Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence

“Why, Buster, do you mean to say you’d pick on that poor fellow, who has never been able to whip more than three boys at a time in all his life? I’m surprised to hear you talk so savagely.”

“Oh! well, the thing is brooding, and bound to come off some day. Bully Joe will go just a little too far, and get his. Why, there was one time, not so long ago either, when I’d just about made up my mind to lick him for keeps. And I give you my word, fellows, I’d have wiped up the ground with him, only that I was grabbed from behind and held back!”

“Wow! listen to the war chief, would you?” exclaimed Josh, pretending to shrink away from the belligerent fat boy, who was doubling up his pudgy fists, and assuming a warrior’s pose.

“He’s sure got on his fighting togs today!” echoed Herb, soothingly.

“Say, Buster,” remarked George, when Jack nudged him in the side, “tell us who was so mean as to grab you that way, and hold you back!”

“Shucks! I just knew you’d never rest till you asked that!” cried the other, as he pretended to show disgust. “Why, that was Joe, don’t you see!”

At that there was a howl; and Jimmie doubled up like a jack-knife in the violence of his merriment.

“I can see Joe’s finish, if he keeps on trying such tricks,” whooped George.

“Oh!” Buster went on, in a calm manner, “I’ll try and be as easy with him as any one could expect. Perhaps after he’s had one good lesson, Joe may reform. It’s keeping bad company that’s been his downfall. Clarence Macklin has oodles of money; and his dad used to be a sporty sort of a Wall street man they say, when he lived east; so he don’t care much what his hopeful does, so long as he keeps out of jail.”

“Well, if he goes on much longer the way he has, I reckon he’ll land there after a bit,” Herb remarked, soberly; for he had suffered on several occasions at the hands of the vindictive Clarence, as was well known to his chums.

“All right,” Jack put in. “And now, if there’s nothing further before the house, I move we adjourn. For one I know I’m as hungry as a bear, and ready to tackle a good dinner after all that hot work on the diamond.”

“Dinner!” exclaimed Buster, whose one weak point lay in his love of eating. “Wow! don’t you remember what bully good meals we had when we all got together on that dandy Mississippi trip, and Josh here slung the pots and pans? He’s sure the best cook in seven counties. I hear he’s getting up a book on camp dinners. And right now I subscribe for the first copy that’s printed; if it don’t cost over ten cents.”

“Just you wait,” returned Josh, with one of his wide grins. “It won’t be long now before you’ll have to get up and hustle the tin pans and things, whenever you have that longing for grub steal over you. No sitting down to the table and cleaning up everything in sight for you then. It’s work before you can eat. Herb is going to keep you down to brass tacks, ain’t you Herb?”

“Oh! Buster and myself expect to get on first rate,” the one addressed hastened to say; for Herb was a lover of peace. “I’m ready to pitch in and help him out on occasion. Everything is going to be lovely, and the goose hang high, aboard the good, staunch old Comfort, when we sail the stormy waters of the St. Lawrence, eh, Buster?”

“Well,” remarked Josh, as he started away, “anyhow, I’m glad you’ve decided to give our friend Buster the upper berth!”

A shout followed after him, and the last glimpse he had of the fat boy, Buster was shaking both fists in his direction, and pretending to display tremendous rage, though secretly chuckling with good-natured laughter. Happy the boy who is so constituted that he can in the best of humor take a joke that is leveled at himself; and that was Nick Longfellow to a dot.

The rest of the bunch soon scattered, as their homes lay in various directions; and this particular corner usually served as a gathering point as well as the place where they separated.

Jack may have allowed the mystery of the suspected “leak” to crop up in his active mind from time to time after that; but he knew just how sensitive Buster really felt over it, and he always religiously refrained from ever introducing the subject.

Some of the other boys of course must have discussed it as the days slowly passed; but they too seemed desirous that their fat chum might not have his feelings further injured, and nothing was said in his presence. But all the same Buster did not forget, as Herb was fated to learn to his sorrow.

CHAPTER III – A CHANCE CLEW

“Why, hello Jack!”

It was the first day of vacation, and being at the tail end of the week, the motor boat club had wisely decided to defer their departure until the following Monday morning, when they would say goodbye to the home town, and start across the state for Milwaukee.

The speaker was no other than Clarence Macklin; and Jack had come face to face with his bitter enemy upon the main street of the town, as he passed out from a shop where he had been making a little purchase.

Clarence was smiling, after his usual manner; but there was always something crafty about this look of his that made most boys suspicious. Had he been given his choice in the matter Jack would have passed on with a mere nod; for he did not believe in pretending to show anything like friendliness toward this tricky lad, who had once tried to get into the motor boat club, and been blackballed, a fact he had vowed to get even for if it took him a year.

But Clarence evidently had a reason for wishing to talk with the other. He even thrust himself squarely in Jack’s way; and the latter saw no reason why he should avoid an encounter.

“Well,” continued Clarence, “I suppose you fellows are in high feather, now that vacation has come, and you can break away?”

