Young Hunters of the Lake/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII
THE OLD HERMIT'S TALE
All of the young hunters watched the approach of the old man with interest. He was a very tall individual, with snow-white hair and a flowing beard. He was dressed in a suit of rusty black, and on his head he wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, with a big hole in the top. His canoe was of birch bark, light and strong, and he propelled it with a short, broad paddle.
"I'll wager he is a character," said Snap, as the man drew closer.
"Shall I hail him?" questioned Whopper, as it looked as if the occupant of the canoe was going to pass without speaking.
"Might as well," was the answer, and the boys set up a shout. At first the old man paid no attention, but presently he turned his craft toward shore and came to a halt directly in front of the camp.
"How are you?" said Snap, cordially. A look told him the stranger was at least seventy or eighty years old.
"Pretty well, for an old man," was the answer. "Who are you?"
"We are four boys from Fairview. We came up here to go camping. Who are you?"
"Me? Don't you know who I am? I am Peter Peterson."
"Oh!" exclaimed the boys. They rememibered having once heard Jed Sanborn speak of Peter Peterson as an old fellow who lived among the hills bordering Lake Cameron. Peterson was a hermit, and having been crossed in love when he was a young man, he hated the sight of a woman.
"My name is Charley Dodge," said Snap. "My father owns a share in the Barnaby saw mill." And then the leader of the club introduced his chums. In the meantime the old hermit allowed his canoe to drift to shore and he stepped out and sat down on a rock.
"I know your father," he said to Snap, "and I know your folks," and he nodded to Shep. "Your father gave me some medicine when I was sick. So you came up here to go camping?"
"Yes."
"You are pretty brave lads to do that."
"Oh, we've been out camping before. We came out last summer and also last winter."
"Up here?"
"No, to Lake Cameron and Firefly Lake."
"That's different from Lake Narsac. Don't you know this place is haunted?" And Peter Peterson looked at the boys very solemnly.
"We've heard something about that, but we aren't afraid," said Shep.
"We are more afraid of snakes than we are of ghosts," added Whopper. "We met a lot of them just before we reached the lake."
"To be sure you did,—the river is full of them, and so is the north side of the lake shore—anybody who has camped up here can tell you that. But I don't mind the snakes—but I do mind ghosts." And the old hermit shook his head in a manner to prove he meant what he said. "I would stay up here to do some fishing and hunting only—"
"Only what?" asked Giant.
"I don't like the ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you may call them."
"Have you seen any ghosts?" asked Snap.
"Well, I've seen something, and heard it, too. I don't know what it was,—but it didn't suit me," answered Peter Peterson. "But maybe I hadn't better tell you about it—it might only worry you," he continued, thoughtfully.
But the boys wanted to hear the old man's story, and so they invited him to take dinner with them. During the meal he told his tale, which was certainly a curious one.
"The first of it happened day before yesterday," said Peter Peterson. "I was up to the very end of the lake, in a little cove, looking for wild turkeys. I was tired out and I rested against a tree and went into a doze. All at once I felt something cross my face. What it was I couldn't make out. I jumped up and just them I heard somebody cry out: 'I am dead! Who will bury me!' or something like that. I thought somebody was fooling me, and I called back: 'Who is there?' Then, as true as I am sitting here, I heard somebody in the air laugh at me! I called again, 'Who are you?' And the party, or ghost, or whatever it was answered: 'They murdered me! Who will bury me!' Then I got scared and leaped into my canoe and paddled away. When I was out on the lake I looked back into the woods, but I could not see a soul."
"Are you sure you weren't asleep and dreamed all that?" asked Snap.
"No, I was wide awake. But that isn't all. Early this morning I was asleep over on the shore yonder, just where you can see that blasted pine. It was, I think, about three o'clock, and quite dark. I heard a cry and I sat up to listen. Then I heard the most hideous laugh you can imagine. Then a voice called out again, 'I am dead! Come to my grave! He is dead! I am dead! He is dead!' Then I looked out on the lake and I saw something like a ghost, only it was yellow instead of white. It moved over the water like a spirit, and in a few minutes I couldn't see it any more. Then I made up my mind I wouldn't stay up here any longer. You can camp here if you want to—I am done with Lake Narsac."
The young hunters of the lake looked at each other. What the hermit had to say coincided in many respects with the story told by Jed Sanborn. Certainly there was something queer in these strange calls, and in the appearance of the ghost or spirit in yellow.
"I must say I don't like this," said Shep, after they had questioned the old hermit to ascertain that his story was a straight one. "There seems to be something supernatural about it; don't you think so?"
"Perhaps it can be explained," answered Snap, slowly.
"We promised ourselves not to be afraid of any ghost," put in little Giant. "I, for one, don't believe in turning back until we have seen and heard these things for ourselves."
"I'd like to have my shotgun handy when that yellow ghost shows itself," said Whopper. "I'd soon find out whether it was real or not."
"I don't think your shotgun would do you any good," answered Peter Peterson, with deep conviction. "You can't shoot a spirit."
"Well, if I aimed right at it and it wasn't touched, I'd know it was a ghost for sure."
"That's true, but I reckon when you came to fire on that ghost your hand would be so shaky that you couldn't hit the side of a barn," answered the old hermit. "After I saw that spirit I felt like I had a chill. I am not going to stay up here another night—it's bad enough to be here in the daytime."
The old hermit remained with the boys two hours, and then embarked in his canoe and was soon out of sight down the stream leading to Firefly Lake. The young hunters watched him out of sight with some regret. He had told them he did not think anybody was now on the lake but themselves.
"Well, if we really are here alone we ought not to be troubled by anybody," was Shep's comment. "Still, it does seem tremendously lonely."
"Just listen to the stillness," remarked Whopper. "You can cut it out in chunks!"
"No use of listening—I can feel it," answered Giant. "But what's the use of acting like that?—you'll give us all the blues. Let's be cheerful," and he began to whistle a merry tune, and one after another the others joined in. Then they started to fix up the tent for the night and cut a quantity of wood for the fire, and this put them in better spirits. For supper they had some fine fish, baking them to a turn on some hot stones, in a fashion Jed Sanborn had taught them. They also had hot biscuits—the first since leaving home.
"I think somebody ought to remain on guard after this," said Shep, when it came time to retire. "We don't know what to expect in such a place as this. There are the ghosts, and the snakes, and unknown wild beasts, and other things we know nothing of."
"I am willing," answered Snap. "We can divide the night into watches of two hours and a half each, and draw sticks for turns," and so it was arranged.
It must be confessed that the boys were a trifle timid that night, and those that tried to sleep had hard work to close their eyes. But no alarm came, and when the sun came up all felt relieved.
"We may stay up here for weeks and never see or hear of that ghost," said Snap. "I don't believe it shows itself very often."
"Oh, I don't suppose it appears and disappears by the clock, like a cuckoo," said Whopper. "It will most likely lay low and scare us to death when we least expect it."
It was the middle of the forenoon before they were ready to embark on a tour of the lake. They decided to skirt the entire shore, or at least such a portion of it as looked inviting, and then pick out a spot for a regular camp. They proceeded slowly, for there was no need to hurry and they did not wish to miss any spot that might be of especial advantage.
It was not yet noon when they turned into a little cove, bordered by low-hanging bushes. They looked ahead, and then Shep ordered the others to stop rowing.
"I just saw something, back of yonder bushes," he whispered, excitedly. "I am not sure, but I think it was a couple of deer!"