Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence

“This is sure the greatest joke ever,” he remarked. “To think of trying to keep trespassers out of this old trap, just like it held all a squatter’s possessions. Jack, what d’ye think the silly donkey meant by that padlock? Did he keep his stuff here once, and locked the door? I’m all in a fog.”

Jack said nothing, only “browsed” around, as he expressed it, kicking the straw aside in places, only to replace it as he had found it, as though not wishing to leave any signs that trespassers had invaded the cabin of the mysterious island.

But all the while he was thinking deeply.

And once, after the laughing and scoffing Josh had stepped outside to look about him again, Jack stooped down and picked some object up off the earthen floor, which he seemed to examine with considerable curiosity before stowing away in one of his many pockets.

“Seen all you want to of the strange palace of the Thousand Islands?” asked the merry Josh, when his companion again appeared.

“Oh! yes, and I’ll put the lock back just as we found it,” replied the other.

Then he started to follow the plain trail that led through the dense thicket to the rear of the cabin. It took him nearly twenty minutes to zigzag through the intricate growth, for all manner of obstacles caused him to turn aside, even as they had the one who had come and gone this way on the preceding night.

When he finally reached the shore it was far around the point that jutted out above the cove where the motor boats were anchored. And after Jack had stooped down to examine the sandy beach, he arose with a peculiar smile, and a knowing shake of the head; but the only words he used as he walked along the sandy stretch near the water’s edge were:

“I thought I’d find where the keel of a boat landed on this beach!”

CHAPTER XI – BUSTER GETS AN IDEA

“Find anything new worth while, Jack?” asked the cook of the Wireless, as he got up from the warm sand where he had been taking a sun bath, while waiting for his companion to put in an appearance.

“Oh! I don’t know,” replied the other, in what seemed to be a careless manner, calculated to put Josh off the track, and smother his curiosity. “One or two little things that I’m going to puzzle my wits over. But look here, the fishermen are in sight!”

“Good gracious! how you scared me, Jack!” exclaimed Josh, whirling around to look. “Honest Injun, now, I thought you meant those rough men in the three boats, and knowing how guilty we were about breaking into their shack, I started to shiver, never having been arrested, you know. But it’s only George and Herb.”

“They’ve been successful, I expect,” observed Jack, wisely, “because both seem to be trying to look disappointed; but can’t help glancing down in the bottom of the little dinkies. I reckon each has got a musky, all right.”

“Sure we have,” remarked George, as the two small boats pulled in close; “and dandies at that. Talk to me about pull; that pirate was a hummer.”

“But, George, you know he didn’t come up to mine,” remarked Herb.

“Well, I rather guess not, Herb,” grinned the other. “I suppose you notice, fellows, that my comrade has been in swimming. Funny part of it is, he never even bothered taking his clothes off when the notion struck him.”

“Well, it came right sudden, for a fact,” laughed Herb. “That big muskalunge was tearing around like the dickens, when swoop! he took a turn under my boat, and in my haste to swing around, I upset.”

“Wow!” cried Nick, “Oh, why wasn’t I there to see the fun? I’m always missing all the good things, seems to me.”

“But you hung on to your rod, apparently,” remarked Jack; “seeing that you got your game in the end.”

“That’s just what he did,” declared George with sincere admiration. “You know our friend Herb has a touch of stubbornness in his make-up. No measly old musky that ever swam in the St. Lawrence was going to get the better of him in an argument. He hung to that rod even while he went under. It was the greatest thing I ever saw, for a fact; but he managed it fine, let me tell you.”

“Tell us how?” begged Nick, breathlessly.

“All right,” answered George. “You see, the little dinky had turned turtle when it dropped Herb out; so there it was, floating beside him, bottom-side up. Would you believe it, that fellow just climbed up over the stern, and straddled the boat as he kept on playing that fish as cool as you please.”

“Great! Hurrah for our Herb! He’s the champion fisherman; only, because we haven’t got a photograph of that game fight to show, be careful how you tell the boys when we get home,” remarked Josh.

“While he played the fish I picked up his paddle,” George went on. “And when he got the musky in where I could gaff him, we pushed ashore, so he could turn his boat over again. Then, as each of us had a prize, we thought we might as well quit for the day. What you doing ashore, fellows?”

