on the evening of one thursday in august, scout master hall and the members of the three patrols composing the troop of boy scouts were lounging on the piazza of the bungalow or clubhouse which stands on the shore of gosling lake in southern maine. it was the day succeeding the departure of george burton and his bloodhound zip.
the hours had been busy ones for our young friends. there had been fishing, strolls through the woods, investigation of the different kinds of trees, the study of birds, besides a “deer hunt.” i hasten to say that this was not a real hunt, a dummy being used with bows and arrows as weapons. this is one of the most popular forms of amusements among boy scouts, who enjoy it to the full.
so when the youths came back to headquarters, they brought keen appetites, overflowing spirits and healthy tired bodies. the gathering on the piazza was a pleasing reunion of all the members. there were experiences to be told, good natured chaffing, the laying of plans for the morrow, and now and then mike murphy, in answer to the unanimous demand, sang for them. as i have already said, this remarkable youth, despite his unrestrainable waggery, would never sing anything of a frivolous or “rag time” nature, but inclined to sentimental or religious themes. when that marvelous voice of his, like the notes of a stradivarius violin in the hands of ole bull, or spohr, or kubelik, was wafted across the placid lake, it was easy to believe the story of the sirens of lorelei.
thus the party was grouped on the night i have named, and the hum and chatter of conversation was at its height, when scout master hall exclaimed:
“look!”
every voice was instantly hushed. in the gloom the leader’s arm which he had instinctively extended could not be seen, but naturally all who were not already looking out upon the water did so. every one was in time to see a swift ascending rocket turn and break into a shower of sparks as it dived downward again.
it was still in sight when a second whirred upward for two hundred feet or more, leaving a streaming, dazzling trail as it circled over, exploded and the stick plunged downward in the darkness.
every one held his breath. most of them rose and stared. it might be that the physician was sending up the rockets to amuse his daughter. if there were only two, they would mean nothing more; if there was another——
“there it is!” gasped scout master hall; “something is wrong at doctor spellman’s!”
it was the signal which had been agreed upon in the event of their friend finding himself in urgent need of help.
it seemed as if several minutes passed before, through the tomb-like hush, stole a faint popping sound,—the report of the explosion ending its journey across the lake.
the dull, almost inaudible call acted as if it were a bugle blast. the whole party dashed off the porch and at headlong speed to the two canoes drawn upon the beach. even jack crandall swung to the steps, and debated a moment whether he should not join the party of rescue, but his common sense told him he would be only a hindrance, and he reluctantly stayed behind and watched the shadowy forms of his friends as shown in the star gleam, the moon not yet having risen.
“he has called for us,” said scout master hall, “and there isn’t a minute to lose!”
standing on the edge of the lake he gave his commands as coolly as an officer marshaling his forces for a charge. in a twinkling the two boats were afloat in the deep water which came close to the bank.
“there are twenty-one of us; each canoe will carry no more than eight; the other five must hurry along the shore to the doctor’s house.”
the lads stood breathless, waiting for the leader to name those who must walk. he promptly did so:
“isaac rothstein, hoke butler, gerald hume, arthur mitchell, gordon calhoun.”
it was a keen disappointment to the five, but there was not a murmur.
“come on, boys,” called hoke; “if we do our best we shall not be far behind them.”
his long legs carried him at a pace that made it hard for the others to equal. in indian file the procession, with him in the lead, loped along the beach and was speedily swallowed up in the obscurity.
the crews of the canoes worked like beavers. in a twinkling the boys had adjusted themselves and in each boat the two who were handiest with the paddles plyed them vigorously. scout master hall was seated in the stern of one, among his companions being mike murphy, alvin landon and chester haynes.
at the moment the two craft put out from shore, mike murphy repeated the exclamation—
“look!”
the startling performance of a few minutes before was repeated. one, two, three rockets streamed upward in the heavens, curved over, exploded and plunged downward among the trees.
