CHAPTER XII
WAS IT A BURSTING METEOR?
"Who hit me?" exclaimed Bobolink, rubbing his eyes as he gained his feet and looked around at the dimly-seen forms of the other scouts; for the moon had by now sunk behind the horizon.
"What busted?" demanded Nuthin. "I bet it was that bottle of raspberry vinegar my sister put in my knapsack. It's gone sour, and exploded, sure as anything."
Strange to say, none of the others even bothered laughing at such a foolish remark as this. They stared at the clear sky overhead, and the twinkling stars looking down upon them, just as though winking to each other, and enjoying the confusion of the valiant scouts.
Even Paul, who generally knew everything, seemed mystified.
"I declare if I can tell what it was," he said upon being appealed to by some of the others in the group. "I was sound asleep, like the rest of you, when all of a sudden it seemed as if the end of the world had come. I felt the ground shake under me and as I opened my eyes it seemed as if I was nearly blinded. The flash came and went just like lightning, and that bang was what would pass for thunder in a storm; but for the life of me I can't see any sign of trouble up there."
"And we don't hear anything more; do we?" demanded Jud.
"Sounded like a big cannon to me," remarked Jack.
"Couldn't be that the State troops are out, and having manoeuvres, with a sham battle, could it?" questioned Gusty Bellows.
"Well, hardly, without somebody knowing about it. And they generally take up that sort of thing later in the year. There's only one explanation that sounds a bit reasonable to me," Paul went on.
"Tell us what that is, then?" asked Bobolink.
"I've heard about meteors falling, and exploding when they hit the earth," the scout master went on to say.
"That's right!" echoed Jack; "and say, they're always accompanied by a dazzling light, as they shoot through space, burning the air along with them. Yes, siree, that must have been a big meteor stone."
"Then it struck the earth right close to our camp, mark me," vowed Jud.
"Ain't I glad it didn't pick out this spot to drop on," crowed Nuthin. "Whew! guess we'd have been squashed flatter than that pancake you hear about."
"What are meteors made up of—they drop from stars; don't they?" asked Bob Tice.
"Oh! there's just millions and billions of 'em flying around loose," said Phil Towns, who liked to read of astronomy at times. "Lots of 'em happen to get caught in the envelope of air that surrounds the earth. Then they fall victims to the force of gravitation, and come plunging down at such speed that they do really burn the air, just like Jack said. You see, they're made up for the most part of metals, and our old earth draws 'em like a monster magnet."
"Is that what shooting stars are?" Bob went on to ask.
"Why, yes, they're really small meteors. We often pass through a mess of 'em. I've counted hundreds in a single night," Phil continued, always willing to give any information he could along his favorite study.
"Well, they say lightning don't strike in the same place twice; and that goes with your old buzzing meteors too, I reckon; so what's the use in our staying up any longer?" remarked Bobolink, who seemed quite satisfied with the explanation Paul had given of the queer noise, and the flash of brilliant light.
So they crawled back into their snug nests, and tried to compose themselves for sleep. But it is extremely doubtful whether a single one of those eighteen boys secured so much as a decent cat-nap between that hour and dawn.
Despite their apparent belief in the explanation of the phenomenon advanced by Paul, the boys could not get rid of the notion that that tremendous crash had something to do with the strange things told about the haunted island, and which helped to give it its bad name.
They were up pretty early, too. The first birds were beginning to chirp in the brush when figures came crawling out of the tents, with a great stretching of arms, and long yawns.
Then the lake tempted many of the boys, and a great splashing announced that those who could swim were enjoying a morning dip while others were taking a lesson in learning the first rudiments in the art; for Paul wanted every scout in Stanhope Troop to be able to swim and dive before the Fall came on.
The scout master himself watched the proceedings, hardly able to get his own dip because of his anxiety concerning those who, for the time being, had been placed in his charge.