“Jack wanted to nose around, that’s all,” Josh hastened to say. “Found an old shack up in the woods here. Guess that spook lives there when he doesn’t want to be seen. Funniest thing, though, he keeps an old rusty useless padlock on the broken door. But there wasn’t anything worth while to be seen. Jack followed some tracks he found; that seemed to amuse him.”

Josh went aboard, pushed the Wireless out, and presently the skipper joined him.

“Any other news?” asked Nick.

“Oh, yes,” said Herb, stopping in the act of changing his soaked clothes for dry ones. “I forgot to say we saw that boat again.”

“What’s that? Do you mean the mysterious, dark, piratical craft that, believe me, ought to be flying the skull and crossbones at her stern?” demanded Nick.

“The same,” Herb replied promptly. “She flashed by us while we were trolling, though at some little distance. And, fellows, as sure as you live, Clarence was at the wheel, though neither of us could see a thing of Bully Joe. I thought Clarence looked scared, for he was awful white; but George declared he was only in one of his mad fits. We know what they stand for, don’t we?”

“Did you call out to him?” asked Jack, quickly.

“I did,” replied George, “and dared him to accept a challenge to race the Wireless. I thought he was going to answer me; but he only turned his head and stared. But it was Clarence, all right. I give you my word on that.”

“Now, what d’ye know about that?” observed Nick; “dodging around like that, and declining to even speak! Generally Clarence is always ready enough to get into a hot argument. And you’d just think he’d be wild to take you up on that challenge business, George. It beats me all hollow, now.”

“And even that ain’t all,” added George.

“What! more adventures?” cried the chagrined Nick. “I tell you it ain’t fair for everybody to get in the lime light, and leave poor me in the lurch. What have I done to deserve this? Say, I hope you fellows ain’t holding that silly thing up against me yet, about betraying our secrets to the enemy, and all that rot, you know? That would be mean.”

“Oh! shucks, cut it out, Buster,” said Josh; “and let George tell us what else happened. This mystery is getting on my nerves, I tell you, boys. Go on, proceed, George, old chum. Give us the harrowing details.”

“You won’t find much to alarm you in this,” laughed the other. “Only, while we were fishing a boat came along, and it had two men in it. They rowed up close, and we could see they had a fishing rod in action. The one who held it kept watching us as sharp as the mischief. He spoke to us pleasant like, and asked a few questions about our luck, how we happened to be so far over toward the Canada side, if we expected to move away soon to new grounds, and such things.”

“Did you recognize the boat, or the men, George?” asked Jack, quietly.

“Herb and myself talked that over afterwards; until his tumble overboard knocked it all out of our heads. And we thought that perhaps those men were one of those couples we saw yesterday, passing here and staring in at us.”

“Say, perhaps they may have been Canadian custom officers, who patrol the river to keep American fishermen off their side,” suggested Nick.

“That might be,” George said. “We thought of that; but they didn’t give us any warning. And besides, from the chart we’ve got we’ve learned that this island is American territory all right, you know.”

“Oh! well, what’s the use of bothering our heads over it,” declared Herb, from inside the outing shirt he was pulling over his head.

“That’s right!” cried Josh. “Fling away dull care while the sun shines, and we’ve got enough grub left to keep Nick here from starving to death.”

When the fat boy was not looking, Josh reached down, and took hold of some object he had smuggled aboard without the others noticing the fact. It was a length of old tin waterpipe that he had found up alongside the deserted shanty, and which had evidently been useful at some time in the past, to convey the water from the roof to a spot where it would not back into the cabin.

This old pipe was possibly six feet in length; and to the mind of a practical joker like Josh it presented some alluring possibilities.

Swinging it upward when Nick was not looking, he managed to bridge the watery gap between the Wireless and the Comfort, and quickly called in a sepulchral tone through the novel speaking-tube:

“Hello! down there! Give me connection with Buster Longfellow! I’m the ghost that walks in the night. I want to have a heart-to-heart confab with Buster!”

“What you trying to do, give me heart disease, or an attack of delirium tremens?” exclaimed Nick, who had started violently upon hearing that muffled sound so close to his ear. “Say, you don’t know how queer that does go. Talk about your megaphones! That tube carries sound to beat the Dutch. I wonder now – gee!”

“Hello! What ails Pudding? Look, fellows, the poor fellow’s got an idea, and it seems so strange that he don’t know what to do with it!” jeered Josh.