“PERFECT! ABSOLUTELY PERFECT!”

Nish sat in the centre of the tent rubbing his hands together and chuckling. Travis had rarely, if ever, seen his friend so pleased with himself.

“I’ve really outdone myself on this one, I think.”

“You’ve come undone,” corrected Travis. “You’re nuts.”

“It’s going to work. I promise you.”

Nish had been working away like a mad scientist any chance he got. He’d taken apart several of the larger fireworks, saved all the powder inside, and used the fuses to build one very long one. He’d sneaked into the women’s outhouse and wired several cannon crackers deep below the seat. Then he’d run his long fuse out through a crack in the outhouse wall and over to the men’s’ outhouse a short distance away, where he’d hidden it carefully from sight.

“How did you stand it?” Fahd wanted to know when he heard.

“I held my breath, stupid–and worked in shifts.”

“I’d have gagged,” said Fahd.

“How are you going to catch her going?” Lars asked.

“She’ll have to go sometime,” Nish said, lightly clapping his hands together, “and when she does, I’ll be there with my trusty lighter.”

He pulled out a lighter and flicked it on, holding the flame out for all to see.

“Where’d you get that?” Travis asked.

“My good friends up the road,” Nish said.

Travis shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

 

Travis left the mad scientist and his admiring throng and set out to walk around the camp. It was a beautiful afternoon, the day before the final game, and the sun was gold and dancing on the river. There was a pair of Canada geese near the shore with a family of puffy little ones, and Travis watched awhile and tried to take his mind off everything. Nish’s mad scheme. The mysterious photograph. Joe Hall.

He was worried about Joe Hall. Sarah had noticed the coach’s ill health as well, but he’d seemed to rally for the game against the Vancouver Mountain, and by game’s end they’d forgotten all about it.

Travis decided to track down Joe Hall and see for himself how he was doing. He headed up the nature trail that led out past the point. His cottage had to be somewhere up that direction.

“Hey! Where’re ya goin’?”

It was Sarah. He turned and waved back.

“Just going for a walk.”

Sarah smiled. “Like some company?”

“Sure.”

Sarah hurried to join him on the trail. “You’re looking for Joe Hall, aren’t you?” she said in a quiet voice.

“I guess,” Travis answered. He really wasn’t sure what he was trying to do.

They walked out past the point, then took to the shoreline and made their way upstream. The bush was tangled and the rocks sharp, but by working half through knee-deep water and half through the underbrush, they steadily made their way.

There was no sign of a cottage.

“Hey!” a voice called. “What’re you kids up to?”

Travis and Sarah stopped dead in their tracks. They tried to make out who it was through the thick brush, but could only see a figure moving and a flash of something yellow. Yellow fur.

It was a dog–the setter that belonged to the farmer who cut the grass at the camp. Travis felt his heart begin to beat again.

“Hi!” Sarah called when the farmer came into sight. The setter raced at them, leaping high in an attempt to lick Sarah. She caught the dog by the fur of its collar, settling it and patting it gently.

The farmer seemed to recognize them now. “Youse two are from the camp, eh?”

“Yeah. I’m Travis Lindsay. This is Sarah Cuthbertson.”

“You both swim?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you got to be careful walking along there, you know. Not much of a current here, but enough to drown more than a few that slipped in.”

“We’ll be careful,” said Travis. “We’re looking for Joe Hall’s cottage.”

“Who?”

“Joe Hall–our coach for the tournament. He’s staying in a cottage up here.”

The farmer shook his head. He took off his cap, sweat heavy on his brow, and rubbed it off with his shirt sleeve.

“No Hall along here,” he said. “No cottage for that matter. Next property north is a park.”

“There’s no cottage here at all?”

“None’s that anyone can use,” the man said. “Abandoned place up around the next point–but nobody’s been there for years. People owned it must have died, I think.”

“You’re sure there’s been nobody there?”

“I’m sure. They’d have to cross my land to get to it, and I ain’t seen nobody around here all week but you two kids. And what I can’t see my dog smells–and she ain’t said nothing about any stranger being around here.”