“Sure we are,” replied Jack, trying to seem good-natured; though secretly he was wondering what the other had concealed up his sleeve, and why he insisted on stopping him in this way; for it happened that just a day or so before Jack had been reading that good old precept of warning, to “Beware of the Greeks bearing gifts.”

“And I suppose, also, you mean to get away soon?” Clarence went on.

“Monday sees us off, unless something we don’t look for detains us,” was Jack’s response, as he watched the play of emotions on the face of the other, and noted how the pretense of friendliness was fading away.

“Well,” Clarence suddenly burst out with, “I just wanted to let you know what me and Joe Brinker think of your sly trick in finding out where we meant to go this summer, and then arranging to copy after us! It was just what I’d expect such low-down sneaks as Herb Dickson and George Rollins to do; but I am surprised to know how you fell in with such a dirty game, that’s what!”

Really, Jack never had a greater shock in all his life than when Clarence said this. It seemed to almost take his very breath away.

“Now, do you know, Clarence,” he said, steadily, watching that sarcastic face, “the shoe seems to be on the other foot with us. To tell the truth, we’ve been believing all this time that you’d copied after us. In fact, poor Buster has been suspected of giving our secrets away, not intentionally, of course, just because he was seen talking with you. Queer, ain’t it, how great minds often run in the same channel; and both of us thought of going to the St. Lawrence this summer.”

“Aw! now you’re just trying to crawl out of a hole,” the other sneered. “But you needn’t think you can spoil our summer fun for us, if you are six to two. I told my dad about it, and he advised me to go on, regardless. Just make up your minds to keep clear of Joe and me, if you know what’s good for you!”

Even while the other was saying this there suddenly flashed upon Jack’s mind the true reason for his being held up in this way by “Tricky Clarence,” as young Macklin had come to be known among the boys of the town.

He wanted to rub it into Jack, and exult in the consternation which he expected his declaration would cause in the other’s mind. But there was undoubtedly something more than this. If trouble did follow the meeting of the rivals among the many channels of the Thousand Islands, Clarence wished to make it appear that he and Joe were the aggrieved parties, and that they had been actually set upon by the members of the motor boat club, who had a grudge against them of long standing.

It was a clever bit of sharp practice, worthy of a shyster lawyer. Perhaps Clarence may have inherited some of the shifty trickery by which his respected father had laid the foundation to his big fortune in the wilds of Wall street.

But Jack had no desire to stand there and enter into a wordy war with Clarence, who had a ready tongue, and never cared very much where it led him.

So instead of taking up the challenge, as Clarence doubtless wanted him to, Jack simply elevated his eyebrows, and remarked:

“Oh! is that so? Well, I’m going to tell you just one thing for good and all, Clarence. Neither myself, nor any one of the club, want to set eyes on you or Joe; and if it rests with us, we’ll not run across each other all summer. But, understand me,” and his eyes flashed dangerously, “we mean to strike back, and if there’s trouble it will have to be of your seeking. You can have all you want of it. Now, that’s enough. I’m done talking.”

Clarence hardly knew what to say. He looked at the other as though tempted to blurt out the ugly things he had passing through his mind. But somehow he realized that it would not be safe pressing Jack Stormways too far. He was not the fighter Bully Joe had always been; for as a rule he managed to get some one else to carry out his battles for him. And Jack looked really dangerous just then.

“Pooh! words come cheap with some fellows,” he muttered, as he turned away. “But you’ll find they cut no figure with my partner and me. As to our keeping away from any particular spot you chumps choose to patronize, that for your silly warning,” and he derisively snapped his fingers, for he was now twenty feet away.

Jack held himself in with an effort. He felt in a humor to have given the exasperating Clarence the drubbing he deserved; but it would hardly be nice to create such a disturbance of the public peace so soon before they expected to leave home. If it seemed fated that he must teach this contemptible fellow the lesson he so richly deserved it might be wise to wait until they were far away from the town where they lived.

He was looking after the departing Clarence when he saw him take out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead, for the day was warm.

Something fell to the ground, something that, even at that distance reminded Jack of a yellow telegram blank. He could just as well walk from the sporting goods store in the direction Clarence had gone as any other way. And it was his full intention to call after the other, if the paper seemed worth while.

So, in this spirit Jack bent down and secured possession of the crumpled yellow paper.

Just as he had expected it was a telegraph blank, written on but not signed. It seemed to be a message that some one had started, and upon making a mistake in the wording had crammed in his pocket while he started afresh.

That some one, of course, could only be Clarence, since the paper had fallen to the ground at the time he took out his handkerchief.

Ordinarily Jack would not have been guilty of looking at a telegraph message that had come into his possession under such circumstances. It seemed excusable now. Clarence was a secret enemy, and had been plotting to make trouble for the members of the motor boat club that had declined to allow him and Bully Joe membership.

And the very first glimpse he had of the writing gave him a thrill; for he read the address, which was:

“Jared Fullerton, Clayton, N. Y.”