 CHAPTER I. One. Lost in the Fog. It's getting thinner all right. Since the afternoon before a thick curtain of fog wrapped about the little boat had shut out land, water, and sky. On a perfect October day, bright, still, and unusually warm, Lawrence Kingsley and his friends, Margaret, Ralph, and Jack Elliott, had left the Canadian town of Fort William to visit an island a few miles out in Thunder Bay. When, late in the afternoon, they had started back, the weather was still fine, though a light haze had begun to whiten the blue of the sky, and dim the brightness of the lowering sun. The haze had thickened with surprising speed. Before they had gone a half mile, the fog had blotted out the island behind them, and in a few minutes more was so dense that Margaret and the stern could scarcely distinguish Ralph in the bow. They had no compass, and though Ralph tried to keep a straight course, he soon lost all sense of direction. The voices of the fog horns at the lighthouse stations seemed to come from any and every quarter, while the whistles of steamers feeling their way through the bay added to their bewilderment. Those steamers were the chief danger. In a collision with even a tug the tiny launch would have little chance. Once indeed she came so perilously close to a large boat that, though nothing was to be seen, the throbbing of the machinery was plainly audible, and the launch was tossed about and nearly swamped in the swell. Lawrence, running the engine, did not dare to make speed. Through the dense, muffling whiteness the little boat crept forward, her crew with eyes and ears strained for shape or sound of danger. The shore seemed to have vanished utterly, swallowed up in the fog. The coming of night made little difference. The fog had already completely blotted out the world. As the hoarse tones of the horns grew fainter and fainter, Ralph turned the steering wheel in an endeavour to keep them within hearing. He was afraid of being carried out of the bay to the open stretches of Lake Superior. At no time, however, was he sure of the location of the horns, and finally he lost them altogether. The water was smooth, with only a long, slow, gentle swell. There was scarcely a breath of breeze to stir the fog curtain. Though the boys had no idea where they were bound, Lawrence still kept the motor going at low speed, for to drift without control was to increase the danger of running on the rocks. On and on went the launch through a night that seemed interminable. With his head pillowed in his sister's lap, and a rug tucked around him, little Jack fell asleep, but for the others sleep was impossible. They did not talk much. A strange feeling had come over them, the feeling of being utterly alone, in a world empty of everything but mist and water. The damp chilled them, the silence and emptiness stupefied their minds, yet they remained awake, and with one sense, hearing, cautiously alert for the slightest sound. At last the whitening of the mist about them indicated dawn. They had just begun to realise that day was actually coming, when first Margaret and then the others caught the distant note of a foghorn. They were not utterly out of reach of land then. Lawrence drew a long breath. I shouldn't wonder, he said to Margaret, if we were outside the bay, but we're headed back towards it. That's probably the horn on the end of Thunder Cape or on Pye Island. Or somewhere else up or down the shore, put in Ralph. I don't care where we are if we only get to solid land, replied Margaret, if this fog would lift for just a minute. It was less than a half hour later, when Ralph remarked hopefully, it's getting thinner all right. A breeze was breaking the long swells, and the mist was beginning to blow and shift. Off to the left, or so it seemed, the distant foghorn sounded faintly. The lighthouse on Thunder Cape Ralph knew ought to be on his right if he were returning into the bay, but he could not guess whether the horn really was at Thunder Cape Light or somewhere else. He would run towards it anyway but would take care not to go near enough to be in danger of the rocks. Ralph had just come to this decision when a sudden and unexpected gust of wind struck the boat, swinging her to the right before he had time to grasp the wheel more firmly. The wind rent the fog and revealed to him something dim and shadowy. Land ahead, he shouted, but the words were scarcely out of his mouth when the mist closed in again. He held on his way, however, towards the land of which he had caught a glimpse until there came to his ears a sound that made him turn the wheel suddenly. The wind was rising, the water ruffening, and the sound he heard was of waves beating on rocks. As he swung the boat to the right, a momentary lifting of the fog again showed him the land, rising high and steep, a dangerous shore to run into suddenly. It's land anyway, he called to his companions. We'll go as close as we dare and run along it till we find a place to put in. And then we'll have breakfast, cried Jack. The others laughed. A glimpse of land had put new courage into them. The rapid thinning of the fog was lifting a heavy weight from their spirits. Though the mist wavered and changed, it did not again entirely blot out the shore. Ralph steered as close as he dared. The constantly increasing wind was striking full against the towering rock wall and shattering the breakers upon it. Running sidewise to the waves, the launch, as she skirted the land, rolled and pitched. Then suddenly there was a bump, a jar, a scrape. Ralph cried out sharply and Lawrence tried to reverse his engine. The engine stopped, a wave slapped up against the side of the boat, and there was another jar and scrape. They had run on sunken rocks. With quick presence of mind Ralph seized the ore that was always carried in the launch and labored to keep her from being washed on the rocks. Lawrence had difficulty in starting the motor and in spite of Ralph's frantic efforts with the ore the wind carried the boat so far in that she was in imminent danger of being dashed against the rock wall. Just in the nick of time the engine began to chug again. The crests of several waves had come over the side, and Margaret and Jack went to bailing while Ralph continued to steer cautiously alongside the shore, and Lawrence watched the engine. Apparently it had been injured in some way, for it ran slowly and jerkily threatening every minute to stop. The shore was a most inhospitable one, abrupt rock walls ribbed like rows of irregular pillars, but without beaches at the base or riffs or coves to afford a landing place. Thick woods covered the summit. As the explorers went on they found themselves less exposed to the wind. To the right they could discern the dim line of what appeared to be much lower land. The fog had thinned until it no longer made navigation difficult, and the sun was shining through giving promise of a bright day. But these were unfamiliar waters, and Ralph kept a sharp lookout for rocks, reefs, and shallows, while Lawrence watched the engine anxiously, fearing it might stop at any moment. High land appeared ahead and shores drew together, and presently the boat entered a passageway between sheer rock walls. When beyond that narrow neck the water spread out into a bay, like an inland lake, with heavily wooded shores, the sudden change was both a surprise and a relief. In that sheltered place there was scarcely a ripple, and only a light haze softened the greens, reds, yellows, and browns of the autumn woods. Then all of a sudden Margaret and the two older boys realized how worn out and nearly starved they were. Though they had a little food left in their picnic basket, none of them, the night before, had felt like eating. That morning Jack had eaten a slice of bread and butter, but the others had been too anxious and too busy to think of breakfast. Now they agreed that the first thing to do was to make a landing, have something to eat, and kindle a fire to take the chill of the fog out of their bodies. End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 2. The Trail Ralph ran the boat alongside a birch tree that had toppled into the water. Lawrence stopped the engine and the four ate their scanty breakfast, of half a loaf of bread, a little butter, a small piece of cheese and two donuts. Then they scrambled along the tree trunk to the shore and unlimbered their stiff muscles gathering wood. The place was thickly wooded, chiefly with spruce and balsam fur, but the trees were so wet from the fog that good fuel was hard to find. Luckily there was a small sharp hatchet in the boat and so chopping up some dead branches to get at the dry inner parts and using quantities of bark from the old birch, the boys succeeded in kindling a fire. They selected a bare rocky place where the flames could not spread into the underbrush, fallen leaves or moss. As they warmed and dried themselves, the explorers discussed their next move. The first thing to do, said Lawrence, is to discover where we are and how to get back to Fort William. It seems to me, Margaret answered, that getting food and shelter is more important than finding out just where we are. The two things belong together, Lawrence explained. If we can reach food and shelter there will be someone to tell us where we are. The real question is, which way shall we go to look for it? I don't see but one way we can go, retorted Ralph, up this bay or lake or river mouth or whatever it is. We can't go out into the open lake again with the wind blowing and the boat limping the way she has been doing ever since we struck those rocks. Let's see if we can find out what's wrong with the old boat and Lawrence started towards the shore. He could discover nothing the matter with the engine and there was still a little gasoline in the tank. The propeller must be bent, he said, but we can't tell till we get her out of the water. And there's no way of doing that here, Ralph replied. We'll have to go on as long as the gasoline holds out and then run her ashore. If we can start her at all, I wonder if we're on the mainland or an island. A little exploration convinced the boys that they were on a small and uninhabited island. After drenching the fire until not a spark was left, the force scrambled into the launch again. Lawrence had trouble starting the engine but they finally got under way slowly and haltingly. Though their eyes searched every foot of shore and forest that came in sight, not a dock or a house or the slightest indication that anyone had ever been there before them could they find. As they approached what appeared to be the head of the bay, the water which had been clear near the mouth became thick so that Ralph could not tell whether it was deep or shallow. Under his seat Jack had found a trolling line and had dropped the spoon hook over the stern. As they were going through the thick water he felt a sudden jerk that almost pulled the line out of his hand. Larry went to his aid and after a struggle they drew into the boat a fine pickerel of about four pounds. I'm almost hungry enough to eat that fellow raw, said Ralph, eyeing the prize. Let's land and cook him. As Ralph spoke the motor stopped chugging. Lawrence tried to start it but could not. Then he glanced at the indicator on the tank. The gasoline's all gone, he said. We'll have to paddle ashore. They were close to the shore which still rose high and abrupt but showed in one place a bit of stony beach at the base. There they succeeded in making a landing, drawing the bow of the boat up a little way and tying it securely to a misshapen spruce that grew in a cleft of the rock almost at the water's edge. Their breakfast had been scarcely more than an aggravation to appetite and they were all eager to taste that fish. Though the rock wall was steep, trees and bushes, juniper and trailing cedar had taken root in every shelf, crack and cranny where soil could lodge. While Ralph cleaned the fish the others managed to collect dead wood and dry moss enough to make a cooking fire. They had no frying pan but Lawrence placed some flat stones on either side of the fire and after it had burned down to coals laid green alder shoots across. On this gridiron he broiled the fish which Ralph had split in halves. When it was done the castaways ate every scrap that was eatable unsalted though it was. Well Larry said Ralph after he had swallowed his last mouthful. The bolt's no use without gasoline so the only thing