The Essential Edward Stratemeyer Collection. Stratemeyer Edward

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СКАЧАТЬ up!" he called. "Put your sticks under them--anything! If we don't, Messmer may be crushed to death!"

      Roger came forward first and the others quickly followed, the mule being, for the time, forgotten. They took their heavy sticks and set them up under the falling timbers, and Henshaw rolled in a stone that chanced to be handy. These things kept the roof from coming down further, but poor Messmer was held as if in a vise and could not be extricated.

      "We've got to pry the logs up a little," said Dave. "Here is a log to work with," and he pointed to one which had fallen out of the side wall.

      Only one torch remained lighted, and this had to be swung into a livelier blaze, so that they could see. Then they had to start operations with care, for fear they might do more harm than good.

      "If th--the logs co--come down on me they will ki--kill me!" gasped the unfortunate lad under the ruins.

      "We'll not let them come down," answered Dave. "Keep perfectly still till I tell you to move."

      Messmer did as directed, and Dave and the others inserted the loose log under one end of the ruins. A flat stone was used for the fulcrum, and they bore down slowly but steadily until the larger portion of the ruins was raised several inches.

      "It's coming!" cried Dave. "Don't go too fast. Can you loosen yourself now, Messmer?"

      "A little. Go a bit higher," was the reply.

      They went up two inches more, but now the log began to crack, for the strain upon it was tremendous. Messmer heard the ominous sound, and, with a twist, loosened himself and began to crawl forth. Dave caught him by the arms.

      "Out you come," he said, and gave a strong pull. And out Messmer did come, and a moment later the lever snapped in two and the ruins settled back into their former position.

      "I--I think I've had a narrow escape," faltered the lucky youth, when he could speak. "Much obliged to you, Dave, for hauling me out."

      "Talk about a mule kicking!" declared Henshaw. "He brought this cabin down quick enough."

      "The old place was about ready to fall down," answered the senator's son. "I think I could have shoved it down myself, had I tried. But I wonder what made the mule start kicking so suddenly. He acted as if a hornet had stung him."

      "I guess I was to blame," replied Shadow, sheepishly. "I rubbed him in the rear with my stick. He didn't appreciate the handling."

      "By the way, where is his muleship?" cried Dave, looking around in the semi-darkness.

      "Guess he's taken time by the forelock and run away," answered the senator's son.

      They looked around, but could see nothing of the animal. Some marks were in the snow, losing themselves on the rocks, and that was all.

      "It's time to get back to the Hall," observed Henshaw. "I am not going to lose time looking for a mule. Come on."

      "We can send Mike Marcy word that his mule is on the island," suggested Dave. "That wouldn't be any more than fair. If left here alone the animal may starve to death."

      "Mules don't starve so easily," answered Shadow. "I am not going to look for him any more," he added.

      They were soon on their way back to the shore where they had left the _Snowbird_. The short winter day was drawing to a close, and it was getting colder. They walked briskly, for they feared the wind would be against them on the return to Oak Hall, and they did not wish to be late for supper, for that, at the very least, would mean a lecture from Job Haskers.

      Henshaw was in the lead, and presently he came out on the shore, looked around in dazed fashion, and uttered a cry of dismay. And not without good reason.

      The ice-boat had disappeared.

      CHAPTER XI

      A HUNT FOR AN ICE-BOAT

      "It's gone!"

      "Where in the world could it have gone to?"

      "It was too far on the shore to be blown away."

      "Can anybody have stolen the craft?"

      Such were some of the words uttered as the students stood on the shore of the lonely island, gazing first in one direction and then in another. Darkness had now settled down, and they could see but little at a distance.

      "I really believe somebody took the ice-boat," remarked Dave. "As the sail was down I don't see how she could budge of herself."

      "Exactly my way of thinking," answered Roger. "And I've got an idea who took the craft, too."

      "Those Rockville cadets?" queried Henshaw.

      "Yes."

      "They wouldn't be above such a piece of mischief," said Messmer. "They feel mighty sore over the way we outsailed them that time we raced."

      "They'll be likely to sail the boat to our dock and leave her there," said Shadow. "Puts me in mind of a story I once heard about----"

      "I don't want to listen to any stories just now," grumbled Henshaw. "I want to find that ice-boat. If we can't find her we'll have to walk home."

      "What a pity we didn't bring our skates!" cried Dave. "The wind is very light, and if we had them we might catch up with whoever took the craft. I am by no means certain the Rockville cadets are guilty. When we met them they were going home, and they didn't know we were coming here."

      "Nobody knew that," said Messmer.

      "Who was the last person we met on the river before landing?" questioned the senator's son.

      All of the boys thought for a minute.

      "I saw Link Merwell," said Shadow.

      "Yes, and Nat Poole was with him," answered Henshaw. "Merwell has become quite a crony of Nat Poole's since Gus Plum dropped out."

      Link Merwell was a new student, who had come to Oak Hall from another boarding school some miles away. He was a tall, slim fellow with a tremendously good opinion of himself, and showed a disposition to "lord it over everybody," as Sam Day had expressed it. He was something of a dude, and it was their mutual regard for dress that caused him and Nat Poole to become intimate.

      "Then I believe Poole and Merwell are the guilty parties," declared Dave. "They must have seen us land, and Poole, I know, is itching to pay us back for the way we have cut him."

      "All of which doesn't bring back the ice-boat," observed Messmer. "The question is, What are we to do?"

      "Hoof it back to Oak Hall--there is nothing else," answered the senator's son, sadly.

      Hardly had Roger spoken when Dave heard a peculiar sound on the rocks behind the crowd. He looked back and saw Mike Marcy's СКАЧАТЬ