergreens scattered about, but not many, and these hung low with their weight of snow. All was intensely silent.
"This ought to be lonely enough to suit anybody," observed Henshaw. He turned to Roger. "How would you like to come out here some dark night all alone?"
"None of that for me," was the quick answer.
"Might meet a ghost," said Dave, with a smile.
"Talking of ghosts puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow. "A boy once had to go through a dark woods all alone"
"Shadow wants to get us scared," interrupted Dave. "Oh, Shadow, I didn't think it of you! It's bad enough as it is," he went on, in seeming reproach. "Don't you know this island is haunted by the man who committed suicide here?"
"A suicide, Dave?" cried the school story-teller, forgetting all about the tale he had been on the point of relating.
"Sure. That man tried to kill his wife and seven children, and then hung himself from a tree not far from here. They say that twice a month his ghost appears."
"It's about time for the ghost now," added Roger, scenting fun. "Listen! Didn't I hear a groan!"
"Must have been that," went on Dave. "There It is again!"
"I—I didn't hear anything," faltered Shadow. He was not an excessively brave lad at the best.
"It's getting pretty dark," continued Dave. "That is when the ghost shows itself, so I've been informed. If we Look! look!" he yelled, pointing over Shadow's left shoulder.
The story-teller gave a leap forward and glanced around hastily. Dave was pointing to a clump of bushes.
"Wha—what did you see?" asked Shadow, in a shaking voice.
"I don't know. It was tall and white"
"The ghost! The ghost!" yelled Roger. "It's coming for us!" And he began to run back.
Shadow gave a scream of terror and started to run also. As if by accident, Dave allowed his foot to trip the boy up, and down went the story-teller of the Hall on his face in the snow.
"Hi! hi! Don't leave me behind!" he bawled, as the others all ran. "Don't leave me!" and he scrambled up and tore along through the brushwood as if possessed. The others speedily halted and set up a shout of laughter, at which Shadow looked very sheepish.
"I—I only ran for the fun of the thing," he explained, lamely. "I knew all along there wasn't a ghost."
"Shadow shall lead the way," said Dave. "Go ahead, old fellow."
"I—er—I don't know the path," was the quick excuse. "You go on." And Shadow dropped behind once more and stuck there during the remainder of the trip.
The cabin was built of rough logs. It had been put up by some hunters years before, but the sportsmen, owing to the scarcity of game, did not come to the place any more. It was in a dilapidated condition, and the snow had driven in through the broken-out window and open doorway.
"Not a very cheerful place," observed Dave, as he led the way inside. "Let us light a torch, so we can see things."
They procured several pine sticks and soon had them lit, and holding these aloft surveyed the scene. All was very much as it had been during their former visit.
"Nothing new, so far as I can see," was Roger's comment.
"Here are some footprints in the snow," came from Messmer. "We didn't make those."
"Those are the footprints of some animal!" cried Dave. "Maybe there's a bear here after all." He smiled as he made the remark.
"Looks to me more like the tracks of a horse," answered Henshaw. "Maybe somebody came over here from the shore on horseback."
"You want to be careful—it may be a wild beast after all," observed Shadow, nervously.
At that moment came a queer sound from outside of the cabin, which caused all of the lads to start. Messmer, who had the best of the torches, dropped it, leaving them almost in darkness.
"Why, I declare" began Dave, when a form darkened the doorway and the next instant a big, bony mule entered the old cabin and stood among them. Some of the boys were frightened and started to retreat.
"It's only a mule!" cried Dave. "I don't think he'll hurt anybody. But how in the world did he get here?"
"His halter is broken," declared Roger. "He must have run away from somewhere."
"I know that mule," declared Shadow. "He belongs to Mike Marcy."
The man he mentioned was a farmer, living in the Oakdale district. Marcy was a close-fisted fellow who never wanted the schoolboys to have any of his fruit, and Dave, through no fault of his own, had once had considerable trouble with the fellow.
"I think Shadow is right," said Dave. "I saw that mule around Marcy's place. If he ran away we ought to take him back to where he belongs."
"Perhaps you'd have some fun trying to ride him," suggested Henshaw.
"Oh, pshaw! anybody could ride that mule," declared Roger. "Why, riding a mule is as easy as riding a horse. All mules don't love to kick."
"Roger shall have the honor of riding him home," said Messmer. "Think of what a reward Mike Marcy will give you," he added, with a grin.
"Catch Marcy giving a reward," said Dave, laughing. "Why, he wouldn't fork over so much as a sour apple."