to do is to climb this cliff and see what's on top. We'd better take the rugs, the hatchet and that fish line. And the bailing can added Margaret we might need it to dip water with. The climb was a hard one. When the rock was not bare and vertical it was slippery with moss and lichens and on the shelves and in the crannies where trees and bushes grew with fallen needles and leaf mold. Frequently the climbers had to catch hold of a branch or root to pull themselves up by or to keep from slipping back. When they reached the summit and turned to look out over the bay from which they had come little cries of surprise and wonder escaped from their lips. Then they all stood silent. It was Jack who broke the spell by asking anxiously, Ralph do you know where we are? No Jack the older brother replied gravely. I haven't the slightest idea. Below him the greens of balsam spruce and cedar the autumn reds and yellows and bare branches of deciduous trees blended into masses of forest cut here and there by gleaming strips of water. Nowhere could he discover a field or garden, a boat or wharf, a roof or chimney or whiff of curling smoke. Beyond that wilderness stretched the lake its blue melting into the white haze that veiled the meeting of sky and water. Lawrence drew a long breath. Where in the world are we? he asked, wonderingly. From the position of the sun we must be looking west or northwest and yet that is the open lake out there. Have we drifted clear across superior in a night? It can't be the big lake Ralph replied. If that is west we're somewhere on Thunder Cape that haze in the distance keeps us from seeing shore. Lawrence shook his head. There's nothing like that. He pointed to the woods and water below him on the Thunder Bay side of the Cape. It isn't broken up into bays and islands that way and we can't be on the lake side unless the sun is turned around. We are somewhere else. Well we can't have gone clear across the lake that's sure. Maybe we're in Black Bay or the Nipagon country. Anyway there's nothing in sight but woods and water. Let's see if we can get a look the other way. The trees grew thick on the crest of the bluff. Instead of attempting to penetrate them Ralph started along the edge hoping to find an opening. In a few moments the others heard him calling to them. They found him examining a mark on the trunk of a spruce, an old weathered scar but clean cut and even where the bark and a little of the wood had been sliced off. A blaze exclaimed Lawrence cut with an axe. Yes and there's another Ralph pointed to a tree a few feet away. We've struck a trail. Then let's follow it cried Margaret. It may take us to a house. Ralph had gone on beyond the second blaze. Here's another one he called. Come on it's a trail all right. The marks which were not difficult to find led away from the edge of the bluff through the woods down a slope then up a short rather steep rise and down a more gradual one. Still on the downgrade the trail swung to the left a little and Ralph saw ahead of him two high rocks towering above the trees. From one of these rocks he might get a view of the surrounding country he thought as he hurried forward. Following a well-defined path between the two he looked for a place to scale one or the other. The rock on his right rose like a great monument. It's sides running almost straight up but the left hand one was more broken in the irregular and he easily climbed high enough to obtain a good view. Evidently he was on the side of a high ridge. Below him the slope was thickly tree covered and the forest broken here and there by streaks and patches of water stretched away into the distance. At the outer edge of the woodland he could see a narrow ribbon of water bounded by islands. Beyond the islands the lake faded into sky. The country seemed as wild as lacking in sign of human life as strange and unrecognizable as that he had looked upon from the edge of the bluff. The boy's heart sank. Then he gave himself a little shake, squared his shoulders and called to the others to join him. They did not delay long to gaze at the unknown country. The only evidences of human handiwork they had discovered were the marks on the trees and the castaways were determined to follow wherever those blazes might lead. From the high rocks the trail was a well-defined track, distinct enough to be followed readily even without the guidance of the blazes. Its clearness was its only good trait however for it was decidedly rough to travel. It ran up and down ridges, overslippery rocks and fallen trees, through spongy moss and sticky bogs and always through the woods. Encouraged by the knowledge that other people had come and gone that way, the four went on as fast as they could. Somewhere ahead there must be men, houses. Then the track ended abruptly at the water's edge. There was not even a dock. The castaways had reached another bay or lake. Margaret dropped down on the bank and turned her head away. The tears came to Jack's eyes and Ralph and Larry stared at each other in dismay. A big white gull sailing by on his long wings seemed to jeer at them with his harsh mocking cry. After a moment Ralph said emphatically, there must be people living around here somewhere. They came here by boat then, Lawrence replied, and that trail doesn't really lead anywhere, only up to those big rocks and onto the edge of the bluff. Just the same Ralph clunked stubbornly to the one thing he was sure of. People have gone that way and they must have come from somewhere. Let's go along the shore. Which way? I don't know. It looks a little as if someone might have been through here and Ralph pointed to the left. I can't see any signs but we may as well try it in that direction I suppose. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 When Light Houses Are Dark By Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 3. The Log Cabin on the Island Going along the shore was even harder work than following the trail. The forest grew to the waterline and in the soft treacherous leaf mold and decayed wood, the tired travelers never knew how far their feet were going down. Fallen tree trunks slippery with moss and lichens and often so rotten that they crumbled away when stepped on had to be climbed over. Impenetrable clumps of small balsams must be skirted and wide patches of ground hemlock and tangles of bushes pushed through. Hope of food and shelter had spurred for castaways down the trail, but that hope had almost vanished. They were plodding doggedly on, wondering if they ought to have gone the other way when they came upon a small open space. Lawrence uttered an exclamation and pointed to a stump. Someone's been cutting trees here, he cried. Sure enough, Ralph answered excitedly, nothing but an axe ever did that, and there's another and chips and a pile of branches. They weren't cut so very long ago, either, Larry went on. The stumps aren't weathered much. Someone must live near here. Maybe it was only a camper. The hope died out of Ralph's face. He may have been gone for weeks. The only thing to do is to go on and find out. Somewhat encouraged by the sight of the stumps, the four took up their weary march again. They had not gone far when Ralph, who remained in the lead, rounded a dense clump of balsam trees, and came suddenly upon a clearing, a real clearing, where a little way back from the water stood a small bored shack. The lad's first feeling of joy ebbed when he noticed that the place appeared to be deserted. No smoke rose from the projecting stove pipe, and a boat drawn well beyond the waterline was turned bottom up and covered with a piece of canvas weighted with stones. After a quick glance about the clearing, he crossed the open ground at a run and hammered on the door of the shanty. Is anyone at home? He shouted. As Ralph called Lawrence, closely followed by Margaret and Jack, came around the thicket of balsams. There was no response to Ralph's knocks and shouts. No one here, he called back to the others. Larry had noticed the covered boat. I'm afraid they're not coming back very soon, he said. Can you get in? There's no lock, and Ralph pushed the door open. He looked into a small room with rough bored walls. It was crowded with a bunk, a cooking stove, a table, two rustic chairs made of poles and canvas, cooking utensils, fishing tackle, and various things. Jumbled together without any attempt at order. The explorers did not hesitate to search for food, but not a scrap could they find. Evidently whoever had lived there had cleaned out his larder before he left. In a lean-to shed were a number of broken boxes, a grindstone, and a pair of oars. I suppose we can stay here all night if we have to, Margaret said, sinking wearily into a canvas chair. But you boys will have to catch another fish. At that moment Jack, who had gone down to the water, raised a shout. There's another house, he called. Ralph almost tumbled out of the door. Where, he demanded? Over there. Jack pointed across the water to a shingled roof showing among the trees. Let's take this boat, and Ralph began pulling off the canvas cover. The boat, a small, clumsily built, flat-bottomed one, the boys dragged and pushed down to the water while Margaret went to the shed for the oars. A short row brought the adventurers to a point where the roof could be seen above the trees. They rounded the point, drew up at a dock, and followed a path to a well-built log house. Ralph wrapped vigorously. He thought he heard someone moving within, and knocked again, but there was no response. Then he tried the door. It was locked, but something within the house fell with a clatter. There's someone in there, he said, but he doesn't want to come to the door. Several times he rapped and shouted. The windows all have board shutters on, and the back door is locked, said Lawrence, returning from a tour around the house. There's someone in there just the same, Ralph insisted. I heard him moving, and then he dropped something. Lawrence, who was standing a little back from the house, began to laugh. There's the person you heard, he said, pointing to the roof, the head of a squirrel protruded from the chimney. The little animal sprung out and down to the roof, chattering vehemently. You disturbed him, Larry went on, and in scampering around he upset something. He probably has his winter supply of nuts and cones in there. Apparently Lawrence was right, for there were no further sounds from the locked house. There's no way of getting in here unless we break in, said Ralph, and there isn't much chance we'd find anything to eat if we did. Well, suggested Lawrence, we've found two houses, and where there are two there are likely to be more. Let's go on. There may be someone left alive somewhere. The house was on an island, so the castaways were obliged to take to the boat again. Traveling by water was easier than by land, and they went on down the bay or lake, past wooded shores and islands, looking eagerly for signs of habitation. A chimney above the treetops caught Margaret's eye, and they made towards it. Turning into a narrow channel, they came suddenly in view of a small but substantial looking log cabin. They tied the boat at the little dock, and hurried up to the house. The unshuttered windows gave them hope, but there was no answer to their knocks. After they had rapped and shouted, Ralph tried the door. To his surprise it opened. He looked in, hesitated a moment, then entered. The others following. The room in which they found themselves was plainly and roughly furnished, but neat and comfortable. A table with a blue cover stood before a large fireplace. There were several chairs and a rug on the floor. Margaret made straight for an open door to the left of the fireplace. A moment later she called joyfully. I found something to eat, boys. In haste Ralph and Jack followed her into the kitchen. There's nearly half a sack of flour, she explained. A lot of cornmeal, a piece of bacon and some sugar and salt. And here's a can part full of baking powder, she added. And a can of corn syrup. Announced Ralph, who was rummaging a shelf. We won't starve tonight at any rate. If you boys will make a fire in the stove, we'll have a meal right away. Suppose them people who live here come back in the middle of it. They won't, said Larry, who had just come into the kitchen. I've been in the bedrooms. There are three cots and a bedstead with bedding, but no clothes except an old hat. If anyone were