Chapter XIX: A Day of Rest

“It’s a terrible storm coming, like as not!” Elmer Jones was exclaiming, as he started to unwrap a rainproof coat he had been thoughtful enough to provide for such occasions.

“Sounded more like a house falling down to me!” called Clint Babbett.

“I was dreaming of two railroad trains coming together, just when that smash came,” announced Leslie Capes.

“And I was heading straight for the falls of Niagara, and could hear the water roaring like everything,” confessed Nat Silmore.

Dan had not said a word up to then, and Dick, glancing toward him, could see a proud look beginning to take possession of the other’s face.

“You’re all wrong, fellows!” exclaimed Dan, unable to hold in any longer. “You’ve got another guess coming, I tell you. Don’t you remember that it was over there that I set my trap? Well, she worked all right, and mebbe I’ve got our wild man safely caged at this very minute!”

The announcement created great excitement.

“Hey! let’s hurry and get some duds on, so we can go and see!” called Peg, who was hopping about on one foot, as he had stubbed a toe in the haste with which he rushed forth from his sleeping quarters.

“How about that, Mr. Bartlett?” asked Dick, seeing the camp director among them, he having hurriedly slipped on a bath robe before making his appearance.

“We ought to get there with as little waste of time as possible,” replied Harry Bartlett, looking interested. “If it should turn out that the trap has done what Dan intended, the poor fellow may be hurt in some way, and it would be cruel for us to wait until morning to investigate.”

“Whew! from the racket I should say something fierce had happened!” declared Phil Harkness, as he hastened back to where his clothes hung suspended from nails driven into the pole of sleeping tent Number Three.

There was some hurried work done about that time, as every lad wanted to get himself in readiness as quickly as possible. Many hands quivered with excitement, and buttons were much more difficult to fasten than ordinarily.

One by one the boys assembled by the resurrected fire, some still hurriedly fastening their garments. It was an excited group that collected around Mr. Holwell, Mr. Bartlett, the physical director and Dick, as camp leaders.

“Hadn’t we better take something along with us, to defend ourselves in case he turns out to be ugly?” asked Dick.

“Yes, I suppose that would be only a wise provision,” returned Mr. Holwell, “for one never knows what a crazy person may do. They are also possessed of enormous strength as a usual thing. Get any sort of club you can find, boys.”

There was an immediate hustling around on the part of the half-dressed campers. Some managed to find suitable cudgels. Others picked up anything they could see that promised to prove useful in an emergency. Peg appropriated the camp hatchet, Ban Jansen the axe, while Andy Hale, in lieu of anything better, armed himself with the stout iron rod which they used across the fire when hanging a pot over the blaze.

Mr. Rowland had lighted the lantern. Others found blazing brands from the fire, which they made into serviceable torches by whirling them swiftly around their heads.

“Now come along,” said the camp director, smiling as he glanced around and noted the unique character of the procession ready to trail after him.

“I’d give a dollar, sure I would, to have a snap-shot of this bunch right now,” declared Clint Babbett, who was becoming quite an expert photographer, and aspired to win a prize by taking flashlight pictures at night time of little wild animals in their native haunts.

Indeed, they certainly did look comical as they passed from the camp and headed toward the spot where Dan had set his great trap. He bravely acted as pilot of the expedition, since none but he knew just where they were going.

Presently, from his cautious actions, the rest understood that they were very close to their destination.

“Can you glimpse the trap yet, Dan?” asked Peg, eagerly, lowering his voice as if afraid lest he start the prisoner into making new and desperate efforts to escape from the toils.

“And is he inside?” inquired Fred Bonnicastle, with a gasp that told of his interest.

“I can just begin to see the thing,” announced Dan, slowly, and Dick thought he could detect the first shade of growing disappointment in the other’s voice.

A few more steps, and then Dan spoke again.

“Hey! what does this mean?” he grumbled.

“Didn’t the trap work after all, Dan?” asked Peg, in a grieved tone.

“Work!” snorted Dan, huskily. “I should say it did. Only the maniac was too much for me after all. He’s gone and busted my trap to flinders.”

Groans of disappointment welled up from numerous throats, and there was a quickening of footsteps as all drew closer to the spot where the wreck of the clumsy contrivance lay scattered around.

They stood and stared at the ruin. Dan shook his head, and drew in his breath with a faint whistle that expressed intense astonishment.

“Say, he must have been a buster of a man!” he finally exclaimed, bending down to examine some stout limbs that had been actually broken in two as though by a mighty force. “He just got as mad as hops when it dropped around him, and smashed things right and left. But, fellows, he carried off the bait all right, I notice.”

“That shows he has an appetite after all,” remarked Mr. Holwell, considerably amused at the happening, though at the same time feeling that the situation bordered on a grave one, with such a terrible denizen of the woods visiting their camp so frequently.

“After this he’ll be feeling kind of peeved at us for hurting him, I guess,” ventured Peg.

“Well, if it comes to the worst,” Phil remarked, “we can some of us sit up each night, and stand our turn on guard.”

“That sounds pleasant, I must say,” observed Elmer, with a half laugh.

The party once more returned to camp, and Mr. Bartlett told them not to sit around talking matters over, but to get back to their blankets. Indeed, the night air felt rather chilly, and the boys were not loath to take this advice.

“Plenty of time to talk it all over in the morning,” the camp director told them. “Perhaps by that time we may run across some sort of clue that will put us on the track of the poor fellow. It strikes me we ought to do our best to make him a prisoner while up here. If, as we suspect, he turns out to be a lunatic, it would be little short of a crime to leave him here to freeze in the winter time.”

One thing Dick noticed, and this was that while most of the boys thought the visit from the wild man almost a tragedy one of their number seemed to be particularly pleased over it.

This was Asa Gardner, who, from the time they first gathered after the alarm was given, had been smiling contentedly. Dick could give a pretty good guess why.

“Asa knows now,” Dick told himself, “that it couldn’t have been his fault those things disappeared from our camp. He was lying beside me sound asleep when the alarm came. So he figures that after all it must have been this strange being who crept into our camp and stole the bright things that caught his attention. Well, I’m glad for Asa’s sake, that’s all.”

Some of the boys were nervous as they lay down. They half anticipated a further visit from the unknown. The remainder of the night passed, however, without further annoyance.

Sunday morning found the boys up early, and taking their cold plunge. Mr. Holwell joined them, for from boyhood days a dip in the water on a fine summer morning had always been a delicious treat for the minister. The usual morning exercises were dispensed with, for Sunday is always conducted on strictly religious lines in every genuine Y. M. C. A. camp.

After breakfast had been eaten and everything cleaned up about the camp, the campers assembled to enjoy a little song service, after which Mr. Holwell had promised to deliver his famous “boys’ sermon.”

Asa Gardner sought out Dick. Plainly the sensitive boy was feeling much better than when he had had his last interview with his friend, Dick, a fact the latter was pleased to note.

“You’re coming around to my way of thinking, I guess, Asa?” he remarked.

Asa turned his eyes up toward Dick.

“Yes,” he said, softly, “I believe it’s going to come out all right now, Dick, for my dear mother came to me in my dreams last night, and she told me I would win the fight! Oh! I’m so glad, so glad, and I owe a heap to you, that’s right!”