CHAPTER FOUR

The Legend of the Haunted Lake

That evening for dinner the children had a choice between beef barley stew and vegetable bean stew. The Khan boys got their vegetarian stew and found a spot on one of the outdoor picnic benches.

“Bismillah,” said Zayn, starting to dig in. “Wow, I am really hungry. Mr. Parker said the cook is a professional from some fancy restaurant in town.”

“Yeah, I guess you won’t need all those snacks you bought with you,” said Ibrahim.

“It never hurts to be prepared,” reasoned Zayn.

“Prepared for what?” asked Ibrahim. “You could survive for more than a month with all that food!”

“Oh, gross!” said Zayn. “What is this brown, slimy stuff?”

“Probably just vegetables,” said Ibrahim, taking his first bite. “Hmm, maybe Mr. Jones is better at meat dishes.”

“Nope,” said George, from the next table. “Looks like Pot-o-mush to me.”

“Food is food,” said Ibrahim. “Let’s try to be grateful for what we have. Besides, it’s possible this is just the way stew is made where Mr. Jones is from.”

Once the children had eaten whatever they could of their dinner, they gathered around the large, roaring fire in the clearing. The fire pit served as the camp’s meeting place, and was surrounded by a circle of logs for people to sit or lean on. Unlike the rest of the camp, the ground here was covered in soft sand.

“I hope you enjoyed Billy’s hearty stew,” said Mr. Parker. “I’ll be trying my bowl a little later. Camp Chimo is very lucky to have a trained chef working for us. Mr. Jones left the big city life behind for the fresh mountain air. Isn’t that right, Billy?”

“Yup,” said Billy Jones, adjusting his apron. He had large hands and a friendly smile. His short, brown beard was speckled with grey. Around his neck he wore a small arrowhead on a string.

“Is that dirt under his nails?” Zayn whispered to Ibrahim. “Maybe that’s why the food tasted so bad!”

“He was probably gardening or something,” said Ibrahim, motioning his cousin to be quiet.

“Now, your teachers have put together scavenger hunt with a list of items for you to find during your stay here,” said Mr. Parker.

“That’s right,” said Mr. Barnell, from his spot around the fire pit. “The first step is to figure out what the items are. You will have a list of clues, but will need to do some research to figure out what exactly you are supposed to find.”

A collective groan could be heard among the children.

“You will be split up into four teams,” their teacher continued, as if no one had made a sound. “There is a small library beside the kitchen, so I advise you to make good use of it. The first team to bring me all the items on their list wins!”

Once the students had been put into groups and had chosen their leaders, Mr. Barnell handed out the list of clues.

“‘I change colour with the season, but am most red on my flag’,” read David, who was on the Khan boy’s team. “I know that one!”

“Shh!” warned Zayn. “Don’t give the answers away!”

“Yeah,” laughed George. “No one else knows there’s a maple leaf on the Canadian flag!”

“Some of the other ones aren’t so easy,” warned Mr. Barnell. “It would be wise to consult the library.”

“Any questions before we say good night?” asked Mr. Parker.

“Why is this place called The Haunted Lake?” asked George. “My brother said it’s a true story.”

“Well, tell your brother he shouldn’t believe everything he hears,” said Mr. Parker. “Now, if there’s nothing else I guess we’ll call it a night. See you all in the morning. Breakfast is at 8.00.”

With a wave to the children, Mr. Parker headed to his cabin.

“It’s been a long day,” said Mrs. Morris, with a yawn. “Everyone to your cabins, please.”

“Would it be okay if the boys help me put out the fire,” asked Billy, who had started to clear up for the night.

“Sure,” agreed Mr. Barnell. “I’ll see you boys back at the cabin.”

The children began to scoop sand into a large bucket for Billy to pour over the fire.

As the girls, Mrs. Morris and Mr. Barnell headed to their cabins, Billy Jones turned to the boys.

“Do you want to know why they say this place is haunted?” he asked.

“Yes!” yelled Ali, before anyone else could reply.

“Well, have a seat then,” said Billy, bringing his voice down to almost a whisper. “Long ago… almost 50 years ago today, there was a class camping here at Camp Chimo. It was a group of children much like yourselves. They had been over the rules and knew not to wander alone in the forest. But one young man, on a dare by his friends, decided to do something very foolish. At the stroke of midnight, as his friends looked on from the top of that very hill behind you, he walked to the lake below, got into a canoe and rowed out to the middle of the water. The full moon lit the entire forest, so he could clearly be seen by all those watching. However, instead of rowing back he just kept going. His friends who had gone out with him shouted out to him, but he was too far to hear. The next morning, when he had still not returned, search parties were sent out but the young man was never seen again. People assume that he drowned. Some folks say his ghost still visits this forest. If you listen closely, you might hear the paddle of his canoe rowing on the lake behind you!”

Instinctively all the boys turned to look down at the lake.

“Sleep well, boys,” whispered Billy Jones, with a hint of a smile.

Both frightened and excited, the exhausted boys headed to bed.