Frank Allen at Old Moose Lake;

It was the day of the last football game of the season. Not much of a day to speak of, either. It was cold, drear, the skies were leaden colored and heavy, and, with a north wind blowing down the field while flakes of snow whirled and twisted on their way to the earth, it was not an altogether pleasant game.

It was a game that had not been intended, but on account of the attitude which the town of Coville, located down the river and on the opposite bank, had taken during the season, there was little else for the boys of Columbia to do but to grant an after-season game.

“We can play it through and end the season,” said Frank Allen. “But I am fearful that the minds of several of the fellows won’t be as much on the game as on the camping expedition in a few days.”

The morning had opened with an attempt at a drizzle, which turned quickly to sleet, and the field was holding out the promise of being heavy and slippery.

By the middle of the morning, though, when the boys had become accustomed to the thought of playing their last game on a field that would not allow much individual fast work, the wind from the north came suddenly in.

At noon the mud of the morning had frozen hard, the skies had gathered lower and turned colder in their appearance, while the snow flakes drifted and whirled and twisted, first up, then down, sideways, hither and yon, touching the ground and being blown into little drifts against buildings, fences, sidewalks, trees and even foot and hoof-prints in the streets.

It was an enthusiastic crowd, but not a large one, that watched the final game. Coville tried hard to break through the impregnable line of Columbia, but it was a useless attempt.

However, there was compensation evident, for Columbia did not find it at first an easy task to get down the field against these warriors of Coville. It was in the third quarter that the first touchdown was made, after battering the Coville line so often that a soft spot was worn in it—and then the game went swiftly over to Columbia. The morale of Coville broke with the initial touchdown, and the fierce defensiveness of Coville broke against the onslaughts of the boys of Columbia who, led by a thinker, smashed, battered and wore down one place in the line.

“Glad we played you,” said Frank as he shook hands with the Coville captain. “You’ve got a good team, captain, and next year all these schools along the river are going to have a hard time even to hold you.”

“It’s good of you to say so, Allen,” replied the husky young Covillian. “We didn’t make much impression on you to-day, though.”

“Yes, you did! You made us use up two quarters trying to make a place where we could go through. And you held us so that we couldn’t go around. And you stopped most of our attempts to pass the ball. I’ll say you did mighty well. It’s just that we have played so long together we know what the other fellow is thinking and doing every second.”

Frank felt this way, else he would not have spoken to his adversary. It would be different in another year, when the Columbia team would be broken up and scattered, and the same team work would no longer exist.

“I hear you fellows are going in camp up on Old Moose lake,” said the Coville captain as they walked away from the field arm in arm. “I’ve heard some great stories of camping up there. They say the fishing is simply great. And, say, have you heard the story of the old bull moose that so many men have tried to get? My father told me yesterday that he had been there twice with parties who wanted to get him, but they say he is as wise as a fox.”

Frank listened to this with eager ears, for the story which Mr. Van Kirk had told them was the first he had ever heard of this monster of the woods. He asked several questions, but the boy from Coville very quickly exhausted his store of knowledge.

That evening, in the front room of the Allen home, with no one to interrupt, Frank and his three chums went carefully over all the preparations for the trip.

“If it keeps up the way it is and doesn’t turn any colder,” said Frank, “we’ll go by water up to Todds, using the Rocket. But if it turns much colder in the next two days and if the river freezes over, it looks to me as if skates would take us most of the way.”

“Do you know the exact way?” Buster Billings asked.

“Sure!” Frank replied. “I’ve got it right here on this sketch. It’s a sketch that Mr. Parsons used to have, and Mrs. Parsons gave it to me only yesterday. See here?” He pulled from his pocket a piece of paper which had been used until the folds had worn, and then had been pasted on a sheet of cloth. “We go up the Harrapin to Todds, and there we leave the boat—unless we skate, in which case we get off the river and take to land. From there it is a straight trip eastward through the mountains by trail to the lake. I don’t know what all these marks are, but I presume they are other camps along the trail at different places in the mountains where there are other lakes.”

The matter of food was discussed, but there was little to be carried, since Mrs. Parsons had promised to send up food to add to the store already at the camp.

“So, you see, fellows,” went on Frank, “our rifles, fishing outfits, heavy clothes, a couple of good ropes, plenty of ammunition, plenty of matches, a couple of flashlights, one or two compasses, and skates are about all we’ll need.”

