The Strange Cabin on Catamount Island Read online

  CHAPTER IX.

  WATCHED FROM THE SHORE.

  The day passed slowly.

  Somehow no one seemed very anxious to stray very far away from the camp.For one thing it was out of the hunting season; and on this account thepresence of many partridges on the island could not lure Max. They hadstirred up quite a number while making that little hike toward the upperend of the place; and every time a bird was flushed, going off with asudden roar of wings, Bandy-legs had weakened; so that by the time theygot back home again he felt as though he had been through a spell ofsickness.

  And then to have that new sensation sprung upon them, and find that anunknown prowler had paid them a visit in their absence, was, asBandy-legs expressed it, "too, too much."

  But because the boys lounged around camp was no reason why they were notenjoying themselves hugely. Why, even Bandy-legs tried to forget all thedreadful nights ahead of them still, six in a row, and find some sourceof amusement.

  Each fellow seemed, as the afternoon glided along, to just naturallygravitate toward the kind of pleasure that interested him most.

  Max and Owen were examining some small animal tracks every little while,which the latter would find along the edge of the water; and as hisknowledge of such things lay in the form of book learning, while hiscousin had had considerable experience in a practical way, heinvariably, after puzzling his head awhile, softly called to Max, whowillingly joined him.

  Now it was a muskrat that had wandered along the edge of the river,looking no doubt for a fresh shellfish for his supper. Then again, Maxproved beyond a shadow of a doubt that a raccoon had crept up to theedge of the water at a place where an old log thrust out. Here he couldlie flat, and fish with his paw for a stray small bass that happened topass too close to the shore for its safety.

  The third set of tracks, differing materially from both of the others,Max pronounced the trail of a sly mink; which, with the fisher, isperhaps the boldest and most destructive enemy of the brook trout known.

  While these two were amusing themselves in this way, and Owen makingnotes in his little book all the while, Steve was using the rod and lineto some advantage. Perched on the end of another convenient trunk of afallen tree that projected out over the end of the bank, he managed tosecure quite a delightful mess of bass from the passing river--"takingtoll," Steve called it.

  Toby Jucklin seemed to find his greatest pleasure in taking cat naps. Hecomplained of losing a heap of sleep on the preceding night; and asthere was no telling what the second might bring forth, he believed intaking time by the forelock, as he called it.

  And Bandy-legs, well, he was sitting there for a long time, workingindustriously with a pad of paper and a lead pencil; and seemed to be sowrapped up in whatever he was doing that he did not notice Max silentlyapproach, bend down, and secure one of the sheets of paper he hadalready filled with his crabbed writing.

  Really Max had begun to suspect that their camp-mate must be writing astory, founded on that strange cabin, with its lichen-covered walls, andthe roof that seemed to be sprouting green grass with the moss.

  One glance he took at the brave heading that began the page. The titlewas quite enough for Max. With a broad grin he quietly laid it down,gave the industrious writer one amused look, and walked away again,without Bandy-legs knowing of the visit.

  And no wonder Max felt amused, for what he had seen spread across thatpage, in letters that were heavily underscored, was this wonderfultitle:

  "Programme for meals during six more days to be spent on CatamountIsland!"

  Bandy-legs was trying to forget all his troubles by laying out the_menu_ for the balance of their week.

  It was about an hour before sundown that Steve came hurriedly into camp.he carried a pretty good mess of fish, which attested to the fact that,impatient as he was in nearly everything else, at the same time heseemed to be a pretty fair waiter when holding a rod and reel in hishand. Perhaps the constant expectation of a bite kept him in decenthumor.

  But now Max saw that he was considerably excited.

  "What ails you, Steve?" asked Owen, who also detected some unusual signsof disgust about the returned fisherman; "did the biggest get away, likeit always does? Well, we'll believe you, never fear; especially if heyanked your hook off, and broke your line in the bargain. How big do youthink he was, Steve?"

  "That old gag don't work this time, Owen," remarked the other, as hedeposited his catch on the ground, to be admired by Bandy-legsimmediately. "I'm wanting to kick myself for being silly, that's all."

  "Oh, well, I wouldn't bother about that," Max put in, kindly. "There arefour of us here, and we ought to be able to do the business to suit you.When shall we begin operations, Steve?"

  But even then Steve did not lose his look of disappointment.

  "To think that I sat there all that time," he remarked, "and never onceremembered that bully field glass we've got along."

  At this remark Max realized that the distress of their chum could not bebased on anything connected with his fishing experience.

  "Hello!" he exclaimed; "now you've got us guessing, all right, Steve.You must have seen something or other, I reckon. Out with it, please."

  "Well, I did," replied the other, quickly. "You see, I was sittingthere, waiting for an old buster of a bass I'd got a glimpse of severaltimes to come up and get hold of my hook, when I happened to look acrossto the shore at just the widest part, where it's far away. And right offI discovered that it had been something moving that caught my eye as itwere."

  "A panther!" gasped Bandy-legs, involuntarily letting his hand creepdown to his left ankle, where those scratches still proved the truth ofhis story that something, the nature of which was unknown, had grabbedhim on the preceding night.

  "Rats!" scoffed Steve, loftily. "Panthers don't prowl around in thedaytime--that is, not very much. It was a human being I saw; and then asecond appeared right at his elbow. They seemed to be mighty muchinterested in this here island, too; for the first one pointed across,and up and down, like he was trying to explain how a swimmer might getover."