"He'd want to charge Roger for the ride."
"We can take the mule to the Hall and let Marcy come and get him," suggested Messmer.
In a spirit of mischief Shadow had taken his stick and rubbed it over the mule's hind legs. There was a sudden snort and up came the beast's feet. Bang! crack! bang! they sounded on the wall of the dilapidated cabin, and Shadow leaped for his life.
"Look out, he's in action!"
"Clear the deck for his muleship!"
"He'll have the cabin down next!" called out Dave. "Take care!"
The mule continued to kick, and, standing at his head, Dave and Roger tried in vain to quiet him. Then of a sudden came a crack of another kind and the wall of the rotted cabin fell outward and the roof began to sag.
"Out of this, all hands!" yelled Dave, and let go the mule. Roger did the same, and both ran out through the open doorway. Shadow was already outside, and Messmer and Henshaw started to follow. Then the mule turned, knocking Messmer down, and made a dash for liberty.
The cabin swayed and groaned and began to settle rapidly. Henshaw leaped out in the nick of time, one heavy log scraping his shoulder. Messmer was half dazed by the sudden turn of affairs, and before he could arise some of the roof beams began to settle across his back.
"Help! help!" he wailed. "The roof is coming down on me!"
His cry of assistance struck terror to the hearts of some of his friends, and for the moment they did not know what to do. Dave was the only one of the party who remained cool, and he rushed in and caught hold of one of the falling timbers.
"Prop them up!" he called. "Put your sticks under them—anything! If we don't, Messmer may be crushed to death!"
Roger came forward first and the others quickly followed, the mule being, for the time, forgotten. They took their heavy sticks and set them up under the falling timbers, and Henshaw rolled in a stone that chanced to be handy. These things kept the roof from coming down further, but poor Messmer was held as if in a vise and could not be extricated.
"We've got to pry the logs up a little," said Dave. "Here Is a log to work with," and he pointed to one which had fallen out of the side wall.
Only one torch remained lighted, and this had to be swung Into a livelier blaze, so that they could see. Then they had to start operations with care, for fear they might do more harm than good.
"If th—the logs co—come down on me they will ki—kill, me!" gasped the unfortunate lad under the ruins.
"We'll not let them come down," answered Dave. "Keep perfectly still till I tell you to move."
Messmer did as directed, and Dave and the others inserted the loose log under one end of the ruins. A flat stone was used for the fulcrum, and they bore down slowly but steadily until the larger portion of the ruins was raised several inches.
"It's coming!" cried Dave. "Don't go too fast. Can you loosen yourself now, Messmer?"
"A little. Go a bit higher," was the reply.
They went up two inches more, but now the log began to crack, for the strain upon it was tremendous. Messmer heard the ominous sound, and, with a twist, loosened himself and began to crawl forth. Dave caught him by the arms.
"Out you come," he said, and gave a strong pull. And out Messmer did come, and a moment later the lever snapped in two and the ruins settled back into their former position.
"I—I think I've had a narrow escape," faltered the lucky youth, when he could speak. "Much obliged to you, Dave, for hauling me out."
"Talk about a mule kicking!" declared Henshaw. "He brought this cabin down quick enough."
"The old place was about ready to fall down," answered the senator's son. "I think I could have shoved It down myself, had I tried. But I wonder what made the mule start kicking so suddenly. He acted as if a hornet had stung him."
"I guess I was to blame," replied Shadow, sheepishly. "I rubbed him in the rear with my stick. He didn't appreciate the handling."
"By the way, where is his muleship?" cried Dave, looking around in the semi-darkness.
"Guess he's taken time by the forelock and run away," answered the senator's son.
They looked around, but could see nothing of the animal. Some marks were in the snow, losing themselves on the rocks, and that was all.
"It's time to get back to the Hall," observed Henshaw. "I am not going to lose time looking for a mule. Come on."
"We can send Mike Marcy word that his mule is on the island," suggested Dave. "That wouldn't be any more than fair. If left here alone the animal may starve to death."
"Mules don't starve so easily," answered Shadow. "I am not going to look for him any more," he added.
They were soon on their way back to the shore where they had left the Snowbird. The short winter day was drawing to a close, and it was getting colder. They walked briskly, for they feared the wind would be against them on the return to Oak Hall, and they did not wish to be late for supper, for that, at the very least, would mean a lecture from Job Haskers.
Henshaw was In the lead, and presently he came out on the shore, looked around in dazed fashion, and uttered a cry of dismay. And not without good reason.
The ice-boat had disappeared.