The boys all agreed that it was the better plan to travel light.

“To-morrow morning I have to make a trip up-river a short distance with the Rocket, and you fellows can be gathering together all the things that we need and checking over the list. Lanky, suppose you act as secretary to this expedition, and make out the list and see that every fellow has his part.” Frank Allen was strictly the leader, the one who thought things out, and so it held in this case.

It was just after breakfast the next morning that Frank went to Minnie Cuthbert’s home and asked her to go on the trip up the river with him.

“Just a little trip on an errand for dad. He says he would rather I would go than any one else, and I want to try out the Rocket before we start to the camp,” he said as he invited her to join him.

Minnie accepted at once, and donned a heavy coat and close-fitting hat, looking bright, lithe and active, as she skipped down the steps to come alongside Frank for a brisk walk to the wharf.

“I have a package I want you to take with you to your camp,” Minnie said to Frank when the Rocket was well under way.

Curious, naturally so, Frank asked what the package contained, but Minnie refused to divulge the proposed contents.

They fell to chatting gaily over the various little happenings of “the crowd,” as the motor boat, under medium speed, facing into a brisk, chilly wind, glided easily through the water.

“Have you heard anything more from that big brute whose dog you killed?” she suddenly asked, changing the trend of the conversation.

Frank told her he had heard nothing.

“But you’re going to hear from him, Frank,” she went on. “He had a mean look in his eye that day. I heard father say something last night that didn’t sound good. He said that Jeek was a dangerous character and that the only reason he was not in jail was that others were afraid to tell the truth about him.”

“Oh, well,” Frank turned the subject off lightly, “I hardly expect any trouble. You know, we sent the doctor up there to look at the dog.”

“You hadn’t told me. What did he say?”

“He told me,” replied Frank, “that the dog was mad without doubt. He said, when I asked him about the season, that frequently a high-spirited dog went mad at other seasons than mid-summer, though the cases were rare. But, the point that I was most interested in was that he signed a statement and gave it to me to the effect that the dog was mad when killed.”

“What good will that do if that brute causes you trouble?” she asked.

“Well,” returned Frank good-naturedly, “it shows that I didn’t do anything so very wrong when I shot the dog.”

Frank saw the landing to which he was headed only a short distance away and sent the Rocket in toward shore.

A farmhouse stood back on the right bank of the Harrapin, a well-kept place. A long motor boat, loaded with packs which resembled the supplies of a camping party, was lying alongside the landing place, taking up every available foot of space.

Carefully, slowly, Frank eased the Rocket up to the spot, trying to see a place where he might touch. There was none.

Whereupon, he brought the Rocket alongside the other boat, sliding as easily as he could against it, but bumping it, nevertheless.

Then he took one end of the rope and stepped on to the other boat, from there to the landing, and carefully tied. Minnie very gingerly stepped into the other boat, too, and came ashore.

“Hi, there! What’s the matter? Got no sense? Get that skiff of yours away so I can get out. What do you mean locking me in that way? Trying to hog the river?”

Frank turned to see whose was this heavy, coarse, fierce voice, and faced Fordham Jeek!

“Oho, it’s you, eh? What’re you trying to do? Get stuff out of my boat?” and the big fellow showed his yellow teeth and pushed his head forward from the broad shoulders.

Frank was looking him straight in the eye, while two shifty men stood behind the man from Bellport.

“Best thing we can do for you, young fellow, is to throw you into the river. What’s on my boat that you want?” the big man kept on.

“Listen, you!” returned Frank, calm of voice and cool. “You’ve said just about enough. I’m here to attend to some business and not to have you throwing insults.”

“Don’t talk to your betters that way, you low-down dog killer!” yelped Jeek.

“Move along, big boy,” quietly answered Frank. “I’m not hunting for trouble. Want to get out? I’ll move off while you get away,” with which he motioned Minnie aboard, followed her, and backed the Rocket.

“Thought you’d change your tune!” sneered Jeek. “You ain’t paid for the dog yet. Going to pay for it? What? Better pay in money or I’ll take it out of your hide.”

Frank kept silent. He circled around and came back to the landing as the other boat pulled away.

“Oh, Frank, he’s a dreadful man! Better keep your eyes open or he’ll do you harm,” remarked Minnie, when they were again alone.

“Don’t worry, Minnie,” was Frank’s answer. “He won’t dare do anything very bad.”

But in this Frank Allen was mistaken.