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  CHAPTER VIII

  DAVE MACLESTER'S ADVENTURE

  It required no little courage for Dave MacLester to row across the darkwaters of the lake to the darker woods of the north shore. Had therebeen someone to go with him he would have answered the cries for aidmuch more willingly. But since either he or Chip must remain in camp,Davy set out alone, pretty gloomily, pulling the heavy scow with whatspeed he could.

  MacLester was far from being a coward but by nature he was more timidthan calm, self-possessed Phil Way, or bold and venturesome Paul Jones.With a keen sense of duty and resolute determination to overcome everythought of fear, however, he ran the scow against the steep bank of thelake's far shore.

  The voice that had guided Dave across the water greeted him at once. "It'sfull glad I am to see ye, even if I can't see ye half in the darkness ofit," came with a pronounced Irish accent.

  "Guess that won't make much difference if you can see your way into theboat," Dave answered. "Did you get lost?"

  "No, no! not lost at all, at all, but I couldn't find me way, quite," camethe response. The speaker had now come down on the sloping bank close tothe boat, as if about to step aboard.

  "I only wondered," Dave answered. "Seems as if the woods were full ofmysterious people--one lone man hiding in an old clubhouse, another--"The lad checked himself. A sudden thought came to him that perhaps hebetter not speak too freely without knowing with whom he was talking.

  "What's he doin' there? A man all alone, and in an old clubhouse? Whatmight be his name thin?"

  "How should I know?" Dave answered to this question. He was becoming theleast bit suspicious and again he checked himself when it was just at histongue's tip to add, "We think the name may be Grandall." There would beno harm in awaiting developments before he told a stranger quite all heknew, he grimly reflected--a wise thought, it should be needless to say.

  "No harm,--no harm intinded," spoke the Irishman good-naturedly. Hehad come close to the water's edge now and Dave's eyes being fairlyaccustomed to the darkness, made him out to be a little, elderly manwith a short beard, but very little hair on his head. The old fellow'sbaldness was, indeed, the most noticeable thing about him as, with hatin hand, lest it fall off into the lake, perhaps, he stooped down themore closely to inspect MacLester and the boat.

  "Why," said the boy, fearing his short "How should I know?" might havebeen unpleasantly curt, "You see there are four of us fellows in camp ont'other side and we've happened to see a man at the old house on the Pointbelow us. We've wondered who he might be, staying alone as he does, andkeeping so out of sight of everybody. It's miles to the nearest house andnobody but our crowd of four fellows and our one visitor is anywhere near.But climb down into the scow and I'll take you over. Steady now, while Ihold the old shell up to the bank."

  For a few seconds the stranger made no reply. Then--"It must be a lakehere thin. Has it a name, at all, d'ye know?"

  "Why, sure it's a lake!" replied Dave a little tartly, wondering if theold fellow supposed the sheet of water lying so quiet in the darknessthere might be a river or an ocean. "Its name is Opal Lake. This old boatis good and strong though. It'll carry us across all right."

  Once again there was a long pause before the stranger spoke. "Oh yis!"he suddenly exclaimed, "There's me baggage, and me almost forgettin' ofit! Will ye help me a wee bit with it? Sure 'tis not far!"

  The kindly and somewhat coaxing voice of the old fellow, whose brogue wasjust enough to give a pleasant quaintness to his speech, amused MacLesterand he assented readily enough to the request made of him. He threw aloop of the scow's anchor rope over a stub projecting from the water andsprang ashore. He did not notice in the darkness that his leap broke thefragile branch securing the boat, allowing her to drift, but at once said:

  "We'll have to wiggle some, for they'll be looking for me in camp prettyshortly."

  "Sure, 'tis not far," the man again said pleasantly, and clapping hisstraw hat down over his head till it almost concealed his ears, he ledthe way into the woods.

  "Me name is Smith--Jawn Smith. What's your'n thin?" spoke the genialIrishman, as the two walked quite rapidly, despite the darkness.

