CHAPTER VII
TO THE RESCUE
Bill Berry was a big burly fellow, pretty much of a brute in his ways, and, though the boys knew he was a coward at heart, they realized that he might prove an ugly customer in a fight. He could not be depended on to battle fairly, but would take any advantage that came his way. Nor would he hesitate to use a stick or stone, where others would rely on the weapons which nature had given them; their fists.
“We’d better get ready for trouble,” said Jerry in a low voice.
“Shall we tackle him?” asked Ned. “He and Noddy will be no more than a match for the three of us.”
“Don’t fight if we can avoid it,” counseled Jerry.
Bill Berry, with anger in his eyes continued to advance. Noddy, who had started to go away, came back, emboldened by the attitude of his crony.
“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you fresh lads for some time!” exclaimed Bill. “Now I’ve got a chance.”
“You might have stopped off last night, just before we ran you down,” said Jerry. “We could have accommodated you then.”
“Was that you, last night?” asked Bill, suddenly. “Did you see me? Did you see the Blue—”
Then Bill seemed to remember that he was talking too much. He came to a sudden stop, and looked over at Noddy, who was detected in the act of shaking his fist at his former ally.
“We didn’t see anything blue, green or red,” put in Ned. “It was too dark to see anything but you.”
“Yes, and you’ll pay for what you did!” exclaimed Berry. “I’ll have the law on you for smashing my boat!”
“So Noddy has said,” came from Bob. “It’s getting to be an old story.”
“See here, you young whelps!” cried Bill in sudden anger. “I’ll show you what it means to make fun of me!”
He made a sudden dash toward the three boys, who stood close to the edge of the dock.
“Stand ready!” spoke Jerry in low tones. “If he tries any of his tricks you two jump to one side and I’ll tackle him. If he gets the best of me, you can jump in and lend a hand.”
Bill, with clenched fists, sprang at the three boys. Bob and Ned moved a little to one side to give Jerry plenty of room. It looked as if there was going to be trouble.
“List to the song of the whip-poor-will. He threw in the river poor old Bill!” came in sing-song tones from the rear. There was a sudden rush. Two figures mingled on the dock. There was a struggle, a smothered exclamation, and then a mighty splash in the water.
“There he goes, over his toes!” cried old Pete Bumps, jumping excitedly about.
Below the dock Bill Berry was struggling in the water. He spluttered and threshed about and then struck out for shore.
“Quite a little swim, while the evening light grows dim,” recited Pete solemnly.
“Good for you, Pete!” cried Ned. “You came in the nick of time!”
“Do you think so?” asked Pete anxiously. “I was afraid I’d be a little late. However I saw he meant business so I sailed in. I couldn’t have him fighting you boys Sunday night, so I just thought a little bath would cool him off. I took hold of him and—.”
“He fell in, that’s all,” finished Ned. “You’re all right, Pete.”
Bill reached shore and he and Noddy slunk away.
“Well, we’re well rid of them,” observed Jerry. “I’m glad we didn’t get to fighting, though I wouldn’t run away from it if it had to be. Pete did us a good turn.”
“I’m always on hand to beat the band,” put in the odd character. “To be with you boys fills me with joys. That ain’t a very good rhyme, but I’ve been making a lot of ’em to-day, and I’m kind ’a tired,” he added.
“I guess you’d better go home and go to bed, Pete,” advised Bob. “It will do you good.”
“Just as you say, I’m on my way,” replied the old man solemnly, as he turned to go.
“Did anything strike you as peculiar?” asked Jerry of his chums.
“How do you mean?” asked Ned.
“I mean the way Bill Berry acted,” replied Jerry. “He seemed to fear we had discovered something. Then there was his remark about something blue.”
“Do you know, that occurred to me,” put in Bob. “But I didn’t like to say anything for fear you’d laugh at me. It seemed as if he was afraid we had discovered something.”
“That’s the way I took it,” spoke Ned. “I wonder what it could have been.”
“Whatever it was, you can depend on it there was something crooked back of it,” commented Jerry. “Those two never got together but they were up to some mischief. I only hope we have no further trouble with them.”
The boys were again at the boat house the next afternoon. Ned had asked to run the engine, and, as it was decided that all three should take turns at managing the different parts, Bob went to the wheel while Jerry played he was a passenger.
“Down or up?” asked Bob, as he threw in the clutch and backed the Dartaway out of the house.
“Let’s go down,” suggested Jerry. “Then we can try her up against the current and see how she behaves.”
The boat was making good progress, the engine was purring like a contented cat, and the boys were beginning to enjoy the run, when Bob suddenly shut off the power and cried:
“There, I forgot all about ’em!”
