Dave Porter At Bear Camp: or, The Wild Man of Mirror Lake

While they were eating the supper provided by Mrs. Whittle, it stopped raining, and a little later they saw the setting sun over the hills to the westward.

"How many miles is it to Carpen Falls from here?" asked Luke.

"Fourteen by the automobile blue book," answered Dave.

"And what of the road?" questioned Ben.

"Mr. Simpson said it wasn't so bad but that it might be worse," answered Dunston Porter, who had been interviewing the storekeeper and who had told the man about the fallen tree, having learned that Mr. Simpson was the head of the township committee.

"We don't want to get stuck, especially after it gets dark," said Ben.

"I wish we could stay here," sighed Mrs. Basswood. "But there don't seem to be any accommodations."

"Oh, we'll get through; come ahead!" cried Dave. "If we don't reach Carpen Falls to-night Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth will worry about us."

Feeling in somewhat better spirits after having eaten, and after having had an opportunity to dry themselves, the tourists brought out their automobiles again, and soon Simpson's Corners was left behind. They had a long hill to climb, and then the road wound in and out among some particularly rough rocks. Then they came out along the edge of a cliff with a vast panorama of woods and waters below them.

"Oh, isn't it perfectly lovely!" cried Belle.

"If I'm not mistaken, Mirror Lake lies off in that direction," said Dunston Porter, pointing with his hand. "That sheet of water away off yonder may be it."

Leaving the cliff, the road wound in and out of the forest for a distance of several miles. Then they came to another little valley, in which the highway was wet and, in some spots, suspiciously spongy.

"Now then, Dave, be careful," warned his uncle. "We don't want to get stuck if we can possibly help it."

"I'll do my best, Uncle Dunston," was the answer.

With the wheels sucking and sousing in the mud, the Wadsworth machine moved forward as rapidly as the conditions would permit. Close behind was the Basswood car, and this time Ben took care not to let the engine slow down too much. Once Dave was afraid that he was going to be stuck, but in a few seconds the danger was past, and in two minutes more they were out on the solid roadway once more.

"We are coming to some sort of a settlement!" cried Mr. Porter, after several miles more had been covered. "See, there it is – right down at the foot of this hill!"

"It must be Carpen Falls," announced Dave. "See, there are the Falls off to the right!" and he pointed to where a fair-sized stream of water came down between the trees and fell over the rocks. The Falls were fifteen to twenty feet high, and made a beautiful sight.

Carpen Falls was a settlement of some importance, for the campers on the lakes for miles around came there to do their trading. There were two general stores, one containing the post-office, and also a blacksmith's shop, livery stable and garage combined, and a small summer hotel.

"Oh, look! My father and mother!" cried Jessie, as the two machines rolled up to the hotel.

To the surprise of all, Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth stood on the piazza watching their approach.

"Oh, we thought you would never get here!" cried Mrs. Wadsworth, in relief. "We thought sure you had had some sort of accident on the road."

"And how is it you are here?" asked Dave, quickly.

"We came in this morning to do some trading at the store," answered Mr. Wadsworth. "We were going back, when it began to storm so hard that we decided to stay here until the rain let up, and until you arrived. It certainly was a hard downpour!"

"We came pretty near having several accidents," answered Ben. And then after the party had alighted, they told of the various happenings on the journey.

"We can remain here all night if you want to," announced the jewelry manufacturer. "But if you would rather go on to the bungalows I think we can make it. There are two old stages here, and the drivers are perfectly willing to make the trip."

"Now we have gotten so far, let us finish the trip," urged Laura. "I think I would rather be at the bungalows than at this hotel," she added, with a look around that hostelry – a place that was not particularly inviting.

"But you'll want supper first; won't you?" questioned Mrs. Wadsworth.

"We had something to eat at Simpson's Corners," answered her daughter.

The stages that Mr. Wadsworth had mentioned were certainly old-fashioned and dilapidated, but each was drawn by a pair of sturdy horses, and the drivers said that they were perfectly safe and could make the journey to Mirror Lake without trouble. So, having transferred the baggage from the automobiles to these ancient vehicles, and having placed the touring-cars in the garage, with orders to have the damaged car repaired, our friends piled into the turnouts, and then, with various calls to the animals and loud crackings of the whips, the two stages started for Bear Camp.

CHAPTER XIII

AT BEAR CAMP

"Talk about the old-time coaching days!" remarked Dave. "I don't believe they were any worse than this."

"Oh, Dave, you mustn't find fault!" cried Jessie. "We'll soon be there, I hope."

"Providing we don't go down in some hole and break off a wheel," put in Roger. "Say, this road is some rough!"

"I'll have it rolled down for you the next time, Roger!" cried Phil, gaily. "Just imagine yourself in the wild West, in one of the old-time overland coaches, with the Indians in full pursuit. How about that, Belle?"

"It sounds good enough for a dime novel," answered the girl from the West. "Personally I never saw any Indians in pursuit of a stage-coach or anything else. The Indians around Star Ranch were as peaceable as one could wish."

Over the rough and rather narrow trail bumped the two stage-coaches. Our friends frequently found themselves bounced off the seats, and more than once they were in danger of cracking their heads against the roofs of the turnouts. It was growing dark, and the only lights the drivers had were their smoking lanterns. Inside of the stage-coaches the boys had their hand flashlights, which they used occasionally to illuminate the scene.

"Never mind! Don't you care!" cried Phil, and then added: "What's the matter with a song?"

"Let's give them our old Oak Hall song!" exclaimed Dave, and a moment later he started their old favorite, sung to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne."

"Oak Hall we never shall forget,
No matter where we roam,
It is the very best of schools,
To us it's just like home.
Then give three cheers, and let them ring
Throughout this world so wide,
To let the people know that we
Elect to here abide!"

"Oh, how splendid!" was Belle's comment. "Please sing it again," and they did.

Then they followed with a number of familiar songs. The sound was caught up by those in the second coach, and soon they too were singing lustily.

"Gosh-all-hemlock!" was the comment of the stage-driver of the forward coach. "That there singin' is better'n a nigger minstrels!"

"Better join in," suggested Dave, and then started up with "The Suwanee River," and to the surprise of all the old stage-driver broke in with a heavy bass voice which really balanced the others quite well.

The storm was a thing of the past, and as night came on the thin crescent of the new moon and numberless stars showed themselves.

"O my, look!"