Tom Slades Double Dare | Page 4

raise his voice to make himself heard. The danger to human
life which he had been the first to think of, gave the storm new terror to
these young watchers. It needed only this touch of mortal peril in that
panorama of dreadfulness to arouse them, good scouts that they were,
to the chances of adventure and the possibility of service.

"We can't do anything, can we?" one asked. "It's too late now, isn't it?"
"It's either too late or it isn't," said Tom Slade; "and it's for us to see. I
was thinking of Berry's place, and I was thinking of the crowd that's
coming up tonight on the bus. If the water has broken through across
the lake and is pouring into the valley, it'll wash away the bridge. The
bus ought to be here now. There are two troops from the four-twenty
train at Catskill. Maybe the train is late on account of the weather. If
the bridge is down...."
"Call up Berry's place and find out," said Westy Martin.
"That's just what has me worrying," said Tom; "Berry's doesn't
answer."
CHAPTER III
AN IMPORTANT MISSION
Temple Camp was situated on a gentle slope close to the east shore of
the lake. Save for this small area of habitable land the lake was entirely
surrounded by mountains. And it was the inverted forms of these
mountains reflected in the water which gave it the somber hue whence
the lake derived its name. On sunless days and in the twilight, the water
seemed as black as night.
Directly across the water from the camp, the most forbidding of those
surrounding heights reared its deeply wooded summit three thousand
feet above the sea level. A wilderness of tangled underbrush, like
barbed wire entanglements, baffled the hardiest adventurer. No scout
had penetrated those dismal fastnesses which the legend of camp
reputed to be haunted.
Beside the rocky base of this mountain was a tiny cove, a dim,
romantic little place, where the water was as still as in a pool. Its two
sides were the lower reaches of the great mountain and its neighbor,
and all that prevented the cove from being an outlet was a little hubble
of land which separated this secluded nook from a narrow valley, or

gully, beyond.
Sometimes, indeed, after a rainy spell the water in the cove overflowed
this little hubble of land enough to trickle through into the gully, and
then you could pick fish up with your hands where they flopped about
marooned in the channel below. Probably this gully was an old
dried-up stream bed.
About a mile from the lake it became wider and was intersected by a
road. Here it was that the bridge spanned the hollow. And here it was,
right in the hollow near the bridge, that Ebon Berry had his rural garage.
Along this road the old bus lumbered daily, bringing new arrivals to
camp and touching at villages beyond.
If, indeed, the swollen lake had washed away the inner shore of the
cove, the sequel would be serious if not tragic at that quiet road
crossing. The question was, had this happened, and if so, had the bus
reached the fatal spot? All that the boys knew was that the bus was long
overdue and that Berry's "did not answer." And that the fury of the
storm was rising with every minute.
Tom Slade spoke calmly as was his wont. No storm could arouse him
out of his stolid, thoughtful habit.
"A couple of scoutmasters have started along the road," he said, "to see
what they can find out. How about you, Hervey? Are you game to skirt
the lake? How about you, Roy? There may be danger over there."
"Believe me, I hope it'll wait till we get there," said Hervey Willetts.
"I'll go!" shouted Pee-wee.
"You'll go--in and get supper," said Tom. "I want just three fellows; I'm
not going to overload a boat in this kind of weather. I'll take Roy and
Hervey and Westy, if you fellows are game to go. You go in and get a
lantern, Pee-wee."
"And don't forget to leave some pie for those two troops that are

coming on the bus," added Roy.
Pee-wee did better than bring a lantern; he brought also three oilskin
jackets and hats which the younger boys donned. He must also have
advertised the adventurous expedition during his errand indoors, for a
couple of dozen envious scouts followed him out and watched the little
party depart.
The four made their way against a blown rain which all but blinded
them and streamed from their hats and rendered their storm jackets
quite useless. Tom wore khaki trousers and a pongee shirt which clung
to him like wet tissue paper. If one cannot be thoroughly dry