living here now, he would have some clothes about. The front door was unlocked, though. The lock is broken. I noticed that as we came in. We'll have some dinner anyway, even if they do come back, insisted Margaret. Goody, goody! cried Jack. Then he stopped suddenly. A doubtful look came over his face. Won't it be stealing to take these things? he asked. They don't belong to us. No, Jackie. It won't be stealing under the circumstances, Ralph replied gravely. We're stranded, you see, and likely to starve. Whoever left that food here wouldn't be so hard-hearted as to refuse us something to eat if we could ask him. We wouldn't use the things if we could help it. And when we get away from here, we'll find out who owns the place, and we'll pay him for every bite we've eaten. For that matter, added Margaret, we have some money with us, and we can leave enough to pay for what we use with a note telling why we took it. In a shed behind the house the boys found a pile of wood, and they soon had good fires going in the stove and fireplace. A rowboat put up in the shed for winter convinced them that the owners of the house would not be back very soon. Can't we have pancakes mag to go with that bacon? Ralph asked. I don't believe they'd be very good made with water and no eggs, she replied doubtfully. But we might have hoe cake or cornmeal mush. Which can you make the quickest? Lawrence demanded. Mush, I think. The cakes would have to bake. Then I'm for mush. Bacon and mush with corn syrup might have seemed a meager meal at home, but the four were too thankful for any kind of food to complain. Darkness had come before their dinner was over, and they finished eating by candlelight. There was a lamp in the living room, but the kerosene can was empty. However, Ralph had found a box of candles in the kitchen. It's too late to go any farther tonight, he said as he pushed back his chair. We'll have to camp right here. We're all dead tired. Jack is half asleep already. One bedroom held a bedstead and cot, and the other two spring-cotts, all with plenty of good clean bedding. The worn-out wanderers did not hesitate to use them. There was a bolt on the front door, and, as Ralph fastened it, he said with a grin. Now, if the owner comes home in the night, he'll have to knock. I'm not sure he could waken me if he battered the door in, responded Larry with a yawn. End of Chapter Three Chapter Four When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Four. The Deserted Fishing Camp All four slept late the next morning. By the time they had everything in the cabin in as good order as they had found it, and were ready to start out again, it was nearly ten o'clock. We can go in the boat, said Lawrence. If we don't find anyone living near here, we can come back for another meal. He had rode but a short distance along the narrow waterway, lying between the island, where the cabin stood in a thickly wooded shore to the right. When docks running out from that shore, and a moment later sheds or boat houses came into view. As the explorers passed the end of the little island, they saw, to their left, across a short stretch of water, more docks and several buildings. We're coming to a town, exclaimed Jack. I'm afraid it's a deserted one, his brother replied. No one is in sight. That must be a fishing camp. He pointed to the docks and sheds at the right. See the reels? There ought to be someone there. The large reels that stood in a row near the water were empty of nets, however. From the stovepipe chimneys of the two log houses beyond the sheds, no smoke issued. After glancing into a boat house that contained a gasoline launch, and hastily examining a shed piled with barrels, boxes, and various odds and ends, the older boys went up to the houses. Their knocks brought no reply. The fishermen can't have gone for good, Ralph said. Their launch isn't put up for winter, and their row boats aren't out of the water. Let's go over to that other place. I wonder if that's a fishing camp, too. The other place proved to be a good-sized island with a number of buildings. On one that stood close to the water was a sign reading, Smith Harbor, Michigan. Michigan, Ralph cried in amazement. We have gone clear across the lake, but we couldn't in one night. It's impossible. I feel as if I were going crazy, said Lawrence. If that sign said Minnesota, it would be bad enough. I don't believe we could even go that far in a night. But Michigan? That's a joke of some kind. It's a mighty poor one, then, grunted Ralph. But it's either a joke or a mistake, or we're all crazy or dreaming. We can't be in Michigan, that's sure. The explorers followed a path around the island knocking at every door, but the buildings were all locked and silent. There were no reels, and the place did not look like a market fisherman's camp. It's a little summer resort, said Ralph. Yes, that accounts for its being deserted and yet so well kept up. The superior summer resort season was over several weeks ago. If this is a summer resort, there must be a railroad not far away, or else steamers come in here. The fishing station seems to prove that, Ralph agreed. Let's go on. Perhaps we'll come to something that will show us where we are. Beyond the fishing camp, the shore rose high. Great gray rocks were streaked orange, brown, and gray green with lichens and metallic stains. Near the end of this point, the castaways climbed a long flight of steps that led to another locked and deserted cabin. From this high ground they could see that the waterway they had been following was part of a bay, evidently lying parallel to the one they had first entered. To their left, beyond and above wooded islands and shores, towered the ridge they had crossed the day before. Apparently the ridge formed a long, high finger of land projecting much farther into the lake than the point on which they stood. Rough water ahead prevented rowing farther in that direction, so the explorers turned back to take another look at the fishing camp. This time they did not content themselves with wrapping. The back door of the larger house was fastened with a padlock, but the staple was loose. After a moment's hesitation, Ralph pulled it out. I don't like to break in, he said, but we won't do any harm. In the kitchen and in an adjoining storeroom the four met with a surprise. Shelves and floor were piled with sacks, boxes, cases, cans of food supplies, enough to keep a family for months. Those people must be coming back, said Meg emphatically, or they never would have left all these things here. They may be returning tonight for all we know, Lawrence answered. The fishing season isn't over by any means. It lasts as long as there is plenty of open water. The boats that collect the fish keep running as long as the fishing is good, don't they? asked Ralph. This must be one of the collecting points. It looks like it. I don't believe the fishermen can have gone far away, and, as Meg says, they must be coming back. The sight of all this food makes me hungry. Isn't it time for lunch? After time, replied Margaret, but I think we had better go back to that other house. We broke in here, and I don't feel comfortable staying. I'm going to borrow a can of milk, though, so I can make pancakes. I'll leave the money to pay for it right here on the shelf in front of the cans. Ralph put the staple back in the door and led the way down to the boat. The morning had been bright, but the sky was clouding over now, and the wind was raw and chilly. Before the four had finished their meal of pancakes and corn syrup, rain was coming down hard and steadily. I guess we'll have to stay here for the rest of the day, said Ralph. We have shelter and warmth and a little something to eat anyway. I've been thinking, remarked Lawrence, that unless the fishermen have gone for good, and it certainly doesn't look as if they had, there may be a steamboat or a tug coming in here any time. We must keep our ears open for a boat whistle. We're near enough to hear it, and to get to the dock in five minutes if we don't waste any time. Yes, Ralph agreed. We want to be ready to jump and run for the rowboat at a moment's notice. Do you suppose anyone will come to look for us? asked Jack. It's hard to tell, Jackie, his brother replied thoughtfully. Of course, we'll be missed sooner or later, but I'm afraid no one will have any idea what became of us or where to look. The four young people were very much alone in the world. The three Elliotts, born and bred in the city, had, before that summer, known little of anything but town life. They were orphans, for their mother had died when Jack was a baby, and their father had been killed in an accident about two years before the opening of this story, when Margaret and Ralph, who were twins, were a little over fourteen. One night, the spring before this story begins, Margaret was awakened by the light of flames and the smell of smoke to find that the business block next door to their little house was on fire. To save the house was impossible. It was burned to the ground with all their furniture and most of their personal belongings. In an attempt to rescue his pet dog, Jack had been overcome and almost smothered by the smoke. He had always been delicate, and the doctors at the hospital, where the boy was carried unconscious, discovered that his lungs were weak, and advised that he be taken into the country for the summer, at least. When Ralph was twelve, he had spent a month with his uncle on Thunder Bay, Lake Superior. He had delightful memories of the place, and as soon as Jack was able to be up, the older brother proposed that they go to Thunder Bay. For a week they stayed at a boarding house in Fort William, where they made the acquaintance of Lawrence Kingsley, a Canadian boy about a year older than Ralph. The Eliot's found the boarding house expensive and not a very good place for Jack, so they rented a small cottage out from the town on the lakeshore. Margaret was a good housekeeper, and the three lived there very happily, Jack improving steadily in health and strength. Ralph and Lawrence had struck up a warm friendship and the Canadian boy was with the Eliot's much of the time. He too was an orphan, but, as Ralph discovered by accident, for Lawrence did not talk about his money a wealthy one. His guardian was a busy man, absorbed in many interests, and though he looked after the boy's property faithfully, he had little time or inclination to pay much attention to the lad himself. In June the guardian had gone to Europe on a business trip that would keep him six months or more, and Lawrence, after his school in Eastern Canada was over, had come to Lake Superior for his vacation. In the boathouse that went with the Eliot's cottage, Larry kept his little launch, and the four spent much of their time on the water. Margaret and Ralph had intended to return to the United States in September, but the autumn weather was so fine, and Jack was gaining so rapidly that they stayed on and on, planning to make up later the lost time at school. Lawrence's school opened the first of October, but he also decided to take a longer holiday, and Ralph persuaded him to spend a week or two at the cottage before they were obliged to part. As Lawrence had left the boarding house, he would not be missed there. The Eliot's had no near neighbors, and their rent had been paid to the middle of October. Several days might pass before their disappearance would be noticed, and then, unless someone had seen them starting out the day of the fog, no one would be able to even guess what had become of them. All that afternoon and night, and most of the next day, rain fell so steadily that to have left the comfortable shelter of the cabin would have been folly. Once when the storm ceased for a short time, the older boys went out in the rowboat and succeeded in catching three small fish, a welcome addition to their food supply. They listened constantly for the whistle of a steamboat, but the beating of the rain, the dashing of waves on the rocks beyond the fishing camp, the rustling and rattling of the wind in the trees, and the whining cries of the gulls were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the deserted harbor. After rain had been falling almost constantly for more than 24 hours, the clouds broke and the sky began to clear. Ralph and Larry rode over to the fishing station in the hope that the fishermen might have returned. Finding the camp still