[Gutenberg 44293] • Tom Fairfield in Camp; or, The Secret of the Old Mill

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. TOM GETS A LETTER 1

II. THE STORY OF THE MILL 12

III. TOM’S CHUMS ARRIVE 21

IV. OFF TO CAMP 28

V. LAUNCHING THE BOAT 36

VI. A BIG FISH 45

VII. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR 53

VIII. OLD ACQUAINTANCES 60

IX. AT THE OLD MILL 68

X. A CURIOUS CONFERENCE 75

XI. AN ANGRY HERMIT 84

XII. THE PIECE OF PAPER 89

XIII. A SHOT IN TIME 98

XIV. TOM’S SCHEME 106

XV. ALMOST CAUGHT 113

XVI. STRANDED 122

XVII. AN ANXIOUS SEARCH 129

XVIII. BACK IN CAMP 138

XIX. STRANGE DISAPPEARANCES 148

XX. LONELY DAYS 156

XXI. TOM MAKES PLANS 165

XXII. TOM’S DISCOVERIES 171

XXIII. THE CALLING VOICES 179

XXIV. THE SECRET ROOM 187

XXV. THE HIDDEN TREASURE 193

TOM FAIRFIELD IN CAMP

CHAPTER I

TOM GETS A LETTER

“Say, Dick, just throw that forward switch in; will you?”

“Sure I will, Tom. Going any place in particular?”

“Oh, just for a run down the river, and on my way back I guess I’ll

stop and get the mail.”

“Can I go along?”

“Certainly. Did you see anything of Will to-day?”

“No, he’s gone fishing, I guess,” and Dick Jones, one of the best

chums of Tom Fairfield, threw in the connecting switch of the latter’s

motorboat, and the craft was ready to run.

“Now I wonder if she’ll start easily, or if I’ve got to break my back

cranking her?” murmured Tom.

“What’s the matter?” asked Dick. “Hasn’t she been behaving herself

lately?”

“Oh, yes, but you never can tell. One day she’ll run like a sewing

machine, and the next I can’t seem to get her started. She’s like all

the other motorboats, good at times, and off her feed occasionally.

That’s why I called her the *Tag*. I never know whether I’m ‘it’ or

whether she is. However, here’s for a try.”

Tom revolved the fly wheel vigorously, but there was only a sort of

sigh from the engine, as if it did not like to be disturbed from the

rest it had been taking.

“One strike,” murmured Tom whimsically as he looked at the engine to

see if all attachments were in their proper place. “Here goes for

another spasm.”

Once more he whirled the heavy wheel around. But, save for a more

pronounced sigh, and a sort of groan, there was no result.

“Let me try,” suggested Dick.

“I’m afraid to. This engine is like a balky horse at times, and if

anyone but the regular trainer monkeys with her she just sulks all day.

I’ll get her going yet.”

Again came an attempt to make the motor do its work, and again there

came a sigh, accompanied by a cough.

“Three strikes, and I’m out!” exclaimed Tom, sinking back on the seat

rather exhausted. “But she’s speaking better than at first. Didn’t you

think you heard her sort of talking back at me, Dick?”

“Yes,” laughed his chum.