CHAPTER XXIII

HENNY'S CAVE

Skinny did not quite comprehend this rather whimsical boy. But here was a prize he had every intention of keeping. He no longer worried about Danny. That dreadful affair which had cost him sleepless nights was at last over. Danny had triumphed (if you call it triumph) and gone upon his dubious way. All that remained of that fearful nightmare was Skinny's love and admiration of the checkered hero.

Danny was far away and safe. His genius for beating any game would carry him through every difficulty. There was one place where he would always be safe and that was in the stout little heart that beat beneath the the shabby and faded shirt of his little half brother. There Danny dwelt, but nobody knew it. Only Skinny wished that they would take that dreadful notice from the bulletin-board.

But now he had a new worry. He feared that he would lose this scout of the white scarf, just as he had lost his prize canoe. Because he knew that prize canoes and tall scouts with white scarfs were not for him. He made no complaint that his canoe had been absorbed into his patrol, even if he himself had not been absorbed into it. He had never quite comprehended the glittering romance of his induction into scouting and that fine patrol.

But he did want to "keep in" with Danville Bently. And he lived in mortal fear of losing him, even as he had lived in mortal fear of Danny's being found out during that awful fortnight of his presence in camp. He saw that Danville was admired, that the whole camp was puzzled at his choice and he feared that any moment this splendid, picturesque boy would be lured into the maelstrom and be lost to him. Particularly he was afraid of the Vermont Eagle, Howell Cross. What had he, Skinny, to offer as against the delights of comradeship with that crack patrol! He slept hardly an hour that whole night, fearing that something might happen to ruin his sponsorship of Danville's one remaining test for first class rank. His high strung nature was all worked up with fear and expectancy. Again his "hands felt as if they were asleep kinder, all tingly," the same as when he had plunged into the lake, and when he had lifted the white pennant. Because, you see, the whole thing was too good to be true. That night they "kidded" him at camp-fire, but he did not mind. He went up to Elks' cabin and lay restlessly all night, waiting for the morning.

He did not dare to approach Danville at breakfast where he sat with a group from Tent Village. But after breakfast he went down to the lake and there was Danville waiting. Again his hero of the white scarf had not failed him.

"I thought maybe I only dreamed it," said Skinny.

"I guess it will turn out to be a pretty strenuous dream," Danville answered. "Well, are we all set?"

"Sure, and I got Chocolate Drop to make me some sandwiches; see? He's a good friend of mine."

"One cook is better than a dozen scouts; huh?"

"Sure, but are you going to join Howell Cross's patrol for the season?"

"Don't you know I've got a patrol of my own?"

"That's what I can never remember, because kinder you seem all by yourself, as if there weren't any fellers like you. Do they all wear white scarfs and belts like you?"

"Yep. Come on now, for the big parade."

"I'll show you," said Skinny eagerly.

Henny's Cave was an ideal destination for scouts making the fourteen mile hike specified in Test Four. It was exactly seven miles distant through the woods and supplied en route much material for the required written description. An observant scout would not miss the crooked willow tree with the two trunks a few yards east of the path. If his hearing was keen he would find Spook Falls down in the hollow, and note this crystal cascade as one of the things observed. But few were the scouts who saw in the chewed and broken branches at one spot a clue to the location of a beaver dam a quarter of a mile or so off the trail.

The cave itself was an interesting natural phenomenon with a rocky entrance as well concealed as that of any pirate's lair. Inside it was as large as a small room, dank and dark. But if you directed a search-light here and there against its wet, rocky walls you would see scores of names and initials scratched upon the surface to prove that the weary artists had achieved their seven mile hike and might claim credit for Test Four. The verification was usually enough for the presiding powers.

It was nearly noontime when Danville and Skinny approached this romantic destination after their long hike over mountains and through dense woods. "I'm glad I don't have to write up the account of it with my feet," said Danville. "This is some spooky place; I bet ghosts live here. Let's take a look inside and then we'll sit out under this tree and eat."

"You have to stoop down and crawl under that rock," said Skinny, "and then you walk between those two others; it's really one big rock that's split; then you're on the inside. In the middle it's water so you have to step around the edge, but there's plenty of room where it's dry. There's lots of little red lizards inside. If you catch one by the tail it's good luck."

"Not for the lizard."

"No, for the feller that catches him by the tail."

"You got a flash-light!" Danville asked.

[Illustration: HE LED THE WAY, CRAWLING ON HANDS AND KNEES.]

Of course Skinny had no flash-light; he had nothing mentioned in the alluring scout equipment list. But he did try to "be prepared" in his humble way and he had a metal shaving-stick box containing a few matches. This gloomy cave was his exhibit and he proudly led the way, crawling on hands and knees under the slab of overhanging rock which was a sort of vestibule leading under an uprooted tree. Part of this great root (enough to keep the fallen tree alive) still had anchorage in the ground, but the sun-baked tentacles of the rest of it hung in air like some outlandish whip-lash curtain and through this mass the visitor must crawl, assailed by these lifeless, dangling pendants. This grotesque approach opened upon a cleft between great rocks, or the parted halves of one great rock, and here the explorer could walk erect through a passage roofed by the great tree that had fallen over the top of the cleft. It was an intricate entrance to the dank, secluded chamber within, an earthly and rocky dungeon where one's voice sounded strange to one's own ears.

Probably the disturbance caused by the breaking apart of that great rock had forced open this tiny apartment in the dense hillside, who shall say how many years ago? Nor did any one know who Henny was, whose name was perpetuated in this gloomy retreat. There was a legend that he had lived on a farm and had been buried alive here in a quick transformation of the uncertain walls. Enterprising scouts had searched for his bones, but there seemed to be nothing left of the unknown Henny save only his name. Of course, the place was one of Captain Kidd's many safe deposit vaults, but no vestige of his fabulous treasure was ever found by Temple Camp excavators.

"_Great Scott!_" said Danville as he looked about in the darkness, and gropingly felt for the dank walls. "Gives you the shudders; I feel as if I were buried alive. Where are you anyway!"

"Here I am," said Skinny, delighted at Danville's reaction to the place. "Look out where you step, there's all water. The ground slants up in one place and it's dry there. Wait till I light a match."

To Danville the feeling of confinement in this gruesome hole was all but unnerving. It needed only the warning that it was not safe to move in the darkness to give him the feeling that he was indeed buried alive in this ghostly, stifling place. One little glint of uncertain light he did see, cheerful reminder of the bright world without, and this was the only beacon to show where the intricate entrance was. It was a mere speck of light leaking through under those weird tree roots and through the rocky passage.

"Wait till I strike a match," said Skinny.

"_Hsh, listen!_" whispered Danville. "Did you hear a sound?"

"No, you always kind of hear noises in here," said Skinny.

"No, but I heard something moving. I thought it was you, but you're on the other side of me. Hurry up, your matches won't last anyway. I wish we had a candle or something."

Just as he said this there was a slight rustling near him like the sound of paper being crumpled. He knew that Skinny had no paper.