deserted, they followed a trail that led from behind the houses up a little rise through the dripping woods and out on the other side of the point. This was a very different sort of place from the harbor where they had been staying. The shore, instead of being wooded to the edge, was composed of great masses of rock, stretching to the end of the point in one direction and as far as the boys could see in the other, and broken and riven and eaten out into all manner of queer shapes. Islands, bare or tree covered, a half mile or more offshore afforded only slight protection from the winds of the open lake. It doesn't seem encouraging in this direction, said Lawrence, but we must have a look at the rest of our bay tomorrow. I can't help feeling that there may be an occupied house somewhere. The search next day was unsuccessful. The explorers found several more houses, but all were locked and deserted. Clear to the head of the long harbor, four or five miles from the fishing camp, the boys rode and saw not a living thing except a few hares, squirrels, and birds. By going so far from the docks, the castaways ran the risk of missing a boat, but they were restless and felt they ought to be making some effort to get away, so they took the chance. We can't stay forever waiting for a steamboat or for those fishermen to come back, said Ralph, as they were returning to the cabin that had sheltered them for three nights. We've got to get out of here. What I want to do, Larry replied, is to go up to the top of those hills, not where we were before, but up there beyond the head of the bay, to the highest spot we can find. Then perhaps we can get some idea of where we are. At least, added Ralph, we may be able to get sight of a town or docks or a fishing camp. It seems likely that there may be other fishing stations not far away. If we do that, suggested Margaret, we must take provisions enough so we won't have to come back again if we see any place to go. If you boys will get some beans and a little piece of pork from the fisherman's house, I'll bake them. I saw a tin can of hard yeast cakes there, too. Bring me two of those and I'll set bread. Tomorrow is Sunday. We can rest up and get ready and start out early Monday morning. That's a good idea, Ralph agreed. We'll take enough food to last us a couple of days, if necessary. With plenty to eat, the rugs and the hatchet, we can camp anywhere. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 5. Up to the Ridge Top A light fog, with the sun shining through, gave promise Monday of a good day. Lawrence had found paper and ink in the house and had written three notes, explaining how the castaways had been forced to take possession of shelter, food, and boat. Margaret had proposed that they leave money to pay for the supplies used, but he had objected. They might need the money they had with them, he said, before they reached civilization. He had given his address, however, and had promised to pay for everything taken and for any damage done. Because of the labor and difficulty of walking along the shore, they had decided to go by water, pausing at the shack to leave Larry's note explaining that they would put the boat in a safe place near the head of the harbor. Taking turns at the oars, Ralph and Lawrence rode almost to the end of the bay. They landed at a convenient spot, dragged the boat well above water line, and turned it over, the oars under it, in a shelter of a clump of evergreens. To mark the place, they made a cairn, a pile of stones plainly visible from the water. The provisions had been packed in the bailing can and some tin boxes, and with the steamer rugs made into packs, which Larry and Ralph fastened to their shoulders with strips of old canvas. They had agreed that it would be best to blaze a tree here and there, so if they were obliged to turn back, they could find their way. The first time Ralph lifted the hatchet to make a cut, Larry stopped him. Hold on, he said, you're not doing that right. Why not? It's just about the same height from the ground as those we followed. The height's all right, but if you cut your blazes on this side, how do you expect to see them when you're coming back? You don't want to walk around every tree to look for a mark on it. Ralph looked chagrined. I'm an idiot, he said. Of course, you've got to make your cut on the side you'll see coming back. I'm a green woodsman, for sure. You don't need to slice deep enough to wound the tree either, Lawrence added. A little wound in a healthy tree can't do much harm. Not if it's let alone, but the bark is the armor of the tree. Where it's cut off, insects have a chance to get in and lay eggs and kill that tree and maybe the others around it. I know a forestry expert who says you ought to be almost as careful how you treat a tree as how you treat a man. At first, the explorers had to push through dense woods. If they had been obliged to go far over level country, they might easily have lost their sense of direction. But fortunately, the ground soon began to rise and the slope helped them to keep headed the right way. As they went on, the rise became more rapid, the trees and bushes less dense, and the ground rockier. Sometimes there were stretches of open hillside, bare except for mosses, clumps of dainty ferns a few inches high that seemed to grow right out of the rock, and low growing plants and thin patches of soil. Some of the plants bore bright red berries that Larry said were bareberries and not good to eat. Others he recognized as blueberry plants, but it was too late for the fruit and scarcely a dried up berry remained. After the four had climbed for some time, they found themselves on the summit of a ridge that fell away sharply on the other side. Beyond a ravine another hill rose much higher. We haven't more than got started yet, said Ralph, and it's afternoon. We'd better have our lunch here before we go on. The boys unfastened their packs and spread out the rugs. A red squirrel in a jack pine nearby startled them with a sudden outburst of angry chatter. For a moment they thought it was their presence he objected to, till Margaret caught sight of a little chipmunk whisking away from under the tree with a cone almost as big as he was in his mouth. The squirrel had cut off the cone and let it drop, and the saucy chipmunk had stolen it. He had slipped into a hole in the rocks before the irate squirrel reached the ground. The travelers did not waste time making a fire, but ate their pork and beans cold. In spite of the lack of butter for their bread, lunch tasted decidedly good, and they were so comfortable there in the sun that they allowed themselves a half-hour's rest. They could see out across woods and waters to the east, but failed as before to find any sign of men or dwellings. After their rest, as they were scrambling down the other side of the ridge, Ralph's pack caught on a branch and jerked him backwards so sharply that his feet slipped from under him. The strain was too much for the worn canvas strap. It broke, and boy and pack went sliding and rolling down the steep slope until they crashed into a scraggly spruce. Except for a few bruises, Ralph was unhurt, but Larry had to help him readjust his pack and tie the broken strap. A small stream ran through the ravine, after pausing for a drink of the brownish but clear and tasteless water, the explorers started upstream, looking for a convenient place to cross. A short walk brought them to a bog or muskeg, as Larry called it. Some queer-looking plants at the edge of the bog caught Margaret's eye. Look here, boys, she cried. What a strange plant! That's a pitcher plant, Lawrence replied. See those queer-closed leaves that hold water? I thought they were flowers, said Jack. Is that the way they drink? It's the way they eat. Bugs and flies attracted by a sort of sweet nectar tried to go into the pitchers. They go in, all right, but the little hairs you see there pointing downward prevent them from getting out again. They fall into the water and the plant actually absorbs them, digests them, or something like that. What a horrid plant, said Meg. It's a regular cannibal. But she picked one of the queer leaves, its green streak with gay coloring, emptied the water from it and stuck it in her belt. The muskeg was covered with low-growing plants and shrubs and soft, spongy, treacherous moss concealing the mud and water underneath. Not caring to attempt to cross it, the four retraced their steps to firmer ground, took off their shoes and stockings, and waited the stream. They found it rather cold, but not deep. Then they began to go up again, first a gradual slope among thick trees, and then a steeper and steeper rise with frequent open spaces. They were climbing the ridge in earnest now. The clumsy, ill-adjusted packs grew heavy as the bearers toiled up the rocky slopes. At last there remained but one steep wall of rock between them and the summit. Ralph scrambled up and reached over to help Meg and Jack while Lawrence boosted from below and then climbed up in turn. Miles of thickly wooded country lay below them with the open lake blue beyond. Far across the water was a faint line of smoke from an invisible steamer. It isn't very clear in the distance in spite of the bright sun, said Lawrence, as his eyes sought for a shoreline. There may be, there must be, land off there somewhere. Unless we really are on the Michigan peninsula, Ralph answered. That's nonsense, a sheer impossibility. I don't see anything that looks like civilization, do you? Not a sign. The view to the east and south was no more satisfactory. There was no indication of even a fishing camp. We're not on the highest ground yet, said Ralph. Let's go along here on the top. The ridge was roughly flat-topped, with scanty growth of moss, lichens, juniper, bareberries, and other small plants that flourish with scarcely enough soil to anchor them. There were also stunted and twisted jackpines, balsams, and spruces, as well as bare-branched small trees and bushes. In spite of rough and broken rocks, going along the summit was not as hard work as climbing steep slopes or penetrating thick forest. On either side nothing was to be seen but woods and water. Led on by the hope of reaching a spot where they could get a better survey ahead, only to be disappointed again and again as higher ground, trees or heaped-up rocks blocked the view. The four trudged and scrambled on for two miles or more. They were all used to walking, but in spite of the bracing effect of the crisp October air, little Jack was tiring out, and Margaret was almost as weary. I don't see any use going farther, she said, sinking down on a rock. It's no use going back, either, Ralph replied. We couldn't reach the boat before dark, even if Jack could stand the trip back, Larry added. We must camp somewhere. There is no water around here. We'll have to go ahead until we find some or go back to that ravine. Brace up, Meg. You and Jack can stand it a little farther. Maybe we'll come to a stream. For what seemed like hours to Margaret and Jack, they went wearily forward. It would be a long tramp to the brook in the ravine, and they were reluctant to turn back. At last, Ralph, who had climbed a rock a little in advance, and to the right of the others, gave a shout. There's a lake down there, he cried, a fine place to camp. Margaret and Lawrence hastened to join him. Far below them they saw an inland lake of irregular shape, with thickly wooded shores and little islands. Meg gave a sigh of discouragement. That must be at least a mile away, she said. I suppose I can make it, but Jack simply can't unless we carry him. You know his pluck is bigger than his strength, and he'll go till he drops, but he's just ready to drop now. That's so, replied Ralph. He is pretty well done up, but we ought to get to that lake. I don't believe it's more than half a mile. Why not bring the lake here? suggested Larry. Margaret and Jack can stay here while you and I go down there and bring back some water. The bailing can holds at least two quarts, enough for tonight anyway. I don't know, said Margaret hesitatingly, as I like the idea of your leaving Jack and me here alone. Nonsense. There's not a thing to hurt you. We haven't seen any wild animals worse than hares, and you're not afraid of them, are you? Meg flushed. Of course not, she said. Go along. It seems the only thing to do. We'll cut some branches and make a place for Jack to rest first. We