CHAPTER XXII.
PIPER GROWS SECRETIVE.
Dressed only in underclothes while their other garments were drying, theboys really suffered no discomfort whatever. They amused themselves invarious ways, and in camp the least ingenious person may keep himselfoccupied and entertained without much trouble. For Crane and Stone theaccount of the adventure of the others upon the mysterious island proveddeeply interesting, and much time was spent in discussion andspeculation. It was observed that of the trio who had visited the islandPiper had the least to say about it, being much absorbed in meditation.
“Look at Sleuthy,” whispered Sile, nudging Springer. “His analyticalmind is at work, and I cal’late he’s tryin’ to form a few deductions.”
As if he had caught the remark, Piper looked up and gave Crane a hardstare that was doubtless intended to be piercing.
“Next time I visit that island,” he declared, “I’m going to take theshotgun along, and it will be loaded, too.”
Springer whooped derisively. “Oh, yes, next tut-time you visit theisland you’ll tut-take the shotgun!”
“What,” questioned Grant, “would you have done with a shotgun if you’dhad one with you today, Pipe?”
“He’d dropped it when he ran,” asserted Springer.
Piper promptly turned on Phil. “If I were in your place, I’d be ashamedto mention running. Like Crane, pursued by hornets, you demonstratedthat the wings of Mercury or the seven league boots would be of littleaid to you in covering ground when you’re thoroughly frightened.”
“I’m willing to admit,” said Grant, “that the sounds we heard on theisland and the conditions under which we made our visit of investigationgave me a few unpleasant and awesome sensations. Nevertheless, sittinghere at this moment, I’m much disinclined to admit that I believe inhaunts. I reckon it was the approach of the storm, more than anythingelse, that upset us complete.”
“How about the tut-ticking of the unseen clock?” asked Phil.
“A woodtick, perhaps, boring into the rotten timbers of the hut.”
“And the ghostly knockings?”
“There is no person who has not at some time heard seemingly mysteriousrappings, which were afterward found to be of the most commonplaceorigin.”
“Well, there was that mum-moaning cry. You heard it, didn’t you?”
Rodney admitted that he had. “With more time at my disposal,” heasserted, “I opine I would have looked around for the cause of it.”
“Bub-but the howling of the dog?”
“Most dogs are given to howling.”
“How about the white figures Crane and I saw on the island?”
“Imagination sometimes plays right peculiar tricks with the eyesight.”
“But we saw them. Yes, we did,” corroborated Sile earnestly. “I’ll swearto that.”
Piper listened to this colloquy, his eyes bright, his manner that of onekeenly interested.
“Comrades,” he announced, rising to his feet and posing, “I shall remainforever unsatisfied if we leave Phantom Lake with this mystery unsolved.I propose to find the solution.”
“Oh, yeou’ll do a lot in that line!” sneered Crane. “Yeou’ve had aswelled head ever since yeou was called to give testimony in court atStone’s trial. Before that you never done anything but talk, and yeouain’t done nothing since then. That was an accident.”
Sleuth’s lips curled scornfully. “Envy! Jealousy!” he declared. “Theopportunity has not since presented itself until the present occasionfor the full exercise of my acumen.”
“Wow!” whooped Springer. “Ac-cac-caccumen! That’s going some. Gee! Pipe,when you’re at home you must sit up nights to study the dictionary.”
“In command of English pure and undefiled,” retorted Sleuth, “you areplainly extremely limited.” Then he strolled off by himself and spent atleast a full hour in deep thought.
Some time before sunset Jim Simpson reappeared in the punt and landed atthe Point.
“Told ye I’d get round if I could,” he said, stepping ashore. “Didn’tknow but the old man would raise objections and have something else forme to do, but when I told him what had happened to me, he give me a gooddressin’ down for being keerless, and then said that you chaps couldhave any blessed thing you wanted that he owned. Say, the old gent ain’tsech a bad feller, though he nigh works me to death sometimes. Soon’s Icome of age, you bet I’m goin’ to hit out for myself. Livin’ on a farmain’t what it’s cracked up to be, I tell ye that. I’ve got the truck forye here in the bo’t.”