  "MacLester--I'm Scotch," said Dave, smiling to himself over the thoughtthat his new friend plainly was not French.

  Mr. Smith made no reply and a long distance had been covered when Davespoke again.

  "How far back are you--that is, your baggage? We'll never find the lakeagain, till morning, if we don't watch out."

  "Sure, 'tis not far now any more," came the quite unsatisfactory answer."Is it tired ye air?"

  "No--but--great guns!"

  With no other remark Dave continued close behind or alongside his guidefor a long time--a very long time, it seemed to him,--possibly a quarterhour. Then--

  "Where in the world are we bound for?" he asked pretty sharply.

  "Sure, ye'll not lave me," was the answer, quite pleadingly.

  With a decided mixture of feelings Dave said, "Couldn't you do withoutyour baggage until morning?" But in his thoughts he added: "I've heardof wild Irishmen, and I guess I've met one, too." Still, he smiled ina grim way, reflecting further that he, also, would have a stirringpersonal adventure to report in camp, and he would see it through nowat all hazards.

  MacLester was certainly right. He would have a story of personaladventure to relate when he parted company with "Jawn Smith." But thiswas something he was not to succeed in doing so soon as he supposed.

  Time passed and still the little, old fellow with now and again hisoft-repeated, "'Tis not far," trudged onward. He _seemed_ to know theway perfectly. Dave followed or kept near his side. However, when forpossibly the tenth time the man said, "'Tis not far," the lad's impatiencegot the better of him.

  "Your ideas of distance must have been picked up in an automobile," hesaid. "Twenty miles isn't far in a car, maybe. One or two--not to mentionfive or six--may be a lot better than a fair stretch for walking. And I'vebeen gone a long time from camp."

  The stranger made no reply.

  "What are you doing in the woods--fishing, or just traveling for yourhealth?" Dave was getting more than a little cross and his tone showed it.

  "Sure, thin', I was goin' to tell ye," muttered Mr. Smith, still goingforward but more slowly now,--"I was goin' to tell ye that me business isthat of a sivy-ear--you know?"

  "A what? I'm afraid I don't know exactly."

  "You don't know a sivy-ear? Sure! Peekin' through a little popgun on threepoles? That's a sivy-ear."

  "Oh, a surveyor!" exclaimed Dave. "What in the world have you beensurveying here in the woods?"

  "Down't be axin' questions. Sivy-ears go peekin' an' peekin' an' theydon't tell whatever they may see. For why should there be sivy-ears atall, if they towld what they do be seein'?"

  MacLester was both irritated and amused; but he was getting too uneasy nowto let the all-too-apparent humbuggery of his companion go unchallenged.

  "Well, I'll say this much, Mr. Smith, that if you know where yourinstruments are, and can go there right off, I'll stand by my bargain tohelp you; but if you don't, you better say so. We're five miles fromthe lake now, if we're a foot."

  "Yes, it's right ye air," was the still unsatisfactory answer. And thoughDave replied more sharply than he had yet spoken, his companion each timeresponded in soft tones and mild language, but always evasively.

  "Well! if you know where we are, tell me that!" spoke MacLester veryfirmly at last. "I'm going not a step further until I know what sort of awild goose business you are taking me on!"

  "Oh,--oh! Sorra day--sorra day!" The man sat himself down heavily upon afallen tree over whose prostrate trunk he had just escaped falling. "Yemust do as ye will, but it's lost I fear I am."

  "Lost?" echoed Dave loudly. "You don't mean that we've been jamming aheadin the dark, and all this distance, without knowing where we were going!"

  "It was _not far_!" Mr. Smith moaned wearily. "Oh! it is tired am I!"

  "Well! I'll be cow
-kicked!"

  And possibly David MacLester may be excused for using so impolite anexpression when his situation is considered. Here he was miles fromOpal Lake--miles from camp, and lost in the woods in the dead of nightwith a strange man who might be either a dangerous crook or a harmlesslunatic--circumstances pointed toward both.