have time enough before sunset. The older boys took off their packs, and with hatchet and pocket knives, cut through balsam branches and trailing cedar to make a rough bed under a twisted old grey pine tree. Rolled in a rug, Jack was glad to lie down. We'll have to take the hatchet and mark some trees, so we can find our way back quickly, said Lawrence. The woods look thick around the lake. We won't be gone long, Meg. Rapidly the two lads scrambled down the steep slope until they came to almost level ground. There they might easily have lost their way in the woods, but cutting blazes helped them to keep the general direction, and they reached the lake without much difficulty. The sun had set when they came out on a low shore, fringed with bushes and aspens. Near a marshy place, where there was evidently an inlet or outlet, they could see, rising from the water, a conical heap of sticks, branches, and mud. A beaver-house exclaimed Larry. There's one of the inhabitants, replied Ralph, pointing to something swimming towards the shore. Slipping behind a clump of willows, they watched the swimmer approach. He evidently knew where he wanted to go, for he came on steadily and without hesitation. Reaching shallow water, he waddled to land, a chunky hump-backed beast, with short legs and broad, flat, scaly-looking tail. He paused, looked about him a moment, then moved on slowly and awkwardly, and stopped near a small aspen only a few feet from the boys. For several seconds he gazed up at the top. Then he went close to the tree, grasped the trunk with his strong, long-clawed forepaws, spread his hind legs, sat back on his tail, and took a deliberate bite of the bark. Apparently he had not noticed the intruders, who stood motionless and watched the queer animal, as he gnawed away at the tree with his strong chisel-like teeth. Sometimes he pulled out a bit by leaning backward, sometimes he split off a piece by tilting his head, forcing his lower front teeth behind the chip, and using his jaws as a lever. The boys marveled at the strength of the beast's jaw muscles. He had not been working long when two others appeared, swimming about in the lake for a few moments, then coming ashore and setting to work. Just beyond where the first beaver was working was a newly felled tree five or six inches in diameter. One of the animals gnawed off a branch, tugged it to the water, and swam off with it. He swam with his hind legs and webbed hind feet, his tail acting as a rudder, and the branch held in his teeth, the end over his shoulder. The third beaver at once took his place and began to gnaw off a second branch. Unwilling to go away until the first beaver had felt his tree, the lads lingered watching the workers. The little tree-cutter did most of his work from one side. When the tree was almost ready to fall, he paused, looked up at the top, thudded the ground vigorously with his tail, hurriedly pulled out one more chip, and ran away just before the tree swayed and fell, its crown splashing into the lake. The beast working nearby fled at the warning. The boys took advantage of the disturbance to make off without frightening the workers. Glancing back later, they saw that both animals had returned to their tasks, the one that had felled the tree being engaged in cutting off a section of the trunk. That's the first time I ever had a chance to watch beavers work, said Lawrence. If the wind hadn't been just right, they would have scented us. They are timid beasts, I've heard, and usually work at night. They must be enlarging their house for winter or building a dam. Did you notice, queried Ralph, that each one seemed to know just what he was supposed to do and went right at it, and they never interfered with one another for a second? I tried to make out which one was bossing, but I couldn't. You know now what it means to work like a beaver, Larry replied. They didn't seem to hurry any, but they kept right at it. Wishing to get a better view of the lake, the lads went on along the shore. Presently, however, they decided that they must not go farther if they were to get back to the ridgetop before dark. At the spot where they paused, the lake water was clear and tasteless, and they each took a good drink. As Lawrence stooped to fill the can, Ralph noticed a little way up the shore in the dusk of the woods, something that excited his curiosity. That's a queer place for a rock, he said. Scarcely thinking what he was doing, he picked up from the water's edge a stone and threw it at the object, a large, dark-colored rock almost hidden among the bushes and trees. Boylike, he threw with all his strength. His stone struck, and then a queer thing happened. There came a great bellow, the rock that was not a rock moved suddenly. There was a crashing among the bushes, a big, ugly head with tremendous horns came into view. A moose, cried Larry, up a tree, quick. Before the words were out of Larry's mouth, Ralph had jumped for a twisted old birch tree and was climbing for all he was worth. He had a fleeting glimpse of his companion making his way up a cedar. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 6. Treeed by a Moose The moose came on, crashing through the trees and underbrush. Ralph had scarcely begun to climb when the beast was under the birch, tossing his antlers, tearing at the ground with his hoofs, and bellowing furiously. The boy's stone could not have hurt him much through his thick hide, but it must have offended his dignity. Ordinarily a moose is a harmless animal enough, but once his temper is aroused he is formidable indeed, and that was the season when he was in his least amiable frame of mind. He was surely angry. He reared his big body. It looked enormous to Ralph, and reached for the boy with his great spiked antlers. Only an intervening branch saved the lad from the sharp prongs. In trembling haste he scrambled up as high as he could. Having failed to get at Ralph with his horns, the animal began striking into the tree, trunk and branches with his forehoofs, and bumping up against it with his great bulk as if he were trying to knock it down. He shook it so Ralph had all he could do to hold on. He had the hatchet in one hand and could grasp the tree with his legs and the other hand only. Once he almost lost his grip and the narrow escape brought his heart into his mouth, for if he had fallen he would have gone down right on top of the furious beast. Unable to jar the boy out of the tree, the moose stamped around under it, sending the rotten wood, leaves and earth, flying in showers with his sharp edged hooves, and bellowing and roaring with the full force of his voice and lungs. When he had exhausted his first rage he quieted down a little. Then a rustling in the big cedar where Lawrence was attracted his attention. Look out, Ralph called. He's coming for you. Hold on or he'll jar you out. Before Ralph had finished his warning the beast had charged Larry's tree, but Larry held fast. Ralph could see just the top of his friend's head and part of one arm between the branches. The moose favored Lawrence with his attentions for a while, then he went back to Ralph. He had stopped bellowing and only snorted now and then. Evidently he was not as angry as he had been. He did not charge the birch that time, but just rubbed up against it hard, then drew off a little and shook his antlers at it. He showed no intention of going away, however, but kept close to the trees where the boys had taken refuge. It was the first time Ralph had ever seen a moose, but he had plenty of chance to study the animal. He was an ugly-looking beast with his great homely head, with its long, hooked muzzle, little eyes, and big coarse ears, his short thick neck with a ragged-haired fold of skin hanging down from it, his big shoulders and chest, his sloping back and comparatively small lean hindquarters, which seemed out of all proportion to the rest of him. His antlers were wonderful, though, great spreading horns, shaped like deeply cut leaves with thirty or forty sharp prongs. The boy thought they must be five feet or more across at the widest part. He realized with a shiver that it would not take those prongs many minutes to tear him to bits if they ever reached him. After the moose had quieted down, he decided to feed a little. His forelegs were so long and his neck so short that he did not look as if he could reach down to graze from the ground. At any rate, he did not attempt to. He selected a slender young birch, put his big chest against it, and pushed. The birch bent, of course. He held it in position with his chest and straddled it. Keeping it down with his body and legs, he moved along, stretching out his neck until he could reach the tender, growing parts with his curved, overhanging upper lip. He seemed to like this food and browsed quietly enough, though the slightest rustle in the trees made him pause and shake his antlers and snort a little. After what seemed like several hours, but was probably not more than one, he apparently made up his mind that his prisoners were not worth bothering about any longer. Perhaps it was because they had kept still for so long. Going quietly this time, he started off through the woods. The boys waited until they could no longer hear the clicking of his cleft hoofs as the loose spreading tips came together after every step. Then Ralph began to climb down from his tree. He was stiff and cramped from holding on so long in an uncomfortable position, and just as he was within a few feet of the ground, he slipped, lost hold, and went down crash into a small balsam. Then he heard a bellow and the bushes began to crackle. The moose was evidently not so far away as the lad had thought. He's coming back, called Larry, and Ralph untangled himself in a hurry from the balsam and jumped for his birch again. He had not reached his old place of safety when the moose burst out of the thicket close to Larry's cedar and stood there stamping and tossing his antlers. Finding everything quiet, he soon grew calmer and went to stripping the tender bark and twigs from a young aspen. Time dragged on. The moose moved about through the woods, fed a little, went down to the shore to drink, but never went far away. Whether he was really staying there to watch them or whether this was merely a favorite stamping ground, the lads could not tell. The least move they made when he was within hearing attracted his attention, and he never wandered so far away but that they could hear his hoofs clicking. Now and then he snorted a little just to remind them of his presence. Since the sun had gone down, the air had been growing cold. The boys had left their coats on the ridge, and even their heavy flannel shirts did not keep out the chill. They ached all over from their uncomfortable positions, their legs and arms cramped and grew numb, and they could not move enough to relieve them. It was directly due to this cramping that Ralph had an accident that made matters worse than they were before. The moose had returned from one of his little journeys and was standing right under the birch. Ralph had been keeping perfectly still for some time for fear of arousing the beast, but grew so cramped and achy that he felt he must change his position. He moved just a little and attempted to shift the hatchet from his left hand to his right. The movement attracted the attention of the moose and he bumped up against the tree, just as the lad was making the change. Jarred violently, Ralph had to seize a branch. The hatchet slipped from his grasp and went crashing down right on the moose. The boy did not know whether it was the edge, the flat, or the back that hit the animal or what part of his body it struck, but the moose gave a tremendous bellow. The long hairs on his neck standing up with rage reared up and came crashing right into the tree. Ralph held on for all he was worth, while the furious beast stamped about, tearing up the ground, snorting, bellowing, striking with his forehoofs and driving his antlers into the tree, until his prisoner wondered that he did not break them clean off. He was in a fine fury and his roars fairly deafened the boy. Ralph had never been so frightened in his life, he thought the moose was going to tear down the birch. Luckily it was a big strong tree. Nevertheless the animal shook it and mauled it so that Ralph was in mortal fear of falling. He was stiff and numb, not only from cramping, but with fear as well, and it was a wonder