The Galloping Ghost by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER XI HOTCAKES AT DAWN

  When a person is thrown with a stranger in an empty land he is sure tolearn much of that other's ways. It was so with Red Rodgers. He wasdestined to learn much regarding the true nature of that mysterious youngperson who called herself Berley Todd. One fact he learned at once: thatshe was fond of doing things in a dramatic manner. In her own mind shewas ever on the stage. Red had asked her to tell of her beloved IsleRoyale. She was weary, had been awake all night. She had been cold andwet. She was hungry. Surely this was no time for telling of a place sheloved.

  "A cabin," she recited, "a fireplace, chairs, blankets. We have allthese. And now for the last of all--things to eat."

  Lighting a candle that stood on a ledge beside the fireplace, she wentinto the kitchen of the cabin. Soon she was calling to Red.

  Together they carried in two large tin boxes of what were quite evidentlyleft-overs of the party camping there that summer.

  "Crackers, dried beans, oatmeal, a little rice." The girl named thepackages as she drew them forth. "Tea, coffee. Hurrah! Some coffee andprepared pancake flour. Hotcakes at dawn!" She tossed the package to theceiling and caught it as it came down. "What could be better than hotcakes and coffee at dawn?"

  Glancing toward the window, Red discovered that she was right; dawn wasbreaking. But to his relief he saw that snow was still falling fast.

  "If those fellows get on our trail," he thought with a shudder, "they'llkeep on it until they get us. They've got to."

  Red brewed the coffee. The girl mixed the batter and fried the cakes.

  The meal was eaten in silence. Red found himself in no mood for talk; nordid the girl.

  "It--it's like a communion," he told himself with a gulp. He was soberedby the thought of the future that lay just before them.

  "You know," said the girl, as the last cup was drained, "since this thinghad to happen, I am glad you are you." A curious smile overspread herface.

  "Thank--er--thanks," Red stammered. "I'll do my best to be myself."

  "And now," said the girl, leading him to a place beside her on a rug nearthe hearth, "I'll show you about Isle Royale."

  Dragging a quantity of ashes out on the smooth hearth, she busied herselffor some time smoothing them out, drawing her finger through them hereand dropping a pinch of them there.

  "Now," she sighed at last, "ashes are land, bare spaces are water. Seethis little pile here? That's the island we are on. See, it's in a narrowstretch of water. That's Tobin's Harbor. It's about three miles long. Seethis one over to the right? That's Rock Harbor. It's much longer. Off tothe left of Tobin's Harbor is Duncan's Bay. It may not matter. And itmay. You can't tell where we'll end up.

  "See that bit of a pile here? That's Passage Island. There's a lighthouseout there with people in it, a big light and a foghorn. Listen, you canhear that horn now."

  Red listened and to his waiting ears came the distant hoot of a giantfoghorn.

  "How simple it all is!" He heaved a sigh of relief. "All we have to do isto get out to the lighthouse before those fellows catch up to us."

  "Yes," she sighed, "that's all. But it's four miles out there. This isthe stormy season of the year. We have only a rowboat. And rememberthis--" Her tone was as solemn as a parson's at a funeral. "Rememberthis: 'Superior never gives up her dead!'"

  "Is all that water you've left there Lake Superior?" Red was trulyimpressed.

  "Yes, and a great deal more. Miles and miles and miles. Isle Royale isnearer Canada than the United States. It is not near enough to any placeto do us much good in November. The lighthouse is our hope. But after thesnow it will blow. I am almost sure of that. So, you see, that which wasbegun to-night may not be finished at once, my friend the Red Rover.

  "And now--" Her eyes closed for a moment. "Now I would be glad to tellyou of my island home. I love it as I do no other home. If danger did notthreaten, I should dearly love to remain here, even now when everyone isgone."

  "Everyone?"

  "There may be fishermen staying at the other end of the island. But thatis forty-five miles away. Forty-five miles of wilderness, do youunderstand?"

  "I understand," said Red Rodgers. A new note had crept into his voice. Hewas beginning to sense the brave part this girl was playing.

  "And now you must rest."

  He set about preparing a place for her on a broad seat before the fire.

  "But you--" she protested.

  "Oh, I'll sleep with one eye open, here in a chair. As long as snowcontinues to fall, we are safe."

  "And when the sky clears you will call me?"

  "Never fear."

  "While I sleep I will dream what we are to do next."

  "Success to your dreams."

  Turning his back on her, Red busied himself by drawing a crude map of theisland modeled after her relief map of ashes.

  "Going to be tough," he whispered with a sigh. "Tough for both of us. Butsomehow we'll make it. We've got to!"

  After another look at the falling snow, he curled up for three winks. Heslept them through, all unconscious of the commotion his disappearancehad stirred up. The hundreds of columns printed about him in the papersall over the land, the scores of detectives on the trail of thekidnapers, the thousands of earnest persons in all walks of life who hadvolunteered to do all in their power to help bring him back--all this hewould have found, had he known it, a matter for surprise and greatbewilderment. For the Red Rover was, above all, a very humble and modestyoung man who loved doing things for their own sake, and who thoughtlittle of honor or great reward. That the world at large had been sogreatly stirred by his disappearance he did not dream.