The Rival Campers Ashore; or, The Mystery of the Mill

by Ruel Perley Smith

There was Benny Ellison, also, who was dragged in by Bess, and made to shake hands with Henry Burns, and call old scores off; so that even he warmed into enthusiasm, and enjoyed himself with the others.

Then, somewhere about that time, there was a lawyer's visit to the Half Way House, where there were certain papers drawn up, and signed by Granny Thornton, with a trembling hand; which made it sure that Little Bess would no more be uncertain of her home and her parentage, but would remain where she belonged, up at the big farmhouse.

So the winter passed and the spring came in. Its days of thaw made the old stream groan and crack, as the great ice fields split here and there, and seams opened. There were nights when the water, that had overflowed at the edge of the ice fields, close by the shore, and formed a narrow stream on either side, froze fast again; so that there was a glare thoroughfare for miles and miles up the stream into the country, of ice just thick enough to bear the boys of Benton.

They made excursions far up along shore this way, skating at furious speed; pausing now and then to set fire to the bunches of tall dried grasses and reeds, that protruded through the ice in the midst of the stream. These flamed fiercely at the mere touch of a match.

Then, as it grew later, this overflow at the edges of the ice field froze no more; but lay, several feet deep of clear water, over that part of the ice. They could get on to the stream then only at certain points, where the ledges made out, or by throwing planks across. Soon the water began to pour with a louder and louder roar over the old Ellison dam, and a stretch of clear, swift-flowing water opened up for some distance back of it.

It became rare and dangerous sport, in these days, to get out on the ice field and work at a seam with planks and poles, prying loose a great sheet of the still thick ice, and watch it go over the dam. It had a most spectacular and awe-inspiring way of making the plunge. A great block of the ice, several yards square, would drift swiftly down, shoot far over the edge, then break apart of its own weight, the huge chunks falling with a mighty splash and commotion into the boiling pool below. Down they would go, like monsters of the sea, borne by the momentum of their plunge from the height. Then they would shoot upward, lift themselves out with a dull roar amid the seething mass of water and smaller ice, rise above the surface, fall again, and, caught in the embrace of the swift current, go tossing and crunching down toward Benton.

Little Tim's sheer delight in this sport exceeded that of all others. He displayed a recklessness that brought upon him the assertion by Jack Harvey that he was "a double-dyed little idiot;" and Henry Burns gave him solemn warning that some day he would go over the dam, if he didn't stop taking chances. But they couldn't check Tim's ardour. He was the hardest worker, with ice-chisel or pole, and the last to leave a sheet of ice that had broken loose and started down stream. For, not always did the ice sever at the point where they were working, but sometimes above them; so that a sharp watch had to be kept against the danger of being caught on an ice patch, and carried along with it.

Then, through the days of working thus at the field, and by the natural wearing away with the spring thaw, the water gained its freedom more and more; so that there was now a quarter of a mile of black open water between the dam and the edge of the ice.

There came, then, a memorable afternoon, which had been preceded by a day of rain, loosening up the bands of winter far and wide, raising the water in the stream by the inrush of countless little brooks all along its course; whereby the whole ice jam, and in some places, fields of logs that had been stored shingle-fashion for the winter, creaked and groaned and snapped, and the whole valley of the stream was filled with the noise of the dissolution. Farmers and mill men eyed the scene with some apprehension, and talked of freshet. Tim Reardon eyed it with delight, forecasting days of warmth and fishing in store.

The boys from Benton were upon the stream, that afternoon, though they knew, deep in their hearts, they had no business there; that it was dangerous; that the whole ice field was shaky. They worked at the ice with might and main, and cheered lustily when some great cake went tumbling over the dam.