he did not lose his hold. It would have been all up with him if he had. When the moose finally began to calm down, the lad found himself shaking and his teeth chattering as much with fright as with cold. Dusk had changed into darkness, and still their jailer showed no sign of deserting the two boys. They did not attempt much communication, for every sound tended to excite the moose and throw him into a rage. Moreover they were too miserable to talk. It was not only Ralph's body but his mind that suffered. He kept thinking of Meg and Jack on the ridge and how frightened they must be at his failure to return. If there was one moose in the woods there were probably others. What was to prevent a moose or some other wild animal from attacking them up there, and they had nothing to defend themselves with, not even the hatchet. His fears were not lessened any by a sound that came to him occasionally through the darkness, a far off, rather dog-like howling. Wolves, he thought, unless there was a hunter with dogs somewhere around here, and that he could not believe. His only comfort was that the sound seemed to come from beyond the lake, the opposite direction from the ridge. He realized how foolish he and Larry had been to both of them come down to the lake. One or the other should have stayed with Margaret and Jack. Time went on and still the moose did not leave. For a while he was very quiet, then Ralph heard him stirring about. Looking between the branches he could distinguish the huge form moving down to the water. The moose went in a little way, lowered his head to drink, then raised it, tossed his antlers for a moment, and then sent a great bellowing sound out across the lake. In a moment there came a distant answer. Whether it was the voice of another moose or merely an echo, Ralph could not tell, but it seemed to excite the beast. With a great splashing he dashed forward into the water till it was up to his shoulders, then settled down to swim. He swam powerfully, leaving a wide wake. There was no moon, but the night was unusually light, for a reason the boys were to discover later. So Ralph could see distinctly the animal's antlers black against the water. The moose made for a little island, but instead of landing he rounded the end and disappeared. The lad waited for perhaps five minutes, straining his eyes, but saw no more of the black antlers. Then he called softly to Lawrence. Larry, he's gone. Are you sure? Yes, he swam across and around the end of a little island out there. We'd better get out of this as fast as we can. They scrambled stiffly and awkwardly down. Now, said Ralph, we've got to find our way back to the ridge, but how we're going to do it in this darkness I don't know. I haven't even a match. I have something better than matches, Larry replied. Suddenly, from where his voice came from, there was a gleam of light. A flashlight, Ralph exclaimed. A little bit of one, but it's better than nothing. When I took off my coat it fell out, so I put it in my shirt pocket, and here it is. Let me have it a minute, and I'll see if I can find the hatchet. We can't afford to lose that. Ralph found the hatchet, its handle broken under the birch. Then, fearing to see the moose returning, he glanced across the lake. Larry, he cried, look there at the sky. The whole northern sky was streaked with waves and columns of light. Wavering and changing every moment, the aurora borealis flooded the sky from the zenith as far down as the boys could see. They had watched the northern lights a number of times in the last two months, but never had they seen them like that, so bright and full of color. The vibrating, changing waves and bands were flushed with yellow and pink and orange and green. The lads had no time to delay, but as they went along the lakeshore, their eyes turned again and again towards the beautiful dancing lights. In spite of their haste, the boys did not forget to fill the can, which Lawrence had clung to during the whole of the siege. As they drew near the beaver house, they caught a glimpse of the little woodcutters scurrying to the water. The electric torch was only about six inches long and gave a very small light. Fortunately, had had a fresh battery, and by turning it on one tree after another, the fugitives managed to find their blazes. The lads were stiff and lame all over. As the light was of almost no use to illuminate their path, they were continually stumbling and missing their steps. They went as fast as they could though, for they dreaded every moment to hear the moose on their track. Several times they heard his bellow in the distance, across the lake, probably, and the sound made them quick in their pace. But the going was slow at best. They made their way through the woods across the more level ground and felt encouraged when they found themselves ascending the slope. As they came out of the thick growth, Ralph pointed to the ridge-top. Look there, he said. They've done that to guide us. On the summit of the ridge a fire blazed. I'm mighty glad to know they're all right, and his voice shook. The boys had limbered up considerably as they made their way through the woods, but nevertheless it was not easy work climbing the steep slope in the dark. They slipped and slid and bruised themselves before they succeeded in getting up. As they gained the top, they shouted to let the others know they were coming, and felt relieved when Jack answered. In a few moments they had reached the fire and Meg had her arms around Ralph's neck and was crying. That's just like a girl, her brother said. She braces up and is as plucky as can be till a thing is all over and then she breaks down and cries. He neglected to mention the chokey feeling in his own throat. After Margaret had had her cry out, the boys told her what had kept them. A moose, she exclaimed. Then that was what I heard. What do you mean, said Ralph alarmed. Was there one around here? Oh no, but I heard something roaring down by the lake. After you left, I rested a little while. I was gathering moss to make Jack's bed more comfortable when I heard a queer noise and came here to the edge of the bluff to listen. It sounded like some kind of an animal roaring and I was terribly frightened, for I was afraid something was attacking you. I didn't think of moose, but I thought it might be a bear. After a while the noise stopped, but as the time passed and you didn't come, I grew more and more frightened. Was that the only time you heard it? No, after it began to grow dark the sound came again several times, and I thought it seemed louder and fiercer than before. He was angry because Ralph dropped the hatchet on him, said Larry. Jack was asleep and didn't wake up. Then a long time afterward I heard it once more, but that time it sounded different. It was a long drawn out sort of bellow as if the beast were calling. That was what he was doing, said Ralph, before he started to swim across the lake. It was almost eleven o'clock and the adventurers, now that the excitement was over, found that they were nearly starved. Jack had waked long enough to eat some bread and butter and cold beans, but Margaret had not been able to choke down a mouthful. She had spent the time collecting moss, bark, and what dry branches she could find in the darkness and break off with her hands, and had kept the fire going both as a beacon and a frighten away wild animals. Now she heated the beans in one of the tin boxes, and the older boys ate until she stopped them for fear there would not be enough left for breakfast. Lawrence had spilled almost half of the water he was carrying on his rough trip back to the ridgetop, but enough remained for a good drink all around. Ralph and Larry were too tired to expend much energy cutting branches for their beds, however they did not think it wise for both of them to sleep at the same time. They remembered the distant howling, though they did not say anything to Margaret about it, and she evidently had heard nothing of the sort. The two lads agreed to take turns keeping up the fire and standing guard. The air was cold up there on the ridge, and rugs and coats would scarcely have kept them warm without a good fire. It was after midnight when the campers settled down, Margaret sharing Jack's bed and rug, and Ralph taking first watch. He felt dead tired and had to walk up and down to stay awake. Even then it was hard work to keep from dozing while his feet continued to move. The northern lights which had begun to fade by the time the boys reached the ridge were all gone, only a dull glow remaining in the north. Far away beyond the lake he heard the faint howling again. It made him shiver a little when he thought of the expanse of a wild, lonely country. Had any white man ever penetrated it? How many miles away was civilization? Would they ever reach it again? What unknown dangers might not lie before them, but nothing disturbed him except a hare that leaped out from under a bush almost at his feet and fled away in the darkness. At two Ralph called Larry and went to sleep as soon as he had rolled into his blanket. End of Chapter Six Chapter Seven When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Seven. The Sleeping Giant The explorers were forced to admit next morning that their hastily made beds had been far from comfortable. If the young people had not been so exhausted, they could scarcely have slept at all. They would know more about making evergreen beds next time. With the fire at their feet, they had been warm enough, though the smoke had bothered them a little. Tired and disheartened, they were rather inclined to be cross that morning. But their irritability was forgotten suddenly when Ralph, stepping out from the shelter of the jackpine, happened to look off across woods and water. He stood staring for a moment, then shouted to the others. Land, he cried, and pointed to the northwest. The day was bright with a perfectly clear sky and no haze. Away off across the water a dim outline was visible. The Sleeping Giant exclaimed Lawrence after one glance. Do you mean Thunder Cape, said Margaret? Yes, it's the Cape all right. But it's in the wrong direction, Ralph protested, if we're anywhere on the bay. We're not on the bay. There was a frown of puzzlement on Larry's face. That's the way the Giant looks when you see him from the open lake. Very much the way I saw him from the steamer when I came across from the zoo. We came up from Duluth, so we didn't get that view. Seeing the Cape from the bay side, I never could quite understand why they called it the Sleeping Giant, but from here it does look something like a man lying on his back. The Sleeping Giant is the name given to the end of Thunder Cape, a hill or mountain rising abruptly from the water, some twelve hundred feet. Especially from the lake side, it looks not unlike a gigantic figure stretched out upon the water. By the Ojibwa Indians, the place was supposed to be the grave of their hero and god, Menoboju, or Mishabu, where he lies petrified in stone. I think, said Lawrence slowly, that I know now where we are. Don't you remember that on the maps there's a big island, fifty or sixty miles long, southeast of the bay, about forty or fifty miles from the Cape? He was overestimating the distance somewhat. You pass the end of it coming across from the zoo. I believe that's where we are. In fact, I don't see how we can be anywhere else, with the Giant off there. I guess you're right, agreed Ralph. I remember seeing such an island on the map. Now you remind me of it. It wouldn't be impossible to get that far from Fort William in a night, either, but we must have been running in the wrong direction nearly all the time. Why have they got that full sign on that building down in the harbor, though? I'm not sure it is a full sign. Have you ever noticed how the boundary line between the Dominion and the States goes through this lake? It runs up from the zoo in a peak, almost to Thunder Cape, and then down again to the mouth of Pigeon River. That means that this island, if we're where I think we are, must be on the United States side. Why, yes, agreed Margaret. I know now. We studied something about that at school. Don't you remember, Ralph? The boundary line was run up that way, where you wouldn't expect it to go, on purpose to include some islands. Then we're in the United States again. I remember something of the sort. The islands were supposed to have valuable mineral deposits, weren't