  "Ye'll not be blamin' _me_, sure!" spoke the old fellow. His very voiceshowed that he was indeed tired to the verge of fainting; but his mannerwas as mild and child-like as his words.

  Language could not express Dave's feelings. In mute contempt, anger,weariness and a certain deep curiosity mingled, he dropped to the ground.

  "I wouldn't blame you, mister," said the boy at last, "but I set out todo you a friendly turn and you get me into this pickle as a result andstill give me no satisfaction as to where you belong or where you wantto get to."

  "Jawn Smith"--and it plainly was not his name--made no answer for a longtime. Meanwhile David expressed himself pretty freely to the effect thatthere was but one course to pursue and that was to stay right where theywere until morning. "And when daylight comes we'll head straight for thelake," said he.

  "It's no odds who I be," said the stranger finally. "If I be not a realsivy-ear, I'm the likes of one, a peekin' and peekin'. Which is for whyI can't be gossipin' about matters that means a great deal to them that Iwould be befriendin'. Come mornin', we'll see."

  "Humph! Hope we may see more than we do this minute," Dave answered. Foralthough the two had been so long in the darkness that they could makeout trees and other objects well enough to avoid them, it had been a veryhard as well as a long tramp and the more so because of the gloom of night.

  His head pillowed on his arm Dave fell asleep, at last, regardless ofthe many things that vexed and worried him. His queer companion sleptalso and so did the daylight find them sore and hungry. The sun's raysbrightened their spirits, but "you can't eat sunbeams," as MacLesterrather gloomily remarked. The first excitement of the adventure hadsubsided now and he was quite inclined to despondency.

  On the strength of the stranger's statement that his camp and baggageand food he carried could be found in a short time Dave again let himlead the way. A long walk in one direction was followed by a tramp ofa still greater distance in another with no apparent intention of arrivinganywhere.

  And both MacLester and the stranger were suffering for water. They hadcrossed a small stream where there were still pools of good water,notwithstanding the severe drouth, early in the morning. It was decidedto revisit it before starting for the lake. But here, too, long-continuedefforts were a flat failure.

  It is a dreadful feeling to realize that you know not which way to turnto reach any given point. Lost! It is a word whose terrors must beexperienced to be fully understood.

  "Come, now! I'll be the guide, and just you keep with me. We'll get outof here somehow," said MacLester resolutely. Thus far the stranger, forthe most part, had been the pilot. It was past noon. Neither had tastedfood since the preceding day and both were parched for water. The sun beatdown till even through the thick screen of pine and deciduous branchesthe heat was trying. No bit of breeze relieved the sultriness.

  But Dave's best efforts seemed fruitless. The only reward in a long, longtramp was to lead the weary pair to a small stream. But even this was amost fortunate discovery and both drank freely, then drank again.

  As they rested the stranger was much depressed. After a long silence hesaid in hopeless tones: "What for a man ye may think me, I dunno; but thesaints bear me witness, me bye, never did I sit out to drag ye where yebe. It's all past goin' further I am, and ye've got to lave me. An' ifever at last ye come to that lake, go right at wanst to that clubhouseand tell the gintleman who's stoppin' there, for the love of hivin' tocome quickly where I be. It's Daddy O'Lear that wants him, say--poor--poorDaddy O'Lear."

  "What's that?" exclaimed MacLester. "Now if this _ain't_ a pretty mess!I was sure your name wasn't Smith, but----"

  "An' I'll be staying thin, till ye come fer me; but ye'll be tellin'nobody but the wan man that I'm here, be sure."

  "You are going along with me," was the decisive answer. "Then I'll tellno one anything. I don't want anything to do with your friend. There's away out of this howling wilderness somehow! We've got to move! It will bedark again in two hours!"

  But even a strong tugging at his arm would not persuade Mr. O'Lear, ifsuch were his real name, to rise and start.

  "You go with me or you'll go to jail where someone else ought to be too,if I'm not mistaken," said Dave with emphasis. "You can't stay here, man!And whoever you are, I'm not going to let you!"