“What?” asked Jerry anxiously. “There’s plenty of gasolene, I hope.”
“It’s the sandwiches,” spoke Bob in sorrowful tones. “I told our girl to put up a lot of ’em so we could have ’em this afternoon in case we got stuck again. Now I’ve come off without ’em. I guess I’ll go back.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind!” exclaimed Jerry. “This is no picnic party. We’re not going to get stuck. If we do we’ll make you wade ashore and get the grub. You’re captain this trip. Ned and I are passengers.”
“Oh if you’re going to act that way about it, why I’ve got nothin’ more to say,” said Bob, in rather an aggrieved tone. “I only thought—”
“You only thought of getting something to eat,” put in Ned. “Now start her off, Chunky, and forget you have a stomach.”
“I’ll never be able to do that,” replied Bob with a sigh, as he threw the lever forward.
The Dartaway answered promptly and spurted ahead at a good pace. The boys had reached the next town below Cresville, running on second speed, since the current aided them.
“Look out for that rowboat ahead,” cautioned Jerry to Bob. “They act as if they didn’t know how to get along.”
He pointed to a boat containing two girls who seemed to be trying to row across the stream at a particularly wide part. They were both at the oars, but were making little progress.
One girl in the boat looked up and caught sight of the motor craft. It seemed to give her a fright for she screamed and began pulling frantically at the oars. Her companion was likewise affected, and the two, in their eagerness to reach shore were rocking the small boat violently by their endeavors.
“They’ll have an upset if they’re not careful,” said Jerry, who was intently watching the girls.
Hardly had he spoken that one of the rowers “caught a crab.” Her oar, dipped into the water only a little distance, had, when she pulled strongly on it, given way suddenly. She fell backward and her companion trying to catch her, leaned to one side.
This was too much for the frail craft. It careened far over, water ran over the gunwale, and, an instant later the two girls were floundering about in the water.
“To the rescue!” cried Ned, standing up in the motor boat, and proceeding to take off his shoes and coat.
CHAPTER VIII
PLOTTING
With a turn of the steering wheel Bob sent the Dartaway toward where the girls were making frantic efforts to reach their overturned craft.
“Slow down, Chunky!” called Jerry. “You stand by and Ned and I will get the girls. Watch out you don’t run us down. There, they’ve both sunk! We’ll have to dive for ’em!”
Jerry had followed Ned’s example in divesting himself of his heaviest clothing. The two boys stood on the gunwale of the motor boat, and, as the craft slowly circled to where the girls had disappeared, guided by Bob, Ned and Jerry leaped overboard.
As they sank beneath the surface Bob swung the Dartaway in a half curve to avoid the possibility of striking the rescuers or the girls. He watched the surface of the water with anxious eyes as he made a big circle about the place.
Though it seemed several minutes it was only a few seconds before Jerry came up. In one arm he held the unconscious form of a girl, and he struck out for the Dartaway. Bob headed for him, taking care to steer so that he could come broadside on. A few seconds later Ned appeared, but he had not found the second girl.
“I can’t—find—her—” he gasped, blowing the water from his mouth. “I’m going—down—again.”
Jerry swam to the motor boat, and, still keeping the engine going, but throwing out the clutch, Bob helped lift the unconscious girl over the side.
As she was placed on the cushions she opened her eyes.
“She’s all right,” said Jerry. “I’m going back to help Ned find the other one. Stand by, Bob.”
Plunging over the side once more Jerry struck out for the swirling eddies that indicated where Ned had gone down again in his search.
Ducking his head under the water, and opening his eyes, Jerry peered down on the bottom of the river to see if he could discern where the body was. He saw it in a tangle of weeds.
At the same instant Ned caught sight of it, and made another dive, having come to the surface to breathe. Ned was the first to reach the girl. He brought her to the surface, though it was hard work, as she was much heavier than her companion.
Between them Ned and Jerry swam with the girl to the motor boat, and lifted her over the side. Then they climbed in themselves.
“Now speed her up, Bob!” cried Jerry as he donned some of his clothes. “We’ll have to get to a doctor mighty quick with this last one. She’s pretty far gone.”
“Shall we head straight for shore?” he asked.
“No; down to that dock,” replied Jerry, indicating one quite a distance down the river, from which it was evident the girls had come in their boat. There was quite a crowd on the wharf, and several small craft were putting out toward the scene of the accident.
In a few minutes the Dartaway was lying alongside the dock, and willing hands helped the boys to lift the unconscious girl out, while the one Jerry had rescued assisted herself.
There was a scene of confusion. Scores of people demanded to know what had happened, when, where and all the particulars.
