Camp Nowhere Read Online Free PDF Page B

Native Americans lived in these woods for hundreds of years,” I said.
    “But these things are brand-new,” Erin replied.
    “How could that be?” Charlotte asked, running her finger over the fresh white feather of the arrow. “Ramos told us the Indians were driven out a hundred years ago. So how did these things get here?”
    “It’s a mystery,” Erin said. She handed the little leather doll back to Charlotte. “A real mystery.”
     
    I heard the Indian drums again that night.
    We all gobbled up dinner—hot dogs on the fire and sandwiches left over from lunch. We were starving.
    We showed Ramos the doll and the featheredarrow. But he couldn’t explain them. He was as puzzled as we were.
    After dinner, Ramos asked if we wanted to sit around and tell jokes. But we were all yawning. Aching and exhausted from the long day of canoe paddling.
    The tents formed a tight circle around the fire. The shadows of the flames danced on the nylon tent walls.
    We divided up and climbed wearily into the tents. Marty and I shared a tent. I left the tent flap open so that we could watch the fire.
    We pulled off our muddy shoes. Then we climbed into our sleeping bags in our clothes.
    “How is your wasp sting?” Marty asked, yawning.
    “Not too bad,” I whispered. “It itches a little, but it’s okay.”
    I turned and saw that he was sound asleep.
    I settled into my sleeping bag and stared out at the red-orange flames licking up at the darkness.
    I wasn’t sure how much time went by when the drumbeats began.
    Low and distant. A slow, steady thrum…thrum…thrum .
    Indian drums, I thought.
    I pictured the leather doll, the feathered arrow.
    I picked up my head and gazed out through the tent flap. The fire had died down. The flames were small now, sparks above the purple embers.
    Thrum…thrum…thrum…
    Soft drumbeats from the woods. From all around.
    All around the circle of the clearing, I thought.
    Thrum…thrum…
    Soft but close…so close.
    I fell asleep to the slow, steady rhythm of the drumbeats. I slept a deep, dreamless sleep.
    I jerked awake the next morning—sat straight up—stared out at the gray morning light.
    What woke me up?
    A scream?
    Yes. A hideous, deafening scream of pain.
    Ramos!
    I reached over and frantically shook Marty awake.
    “Wake up!” I cried. “It’s Ramos! Do you hear that scream? It’s Ramos!”

11
    Ramos’s screams echoed off the trees.
    I pulled on my sneakers and scrambled out of the tent.
    Charlotte and Erin were awake, standing tensely in front of the dead campfire. Charlotte’s red hair stood out in all directions. Erin was struggling to tug down the sleeves of her sweatshirt.
    They turned to me, their eyes wide with fright. Marty hopped out of the tent, pulling on his left boot.
    David came climbing out of the tent he shared with Ramos. “What’s happening?” he asked, his voice still hoarse from sleep. “Is that Ramos screaming?”
    Before anyone could answer, Ramos roared across the clearing, holding his right arm tightly against his side. His face was red. His dark eyes were half shut from pain.
    “Oh, man. Oh, man,” he moaned.
    “Ramos—what happened?” Charlotte cried. Weall ran across the grass toward him.
    “My arm,” he moaned. “I—I think I tore something.”
    He dropped into a sitting position in front of the dead fire. “Oh, man—it hurts.” He gripped the arm tightly, holding it stiffly against him.
    We huddled around him. “What happened? What did you do to it?” I asked.
    He groaned in pain. “I went out early to chop more firewood for this morning,” he said. He looked around. “Where’s the ax? Oh, man. I left it in the woods.”
    “I’ll go get it,” I said.
    He motioned for me to stay where I was. “I was chopping a log in two—and I heard something snap. In my arm. The pain is unbelievable !”
    He motioned to David. “Bring me some water. It’s in the pack over there. I…I’m so dry.”
    “Do you think you broke your