Water Chase (2 page)

Here the outdoors seemed so great, so wonderful it made Peter feel small and unimportant. Yet he felt close to God, and the other boys must have felt the same way. They kept their faces toward the setting sun and there was no restless kicking of
toes into moss, no throwing of pine cones. The glow of the sun transformed their faces. Peter wondered if Jesus looked like that when He was up the mountain with His disciples. Absorbed in his thoughts Peter hardly noticed what was going on, until suddenly he heard his own name.

“—Dent from Seattle and Donald Harris from Vancouver. We are pleased to have these boys with us. Is there anything you’d like to say?” Mr. Baird was smiling and nodding in their direction.

Peter saw that Donald was looking expectantly at him. “You first, Peter. Say something!”

Peter scrambled to his feet. He was glad the sun made his face look red, maybe they couldn’t tell how red it really was.

“I don’t know just what to say,” Peter began, “except that I’m glad to be here and I think this is a wonderful camp in a wonderful place. But the best thing about Bible Camp is that you learn more about God who made this world, about His Book, and about His Son the Lord Jesus. When I was at The Firs camp about a year ago, I accepted the Lord Jesus as my Savior, and I’m glad I did.”

Donald was on his feet before Peter sat down.

“I’d like to tell you that it was partly through Peter that I came to know Jesus. This summer I went to The Firs, and Peter was in the same cabin. I knew he had something I didn’t have, but at first I didn’t know just what it was. I soon found out that I was a sinner, as the Bible says and not good enough to go to Heaven. But then the counselor talked to me and explained that Jesus had
come to die for me and that by believing on Him I could be saved and made fit for Heaven. The boys who were Christians were praying for me,” he smiled at Peter, “and Peter talked to me, too. He showed me that verse ‘as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name.’ It wasn’t hard to believe and receive. I’m sure glad I went to that camp. I’m glad I can come to this one and tell you about it.”

Mr. Baird smiled and nodded at the two boys, then suggested that some of the others might like to give their testimonies. After a short reading and prayer-time the boys hiked back to camp. Mr. Baird had agreed to Peter and Donald spending the night with the group.

John Baird

I
HOPE YOU BOYS won’t mind sleeping in the loft of the barn,” Mr. Baird said, as Peter and Donald went to pick up their sleeping bags.

“Just where we were hoping to go,” Peter said. “You see Bob and Bill told us that sometimes boys were allowed to sleep there.”

“We don’t usually allow it without a junior leader,” Mr. Baird told them. “But you are not regular campers and older than most of the boys. I think it will be all right.”

“We aren’t afraid of being alone; anyway, we’d be safe enough in the loft,” Donald added.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of at Quadra,” Mr. Baird assured them, smiling. “I’ll come and check after everybody has settled down for the night, just to make sure you are all right.”

Maybe the others could settle down, but it was hard for Peter and Donald. There were noises to which they were not accustomed—the soft sound of the wind in the tall firs, the creak of the hay every time they moved, the occasional thumping of the animals moving in the barn below. It soon became very dark. Every now and then they could see a long slit of light through cracks in the boards as someone, carrying a lantern or flashlight, walked
to one of the cabins. Sometimes there was the soft whirr of bats’ wings.

“I wish I could go to sleep!” Peter complained, for the twentieth time.

“Me, too!”

They had talked of the good time they’d had that day and about their trip northward in the “Chinook” the next morning. Remembering the cold reception when Donald had told his father, Mr. Harris, about accepting Christ at camp, they’d prayed very especially for Donald’s father.

“I hope we wake up in time tomorrow,” Peter said anxiously.

“Don’t worry. They have a gong here or something, then the kids spill out of the cabins. We wouldn’t be able to sleep through it.”

“Hey, I heard something out in the bay!” Peter sat up and tried to peer through a wide crack in the wall. “It looks like a boat coming in! I wonder if it’s your Dad.”

“No, it can’t be. I walked out on the wharf before we came to bed. I could see over to Henderson’s place. The ‘Chinook’ was back and tied up there.”

“I can see now that it’s just a launch. It’s sure traveling! Making for Henderson’s, looks like.”

Both boys were out of their sleeping bags and kneeling on the hay as they peered through cracks. They could see the churned white water in the wake of the boat as it shot across the quiet darkness of the bay. Then the motor was cut and the dim shape moved slowly in the direction of the “Chinook.” No lights were visible.

Donald’s father

“That’s funny, no lights,” Donald said. “They’re not supposed to travel that way. Shucks, we can’t see at all now; they’ve gone behind that little island.”

The boys climbed back into their sleeping bags, but they twisted restlessly about.

“Now I’ve got hay in my bag,” Donald said. He put on his flashlight and peered into the interior. “No wonder I couldn’t sleep!”

“Hey, don’t shine that light in my eyes,” Peter grumbled.

“I’m out now so I might as well look outside again,” Donald muttered, more to himself than to Peter. He crawled to the crack and stayed for a long time.

“See anything? Come on back to bed, Don. We’ll never be able to get up in the morning!”

“Wait, Pete. I think something is happening. Come, you take a look!”

Peter was just beginning to feel sleepy and had no wish to peer through cracks.

“It’s the ‘Chinook’! I’m sure it is!”

This time Peter needed no urging. He scrambled out of his bag.