“Look here!” exclaimed Jerry. “You can hear all about it later. The main thing is to get this girl to a doctor and see if we can’t save her life.”
“That’s right!” exclaimed the proprietor of the boat pavilion. “Get out the way there, you folks that are so anxious to know what’s going on. Here’s a doctor now.”
A tall man, carrying a small valise, shouldered his way through the crowd.
“Let me pass, I am a physician,” he said.
Taking off his coat he began working over the unconscious girl. He was assisted by several women, and in a few minutes the boys, who had been looking on, saw the maiden open her eyes.
“I guess she’s all right,” said Jerry. “Come on, let’s get out of this. I don’t want to answer a lot of questions. We’ve got a good chance to skip while the crowd is all in a bunch.”
The boys, after talking the matter over as the boat sped away decided they would say nothing to their folks about the rescue.
“If we do they’ll get all excited and think an accident happens every time we take the boat out,” said Jerry.
“Suppose they ask us what makes us so wet?” asked Ned.
“Well, we’ll not lie about it, of course,” said Jerry. “Only I hate to have a fuss made.”
There was no need to answer questions about their wet clothes. It was dusk when the boys got back to Cresville, and they were able to get into their homes unobserved.
But if they hoped to have the incident go unnoticed they were doomed to disappointment. Two days later, when they were preparing for a spin one afternoon, Andy Rush came leaping down to the dock, waving a paper aloft.
“So that’s how you do it!” he exclaimed. “Brave rescuers—save lives—right on the job—dive under water—rush ashore—rush away again—say nothing—modest—but it’s all found out!”
“What’s the matter now, Andy?” asked Jerry.
“Nothing at all—everything—lots of things—look there!” and Andy held out a copy of the copy of the Cresville weekly.
There, on the first page, under big headlines the boys saw an account of their rescue of the two girls. The reporter had spared no language. It was a chance that seldom came to the little paper and it was made the most of.
“Well if that isn’t the limit,” said Ned. “I wonder they didn’t want personal interviews with us, and all our pictures, besides a story of our experiences under water.”
“Say, you’re heroes all right—all right!” exclaimed Andy. “Everybody in Cresville is talking about it. The paper is selling like hot cakes—million copies—all talking about you—Gee Whiz! I wish I was you fellers! You can get a job in a dime museum now!”
“Oh, dry up!” said Jerry in a good-natured voice. “Here, jump in Andy and we’ll give you a ride. That will make you forget all about the rescues and the hero business. Mind, if you ever refer to it again, you’ll never go on another trip.”
“I’ll keep quiet, but it’s bound to be talked about,” said Andy.
They kept on up the river for several miles to a little summer resort, where there was an ice cream stand. Bob proposed they go ashore and have something to eat.
The boys found seats in a quiet corner and were soon enjoying their refreshments. After the first plate of cream had vanished Bob proposed more.
For some minutes past the boys had been hearing the low sound of voices in the room back of them, where it seemed, were more chairs and tables.
At first the boys paid no attention to the conversation. But finally it grew louder and they could hear two voices in dispute.
“If that isn’t Noddy Nixon I’ll eat my hat,” said Ned in a whisper. “I’d know his voice anywhere. But who’s the other?”
“Let’s see what it’s all about?” suggested Bob. “It isn’t spying on them. They are talking so loud they can’t help being heard all over.”
“Hush!” cautioned Jerry.
A second later there came to the ears of the boys these words:
“I’ve given you all the cash I can afford to. You must think I’m a millionaire, Bill.”
“Pretty near it, I guess,” was the answer in a low rumble. “All I know is, I’ve got to have money.”
“I tell you I’m broke,” persisted the one whom the boys had decided was Noddy. “I might allow you a little something if you helped me out.”
“What is it now? Some more of your tricks on those motor boys?”
“Hush!” exclaimed Noddy. “Not so loud. Do you want to have the police after us? Now I’ll tell you what I want you to do.” His voice sunk to a whisper, but the walls were so thin that the boys could distinguish a word here and there.
“Motor boat—do ’em brown—fix ’em for me—I’ll pay you well,” were some expressions overheard.
“I wonder if he’s referring to us,” said Jerry. “I’d like to hear a little more of this.”
The next words came more distinctly though the sentence was broken here and there by intervening silences.
“Make it hot—pay you—have a good time soon,” was what came to their ears.
“Well, it’s a good thing to know this in advance, that is if it’s us they’re referring to,” said Ned. “We can be on the watch.”
Having finished their cream, even Bob voting he had enough, the boys started to leave. As they walked past the room whence the voices had come, the door opened and two figures emerged. They were Bill Berry and Noddy Nixon.