“what can be the trouble?” was the question which everyone of the rescuers 264asked himself, as the oarsmen threw their energies into the task, and sent the heavily-laden craft with the utmost speed across the lake toward the home of their friend.
alvin and chester swung the paddles in their canoe, which speedily assumed a slight lead. there was little or no conversation, but each boy scout was busy with his thoughts, and burning with curiosity to learn the cause of the strange night call across the lake. since every one knew of the doings of the two tramps, who had been lurking in the vicinity for several days and had been seen the previous afternoon, it was natural that suspicion should turn to them.
and yet it was hard to imagine a situation in which so plucky a man as doctor spellman, who owned a revolver and a repeating rifle, would have any fear of two unarmed vagrants. impulsive by nature, and already resentful toward them, he would stand no nonsense at their hands.
and for a third time were three signal rockets sent streaming aloft, before the canoes had passed half the distance between the bungalow and the home of the physician. the urgency of the summons filled all with anguish. mike and the patrol leader offered to relieve alvin and chester with the paddles, but they would not listen and bent resolutely to their task. the other canoe had pulled up alongside, and the two kept abreast with barely ten feet separating them.
the cause of the call of distress was revealed with startling suddenness and before the craft reached land. through the gloom, mike murphy caught the vague outlines of a man and woman on the beach, and he shouted:
“what’s the matter, docther?”
the reply of itself was a partial answer:
“is ruth at the bungalow?”
“she hasn’t been there since ye brought her over the other day.”
“then heaven save us! she is lost.”
it was the mother who uttered this wail, as she convulsively clasped her hands and walked distractedly to and fro.
the boys leaped out of the boats and gathered round the grief-smitten couple.
“tell us what this means,” said scout master hall, as he sympathetically clasped the hand of the physician, who spoke with rare self-command, though his wife began sobbing as if her heart was broken:
“we did not miss her until about an hour ago; i sat in front of the house smoking and talking with wife, when she remarked that it was time ruth was in bed. i called to her, but there was no answer. thinking she had fallen asleep inside, i lighted a match and looked around, wife joining me. a brief search showed she was not there. we hurried outside, and i shouted again.
“by that time we were in an agony of distress and wife was sure something dreadful had happened to her. as soon as we could command our wits we found that neither of us had seen her for nearly two hours and the thought struck us both that she had wandered off to the bungalow. if she had kept along the beach and walked steadily she would have had time to reach you, but there are so many other awful chances that i dared not trust to that, so i appealed to you.”
“and you did right; there is nothing that is possible for us to do that we will not do,” was the response of scout master hall.
“she may still be wandering along the beach on her way to the bungalow.”
“five of our boys are hurrying over the same course to this point, and will be sure to meet and bring her home.”
“unless she has strayed off in the woods and been lost.”
“let us hope that such is the fact, for then she will be safe and suffer only slight inconveniences.”
“oh, it is worse than that,” moaned the mother, still pacing to and fro and wringing her hands; “she has fallen into the lake and been drowned.”
“i cannot believe that,” said the scout master, following the remark with such tactful assurances that the mother regained a part of her self-command, to the extent even of feeling a faint hope that all was well with her child.
the conduct of the youths was admirable. when they spoke it was in whispers and undertones, but every heart was filled with the sincerest pity, and all were eager to do everything they could for the smitten parents.
the boy scout does not content himself with words: his mission is to do a good turn, and where every minute was beyond value none was thrown away.
scout master hall assumed charge. he directed six of the boys to take the back trail, as it might be called,—that is, around the eastern end of the lake to the bungalow. this would insure their meeting hoke butler and his companions, who in turn would meet the missing child if she had wandered over the same route. the six to whom this task was entrusted were under the charge of mike murphy.
the same number of boys were ordered to follow the opposite direction,—that is, to skirt the lake to the westward,—each of the two searching parties to keep it up until they came together at the bungalow. this arrangement left four boy scouts, including mr. hall and not mentioning the father and mother. the leader proposed that he, one of the lads and the parents should separate, plunge into the woods and pursue the hunt independently of one another. since for a time the search must be a blind one this plan was as good as any that could be suggested.
the scout master took alvin and chester aside.
“i have selected you for a special work,” he said. “you are fleet of foot, cool-headed and have good judgment. the doctor has made no reference to those tramps, and yet i know he suspects they have stolen ruth, and intend to hold her for ransom. i believe it is either that, or she has wandered off and fallen asleep in the woods,—with the possibility that she is drowned.
“i want you to make your way as quickly as you can to the little town of bovil, where i think there is a telephone. if the tramps have kidnapped the sunbeam, they will try to get out of the neighborhood. telephone to the officers at boothbay harbor and other points, and get word to burton at mouse island as soon as possible, and ask him to make all haste here with zip. he’ll do it.”