“Can we walk further up?” Sarah asked.

“Long as you’re careful,” the farmer said. “Don’t go near the cottage, though–it’s a trap. Floor wouldn’t hold you.”

“We’ll be careful,” Travis said again.

The farmer nodded and moved back towards his field. They could see a large green tractor in the distance. He must have been taking off hay.

The dog stayed with them, dancing around them and splashing out into the water after imagined sticks. Travis was glad of the company.

Before long they rounded the next point.

“There it is!” Sarah said.

At first Travis couldn’t see it, then gradually it came into focus: a black and grey, sun-bleached shack so old it seemed to blend in with the landscape. He could see broken windows, and a large tree branch that had fallen and caved in a portion of the roof.

“Let’s get a closer look!” Sarah said.

“Okay,” Travis said. He could hear the lack of confidence in his own voice, but Sarah was already splashing ahead, taking a shortcut through the shallows. Travis followed and expected the setter to splash ahead and catch up to Sarah, but there was no dog.

He turned. The setter was sitting there, whimpering, her tail wagging fast, her eyes filled with worry.

“What’s wrong, girl?” Travis called.

Sarah stopped. “What’s up?”

“The dog won’t move.”

Sarah shrugged. “Maybe she’s trained to stay on her own property. Don’t worry about her–she’ll find her way back.”

Travis stepped out into the water to join Sarah. It was cold against his bare legs and it tickled. The rocks were slimy. He slipped and nearly fell several times, but soon Travis and Sarah were almost to the broken-down dock that had once belonged to the cottage.

The dog was moaning. She was still sitting on the other side of the shallow bay, whining and wagging her tail hopefully.

“She’s chicken!” said Travis.

“No way! Setters love water,” Sarah said. “She’s just trained not to wander, that’s all.”

“I guess,” Travis said, but he wasn’t so sure. Something was making him feel uneasy, too.

There was another moan, louder this time.

“Stupid dog,” Travis said.

Sarah had stopped abruptly. “That wasn’t the dog!” she whispered.

Travis felt a sharp chill run down his spine. He listened, and heard a low sorrowful groan from the cottage.

“I’m getting outta here!” he said.

“What if it’s Joe Hall?” Sarah hissed.

“It can’t be. The farmer never saw him. The dog would have known if someone was here.”

Sarah pointed back to the setter, still watching, still fretting. “Maybe the dog does know,” she said.

Travis felt his heart pound hard against his chest. He tried to speak, but his voice broke and creaked. “We’re…not supposed to go in,” he reminded Sarah.

“What if he needs help?”

“It’s not even him,” said Travis. “It’s some animal. Maybe a skunk. Maybe even a bear.”

“I’m going in,” she said.

Sarah stepped up on shore. The dog on the far side of the water howled and barked. She began running back and forth frantically along the shore, but was afraid to come to them.

Sarah stepped cautiously along the dry, broken planks of the dock. Several were rotten and had turned to dust around the rusted nails. But she picked her way carefully, and Travis followed.

They could see where once there had been a path to the cottage. It was overgrown now and barely identifiable. Sarah pushed through, lowering her head against the flicking branches.

Travis was right behind her.

When she reached the cottage Sarah held up her hand for him to stop. The only sound was the frantic whining and barking of the setter in the distance.

“You hear anything?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Travis said. He wanted to bolt. He wanted to run all the way back to his sleeping bag and jump into it and pretend that he’d never even heard of a cottage upstream from the camp.

Sarah stepped up onto the broken-down porch. A chipmunk scurried under, chattering wildly and frightening them both. But Sarah kept going. She came to the door and turned the latch. It swung open, surprisingly easily. Almost as if it had been recently oiled.

They stepped inside, Travis brushing aside cobwebs that clung to his hands like cotton candy. He almost gagged from the smell of must and rot.

Sarah stopped. She was shivering, uncertain where to head.

Travis didn’t dare move.

Then he felt a large, cold, clammy hand settle on the back of his neck!