CHAPTER IX
A TEST OF SPEED
At the sight of the motor boys, Noddy started and seemed to turn back. Bill Berry, however, was troubled by no such timidity. He pushed forward while his companion hung back.
“What do you fellows want here?” asked Bill in no gentle tones. “Are you spying on us? If you are you’d better look out, that’s all!”
“We’re not ‘spying’ on you as you call it,” said Jerry. “As for being here, I guess we have as much right to come here after a plate of cream as you have. And we didn’t see anything blue either,” he added.
“What do you mean by that?” demanded Bill Berry in excited tones.
“Just what I said,” replied Jerry in a calm voice. “The last time you saw us you wanted to know whether we had seen anything blue. I thought I’d tell you now that we did not see anything of such a shade, to save you asking a question. But we may see it any day. When we do we’ll let you know.”
The effect of this talk seemed greatly to excite Bill. He turned first pale, then red. He tried to speak but the words failed him.
“Look here!” he finally exclaimed. “I’d like to know what you mean. If the Blue—”
“Keep still!” exclaimed Noddy. “Come on Bill. Don’t have anything to do with the sneaks.”
“Look here!” burst out Ned. “You keep your names to yourself, Noddy Nixon, and speak civilly of us or you’ll find yourself in deeper water than the day that you fell into the river!”
Noddy’s face became red at the recollection of his humiliation at the hands of the motor boys.
“I’ll pay you for that yet!” he exclaimed. “I’m not likely to forget it. You’d better look out. Me and Bill—”
“Keep quiet, you lunk-head!” exclaimed Bill in a hoarse whisper. “Who’s talking too much now? Do you want them to—” and then, fearing that he might say too much Bill fairly dragged Noddy out of the door with him.
For a few moments the boys stood in silence. They could hear Noddy and Bill walking down the path that led to the river, their feet crunching the gravel.
“I wonder how they came here,” said Bob.
“Let’s watch ’em and see how they leave,” said Jerry. “We’ll get a line on ’em then.”
Going to the door of the pavilion they saw Noddy and Bill get in a motor boat that was tied at the edge of the float. It was a little craft, hardly more than a rowboat with a small “kicker” gas engine in it. Noddy got in the bow to steer, and Bill cranked up. After a number of loud wheezes and chugs the boat started down the river.
“Little one cylindered affair,” said Bob in contemptuous tones.
“Never mind, they may make trouble enough for us with it, even if it has only one cylinder,” put in Jerry. “It don’t move very fast, to be sure,” as he watched the craft glide slowly down the stream, “but you can bet Noddy has some object in having such a poor boat when he could afford a better one. He’s up to some game, I haven’t the least doubt. I wish I could get on to it.”
“Do you think he has any plan for making trouble for us?” asked Ned.
“Judging from what we overheard a little while ago, I would say he has,” spoke Jerry.
“Well, I think Jerry’s right,” agreed Ned. “It seems that Bill has something to hide. I wonder what he’s always talking about something blue for?”
“Did you notice he always gets as far as the word ‘blue’?” asked Jerry. “Then he stops as if he was going to mention something more, but catches himself just in time.”
“I wonder if it’s blue diamonds, blue moon, or blue feelings,” spoke Bob.
“Maybe it’s a blue bird,” put in Ned with a laugh. Though he spoke off-hand the time was coming when his words were destined to be remembered with peculiar significance.
As the Dartaway was chugging along towards home on second speed the boys heard, from behind, the exhaust of another boat, that, to judge by the explosions, was coming along at a rapid clip.
“Hello!” exclaimed Jerry who was steering. “I didn’t know there were any other motor boats around here but ours and Noddy’s.”
“That’s a dandy, all right,” spoke Ned, as he looked the approaching craft over from bow to stern. “She is going some. I wonder if we could beat her. Try, Jerry.”
Jerry was not unwilling to have a little test of speed with the stranger craft. It came on steadily, the explosions making almost a continuous roar. In the boat which was soon opposite the Dartaway, were two men. The boat was new, and, in the gathering dusk the boys could read the name on the bow, Terror.
“Rather piratical,” said Ned in a low voice.
The men in the Terror glanced curiously at the Dartaway as the two craft came opposite. One of them spoke to the other in a low voice. Then the one at the wheel adjusted the engine and the Terror leaped ahead. The two boats were now on even terms.
The two men could be seen smiling slightly as they glanced across at the craft the boys were in. Jerry settled himself at the wheel, and telling Ned to see to the engine, and keep it well oiled, he prepared for the race, which had been tacitly agreed to.