they? But why Michigan? This island must be a part of Minnesota, I should think. That I don't know about, Larry replied. Perhaps your state of Michigan got hold of it first and held on to it. Anyway, I'm very sure now where we are. Do you know anything about the island? Are there any towns on it? I never heard of any, but I think some of the North Shore boats stop here. We've discovered a fishing camp and a summer resort ourselves. During breakfast, the lads and Margaret debated the question of going forward or back. At first, Ralph was in favor of going on, but Lawrence pointed out that with such rough country to travel over, they could not hope to go the whole length of the island in one day, and their provisions were almost gone. It's getting wilder and wilder the farther inland we go, he said, and if we reached the other end, we shouldn't be any nearer home. But we might find people, replied Ralph. And we might not, Larry retorted. The steamers may not land at the south end of the island at all, while we have very good proof that they touched the northern end. If we go on and come out where there is nothing, we'll be in a bad way. I'm in favor of going back where the food is, and waiting there a little longer for a boat or the return of those fishermen. If we have to start out again, we had better go along shore. We won't find either docks or fishing camps in the center of the island. Margaret agreed emphatically with Lawrence, and Ralph was forced to admit that the others had the best of the argument. So they resumed their lightened packs and turned back along the ridgetop. The sleeping giant remained in view to the northwest, but to the east and southeast not the faintest line of shore could they discern. It was easy to find the way back, for the signs of their passage were clear enough in most places. The only event of the trip was the discovery, almost in their trail, of the remains of a freshly killed hare, a proof that some wild animal, large enough and fierce enough to kill and eat a hare, had been abroad in the night not far from their camping place. The sight convinced the boys that they had been wise to stand guard. Going downhill was less laborious than coming up, but the wanderers were decidedly tired when they reached the shore of the bay. They wasted little time putting the boat into the water and made good speed rowing down the harbor. It was with almost the feeling of getting home that they drew up at the dock below the friendly little cabin. They were in need of provisions and anxious to see whether the fisherman had come back, so Larry and Ralph started out again almost immediately. As they approached the camp, Larry cried out joyfully. They must be back. There are some boxes on the dock. But the fisherman had not returned. The houses remained locked and empty. Nevertheless, the three boxes had not been on the dock when the boys had visited the place a Sunday evening, and the lads examined them with interest. They were addressed to Newt Thorson, Smith Harbor, Michigan. How had they come? By boat, of course. While the castaways had been traveling inland, a boat of some kind had been into the harbor. By going away they had lost one chance of rescue. If we'd only waited a little longer, groaned Ralph. Anyway, these boxes prove two things, said Lawrence. A boat comes in here, and Newt Thorson intends to come back. If he didn't intend to, he wouldn't have supplies sent to him here. Maybe, suggested Ralph, he and all his family were out looking after their nets, got caught in that fog, and were carried away just as we were. When the two boys reached the cabin, Margaret greeted them excitedly. I found out something more about this place, she cried. We're just where Larry thought we were, and a steamboat comes in here every Monday. The lads looked at each other. How do you know, they demanded in chorus. Meg handed Lawrence a piece of paper. It was part of a steamboat folder. Jack found it, she explained. He took down a book from one of the shelves by the fireplace, and this fell out. It says, you see, that after September 15, there is one boat a week to this island. It reaches Smith Harbor at 1145 on Monday. If it's still running, we must have missed it yesterday. It's still running all right, and Ralph told her about the boxes on the dock. Larry was studying the time card. There is another stop that must be on the island, he said, only 15 minutes from here. Then there's still another one more than five hours farther on. I can't tell whether that's at the other end of the island or on the mainland. We must find the place that's only 15 minutes away. There may be someone left there. It's a relief to know we're not clear out of the world, remarked Meg. But why didn't we have sense enough to stay here? The next day, Margaret and Jack, who were both very tired, remained on the little island, but Ralph and Lawrence started out after breakfast to search for the other steamer dock. According to the timetable, the boat ran up the northwest shore of the lake to Ford William and Port Arthur, and then across to the island. So the next stop after Smith Harbor must be farther along the outer shore. The waves were running too high in that exposed place for the boys to go in the rowboat, but they crossed the point from the fishing camp and set out along the rocks. In some places they could walk close to the water on gradually shelving slopes or at the edge of abrupt cliffs. At other times they were forced to go around fissures and holes with inlets and pools and to climb up and down the steep sides of piled up rock masses. After about two miles of this kind of travel, the explorers rounded a point, and there in plain sight across a little bay were buildings and a dock. The lads hurried forward, but before they reached the place they felt almost sure it was deserted. They were right. This was evidently another summer resort and the next steamer stop, but every building was locked and there was no sign of life. According to the folder, the second stop was five hours away, five hours by steamer. There was no use going farther, but the boys found an easier way to return, a well-defined track through the woods back from the rocks. This trail brought them out at the fishing station again. After discussing the matter very thoroughly that evening, the castaways agreed that the best thing to do was to remain quietly in Smith Harbor until next boat day. They must live on Newt Thorson's supplies, of course, but the boys would catch all the fish they could and not borrow more than was necessary to keep them all properly fed. The next few days were by no means unhappy ones. It was lonely in that wild place to be sure, but the cottage on Thunder Bay had been lonely too. Both the Elliotts and Lawrence were used to depending on themselves. The cabin was comfortable, the weather unusually good for the place and season, and they were all very confident that the boat would come on Monday and take them away. So they actually enjoyed themselves, fishing, rowing about the harbor, exploring its shores and islands, and scrambling over the rocks. For Margaret, the rocks had a peculiar fascination, and she never grew tired of watching the waves dashing against them, creeping over them, washing in and ebbing out of the holes and crevices. The curious character of the rock, a number of different kinds of stone all mixed together and embedded one kind in another, interested the boys too, though they did not know enough of geology to understand it. Here and there they found flakes and threads of free copper, which made them wonder if there had ever been mines on the island. The castaways could not entirely shake off a feeling of anxiety, however. Autumn was advancing rapidly towards winter. Scarcely a leaf was left on the birches and aspins, and the squirrels were busily stripping the cone-like seed-pods from the alder bushes. Cold weather was but a short way off, and underlying all the thoughts of Margaret, Ralph, and Lawrence was eagerness to get back to civilization. End of Chapter 7, Chapter 8 When Lighthouses Are Dark, by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 8. The Northeaster Saturday afternoon rain began to fall, and Sunday morning it was coming down hard. The wind blew directly into the harbour and before evening had risen to a gale. By that time snow and sleet were mingling with the rain, driven with great force before the blast, while the roar of the waves on the rocks, beyond the fishing-camp, could be heard distinctly above the rushing and rattling of wind and sleet in the trees. It was a genuine Lake Superior Northeaster. When Ralph crawled out from under the blankets the following morning, he found the windows sheeted with ice, and the storm still raging, though the wind had shifted a little and was not blowing into the harbour so strongly. The water, however, was rough enough to make the short trips over to the steamer dock unpleasant and even perilous. Uncertain of the reliability of their watches, the young people arrived at the landing well ahead of time. So chilled that their teeth were chattering, their faces and hands sore from the stinging sleet, they were glad to take refuge in the house and light a fire in the kitchen stove. Hour after hour passed the storm did not abate and no boat came. By four o'clock it was growing dark. It begins to look, said Ralph, as if that steamer would not get here today. The worst of it is, replied Larry, as he put another stick of wood into the stove. We don't know and we don't dare to leave for fear she may come at any minute. It isn't strange that this storm has delayed her, but we can't tell how late she is going to be. Darkness came and the storm did not lessen. Expecting the fishermen to arrive on the boat, the castaways did not like to take possession of the beds. Jack lay down on a couch with Larry's rug over him, and Margaret curled up in an old rocking chair with her own rug wrapped about her. The older boys intended to stay awake, but they soon dozed off in their chairs. No one slept very soundly, though, for each was listening, even in his sleep, for the horse whistle of the boat. By morning the rain and sleet had ceased, and the clouds were scutting across the sky, uncovering here and there patches of blue, which gave promise of clearing weather. At breakfast the one topic of conversation was the steamer. But, as the young folks had no means of finding out whether she had merely been delayed, or wracked or disabled, the discussion did not lead to any conclusion. So they settled down to wait as patiently as they could. During the four noon, Ralph and Lawrence followed a short trail out to the end of the point to see how the open lake looked. The path was slippery with rain and sleet, and the evergreens in the bare branches of the birches were sheathed with ice. The lads found the lake very rough. Great waves breaking on the confused piled up heaps of rock and dashing against the perpendicular walls, sending showers of spray clear to the top. Not a boat was in sight anywhere. By late afternoon they had all about made up their minds that the steamer had skipped a trip. Nevertheless she might come in the night, and they could not afford to miss her. So Ralph was left to watch while Larry took Margaret and Jack over to the other cabin, returning later to relieve Ralph. The Eliot's half expected that, sometime during the night, Larry would come for them in haste. However, no summons disturbed their sound sleep. All the next day the two older boys kept watch, but no steamer appeared. By that time they felt very sure that she would not arrive until her next regular day, but they did not quite dare to give up watching for her. All day and every day for the remainder of the week the boys were at the fishing camp, or on the end of the point or near the harbour mouth. While every night one of them slept in the Thorson's house, ready to jump up at any minute to go for the others. Most of the days were bright with cold nights. The lads had used all the wood they had found in the shed behind the cabin, so they were obliged to gather driftwood from the shores of the points and islands, always keeping a sharp lookout for the steamer. It was from the outer shore of the last island in the harbour mouth that they first noticed, far across the water, a bit of land with what appeared to be a lighthouse. Anxious to make sure, they lingered at their work of wood-gathering until