“Here’s a knothole.” Peter heaped hay together to make himself higher and peered out. “I don’t see anything! Yes, I do!”

Hardly daring to breathe, the boys watched as a dim shape moved slowly out into the harbor.

“We’ll just have to go out and see,” Donald said. “Come on, we can find our way.”

Cautiously they climbed down the ladder, careful not to make any noise. They didn’t dare use the flashlights in case they should be seen. They hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes.

“This way.” Donald began to climb the slight rise behind the barn. “We can see more from here than if we went down to the water.”

Now that their eyes were accustomed to the
darkness they could see the water and the darker outline of the land. On the water they could distinguish the shape of a boat. It looked strangely like the “Chinook.”

“Somebody’s rowing; I just heard the splash of oars.”

“Rowing the ‘Chinook’?” Peter said.

“No, it’s being towed. Who could it be? What would they be doing that for? I can’t figure it out!”

There was no more sound. Peter thought he could see the smaller boat edging toward the stern of the “Chinook” before they were lost in the shadow of the island. They could still hear. There were a few scuffly noises, a shout which was suddenly cut off. For what seemed like hours they stood, shivering in the night air, peering into the darkness. Peter glanced at his luminous watch.

“Ten minutes. Nothing doing now.”

As he spoke there was the throb of engines and the “Chinook” creamed out of the shadows around the island, and headed out toward the passage. Behind, it towed a white launch.

“That’s not our dinghy,” Donald said.

“No, we left it tied up here.”

“That’s right.”

“Maybe special visitors came and your Dad had to go with them on business.”

“At this time of night? That can’t be. What I can’t figure is, why all the secrecy, the quietness?”

“Think it was because they didn’t want to waken the camp?”

Donald shook his head. His teeth were chattering.
“N - n - no. They made a noise this s - s - side of the b - b - bay. Come on, we’d better get b - b - back to bed.”

“I’m cold too, and now my feet hurt.”

They began to pick their way down the hill.

“Jiggers!” Suddenly Peter clutched Donald’s arm. “There’s a light coming over to the barn!”

“Can we get there first?”

They tried to run, but the ground was rough and uneven and it was hard going. They were just on the way up the ladder when a beam of light caught them.

“What’s this?” Mr. Baird, the camp director, was coming toward them. “Don’t you boys know camp rules? You’re not allowed out at night, even if you’re guests.”

“Yes, sir. We know that. We’re sorry.”

He motioned them to go on up the ladder and the boys climbed quickly. They scrambled over the hay and into their bags.

“He sure sounded mad,” Donald whispered. “I wish he’d given us a chance to explain.”

They saw a dark figure against the opening, there was scraping and a grunt. Then a beam of light shone in their faces. The boys blinked in the sudden brightness but they did not turn away.

“Now then, I think you ought to tell me what you were up to.”

“Yes, sir, we want to,” Donald began. In a few minutes the story of the strange things they had seen came out.

“And we’re sure it was the ‘Chinook’!” Peter said.

“Dad said he was going to stay at Henderson’s
wharf all night, then pick us up here in the morning,” Donald added. “I wish I knew what happened.”

“It must have been the boat that awakened me,” Mr. Baird said. “I got to worrying about you boys and came to see if you were all right. It certainly was a surprise to see you coming down that hill.” He turned to Donald. “I can understand your being worried, Donald, but things always look worse at night when you can’t see properly. By tomorrow we’ll probably find out that everything is quite as it should be.”

“I hope so, Mr. Baird.”

“Now I think you’d better try to settle down and get some sleep. You’re leaving on that wonderful trip in the morning. Do you think you would feel better if we prayed together?”

Donald nodded and looked at Peter.

“I’m sure it would help,” Peter said.

Together they asked the Lord to care for them and for Donald’s father and the “Chinook.”

“Thanks, Mr. Baird,” Donald said. “You see, I don’t think Dad is a Christian, and we’re praying for him — Pete and me.”

“The Bible says that if two are agreed about anything they ask, the Lord will hear their prayer. I’m glad you boys together are praying about this. We’ll ask the camp family of workers to pray for him, too.”

By the time Mr. Baird left both Peter and Donald felt their eyelids getting heavy. They were glad to curl up in their bags and go to sleep.

I
N SPITE OF THEIR LATE NIGHT, both Donald and Peter awakened early the next morning, but not before most of the camp boys were awake. They could hear voices and shouts coming from the cabins, and then the shrill note of a whistle. In a few minutes boys were lined up in the field just below them and going through a quick routine of exercises.

“Let’s get dressed and go over to Henderson’s,” Donald said. “I want to see if Dad is back. I sure can’t figure out where he went last night.”

“I can’t see anything,” Peter said, peering through a knothole.

“We could climb the hill first to make sure.”

They slipped into T shirts and jeans and climbed down from the loft. The breakfast gong had not sounded so they decided there was time for a quick check. In shoes and in daylight it was much easier to go up the hill than it had been the night before. They raced up and then, panting for breath, wheeled around to look across the harbor, past the island to the place where the “Chinook” had been the previous evening. For a moment they stared over the water, then turned and looked at each other.

“It’s gone. I knew it would be!” Donald said.

“I guess your Dad’s not back yet,” Peter said,
trying to sound cheerful. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. There’s the gong! Let’s go and eat; after breakfast we can row over. Maybe the Hendersons know what happened.”