For a few minutes the two boats were running so nearly alike that, looking from one to the other, both seemed to be standing still. Then slowly, very slowly, the Terror began to creep away. Jerry opened the throttle a trifle, and the Dartaway edged up on her rival.
“They needn’t think they can leave us behind in that way,” spoke Ned. “We haven’t begun to go yet.”
Nor, did it appear, had the Terror, either. From time to time the steersman glanced at the Dartaway, and, as he saw her keeping even with him he speeded up his motor a trifle. But Jerry was not to be outdone, and he did not let the other boat gain an advantage.
“Do you think we can beat him?” asked Andy in a low tone, too impressed by the race to talk at his usual rate.
“It’s a question of engines now,” said Jerry. “Ours is at the limit.”
So, it appeared, was the Terror’s. For some time the two men had been content with merely keeping a straight course, and oiling their motor.
But now, aided either by having gotten into a place where the current was a little swifter, or her motor making a few more explosions a minute, the Dartaway began to forge ahead. At first it was only by the closest observation that it could be seen. But, in a little while, the nose of the boys’ boat was three inches past the Terror’s. Then this increased to ten, to twenty, until, about a mile above Cresville, the Dartaway was a length ahead of her rival.
“We’re beating ’em!” cried Ned in his exultation.
“I think so. We certainly are shooting along,” agreed Jerry.
An instant later the motor of the Dartaway, with a wheezing cough, began to slow up. Then with a final explosion, as if in protest, it stopped altogether. The craft at once lost headway, and the Terror sprang forward and passed her, winning the impromptu speed contest.
“Well, if this isn’t the limit!” exclaimed Jerry. “I wonder what’s the trouble now.”
Ned was frantically trying to get the motor to start again.
“Seems as if there was no gasolene,” he said.
Jerry quickly opened the forward tank, and thrust a measuring stick down.
“That’s what’s the trouble!” he exclaimed. “Not a drop in the tank. We forgot all about filling it.”
The Terror, after continuing on for about an eighth of a mile had turned and was coming swiftly toward the Dartaway. When she was alongside, the steersman quickly reversed his motor and the craft, trembling like a frightened thoroughbred, came to a stop.
“In trouble?” asked the man at the wheel pleasantly. “You have a mighty fine boat there. I hope she hasn’t broken down. You had us beaten.”
“The gasolene has given out,” said Jerry.
“Shall we give you a tow to Cresville?” the steersman went on. “That’s as far as we’re going.”
“We’d be much obliged if you would,” spoke Jerry. “Does your boat belong there?”
“I think it will after to-night, boys,” said the man at the motor. “How are you? Came near beating us,” and he took off the cap that had shaded his face.
“Why it’s Chief Dalton!” exclaimed Ned, as he and the others recognized the head of the Cresville police force. “What in the world are you doing here, chief?”
CHAPTER X
SAVED FROM THE FALLS
“Why, I was racing you boys,” replied the officer.
“I see you were. But I never knew you went in for motor boats,” said Ned. “Is that your craft?”
“Not exactly, though I have an interest in her,” the chief went on. “You see the Police Commissioners a few meetings ago decided to purchase a motor boat. We have quite a river frontage in Cresville, and lately there have been a number of robberies of boats and places along the stream. So it was voted to get a swift craft in which some of our officers could patrol the river. This is the boat, and Commissioner Jones, here, and I, were out giving her a trial spin. We only got her yesterday.”
“She certainly is well named,” put in Jerry.
“Well, we hope she’ll prove a ‘terror’ by nature as well as by name,” the chief went on. “She certainly is speedy enough.”
By this time Commissioner Jones had thrown a rope to the motor boys. It was made fast to a cleat on the Dartaway, and then, the Terror being speeded up, the disabled craft was quickly towed down the river. Casting off the line at the Dartaway’s dock the Terror shot on down the river, the chief and commissioner calling back farewells.
“I want you to do us a favor, Andy,” said Jerry as the lads were about to separate.
“Sure—what is it? Anything—half my kingdom—always willing to oblige—name it!” exclaimed Andy.
“That’s the trouble, you’re too willing,” said Jerry with a smile. “What I want is something very simple—that is it would be from any one else. I don’t know how it will hit you.”
“What is it?” asked Andy.
“Just don’t say anything about what you heard this afternoon,” said Jerry. “That is, I mean, about Noddy and Bill Berry. I believe they are up to some game. If we lay low we may discover what it is. If he finds we are talking about everything connected with him, we may not get at anything.”
“I’ll promise,” said Andy eagerly. He was only too ready to do whatever the other boys wanted him to, as he had hopes of more rides in the Dartaway.
