THE MISSING BOATS.

Reflecting the hues of the sunset sky lay Lake Menatee like a huge mirror.

Not a ripple stirred its placid surface.

The fading sunlight lent to its crystal depths the silver of its dying glory.

While along its shores the forest like an over-reaching shield outstretched its giant arms to cast weird, fantastic figures first on the white beach, and then out, out over the transparent bosom of the waters, going farther, faster and faster, deeper and darker, until the veil of twilight concealed the beautiful scene.

In the background the rugged Adirondacks kept watch and ward over the treasures below, and on their seamed and time-scarred forehead lingered the touch of sunlight long after the shadows of gloom had robbed Lake Menatee of its beauty.

Not a living creature was to be seen to give life to the solitude of nature.

Three boats drawn up on the white sand lay side by side, or at least within a few feet of each other.

They were merely common, flat-bottom rowboats.

There was nothing remarkable about them.

The water may have reached to the stern of one, but to not more than barely touch it.

Still a close observer might have seen it move, slightly it is true, but yet a movement perceptible.

Gradually it neared the water’s edge, moved by an unseen power.

So slowly did it move that fully an hour must have passed before it had gained a foot.

Then the wind, which had died down at sunset, began to sweep across the lake.

Gently, at first, it stirred the water’s tranquil surface, as if fearful of disturbing its repose.

Anon it grew stronger.

From the mountains it mustered its powers.

The sleeping waters were awakened.

In angry waves they beat the shores.

The rising tide lent its aid to the mysterious force urging the boat into its embrace.

Thus the boat was carried more rapidly away, and yet in the next two hours’ time scarcely three feet was added to the space gone over.

It must have been past midnight, when, with a last quivering shock—a dying struggle, it seemed—and the boat swung clear from the sand.

A minute later it floated slowly away.

At this moment a crash in the thick bushes, growing a few rods from the shore, broke the calm and peaceful stillness of the night.

An instant later and the form of a man uprose from the gloom of his covert.

The moon was just peeping above the Adirondacks’ dark crest, and it was light enough in the forest for one to have seen that the man was past the prime of life, though his stalwart form had borne the burden of years without losing its erectness.

He was somewhat roughly clad, and his long hair and flowing beard were unkempt. His eyes flashed brightly, but a puzzled look rested on his sun-bronzed face. His words, that fell involuntarily from his lips, furnished the key to his thoughts.

“Waal, I hev got to believe it now. But if that don’t beat all nater, then my name an’t Jarius Bede. See the thing swim along, and there an’t been a living creetur near it since long afore sundown! I can swear to that, for I an’t let my eye off on’t in all that time. It is queer.”

As he finished his soliloquy the speaker went down to the shore, but he did not step upon the sandy beach.

“I won’t do that,” he muttered, “for like as not I should find myself in the midst of that pond afore I could say Bob Bungles.”

There was nothing to explain the mystery he had witnessed. The other boats had not moved.

“Waal, waal. I’ll trundle off hum,” concluded the mystified Jarius Bede; “but as long as I stand up I know I shall never see the beat of that!”

Throwing his gun over his shoulder, for he was armed with a long, single-barreled old queen’s arm that had evidently seen its share of service, he left the place with long, loping strides, in the direction of home.

Ever and anon he glanced uneasily back, as if expecting that he was to be followed by some mysterious foe.

“Makes a feller feel queer. Hello! the boys are looking for me, I bet. I’m glad to see that light ennyway.”

A light was indeed visible in one of the valleys, and after ten minutes’ walk he came to a rude house, or cabin, around which could be seen a few acres of cultivated ground.

It was the house of one of the few settlers who had located in that wild, out-of-the-way region.

Entering without knocking, half a dozen persons sprang to their feet to greet him.

This family consisted of Jabez Bede, brother to Jarius, his wife, three strapping sons, and a buxom daughter of eighteen.

“Why, it’s only ’Rius!” exclaimed Dame Bede, with a look of relief, as if she had feared some danger.

“But where have you been all night, Jarius?” cried Jabez. “We were gettin’ a-worrited ’bout yer.”

“Jabez, I hev made a diskivery!”

“What?” chorused the listeners in a breath.

“I told yer I shouldn’t kem back till I had l’arnt sumthin’, and I an’t, that, sure.”

“It is about Ralph, I know it is!” exclaimed Mary Bede, springing to his side with a glad look on her fair countenance. “What have you learned, uncle? Tell me, quick.”

“I can prove that he didn’t steal the boat,” was the triumphant reply.

“I knew that he didn’t. But tell us what you have learned.”