He had brought a peck of new potatoes and a bountiful supply of greenpeas, as well as onions, beans for baking and a pot to bake them in. Butthat was not all; he proudly passed over something wrapped in brownpaper, announcing:
“Here’s some lambsteak for ye. The old gent killed a lamb yesterday,and, thinkin’ mebbe you might like some meat, he cut this for ye andsent it as a present.”
“Lambsteak, green peas and new pertaters,” spluttered Crane. “Gee whiz!We’ll sartain have a feast. Say, Simp, yeou’re right abaout yeour oldman; he ain’t a bad feller. Get busy, Stoney, and start the repast tocookin’.”
Ben was willing enough to do this, for his appetite, like that of theothers, had been keenly aroused by camp life.
He set his companions shelling the peas and preparing the potatoes,while he started up a good fire.
“You fellers seem to be havin’ a pretty good time,” observed Simpson, ashe sat watching them. “Guess you’re enjoying it all right.”
“Sure we are,” answered Rodney. “Ever camp out?”
“Shucks, no; never had no time for that. Guess if you’d ever lived on afarm you’d know how ’twas. Don’t s’pose you’re much used to real work.”
Grant smiled. “I was brought up on a ranch, and I reckon I knowsomething about work.”
“A ranch!” cried the farmer’s son, his eyes widening. “Where?”
“In Texas.”
“Sho! You don’t say! Well, I snum!” He suddenly regarded Rodney with anamazing increased amount of respect. “Never saw nobody before that everlived on a ranch,” he confessed. “Was you a real cowboy?”
“In a way, yes; I’ve punched cattle.”
“I _do_ declare!” breathed Simpson. “That must be great fun. I’ve alwaysthought I’d like to be a cowboy.”
“Have you?”
“You bate! I say it must be rippin’ fun to be a real cowboy and jestride ’round on a horse and do nothing but tend cattle that don’t have tobe milked and cleaned and fed in a tieup and fussed over, the wayfarmer’s critters are. I’ve read about cowboy life, and it sartainly isthe kind for me.”
The Texan laughed outright. “Not if you are adverse to hard work,” heasserted. “Likely the stories you’ve read about cowboy life have givenyou the impression that it consists principally of adventure and romanceand very little work. But let me tell you straight, partner, there’s noharder work a fellow can do, and there’s mighty little romance connectedwith it.”
But Simpson shook his head incredulously. “Can’t be so,” he doubted.“Sometime mebbe I’ll go West and be a cowboy.”
“If you carry out that design,” returned Grant, still smiling, “you’llsoon come to realize the fact that, in the way of work, Eastern farmlife is almost play compared with cow-punching. One experience upon therange in a Texas norther would knock all the romance out of your noddle,to say nothing of the lesson you’d get during a good dry, blisteringsummer, when you’d have to be on the hike day after day from an hour ormore before the first peep of dawn until long after nightfall.”
Still Jim Simpson was not convinced, for, like many a mistaken Easternyouth, he had come to regard the life of a cowboy as a most enviableexistence, and nothing but a test of its hardships could convince himotherwise.
“Why, right now,” he said, rising, stretching and yawning, “I’ve got tohustle back to the farm and putter around ti
ll it’s dark and time forsupper. S’pose I’d better be goin’.”
But ere he departed Sleuth mysteriously drew him aside and talked withhim for some time in low tones that carried no distinguishable word tothe rest of the campers. Naturally, Piper’s friends speculated overthis, and when Simpson was gone they sought in vain to quiz Sleuth. Herebuffed them flatly.
“It’s told that curiosity once killed a cat,” he said, “and I can averthat it got a certain party badly stung by ‘gougers.’ When I’m ready tomake known my private business, I’ll do so without being coaxed orbadgered.”