Quincy Allen - The Outdoor Chums on the Lake - or, Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island

“Oh! well, if you think that way I’ll keep up my hopes. And you just remember that if I seem to be hugging this little snapshot contrivance closer than usual, why, I’m only keeping in readiness for instantaneous work. A fellow has to be pretty quick on the trigger to get a picture of a wild man, you know.”

They soon had the boats unloaded.

“Pull them out, fellows. I’ve brought along the chains and padlocks belonging to each boat. Having a canoe stolen isn’t such fun, even on a ten-mile lake like Camalot,” ventured Frank, as he produced the articles in question, and proceeded to fasten the canoes together, at the same time making sure they were chained to the sturdy root of a nearby tree.

“He thinks of everything,” admitted Will, in admiration.

“Don’t you believe it for one second. I forget many things; but as they said a wild man inhabited this bit of island, I wanted to make sure he did not run off with any of our boats, and perhaps our supplies.”

“All the same, it took your long head to think of such a thing, old chap. Now, I defy any one to hook our boats. Besides, we don’t mean to ever leave the camp unguarded; and I guess you expect to put up the tents close by here?” said Jerry.

“It looks good to me,” replied Frank, casting another glance at the little open spot close to the beach, which seemed an ideal place for a canoeist’s camp, having a splendid view of the lake, stretching almost ten miles away to the north.

The four were soon as busy as beavers.

They already knew how to erect the tents, which had a fly that could be lowered in front in severe weather, and a ground cloth of waterproof material, quite an addition to the comfort of the interior.

Jerry worked just as hard as the rest, although every now and then pretending to laugh at all this fuss, when a humble shack of branches ought to serve any fellow who called himself a true sportsman.

By the time the fireplace had been built of stones, over which several stout steel bars rested, upon which the cooking utensils would set, the Spring afternoon was drawing to a close.

“What will we have for our first supper?” Bluff asked; for he did not mean to let Jerry carry off all the honors in the cooking line this trip.

Secretly Bluff had been getting the hired girl at his home to teach him some of the kitchen lore, and he had a few surprises up his sleeve which he intended to spring upon his unsuspecting chums when the occasion came around that he was left alone in charge of the camp.

“Nobody thought to bring a steak this time,” ventured Frank; “so if you’re all agreeable, I say that we begin our cooking with a little canoeist’s menu something along this order: Tea, succotash, a can of corned beef, fresh bread and butter, and finish with a jar of preserves and cake from home. How does that strike you?”

“It suits me. And as the sun is sinking low, the sooner we get to work the better,” declared Bluff, readily enough; for he was fairly ravenous, and kept wetting his lips like a hungry dog that scents a rich, juicy bone.

“Talk about your feasts, what could equal that programme? Me for the corned beef every time. Why, it’s my best hold, and I just worship it – hot, cold or medium. How do you stand, Will? Any further suggestions?”

“Well, I brought some imported Switzer cheese along, and you know, fellows, I’m particularly fond of it; so if it’s just the same to you, I’ll add that to the list,” replied the one addressed.

“Oh, my! that’s what I get for speaking too hastily. Now I shall certainly be punished. I suppose as long as that cheese lasts my appetite will vanish at every meal. I only hope that gay old wild man takes a fancy to it, and elopes with the whole blessed bunch. Why didn’t you fetch limburger and kill us outright, instead of our dying by inches? But it will help draw the wildcats around, that’s one comfort,” groaned Jerry.

Preparations for supper went on apace.

They had set the tents at the base of a little bluff; for Wildcat Island was a singular formation, being quite hilly in parts. Indeed, some people were fond of comparing it to the volcanic islands that suddenly rise up out of the sea in regions like the Alaska coast; and as frequently vanish in a night. It was moreover heavily wooded, and the rank vegetation made it anything but an easy task to do any exploring.

Frank had calculated that this steep bluff overhanging the camp would be of considerable benefit to the expedition should a severe storm set in from the west.

As the boys busied themselves with various tasks they chatted and joked after their custom.

The stew of succotash and corned beef, which Frank had called the Canoeist’s Delight, was now ready. He set it aside on a stone to cool a trifle while the table was being prepared.

“How’s the coffee getting on, Jerry?” asked the chief cook of the evening; for they usually changed around, and gave each fellow a chance to show what he knew along the line of preparing appetizing dishes, or of exposing his ignorance, which method of procedure naturally created some rivalry.

“Just about ready. I’ve allowed it to boil furiously three times, and settled it with a dash of cold water on each and every occasion. Talk to me about the nectar of the gods, this suits me all right.”

“Oh! please hurry up. I’m almost trembling with eagerness, after sitting here and sniffing those delicious odors for so long a time,” pleaded Will, who happened to have nothing to do with the supper on this occasion, his time coming on the morrow.

But they gave him no heed, those unfeeling wretches.

The one who camps out must expect to prove himself a hero daily by conquering his appetite and holding it in check with a firm hand until the head chef declares that all is ready for the feast to begin.

Frank had just finished placing the aluminum plates and cups, and was about to reach out for the kettle of steaming stew, when to his astonishment he found the stone, where he had laid it, empty.

Thinking that one of the others might be playing some trick, he opened his mouth to remonstrate, when a cry from Will caused him to turn his eyes upward.

There he saw the little kettle swinging in mid-air, and being drawn hastily upwards by some unseen mysterious agency!

No one seemed able to say a single word.

Standing or crouching there, with staring eyes those four lads watched the marvelous ascent of their supper. It was as though an unseen hand had reached down and plucked the kettle from the rock to carry it heavenward.

Now it had reached the level of the top of the bluff, and as they continued to gape, an arm was thrust hastily out from the rank vegetation that grew there; they saw eager fingers clutch the kettle, and then it was drawn from their sight.

“Tell me about that!” gasped Jerry, as soon as he could catch his breath.

Bluff made a dive for Frank’s gun. His own repeating shotgun was at home, out of commission, for which Jerry, who hated the modern arm as the devil is said to hate holy water, never ceased to give thanks.

But Frank caught his arm.

“No, I wouldn’t do that, Bluff. We can afford to lose our stew, for we’ve got plenty more behind it. We can even let the little kettle go, if necessary; but we should hate to have any man’s life on our hands, no matter if he is a crazy being.”

“Did you see him, Frank?” exclaimed Will, in great excitement.

“No more than the rest of you. An arm came into view, and the kettle was drawn in. Somebody is going to enjoy a fine supper to-night. Perhaps the poor fellow has not tasted decent food for ages. Much good may it do him,” said Frank.

“What are you going to do about it, then?” demanded the warlike Bluff.