Chapter VI: Making Camp on Bass Island

A few days later, when a train stopped at the small station of Rockton, a crowd of boys accompanied by two older persons and a smiling colored man, jumped from the cars. They seemed to carry innumerable packages, and not a few had in addition knapsacks fastened to their backs.

Besides this, from the baggage car an astonishing amount of stuff was thrown, consisting of tents and cots and blankets.

Most of the provisions had been properly packed at the store. But Dick saw to it that such things as eggs were carried by some of the boys, since they would not stand much rough handling. They expected, however, to secure further farm products from some farmer not a great distance away from the camp on the shore of Bass Island.

Then the train began to puff again, and the score of boys, together with Harry Bartlett, Mr. Asa Rowland, the physical culture director at the Y. M. C. A., and “Sunny Jim,” the negro cook, found themselves left at the small station.

“They say it’s all of four long miles to the lake,” remarked Peg Fosdick, taking a look over the camp duffle that had been thrown in a great pile alongside the track.

“Oh! if you think that would be too long a tramp for your game leg, Mr. Bartlett would let you ride on one of the two wagons we’ve hired to haul the stuff over,” Dick told him. To this, however, Peg protested, saying:

“Huh! what d’ye take me for, Dick? If I’m not good for a little hike like that I ought to have stayed at home and be tied to mother’s apron strings. I was only wondering how much of this stuff I could hoist in case those wagons failed us, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t bother about that,” called out Leslie just then. “From the cloud of dust rising along the road over yonder I reckon our teams are coming now.”

His prediction turned out a true one, and it did not take the eager boys long to get their possessions loaded. There was more or less merriment as this labor was in progress; and many were the comments made concerning the piled-up wagons.

“Looks just like a gypsy outfit on the road,” suggested Clint Babbett.

“Now it would be a good thing for everybody who cared to do it to put his bundle aboard one of the supply wagons,” Dick suggested. “Four miles is something of a walk on a hot day like this, and it’s going to feel like a bag of lead before you get there. We can take turns carrying those precious home-laid eggs.”

“If we get settled in camp this afternoon we’ll be in good fix for our first night out,” asserted Elmer, after they had started on the tramp, stringing along the dusty country road.

“We ought to have the camp in pretty good shape for Mr. Holwell, if he keeps his promise and comes up to see how we’re getting on to-morrow,” added Dan. “We must let him see that we know how to go about things in a way to make ’em look clean and neat. As Mr. Bartlett says, we don’t mean to stand for any shiftless ways in Camp Russabaga!”

“That name sounds good to me,” remarked Dick, instantly. “If the rest of you are of the same mind let’s begin and call it that from now on.”

“Camp Russabaga it is!” exclaimed Peg, with his customary enthusiasm. “There could hardly be a name that’d suit me better.”

“It’s just the ticket all around!” added Asa.

“I should call it quite euphonious!” observed Humbert Loft, who after all had decided to risk having his feelings hurt many times by his rough comrades, and from sheer curiosity had concluded to accompany them on the camping trip.

The campers plodded along just ahead of the heavily laden wagons, and as is the case when a number of lively boys get together, there was so much laughter and conversation that none of them noticed the passage of time.

“We’re getting near the lake, fellows!” suddenly called out Fred Bonnicastle. “I’m sure I had a glimpse of something that looked like water just then. Yes, it lies yonder--between the two big oaks.”

“And not over half a mile away at that!” added some one else, hopefully, for feet were commencing to drag.

“It’s surely lonely enough up this way,” remarked Leslie. “Not a sign of a cabin around.”

“I heard there were one or two shanties on Bass Island that the berry pickers stay in when it storms, the best picking being over on the island,” answered Peg Fosdick. “We can make use of them for a storage place.”

“And, too, if any finiky chap doesn’t like the idea of sleeping under canvas, he’s at liberty to fix himself a bunk where he’ll have a real roof over him,” put in Dan.

He looked at Humbert when saying this. The “superior” boy colored a little and hastened to say:

“Oh! as for me, I’ve quite made up my mind that when I’m in Rome I shall do as the Romans do. My uncle advised me to forget that we came of an old and honored New England family when associating with----Oh! I mean that I want to do just as the rest of you think is best.”

“He came mighty near calling us common folks!” whispered Peg, gloomily, turning to Elmer, who chanced to be alongside the limping one. “I reckon that is about what he really believes us to be. I hope His Majesty isn’t going to be contaminated while he’s up here in camp with the common herd. ‘Those who touch pitch will be defiled,’ I heard Mr. Holwell say only last Sunday.”

“I’m real sorry for Humbert,” Elmer told him in reply. “He’s so very nice that this rough-and-ready world isn’t good enough to hold him. He ought to be in a glass case, it strikes me.”

