“Well, I have a good mind to take a plunge and do a little investigating myself,” Westy said enthusiastically.
“Go to it!” Artie said heartily.
“Be careful, boy!” Uncle Jeb warned him. “Yuh’ve hed yure share o’ narrow escapes already!”
“I will!” called Westy, making the plunge.
He swam around for a while and, finding no trace of anything, returned to the shore.
All that day they kept watch, but nothing revealed itself from the lake. Night came and they sat around the campfire once more, warmed in soul as well as body, that they were all sitting there safe and sound.
Westy and Artie were voicing their regrets that the summer had gone so quickly.
Events of the night before were gone over again, and, as the last spark of the fire died out on that pebbly shore, Westy rolled into his blankets, face upturned to the starry skies once again. They were to return to the cabin in the morning and he wanted to fix in his mind forever the beautiful spectacle that surrounded him, revealing all its naked beauty to his wondering eyes.
The stars overhead in that dark blue sky, shimmering and twinkling down upon him, seemed to want to confide in him the mystery of the heavens. The mountains around, so frowning and formidable in aspect to most people, looked to Westy that night majestic and serene, a solid wall of protection to mankind. Everything around him in fact that night brought gladness to his heart for he was happy in the thought that he had been of benefit to his fellow-beings.
And so musing, sleep seemed utterly to have deserted him and he felt not the least need of any.