This thing of being responsible for seventeen lively boys is not all that it may be cracked up to be; especially if the acting scout master is a conscientious chap, alive to his duties. Paul felt the weight of the load; but he did not shrink.
Breakfast was presently under way, and nobody found any fault when Bobolink announced that he meant to instruct Nat Smith and another boy just how to go about making those delicious flapjacks for which he himself had become famous.
In the cooking contests, at the time the Stanhope Troop carried off their banner in competition with the troops of Manchester and Aldine, Bobolink had easily outclassed all rivals when it came to the science of camp cookery, and his flapjacks were admitted without a peer, so that ever since, when the boys had an outing, there was always a shout when it was found that Bobolink was willing to get a mess of cakes ready for their attention.
Although most of the boys had looked a bit peaked, and even haggard, when they first issued from the tents, this had long since vanished. The frolic in the cool water, and now this feast in the open, proved the finest tonics possible.
They were now filled with new energy and pluck. Nobody dreamed of being frightened away from camp by such a little thing as a meteor bursting near by, or any other strange happening. Perhaps, when night came around again, this buoyant feeling might take wings, and fly away; but then, there would be fourteen and more hours before darkness again assailed them, and what was the use fretting over things so far removed?
All had made up their minds to do a lot of things while up at camp, according to their various tastes. One began to look around for subjects he could take snapshots of, having a liking for photography. Another got a companion to take up a station along the shore, so that they could exchange messages, using the flags and the code.
Then there were several who evinced a decided interest in finding the tracks of wild animals, like a raccoon, or a rabbit, or even a squirrel, when nothing better presented itself. These they minutely examined, and applied all sorts of theories in forming the story of the trail. In many cases these proved very entertaining indeed, and Paul was always pleased, with Jack's assistance, to pass on such things, being adapted through practical experience to correct errors, and set the beginner straight on certain facts that he had mixed.
There were numerous other things to do also. One boy loved to hunt wild flowers, and as soon as he could coax a mate to accompany him, since Paul would not allow the scouts to go off alone, he busied himself in the undergrowth, looking in mossy spots for some of the shy blossoms that appealed to his collecting taste.
Another seemed to have a love for geology. He wanted to find specimens of every sort of stone, and hinted of certain stories of mining having been carried on in these regions a century or two ago. But as he did not find any ore that contained precious minerals in paying quantities, during their stay on Cedar Island, the chances are that his father will still have to go right along paying his bills, even after he gets into college later in life.
The morning was slipping away fast, and they had not found any better place to settle on for a camp. It seemed that, by the merest chance, they had hit upon the best spot for a short stay on the island.
Three of the boys wandered along the shore, fishing. Paul had seen them pull in several good-sized bass, and began to make up his mind that after all they were going to have a fish dinner, if the luck held. He was even debating whether he dared leave camp for a while, and taking his jointed rod, joined the trio who had wandered around the bend of the eastern shore of the island; for Paul certainly did love to feel a lively fish at the end of his line, and could not think of leaving Lake Tokala without giving its finny inhabitants a chance to get acquainted with him.
Just as he had about decided that he could be spared for the hour that still remained until noon, Paul thought he heard a shout. Now, the scouts had more than a few times given tongue during the morning, when engaged in some boisterous game; but it struck Paul, whose nerves were always on the alert for such things, while this responsibility rested on his shoulders, that there was certainly a note, as of alarm, about this particular outcry.
It seemed to come from around that bend, too, where he had seen the three boys disappear. Even as he looked in that direction, he saw something come in sight among the rocks that lay so thickly around. It was Gusty Bellows, one of the anglers; yes, and there was Little Billie just behind him, taking great leaps that promised to speedily leave the other far in the lurch.
Paul's heart seemed to stand still. Where was Jud, who had been in the company of the two? What could have happened?
The scout master dropped his rod, which he had been in the act of jointing, and started on a run to meet the two fishermen; for he could hear them shouting, though unable to distinguish just what they were saying.