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The High School Boys' Fishing Trip, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 10. Powder Mills, Or Just What? |
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_ CHAPTER X. POWDER MILLS, OR JUST WHAT? "If that's a thunderstorm," muttered Greg Holmes, barely half awake, "then it's going to be a dandy!" But Dick seized him by one arm and shook him. "Come to your senses, Greg! That wasn't thunder." "No; but what was it?" wondered Dave. "I'm going to dress and find out," rejoined Dick sturdily. He sat on the edge of his canvas cot and began to pull on his clothing. BANG! All were awake enough now to appreciate fully the force of this second jarring explosion. "I wonder if there are any powder works off in this wilderness?" asked Danny Grin. But Dick, who had now dressed as fully as he intended to do, save for the lacing of his shoes, now came back from the doorway of the tent with the lantern, the wick of which he was turning up. "No powder mills in this part of the world," he declared. "But, gracious! The explosion seemed big enough." Tom Reade stepped over to Prescott, whispering in the latter's ear: "What if this is another chapter in the lake mystery that we struck this afternoon?" "That's possible," nodded Dick. "What are you two fellows whispering about?" called Hazelton. "We're using whispers in case there's anyone else near enough to hear speaking voices," Prescott explained in a low tone. That was enough to fan the curiosity of the others, who, partially dressed, crowded about Prescott and Reade. Leaving the lantern in the tent, Dick & Co. gathered in the darkness in the open air. "What do you make of it, Dick?" Dave asked. "Just as much as you fellows do---no more," came the reply. "If it isn't anything that carries danger to us," proposed Darrin, "we may as well go back and to bed." "All who are sleepy enough may go back and turn in," Prescott suggested. "I'll stay up and watch for a while." "So will I," promised Reade. But it turned out that none of the party wanted to sleep. Even Darrin said he was interested enough in this newest mystery to stay up and try to fathom it. "Whatever it is," smiled Dick, "it hasn't done us any harm." "Oh, yes; there has been one casualty, at least," protested Holmes. "The explosion has caused a compound fracture in my bump of curiosity." "There don't seem to be any more explosions," suggested Dick Prescott, after a few moments had passed, and some of the boys were yawning. "Anyone want to turn in?" No one wished to do so, however. "If we can't find out anything to-night," murmured Dick, in a low voice, "we'll at least make a strong effort in that direction after breakfast to-morrow morning." "We have the lake mystery on for after breakfast," urged Hazelton. "There's probably a connection between the lake mystery and the big explosions," whispered Tom Reade wisely. "Fellows, I've a notion that Danny Grin and I unintentionally bumped into someone else's business of some queer kind. Now the people who are peevish with us are trying to chase us out of these woods. At least, that's my idea." "It will take something more than noise to chase us," smiled Dick coolly. "Our ear drums are as sound as the next fellow's. Just the same, I wish we might find out something about this mystery. If there's another explosion like that last one, then some of us ought to travel straight in the direction of the noise." "And run straight into the hard, swift punch that is behind that noise!" muttered Danny Grin, with one of those facial contortions that had earned him his nickname. "Whoever starts to playing with a boy's curiosity must be ready to abide by the consequences," chuckled Prescott. "Now, if anyone has started something against us, then we'll run the rascal to the earth." "You don't suppose it's Dodge's work?" whispered Greg. Before Dick could answer Darrin broke in with an emphatic: "Not much! The lake mystery affair is one of too large calibre for Bert Dodge's poor, anaemic brain. There's something bigger and smarter than a mere Dodge behind the doings of this night." "It's one o'clock, fellows," said Dick, after walking over to the lantern for a glimpse at his watch. "Tom, Greg and I will stay up until three o'clock and be ready to jump out together at the first sign of anything happening. The rest of you turn in and get some sleep. We'll call you at three o'clock and then take our turn at the pillow." "You'll call us, of course, if anything happens?" asked Dave. "If another powder mill blows up," chuckled Tom, "you won't need to be called. You'll be out here on the jump." Dave, Dan and Harry thereupon turned in. Knowing that others were on watch the trio in the tent were all sound asleep within five minutes. Only the sighing of the wind through the trees, the occasional splash of a leaping fish in the lake, and the subdued, musical hum of tiny night insects came to the ears of Dick and his