“That’s a bargain,” went on Jerry. “None of us will say nothing about the occurrence.”
The next few days the boys studied hard in readiness for examinations.
“Don’t you think it rather strange that the Cresville authorities should buy a motor boat?” asked Jerry of Ned, one evening as they were returning from a short run down the river.
“Queer; how do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve always got along without a craft like that before. There’s never been any river stealing to speak of. I wonder what’s in the wind.”
“Now that you speak of it, there is something out of the ordinary in it,” agreed Ned. “I never thought of it before. What do you think it means? Has Noddy anything to do with it?”
“I don’t believe he has; yet,” replied Jerry. “I’ll tell you something I heard the other day. There are some extra detectives in town.”
“Are you sure?”
“Andy Rush says so,” went on Jerry. “You know he’s always hanging around police headquarters. He wants to be a newspaper reporter some day.”
“I would think he’d make a good one,” said Ned. “He’s always finding out things.”
“Well, when he was down to headquarters the other afternoon,” went on Jerry, “he says he overheard the chief tell the sergeant in charge to tell the special detectives about some happening. This made Andy suspicious, as he had read about the big private detective agency which supplies officers. He says he saw a couple of strange men go into the chief’s office a short time afterward, and stay for some time.”
“Oh, Andy’s always imagining things,” said Ned, sending the motor boat closer in toward the shore.
“But I think he’s right this time,” spoke Jerry. “He showed me the men he had reference to, and I think they are detectives of some kind.”
“What do you suppose it’s all about?” asked Bob, getting his mind off something to eat for a few minutes.
“Oh, you’ve woke up, have you, Chunky?” asked Jerry. “Well,” he went on, “there’s some connection between the police boat, the strange detectives and robberies along the river, that’s certain. What it is I haven’t found out. But I’m going to. It may be that Noddy and Bill are mixed up in it, and if they are, it may concern us. Noddy seems to have a habit of getting us into trouble along with himself and his cronies.”
“But I haven’t heard of any robberies,” spoke Ned.
“Of course not,” said Jerry. “They’re keeping them quiet, that’s why. But I happen to know that the grist mill, down near Tiverton falls was entered the other night, and quite a sum of money stolen.”
“You don’t mean it!” Ned exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“Because I only heard it from Andy Rush a little while ago,” Jerry replied. “It seems he was in police headquarters and overheard the chief talking to one of the men about it. So you see there’s something going on in this old town after all.”
The Saturday afternoon following this trip the boys made an early start on a journey down the river. They were in need of some lubricating oil, and though they could have bought it in Cresville they decided to combine business with pleasure and make a little longer jaunt than usual.
They went to a town called Newton, about twenty miles below Cresville. On the way they passed the mill at Tiverton falls.
“There’s the place that was robbed,” said Jerry.
“Don’t seem as if it put them out of business,” remarked Ned as the sound of the machinery came to the ears of the boys.
“They’ve been making some improvements,” observed Jerry, who was at the wheel. “They’ve built a new dam and flume. Rather dangerous too. If a boat got caught in that current it would be all up with it.”
He pointed to where the mill owners had constructed a new wall to hold back the water. It was higher than the old one, and the manner in which the stream poured over the edge showed there was much power back of it.
The river was somewhat divided at this point. While the main stream continued in the regular course there was an arm that shot off above a small island, and it was this which was dammed. Just above the dam the flume took what water was needed to run the mill. Falling over the dam the water dashed down on some sharp rocks.
Arriving at Newton the boys spent a little time viewing the town. Then, having purchased the oil they started back up the river.
“Hark! What’s that?” suddenly asked Bob, who was at the wheel.
“Sounds like another boat coming up the river,” said Jerry. “Maybe it’s the Terror.”
“No, it’s the noise of the falls you hear,” put in Ned. “We are almost at the grist mill.”
“Oh sure enough, so we are,” said Jerry.
Swinging around a bend in the river the boys came in sight of the dam, over which the water was pouring in a large volume as the mill had shut down and none was being diverted into the big flume. At the same time the occupants of the Dartaway caught sight of something that caused them to exclaim in terror.
In the grasp of the powerful current was a small rowboat, in which were two girls. They were struggling frantically at the oars, but, in spite of their efforts to stem the stream, and get beyond the pull of the waterfall they were slowly drifting nearer and nearer the edge.
“Put her over there! We’ve got to save ’em!” cried Ned to Bob. “Put her over!”
“Wait a minute!” came from Jerry. “If you steer over there we’ll be caught in the current too! Let me take the wheel, Bob. Ned you look after the engine! Bob you go to the stern and stand ready to toss ’em a line. I only hope they’ll know enough to keep hold of it or tie it to their boat.”
