Bones On Black Spruce Mountain Read Free

Mountain fell on them and took them in.
    In the batting of an eye they were gone, swallowed by the woods, and there was nothing left to look at but the mountain reaching darkly into the sky.
     

Chapter 2
     
    Seth and Daniel struck the old logging road that ran alongside Tamarack Brook and headed upstream. It was a warm, clear day and the cool shade of the woods felt good. Already their pace had slowed from the fast, striding eagerness with which hikes always begin to a slower, steadier gait, the sure sign of those who know that there are many hard miles ahead.
     "Daniel, do you think Mr. Bateau really believes that story?"
    "Nah, how could he?"
    "I don't know, but when he tells it, it sounds so real. And he sounds so sincere."
    "I know."
    "Maybe he's right," Seth went on. "He was right about the beaver pond and the big trout in the middle of the swamp. Nobody believed that story either until we showed them proof. I hope he is right. If we could find the bones, we could prove to everybody he was right about that too."
    "Well, I don't believe the story. Look, Seth, have you ever seen or heard a ghost? All that stuff can be explained. Can you imagine a kid surviving up there for years? It's impossible. He'd freeze to death the first winter. What would he eat? How would he stay warm? It's impossible. All of it's impossible and you know it. Why would a kid do such a thing any-way? There's nothing to that story and there never was."
    "Maybe not, but it'll be fun to look for the bones even if we don't find anything." Seth was determined not to let Daniel spoil the adventure.
    The logging road hooked left and back toward the farm. Seth and Daniel dropped down over the bank of the brook and began hopping from rock to rock, working their way slowly upstream. Their rubber-bottom, leather-top boots were perfect for terrain such as this, not as hot as all-rubber boots, yet water-proof enough to travel through brooks and swamps. Ahead of them the boys could hear the dull roar of a waterfall. The ravine narrowed as they approached until, when they stood at the bottom of the falls, the sheer rock sides rose almost perpendicular far above them. They would either have to climb hand over hand up the ravine walls or retrace their steps and find a way around. Slowly they inched their way up the falls, gaining one plateau after another, with great effort and even greater care, until they stood panting at the top. Their hearts were pounding now, not so much from the exertion of the climb as from the fright they felt on looking back down to where they had been.
    The boys let their packs down slowly an settled themselves on a flat jut of rock about the size of a kitchen table. They rested briefly, listened to the roar of the falls, then headed upstream again.
    They came to a place where another old logging road crossed the brook. The log bridge had long since collapsed and been washed away.
    "Hey," Seth said, "I know this place. I 'was here last fall. This road will take us to the sugarhouse."
    The woods were remarkably still that morning. Only an occasional bluejay squawked away in front of them, announcing their presence to the unseen creatures all around. They followed the slight two-track depression of the ancient woods road up a gentle rise and through a flat, mature stand of hardwood trees. The August sun made jigsaw patterns of light and dark as it danced across the forest floor.
    Although Seth had been here before, things looked different now. The trees were still in leaf; the ground was choked with ferns and bushes. Seth couldn't be quite sure they were going in the right direction. But every now and then he saw a tree or a certain clump of trees or a wet place or a rock that gave off a familiar feeling. Although he didn't know exactly where he was, he wasn't lost either. He moved forward now, not with the kind of knowledge one gets from a map, the kind the mind deliberately retains, but rather with that strange sense, those vague