fellow watchers. Greg was soon yawning. Tom, for want of something better to do, began describing all over again the strange apparition he and Dalzell had seen that afternoon. Greg, finding the "creeps" in Tom's narration to be stronger than the interest, shivered and withdrew to a spot beyond the reach of Tom's whispers. Not long after Greg, his back propped against a tree trunk, was sound asleep. Tom liked to talk. Prescott was a good listener, putting in a question now and then. So at least another hour passed. Then----- Boo-oom! That crash was so close at hand that it seemed as though the earth must open. Tom's first startled glance was at the sky. Then, with a whisking sound, several fragments of something passed over their heads. "We're being bombarded?" gasped Tom inquiringly. "This is getting too noisy to be interesting," protested Greg, waking and leaping over to the place where his chums stood. "I thought you fellows were going to put a stop to that racket!" complained Darry from the tent. Dick Prescott's whole thought and effort had been centered on the task of placing the location of that latest explosion. "You fellows look after the camp," Dick called in a low voice to those in the tent. "Come on, Tom and Greg!" His two chums hurried to overtake him as the young leader rushed off in the darkness. Prescott was traveling up the slope in a direction that ran in an oblique line from the lake front. "Are you sure it was just exactly in this direction?" whispered Reade, as he reached Dick's side. "In this direction as nearly as I could judge," Dick affirmed. For some moments they traveled onward. Then they halted to listen. "I don't know whether I'm any good at judging distances," Dick whispered, "but it seemed to me that whatever exploded was not much more than three hundred yards from camp." "About that distance, I should say," Tom agreed. "Then we've gone about as far as the place of the explosion. Suppose we keep very quiet and listen." "Ugh!" grunted Greg. "I hope the earth doesn't blow up under our feet." "Go back to camp, if you're nervous," smiled Dick, but Greg remained where he was. "I'm going out a little way and prowl," whispered Dick, pointing in the direction he had chosen. "Tom, why don't you travel in about the opposite direction?" Reade nodded. "Where shall I go?" asked Greg. "You had better remain right here," Prescott whispered. "If you should hear either of us yell for help then you could start in the direction of the sound." "Then I'll get into those bushes," whispered Greg. "When you come back, come straight to the bushes, so I'll know that it's one of my own crowd. If any strangers appear, I'll listen to 'em if they halt near here, or trail them if they try to go past here." Dick nodded. This seemed about the best that could be done. Of course, back in camp, he had three more good and courageous fellows to draw upon as added forces, but with such strange doings afoot in the night it didn't seem wise to call the others away from the camp. Above all, the camp had to be watched and guarded. In half an hour Dick returned. He had found nothing to throw light on the puzzle of the night. Tom was back already, having beaten Dick to Greg's hiding place by about two minutes. "We may as well go back to camp," whispered Greg. "Not much!" Prescott retorted. "If anyone is trying to do anything to us, then we want to run the mystery down and put an end to it. My idea is that the best thing we can do is to get up to the road, post ourselves at fair intervals and watch to see if anyone should pass." "Correct!" clicked Reade. "And I think that would have been the best plan in the first instance." "If the powder-mill explosions are to keep up through the night," hinted Tom, "then there ought to be another one due within a few minutes. In that case our tormentors may be getting ready to plan something now. So let's hike for the road at once." Dick led the way, all three boys moving as noiselessly as they could. Prescott posted his friends, then chose his own post, so that they were stationed at intervals of about a hundred yards. All had hiding places within plain view of this rough country road. Now the time dragged again. Strain their ears as they might, none of these young outposts of Dick & Co. could hear a single suspicious sound. They must have remained there all of three quarters of an hour. Bang! sounded a terrific crash. Tom and Greg, without showing themselves in the road, hurriedly, silently reached their leader. "Pshaw!" uttered Prescott in disgust. "With all our care we were on the wrong side of camp to be near the explosion. Come along, now, but don't make any noise if you can help it, and don't step out into the road. We'll go straight toward that latest noise. If it takes all summer we're simply bound to find out who is trying to blow up these woods just to scare out a few little rabbits like ourselves!" _ |
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