dusk. Then they saw the light flash out and knew their eyes had not deceived them. The foghorn they had heard when they first approached the long point must be at that lighthouse. Just off the harbour mouth there was a bell buoy marking a reef or rock, a light shown from that also. Do you suppose they come clear over here to light that buoy, asked Ralph? Oh no, Lawrence replied. It's like those in Thunder Bay, of course. They burn some sort of a gas that generates itself and makes a steady light night and day for several months, without the lamps being touched. I suppose the lighthouse men have to keep an eye on it, but unless an accident should put it out, it takes care of itself. The two lads tried to guess how many miles separated them from the lighthouse and wondered how they could reach it. To row across that stretch of open lake would be a perilous undertaking, unless conditions were exactly right. With a launch, the crossing might be easy enough in good weather, but gasoline was about the only thing lacking at the fishing camp. Why there was not a supply for the motorboat the boys could not understand, but all they had found was less than a quart at the bottom of a big can. So the week passed and boat day came again. The castaways had not the slightest doubt that the steamer would arrive, for the weather had been excellent for several days. It still lacked a half hour to boat time by their watches, when Ralph said suddenly, Hark! Faintly they could distinguish a harsh whistle. There she is, exclaimed Larry, but she's a good way off yet. The time drew near and past and no steamer appeared. When she was about twenty minutes overdue, the boys began to grow restless. I'm going out to the point, said Ralph. If she comes while I'm in the woods, I'll hear her whistle and make tracks back. Through the woods he hastened, expecting every moment to hear the whistle. He came out on the rocks at the end of the point, but no boat was in sight. Islands shut out the view of the open lake, so he scrambled up a steep slope to a higher spot. He stood for a moment, looking in the direction from which the steamer was due. Then, turning, he glanced along the rocky shore. At some distance away he could see a column of black smoke ascending. In his haste to reach the edge of the height, Ralph almost went over into the lake. He saved himself in time, then stood motionless, gazing. A steamboat was going alongside the outer shore, away from the anxious, waiting castaways. For a moment Ralph stood stunned and silent. Then he shouted madly, jerked off his cap, and waved it about his head, and danced up and down on the rock. In frantic efforts to make that steamer see or hear him. There was no response, and he started to run along the rocks after the departing boat, slipping, scrambling, leaping, waving his arms and shouting with all the force of his lungs. But the steamboat was some distance off, and no one saw his wild signals. At last he came to a standstill on the brink of a yawning gulf, breath and voice gone, while the boat steamed on, heedless and indifferent. It was not until he lost sight of her entirely that he gave up, and slowly and dejectedly started to pick his way back along the rocks, which he had cleared so recklessly in his mad pursuit of the boat. What had happened? There was the steamer almost on time on her regular day, yet she had not put into Smith Harbor. The only explanation he could think of was that the captain knew the fishermen were not at their camp, and having no freight, mail or passengers for the harbor had not thought it worthwhile to go in. It was a downhearted lad who climbed slowly along the rocks, took a shorter trail across to the fishing camp, and joined the others on the dock. There he told his amazing story. The tears came into Margaret's eyes, and she swallowed hard to keep from crying, while Larry's face was a picture of dismay. Only Jack did not seem to mind. He had quite lost his fear of the place, was having a fine time, and saw nothing to be dejected about in the idea of a little longer vacation. What was worrying the others, however, was not so much another week's delay, as the fear that they would not get off even then. The terrible suggestion that they might be left stranded in that lonely place. Within effort Lawrence pulled himself together, and tried to take a cheerful view of the situation. We won't let that old boat miss us next time, he said. We'll find some place where she stops, or else we'll get in her track, so she'll have to take us aboard, or run us down. We've got to do one of two things, said Ralph, as the four were eating their noon meal. We must get out to that lighthouse, or else go along the shore the way the steamboat went, and see if we can reach a place where she is still making stops. I'm in favor of trying for the lighthouse. There's too much wind to make the crossing today, but we can be all ready to start early tomorrow. Rain that night and the next day prevented the castaways from going in either direction, however. Fate seemed against them, for there was not another good day that week. November had come, and was behaving as that disagreeable month is apt to behave in northern countries. Fog, rain, sleet followed one another, and then began all over again. Most of the time the wind blew in a gusty, treacherous way, veering frequently and keeping the lake rough and choppy. To start out in a little rowboat in such weather would be utter folly, and would inevitably lead to swamping or wreck. By Wednesday afternoon the wood supply was nearly exhausted. In spite of rain and sleet, Larry and Ralph were forced to go and search a fuel. The harbour mouth was too rough for them to seek driftwood there, and they did not want to cut any trees on the little island, so, armed with axes, they rode to the point above the fishing camp. Searching out dead and partly dead trees, for the boys did not like to cut live sound ones, and unskilled axmen as they were, felling and cutting them up occupied so much time that darkness had fallen before the two reached the cabin with their boatload. During the evening meal Margaret was very silent. Once Lawrence looking up from his plate noticed her with her head raised and turned towards the door, as if she was listening intently. On her face was a troubled almost frightened look. What is it, Meg? he asked. Nothing, she replied quickly. I thought I heard something, but I guess I didn't. He was about to press his question when, with a slight shake of her head, she made a motion towards Jack. Larry understood that she did not wish to discuss, before the younger boy, what was troubling her. After Jack had gone to bed, Lawrence questioned her again. What's the matter with you tonight, Margaret? he asked. Did something happen while we were away? No, she answered hesitatingly. Nothing really happened, but when it was getting dark I thought I heard someone or something prowling around outside the house. I heard it several times. The first time was before I lighted the lamps, while Jack and I were sitting here by the fire. I thought it was you boys coming up from the dock, but I looked out and the boat was not there. Then I heard the sounds again by the door. I slipped over and shot the bolt, without Jack's noticing, and lighted the lamp. I didn't hear anything more till I was getting dinner, and then I thought someone was prowling around the back door. Just before you came in I heard it a third time. A hair or a squirrel, probably, said Ralph easily. You mustn't go to getting nervous about things, Meg. It wasn't a hair or a squirrel, I'm almost sure it was human. What makes you think so? Larry asked. Meg's forehead creased in a puzzled little frown. I don't exactly know, but it sounded human some way, and once I heard a cough, a man's cough, not an animal's. Men and animals cough very much alike sometimes, said Lawrence wisely. It must have been an animal of some kind. Nothing but a hair, very likely. Or else it wasn't anything at all but the wind in the trees and an attack of girls' nerves, put in Ralph unsympathetically. Meg was silent, and the boys, convinced that she had been imagining things, dismissed the subject from their sleepy heads. Just before sunset on Saturday the clouds cleared away. That night there was a hard freeze. Along the shores of the little island ice formed so thin and strong that the boys had to break it before they could get the boat out. Winter was surely not far away. They debated the advisability of attempting to reach the distant lighthouse, but Margaret, who was doubtful about her trip of four or five miles across the open lake in a rowboat, persuaded them to wait over Monday and make an attempt to signal the steamer when she came by. They did not stay at the dock that time, but took up their station on the point beyond the fishing camp. The boat had been running so close to the rocky shore, when Ralph had seen her the week before, that he felt sure she must have passed near the end of the point. If he had only reached the place a few minutes earlier, he could certainly have signaled her. The sky was cloudy, and in that exposed spot the wind was cold and penetrating. To keep them from chilling through the castaways were forced to gather driftwood and kindle a fire in a sheltered hole. Ralph and Lawrence took turns walking up and down to keep watch, while the others remained by the fire. Just before noon Lawrence caught sight of smoke, rising beyond the outermost islands in the harbor mouth. She's coming, he shouted, and the others rushed to join him. Anxiously they waited for the boat to appear, but the line of smoke moved on to the east. They waited and waited, but no steamer came in sight. There must have been some other boat, said Ralph, afraid or probably passing the end of the island. She certainly wasn't coming this way, Larry replied, or she would have been here long ago. As you say it evidently wasn't our boat at all. The rest of you had better go back to the fire and warm up, remarked Ralph. I'll take a turn at standing watch. Ralph felt very certain that the smoke they had seen did not come from the boat that they were looking for. It was probably some freighter too far off to be signaled. As he walked up and down he happened to glance southeast, just in time to see, crossing a gap between two of the islands that formed a broken line half a mile or more out from the rocky shore, a steamboat. The boy held his breath a moment, then waved his arms madly. The day was not very clear and he could not be certain at that distance, but he thought the boat resembled the one he had seen the week before. Certainly she was not one of the long low-lying steel freighters he had watched so often on Thunder Bay. His shouts brought the other scrambling up from their hole in the rocks, but without heeding their frantic signals the distant boat disappeared behind an island. No one had seen them, probably no one could see them against the rocks and woods so far away. Was that our boat, Ralph? cried Margaret. I'm afraid so, at any rate it was a boat. I'm not particular what one takes us off if we can only make something see us. Well, that one didn't anyway, replied Lawrence. In all the time we've been here I've never caught sight of a steamer so close in. No, that's what makes me afraid she's the boat that stops at this island. The only ones we've seen before were freighters so far out you could scarcely see them at all, even on clear days. Discouragement and gloom settled heavily upon the forecast a ways, but hope was not completely gone and they did not dare give up their vigil. About an hour later Margaret and Jack returned to the fishing camp to wait. But Larry and Ralph remained on the point until after sunset, though long before that time they had become firmly convinced that the boat they had seen was the same Ralph had tried to stop the week before. The wind was bitterly cold and when they left the point snow had begun to fall. Snow was still coming down next morning, big soft wet flakes that made the evergreens into Christmas trees, said Jack. To Margaret, Lawrence and Ralph, that day was one of the longest they had ever gone through. They felt that their only real hope of getting away from the island before winter set in was to reach the lighthouse. They were impatient to start out at once, but what could they do in a snowstorm so thick that they could not even see that far away bit of land? They must wait another day.