  "Goodness gracious! Steve, were they men or boys!" demanded Bandy-legs.

  "Now I know you're thinking about Herb Benson; or it might be thattricky Ted Shafter," remarked Steve.

  "Well, didn't we kinder half 'spect we'd have a visit from one ort'other of them crowds, p'r'aps both?" demanded Bandy-legs, with aninjured air.

  "All right; but these fellows didn't look like either lot. Then again,I'm right sure I saw the sun, away down in the west you see, shiningfrom something bright. Couldn't make it out first, and then all of asudden it broke in on me that they had a pair of field glasses, and mustbe examining this island. That made me remember our own pair, and Ihurried to get back off that log I was straddling; but before I'd beenable to make the shore, hang the luck, they'd gone."

  "Perhaps they saw you, and wanted to keep out of sight?" suggested Max.

  "That's just what they must 'a' done," admitted Steve. "But where's thebally old glasses, fellows? I might lie around, and keep tabs on thatshore for a spell. Who knows but what they might show up again; and I'mcurious to learn just who they can be."

  Max quickly vanished inside the tent, and came out with the desiredobject in his hand.

  "Before you go, Steve, tell us whether they looked like men or boys?" heasked, handing the field glasses over.

  "Well, I couldn't see as good as I wanted," was the hesitating reply;"but 'peared to me they were men, all right. And they seemed to bedressed in gray homespun, too, like some of the farmers around herewear."

  "Oh, perhaps after all it may have been a couple of young farmers takinga day off, hunting woodcock along the river. This is the time of yearfor the first brood to be big enough for shooting. The law opens for ashort spell, and then it's on again till fall," Owen remarked, with hisknowledge of such things, gleaned from much reading.

  "They didn't seem to have any guns that I saw," observed Steve,doggedly, as he hurried away.
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br />   This gave the others something to talk about until the shades of eveningbegan to gather around them. Who these two men could be, and just _why_they seemed to take such an interest in Catamount Island, were questionsthat the boys debated from all sides. Even Bandy-legs seemed to bestirred up, and made all sorts of ridiculous suggestions.

  Steve came in finally. It only required one look at his disappointedface to tell that he had not met with any success in his latest mission.Even the delightful odor of his freshly caught bass, cooking in thefrying pan over the fire, failed to make Steve look happier. He did hateto be beaten in anything he undertook.

  "Nothing doing, Steve?" questioned Bandy-legs; for there is a saying tothe effect that "babes and fools rush in where brave men hesitate totread"; which, however, must not be taken to mean that Bandy-legsbelonged to either class, although he failed to approach a subject withtact.

  "Naw!" snapped Steve, as he hung the case containing the glasses up inits accustomed place inside the tent.

  A few minutes later, finding that no one bothered him for information,Steve, who was really brimming over with a desire to argue the matterwith his comrades, opened the subject himself.

  "Say, now, Max, you don't suppose that it could have been any of themfellows, do you?" he asked.

  Max, who was adjusting the coffee pot nicely on the slender iron barsthat formed what he was accustomed to call his "cooking stove," thesefour resting on solid foundation of stones on either side of the hotlittle fire, turned his head when Steve addressed him particularly.

  "Which way did they seem to go when they left?" he asked, slowly, asthough the answer might have a good deal to do with his opinion.

  "Up the river," replied Steve, promptly.

  "Well, then, I don't believe it could have been any of the boys," waswhat Max went on to state; "and I'll tell you several reasons for sayingthat. In the first place there would have been three if it was the TedShafter crowd; and perhaps more if Herb had come up here to see whetherwe were really camping on Catamount Island."

  "Right you are, Max," remarked Owen, who was listening carefully.

  "Then again, what would they be doing away up here so late in the day?"the other continued. "Why, it's miles and miles by road back to town.Even by the river in a boat they couldn't make it short of two hours;and traveling at night along the rapid Big Sunflower would be a ticklishjob that I wouldn't like to tackle. Last of all, why go on _up_ theriver? If they came in a boat, it would have to be down below us, youknow, boys."

  There was no dissenting voice raised against this line of argument onthe part of Max. And when they sat down to eat their supper the talk waswholly confined to the subject of the two mysterious men. Who were they,and why did they seem to be so greatly interested in Catamount Island?And when Steve made a move that must have attracted their attention, whyhad they bolted so hastily?

  Again did all manner of surmises float to the surface. Bandy-legs wasbeginning to show signs of nervousness once more. Possibly the coming ofdarkness had much to do with his condition, for he shuddered every timehe felt that scratched ankle give him a twinge. For Bandy-legs fearedthat he was a marked person; and that if the dreaded occupant of thestrange cabin chose to pay them another visit before dawn, he would bethe one picked out for trouble.

  He seemed uneasy about supper, and wandered down to where the fourcanoes lay upon the sandy strip, as though the desire to again examinethat plugged hole in the bottom of his cedar craft had seized upon him.

  Those near the fire were paying little attention to Bandy-legs, for theyhappened just then to have started an argument along some line, andSteve was warmly defending his radical views.

  And when they heard Bandy-legs give utterance to a shrill whoop theyscrambled to their feet, half expecting to find that some fearful shapehad darted out from the surrounding forest, and was carrying their chumaway.