“Waal, waal, it’s cur’us, but it’s true. You know that the three boats were left down on the shore as usual. Waal, I hev been watchin’ them ever since an hour afore sundrop.”

“Why, Jarius Bede, and we here a-waitin’ and a-worritin’ ’bout yer.”

“Waal, it’s worth the time, I can tell yer.”

While Jarius Bede is telling what he has witnessed we would say that considerable excitement had been occasioned among the few settlers in that vicinity by the frequent disappearance of boats from the shores of the lake. No one could tell where they had gone, but they were as effectually lost as if the water had swallowed them up.

Finally, Mary Bede’s lover, Ralph Horn, was accused of stealing, or destroying them, which amounted to the same thing, so long as they were irretrievably lost.

We can understand now something of the eagerness with which she listened to Jarius’ story. When he had finished all were agape with wonder.

“Waal, I never!” exclaimed Jabez. “Who’d a-thought it?”

“And they will believe Ralph now?” asked Mary anxiously.

“They can’t help it, only we have got to prove it to them.”

“Yes, yes,” said her father. “How’ll we do that, ’Rius? It’s an orful story to believe.”

“Let them see fer theirselves. Guess if they hed been with me they’d a-thought somethin’ ’sides Ralph Horn was ’round movin’ that boat. But I must catch a wink of sleep now. In the mornin’ we’ll all go down and clear up the mystery.”

A few minutes later the light was extinguished, and the Bede family were in slumberland, though there may be a doubt in regard to one member. But we won’t call any names.

They were all astir early the next morning, and immediately after breakfast Jarius spread the news of his discovery.

It required no urging to get half a dozen to accompany him to the lake, besides the three Bede boys.

To the surprise even of Jarius, the boat he had seen leave the shore so mysteriously the night before was nowhere to be seen either upon the lake or on the shores.

The other two were just as they had been left.

“Let’s put one of them jest where the runaway was and then watch it.”

The idea was acted upon, and the entire party withdrew into the cover of the growth to await the result.

A long, tedious watch followed, but to the disappointment of all, as well as the chagrin of Jarius, the boat remained as motionless as a rock. Not a first move was noticed.

“Wait a leetle longer,” whispered the puzzled Jarius; “I thought I seed it wink jest a bit then.”

Half an hour passed, and still the object of their vain watch had not been seen to stir.

“It’s cur’us,” muttered the leader; “but that other took an orful long time to start. Why I was here nigh ’bout six hours all told.”

“Mebbe it has to be night for it to move,” suggested one.

Be that the case or not, they watched until noon, when they abandoned the fruitless task, and the mystery of the missing boats was more unfathomable than ever.

Some vented their disappointment upon Jarius Bede, and others were silent, not knowing what to say.

Jarius was completely dumfounded, and well he might be.

“Tan’t any use to watch longer,” growled one. “We’ve been a set of fools. The idea of a boat’s moving! Jarius is mad, and we are fools. Come, we shall be the laughing-stock of all who hear of it. I’ll bet my gun Jarius got us down here on purpose for some game. If I thought he had——” and a latent look shone in his flashing eyes.

Jarius did not reply. He had enough to think of besides. Dropping upon his knees, he looked the boat over and over, and around it. He moved it, but it lay a dead weight upon the earth.

“It’s queer,” he muttered. “I can swear to what I saw with my own eyes, but I don’t understand it.”

He had regained his feet, and was about to leave the place, when suddenly something seemed to catch his attention and hold it.

Pointing to the edge of the water a moment later, he exclaimed:

“Look there, boys! See that sand move! There’s something under it! I—I have diskivered the mystery!”

Seizing one of the boat’s paddles, Jarius quickly cleared away the sand where he had seen it move, when a large turtle was disclosed to their gaze.

Upon further search another was found buried deeper than its mate.

“Waal, waal, it’s plain as daylight now. They were under that boat and moved it! T’others were moved in the same way. But we didn’t get this one over the critters.”

“Who’d a-thought!” ejaculated his brother, while the others were speechless with amazement.

“But where do they go to?” asked one, at last.

“I’ll tell yer!” cried Jarius, as a new idea suddenly entered his head; “they drift down to the outlet and into Mad River. You know an empty boat would fare hard there; and we an’t never looked there for them.”

Mad River found its way through a narrow, rocky defile where few had ever penetrated, but an exploration into the wild region was rewarded by discovering the wrecks of two boats. Though the others were never found their disappearance was no longer a mystery.

Of course, Ralph Horn was cleared of all suspicion in the affair, and that fall there was a happy wedding at the Bede farm. We need not tell who the bride was, and we can’t tell of “the years of happiness that followed,” as story-tellers are wont to say, for it was only last week the marriage vows were spoken.