Having issued his orders, Jerry hurried to the wheel, while the others took the positions designated. Jerry at once threw the engine to full speed ahead, and the Dartaway shot forward.
“You’re not going to leave ’em, are you?” called Ned.
“I guess not!” said Jerry. “I’ve got to back down to ’em, and stand ready to start ahead suddenly!”
“Save us!” the girls in the boat cried.
One of them had lost an oar, and the other was too frightened to do anything, even had she the strength to stem the flow of water. Nearer and nearer to the dam drifted the boat.
“Sit still! We’ll save you!” cried Jerry.
By this time the motor boat was some distance above the small craft. Jerry sent it toward the left shore in a long curve. This placed the Dartaway just above the rowboat. Then he reversed the engine, and the motor boat began to back down the stream.
“Stand ready to heave the line!” called Jerry to Bob. “Now girls!” he went on, “you catch the rope when he throws it! Wind it around an oar lock, and hold on to it!”
Bob sent the coils spinning through the air. They straightened out and several twists fell over the bow of the small drifting boat.
“Catch hold!” cried Jerry.
The girl forward obeyed. Quickly she wound the coils about one of the oar locks, and held the loose end tightly.
“Hold on!” sung out Jerry.
With a quick motion he set the clutch for the first speed forward. The water at the stern of the Dartaway was churned into foam.
“We’re drifting back!” cried Bob from the stern. “We’ll go over the dam!”
“Here’s for full speed ahead!” cried Jerry as he threw the lever over to the last notch, and swung the gasolene and spark handles well forward.
The foam at the stern became thicker and whiter. The Dartaway trembled from bow to rudder. The rope creaked with the strain.
“Hurrah! We’re gaining!” cried Ned. “We’re moving!”
The powerful motor boat had triumphed over the current and was pulling the occupants in the small craft out of danger.
CHAPTER XI
BILL BERRY’S THREATS
Slowly but surely the rowboat was pulled away from the dangerous brink of the falls. The two girls, who were pale with fear, regained their courage, and ventured to get up from the bottom of the craft, where they were crouched, to peer over the side.
A few minutes later the Dartaway was steaming ahead at full speed, pulling the tiny craft after it. Seeing there was no more danger Jerry slackened the engine and steered over toward shore.
Just then a white-faced woman ran from a cottage toward the river.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Are my little girls drowned?”
“Not exactly,” replied Jerry with a smile, as he pointed to the two children in the boat.
“But we near was, mommer!” cried the smaller of the two. “Gertrude and I went out in the boat, and lost an oar, and we drifted toward the falls. The boys come along and pulled us back or we’d got all wet.”
“I guess you’d have gotten a little more than wet,” observed Ned.
“Oh how terrible!” exclaimed the woman. “If you ever go out in a boat alone again I’ll make your father move away from this horrible river.”
Jerry with the aid of Ned and Bob was casting off the rowboat from the Dartaway, and tying it to the small dock which extended into the river.
“Will you boys come in a little while and rest?” asked the girls’ mother. “I’m sure I can’t begin to thank you for what you did. You saved the children’s lives.”
“I’m sure we didn’t do any more than any one would have done under the circumstances,” said Jerry, who, like most boys hated to have a fuss made over him or what he did. “I’m afraid we haven’t time.”
“It’s getting late, I guess we’d better be going,” added Ned, who likewise was not fond of praise, and so, bidding the girls and their mother good-bye the boys started away.
The search light, which was set going as soon as it was dark, gave a brilliant path of illumination up the center of the stream, though on either side was gloom. Suddenly the gas lamp, which burned in the bow, went out.
“There, I meant to fill the carbide tank to-day,” said Ned, “but I forgot all about it.”
“Never mind, we can go along just as well in the dark,” said Jerry. “We have the side lights going and we’re not liable to meet any other boats. Better go a little slower, though.”
Ned, accordingly slowed down, and, with scarcely a sound, so well was the engine muffled and so smoothly did it work, the Dartaway glided along. Ned steered over toward the left bank, to be out of the way of any boats that might be on the river.
It was getting quite damp, and a fog was obscuring the view.
“It’s a good thing there are not many motor boats on the river, or we might run into one, or be run into,” said Ned. “I wonder if the police boat is in commission yet.”
“I heard she’d be here next week for good,” spoke Bob.
As every one knows who has been on the water, or for that matter, out in a fog, sounds carry much farther and with much more distinctness under such conditions than ordinarily. It was because of this that the boys heard, borne down the river to them, the sound of voices.