The idea caused Peg to laugh aloud. Possibly Humbert may have suspected that he had something to do with their merriment, for he turned and looked at them almost reproachfully, which caused Peg to say in a low tone:

“Oh! well, I suppose he just can’t help it. He’s been fed with soft pap all his life, and had to associate with that lofty Loft uncle of his who really believes all boys should be forced to read nothing but standard works.”

It was not long before they came in sight of Lake Russabaga. The spectacle was so inspiring that the boys broke out into a loud cheer.

“What a whopping big sheet of water it is!” exclaimed Elmer Jones. “It must be a whole lot of miles across there to the further shore that looks so dim in the distance.”

“And that island about a mile from this side must be the one we’re to camp on--Bass Island,” suggested Peg, his voice filled with delight.

“Dick says we’d better be hurrying along!” called out Leslie. “You understand we’ll have our hands full ferrying all this stuff across there; and from the clouds gathering along the horizon Mr. Bartlett seems to think we may have a thunder-storm before many hours pass by.”

“Get a move on, everybody!” cried Clint.

In due time the boys and the two teams reached the shore of the lake. Here the loads were hurriedly taken off, after which the drivers were paid and the teams started back, for neither of the men liked the looks of the clouds, and both prophesied rain before long.

“Where are the two boats we were to use when up here?” asked Mr. Rowland, who was a fine specimen of physical manhood.

“Dick and Elmer have gone to get them,” replied Leslie. “Dick knows where they are hidden away from one summer to another. I only hope they don’t leak too much, that’s all. It’d be pretty rough to have one of them sink under us when half-way over.”

Leslie said this aloud so that Humbert might hear it, his object being to give that “mother’s darling,” as Dan called Humbert, cause for alarm. He accomplished his intention, for Humbert was seen to look long and anxiously out across the waters of the lake, and then heave a tremendous sigh.

The two boats were soon brought around, having been easily found. They were not, as Fred Bonnicastle said, “things of beauty and a joy forever.” In fact, the boys considered them very rough looking, being rudely made, and old in the bargain. They leaked a little, but that defect could no doubt be remedied when Dick and some of the others found time to get to work on them.

By adjusting the loads properly and doing a little bailing occasionally, the boats could be safely ferried across to the island.

Two good loads were sent off, with a number of the boys along to get things started ashore. They were under the charge of Mr. Bartlett and the physical culture director, and had orders to put up the tents and fasten them with extra care, as there could be no telling how much wind would come if the storm finally descended on them, and it would be necessary to have some shelter both for themselves and for their provisions.

When later on the boats returned only two boys came with them, the rest of the party staying on the island in order to get the camp started. Another load was sent off, and with it went a second detachment of the boys, as well as the smiling black cook. All this took considerable time. No one dared mention such a thing as stopping to eat until everything had been safely transferred to the island where the camp was to be pitched.

“There’s only enough stuff left here for a single load now,” called out Dick, as both boats started off for the third time. “Send one of them back with a fellow to row. I’ll be waiting here to clean up.”

It was almost half an hour later when he discovered the boat approaching the shore. Dick was somewhat surprised to see that the boy who wielded the oars was Asa Gardner; and he also noted that the boy had a pretty fair stroke. His cheeks were rosy for one of his usually pale complexion. His eyes, too, sparkled as though Asa was enjoying the experience as far as it had gone.

“You’re surprised at seeing me, I know, Dick,” Asa said, as he drew in to the land. “I just begged Leslie to let me bring the boat back, and he agreed. The others are working like beavers to get the tents up and everything safe before it starts to rain. Do you think we’ll be caught in the storm, Dick?”

There was a little vein of anxiety in the boy’s voice, Dick fancied, as though Asa might already be repenting of his temerity in venturing across the wide waste of waters on such a risky errand.

“Let’s get the stuff packed aboard as soon as we can,” said Dick, as he took up a bundle of blankets and tossed them into the skiff. “The storm is likely to hold off another hour, but then it may catch us half-way over. But you said you could swim, didn’t you, Asa?”

“Oh! yes, pretty well,” replied the other.

A few minutes sufficed to complete the packing. Dick wanted things to be securely fastened in case they met with a heavy sea.

“Now we’re off,” he said, as he entered the boat. “I’ll start rowing, because you must be tired, Asa. If it should get very rough I may have to call on you to take an oar to help out, for two are better than one at such times, you know.”

“I’m willing enough,” said the other, seating himself amidst the load.

Dick threw considerable power into his work. He knew there was more or less danger of being caught far out from land in the storm, and that, considering that their boat was old and leaky, did not present a flattering outlook.

Just as he feared, they had gone little more than half the distance across when a loud peal of thunder followed a brilliant flash of lightning.

“It’s coming, Dick! The squall!” cried Asa. “I can see it racing over the water!”