Motor Boat Boys' River Chase; or, Six Chums Afloat and Ashore. Louis Arundel

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СКАЧАТЬ it alone; eternal watchfulness was the price of victory with George; and his chums often declared that when he was on a cruise George hardly knew what sort of country he passed through, for keeping his nose down so persistently over that motor of his.

      Jack’s prediction came true, and when a quarter after four came around, they were running along the shore of a wooded island which he announced was the object of their search.

      “Where are we going to land, Jack?” called out Buster, for the three boats were now very close together, and the crews had been exchanging comments on the sombre appearance of the lonely island for some time past.

      “I don’t know,” came the answer, “because I’ve never been here before. We’d better just float along down close to the shore, and keep an eye out for a suitable landing place. If we don’t find one on this side, by the time we get to the foot of the island, why, what’s to hinder our working along up the other shore, and looking for it there?”

      “That’s so, Jack!” admitted Buster, who was in one of his finest humors; though for that matter they seldom knew the fat boy to be anything but amiable and good-natured, as most of his kind are.

      They must have passed almost to the very tail end of the long island when Josh let out a whoop, and called the attention of his comrades to what seemed to be a little bay that formed a tiny cove, with a sandy beach beyond.

      “Just the ticket!” agreed Jack, “looks like it had been scooped out for a landing place.”

      “Bet you them fishermen come right in; and we’ll be apt to find some of their huts around back there,” suggested George, who had possibly heard more stories about mysterious Bedloe’s Island than any of the others, for he had been making poor Buster’s flesh run cold during the afternoon with accounts of strange things people said had occurred to make the place shunned.

      “Then there must be good fishing around here,” remarked Buster, with the air of one who ought to be consulted whenever such sport were mentioned, because he had surely won his spurs that day, if any one ever did.

      “Listen to him talk,” broke out Josh. “Now he’s got the fishing bee on his brain and he’ll just as like as not be at it morning, noon and night, till we get sick of the smell of fish. One good thing about it that I can see is, after he’s been living on fish food for a whole week Buster will have brains enough to last him all summer, because they say it makes ’em, you know. Sometimes I think he’s a little short in his supply, especially when he wraps a fish line around both hands, when he’s got a young whale at the other end.”

      They had no difficulty in passing into the little “bight,” as Jack called the miniature cove, for the water was deep enough for even the Wireless; although Jack said they would have to be sure and constantly keep tabs on whether the river was rising or falling each day and night, since it would be mighty unpleasant to awaken some fine morning to discover that their motor boats were high and dry; as the water had gone down a foot while they slept.

      They secured the craft ashore to trees that chanced to be growing close by; for floods did not often come to this upper part of the great river as they did below the confluence with the Ohio and the Missouri.

      Then some of the things were taken to land; and the six boys were soon working like so many beaver, fixing camp.

      The tent had to be erected; and after it had been partly placed in position a better spot was discovered, so that the job had to be all done over. As the day was growing near its close and darkness might be expected to fall upon them before another hour, there was no time for loitering. Why, even George had been made to see the error of his ways, and forgot all about that everlasting motor of his for a short time, lending a hand to get things in shape around the camp.

      Josh had plenty to do starting the fire, after fashioning a rude but effective cooking range out of the many stones that could be had along the shore for the picking up. They carried a little contrivance that was very effective, being a sort of spider or gridiron patterned after the shelf in most kitchen ranges. Jack had had it made by the local blacksmith, and when it was laid across two ridges of rock, between which the red coals lay, they could place the coffee-pot, a skillet and even a kettle on the bars at the same time, without the constant danger of upsetting that always exists where a camper tries to cook with only a resting place of stones for his various utensils.

      The others were busy at various duties when Josh was heard calling out, with a touch of authority in his voice, as became the chef, now placed in supreme command by reason of his exalted and important office.

      “Whoever took that grub I left over here by the tree, better bring it back again right away, and quit meddlin’ if he wants me to exert myself getting supper ready.”

      “What’s that, Josh?” asked Jack, looking up from his work of fastening the lower rim of the tent to the pegs that had been driven securely into the earth.

      “Why, you see, Jack,” explained the other, lowering his aggressive voice a little when addressing the commodore, “I thought I’d make the fire over here till I saw you’d changed the position of the tent; and then I crossed over to where she’s burning cheerfully now. So I laid some things down that I meant to cook for supper – two slices of that ham I cut off while afloat; a can of Boston baked beans, and part of the fish Buster hooked and that nearly got away with him. Now, mind you, I ain’t mentionin’ any names, but some busybody’s gone and took the entire outfit, and hid it away. How d’ye think the cook c’n perform his calling, when they’re playin’ tricks on him like that, tell me?”

      There was a dead silence for about half a minute, while the boys looked at each other questioningly.

      Then Buster raised his hand, and said, earnestly:

      “Not guilty, Jack, sure I never even saw the old ham; and ketch me a-playin’ any tricks on the cook, and me that hungry I c’d eat any old thing.”

      One by one of the others, even to George, copied Buster’s example, and solemnly denied having tried to annoy the hard-working Josh by purloining the stuff he had laid out for the evening meal.

      “Must a mislaid it, that’s what, Josh,” declared Herb, consolingly. “Sometimes my mind plays hob with me that way. Everybody get a move on and look for the grub. We just can’t afford to have our goods floating around every-which-way right in the start. We’ve got to find it, that’s what.”

      “Hold on, before you get to running around wild,” interrupted Jack, and somehow when he spoke in that way it seemed as if all the other fellows felt as though Jack had conceived an idea, for he was always quick along those lines.

      “What’s doing, Jack?” inquired Buster.

      “I want to ask Josh particularly where it was he laid that stuff out,” continued the other, impressively.

      “Why, just like I said, over ther by that clump of brush,” the cook explained, as he pointed in the quarter indicated.

      “On that flat stone, perhaps?” continued Jack.

      “Now, that was just what I did, Jack,” Josh went on to say, “and when I stepped over just now to get the stuff, why, it wasn’t there. I scratched my head, and tried to remember moving it, but I’d take my affidavy that I never came back to get it till just now, after I got my fire good and ready. That’s the way it was, Jack.”

      “Wait a bit,” remarked the other, as he started for the spot in question.

      They all watched him curiously. First he bent down, and sniffed of the СКАЧАТЬ