The Drustone

Chapter Twelve. Legend of the Lost Cohort

Chapter Twelve 

Legend of the Lost Cohort 

Driftwood covered the sandy beach and it wasn't long before Uncle Steve had a billycan boiling over soothing flames. A hot cup of cocoa and a plate of beans worked wonders. In no time at all two of the boys were back to their curious selves. 

"Can we explore the island before it gets dark, Mr.D?" 

"Sure, but just follow the shore." 

"I know it's not too big. I've seen it from the train." 

"It shouldn't take you too long. I'll stay here with Henry. He needs to rest some more." 

Henry grunted in agreement. He was exhausted and showed little interest as the two boys disappeared along the rocky beach. All was silent except for the occasional crackle of a flame and the lapping of waves. Uncle and nephew were lost in thought. Uncle Steve wondering whether he should tell his sister of Henry's struggle in the sinking sands, Henry worrying about the upcoming crossing of the River Leven  

"Mr. Dover, Henry, come over here. Come and see."

The boys had completed their circumnavigation of the island and were waving excitedly from the top of a bluff no more than fifty yards away. Intrigued by Rev's enthusiasm, Henry and his Uncle scrambled to their feet and headed towards the others. 

"What's so interesting, Rev?" asked Uncle Steve. 

"This stream. It has gouged out a path to the sea through the rocks and it never seems to stop flowing." 

"So?" 

"Well isn't it a bit weird? Here we are, completely surrounded by salt water, on a flat island and there's a stream of fresh water. Where's it coming from?" 

"Let's find out. It shouldn't be too difficult to find the source." 

The decision made, Uncle Steve led the boys alongside the stream towards the centre of the island. Tall, undisturbed grass released clouds of insects as the party thrashed inward. Stinging nettles and brambles soon convinced them to walk in the stream bed.  

"How can the water be so cold in the middle of summer?"  

Rev's question went unanswered as they fought their way through a region of giant oaks and dense undergrowth. Eventually the woods thinned and there, looming before them was a crumbling stone wall of considerable height. The remnants of an ancient tower stood at the end of the wall. As if on cue a swarm of creatures, fluttering from the ruined shell, blackened the purple sky of twilight. 

"Wow, look at those bats. Hundreds of them," squealed P.C. "I bet they're off hunting." 

"Are they vampires?" 

"Don't be daft, Henry. There aren't any vampire bats around here. If there were we would have heard about them attacking the cattle and sucking their blood." 

"But you said they were going hunting. What are they hunting for?" 

"Bugs." 

"Are you sure, P.C.?" 

"Absolutely positive." 

Still not convinced, Henry moved closer to his Uncle as they followed the stream to its source near the foot of the tower, where clear cold fresh water bubbled magically from the bowels of the earth. On an adjacent mound stood a structure that Rev instantly recognised; a smooth egg-shaped rock supported by three smaller rocks, just like the model in the museum.