Part 1 (1/2)

Dan Carter and the River Camp.

by Mildred A. Wirt.

CHAPTER 1

Found in the Sand

”Unless a breeze springs up soon, we'll be late for the Cub Scout meeting in the Cave,” Dan Carter complained.

Sprawled in the drifting dinghy, the sandy-haired boy raised his eyes to the limp sail which hung in discouraged folds from the tall mast.

”We've already missed the first part of it,” remarked Midge Holloway.

A freckled youth of ten, he had draped himself pretzel-fas.h.i.+on over the boat's bow. His skinny legs dangled a bare inch above the placid surface of the wide river.

”What time is it anyhow?” he demanded.

At the tiller of the sailboat, Midge's father, Burton Holloway, snapped on his flashlight to see the dial of his wrist watch. An official ”Den Dad” of Webster City Den No. 2, he frequently made river trips with the boys and allowed them to use his sailboat whenever they liked.

On this summer day, the three, after scrubbing the craft's fouled bottom, had set forth for a brief sail. The wind, however, had died suddenly, leaving them stranded far from their Yacht Club moorings.

”It's ten after eight,” Mr. Holloway answered his son. ”We'll have to work a little if we expect to get in tonight.”

Reaching for a paddle, he plied it steadily. With snail-like speed the awkward-sized dinghy moved toward the twinkling lights visible on sh.o.r.e.

With the coming of darkness, a cold, penetrating fog had closed in over the water.

”Wish I'd brought a jacket,” Dan said with a s.h.i.+ver. ”Want me to take a turn at the paddle, Mr. Holloway?”

”No thanks, Dan, I'm good for awhile yet. I blame myself for being stranded out here. The wind was dying when we left the yacht club. So I guess we asked for trouble!”

For some time Mr. Holloway paddled in silence. Now and then a big fish would leap and plop into the water nearby. Otherwise, the river seemed unusually quiet.

Then unexpectedly from the direction of Skeleton Island came the m.u.f.fled roar of a powerful motor boat engine.

Dan twisted around to gaze upstream. He could hear the sound of the motor plainly but the running lights of the approaching craft were not yet visible through the mist.

”If that boat comes this way, we'll ask for a tow,” Mr. Holloway remarked. ”Maybe we're in luck.”

Resting on the paddle for a moment, the Den Dad allowed the dinghy to drift with the current. The roar of the motorboat engine now had increased in volume. Yet strangely, no one in the sailboat had sighted the oncoming craft.

”Can it be running without lights?” Mr. Holloway remarked somewhat anxiously. ”The pilot should know better than that.”

Through the mist, Dan suddenly made out the dark, sleek outline of a speed craft which rode low in the water. Foam boiled from her prow as she split the waves.

”There she is!” the boy exclaimed. ”Heading this way, and coming fast!”

Alarmed lest the craft run down the sailboat in the darkness, Mr.

Holloway turned the beam of his flashlight upon the limp sail overhead.

To make certain that they were seen, he flashed the light on and off several times.