“Now I won’t take any of your threats, Bill Berry!” they heard some one say.
With a quick but noiseless motion Ned slowed the motor down to first speed. The craft made scarcely a sound and glided through the water like a ghost, with one red and one green eye.
“Did you hear that?” asked Bob.
“Keep quiet!” commanded Jerry. “It sounded like Noddy’s voice. If it was we must find out what he’s up to.”
They listened intently, and heard a confused murmur. The words borne to them must have been exceptionally loud or else an echo carried them. Then, again, they heard plainly.
“You needn’t try to scare me, Bill,” spoke the voice, which all three now recognized as Noddy’s. “You’re as deep in this thing as I am, and if you try to give me away I can do the same for you.”
Then came the low tones of some one evidently pleading with Noddy.
“Steer close up, under those overhanging trees,” said Jerry to Ned. At the same time he threw the edge of a tarpaulin over the red and green side lights.
Silently the Dartaway glided into a regular bower under the trees. It was dark, and made an excellent hiding place. Ned threw out the gear, but the engine was allowed to run slowly.
In their hiding place the motor boys could hear the voices more plainly now. They knew Noddy and Bill were plotting together over something. From the direction of the sound of the voices Noddy and Bill appeared to be upon a small hill overlooking the river.
“I’ve got to have that money,” Bill could be heard to say. “I need it, and if you don’t get it for me I’ll—!”
“It won’t do a bit of good to threaten,” interrupted Noddy. “I’m not afraid of you. You were just as bad as I was in the mine and the kidnapping business. You don’t want to go to jail any more than I do.”
“Maybe not,” sneered Bill, “but I’ve got to have money to live. I could do that in jail without any money, but I can’t outside, which is a curious thing. But I need some cash and you’ve got to get it for me.”
“Where can I get any money?” asked Noddy.
“I don’t care where you get it,” said Bill in no gentle tones. “You can beg it or borrow it—or steal it for all I care. You get some, that’s all, or I’ll go to the police and tell them all I know.”
“You’re trying to blackmail me!” exclaimed Noddy, who, from his voice seemed almost ready to burst into tears. “You’re threatening me.”
“It’s the only way to make you do anything,” growled Bill. “Now I tell you what; if I don’t have some cash inside of two weeks there’s going to be trouble for you.”
“I’m not afraid of you!” cried Noddy, stung to sudden anger by the helplessness of his position.
“I’ll make you!” exclaimed Bill.
It sounded as though there was a scuffle between the two in the bushes. Now and then muffled cries could be heard.
“We’d better go and help Noddy!” exclaimed Ned. “He’s no friend of ours, but I don’t want to see that Bill Berry get the best of him.”
The three boys were so excited they forgot to maintain the caution they had observed at first. In moving about in the boat, as the struggle continued, the tarpaulins were knocked from the lamps and the red and green rays glowed out.
All at once the sounds of the struggle ceased. It became very quiet. But, through the darkness came the hoarse whisper from Noddy:
“There’s the police boat! They’re after us! Come on Bill.”
CHAPTER XII
AN ALARM OF FIRE
An instant later the motor boys could hear a crashing of bushes and underbrush that told them Noddy and Bill were in flight.
“Shall we take after them?” asked Bob.
“What’s the use?” inquired Jerry. “We don’t want to leave our boat. Besides, if we did catch them, which is doubtful, owing to the darkness, what would we say?”
“We might ask them what they were talking about,” said Bob.
The retreating footsteps of Bill and Noddy were becoming fainter and fainter. Now they ceased altogether.
“Well, I guess we may as well start for home,” said Jerry. “We can’t gain anything by staying here.”
It was rather late when the motor boys got home after locking up the Dartaway. They did not go out again until Friday afternoon when they started for a park resort up stream.
The Dartaway was running to perfection, having been overhauled by the boys, the engine well oiled and some adjustments made. The motor was “finding itself” and was working more smoothly with every revolution. Obedient to helm and throttle the craft went spinning up the stream like some big river horse.
As the boys in the boat swung around a sharp bend, the turn being hidden by thick trees, they almost ran into a small schooner that was beating up against the wind.
“Look out!” cried Ned to Bob, who was steering.
Bob swung the wheel well around and started to reverse the engine, when Jerry sprang forward from the stern, where he had been sitting.
“Keep on, full speed ahead!” he called. “It’s the only way to avoid hitting him!”
At the same time he moved the gasolene and sparking levers forward, and, as the Dartaway leaped ahead under the quickening impulse, Jerry steered to the left of the schooner.
His quick action saved a collision. As it was, the motor boat barely grazed the side of the other craft, and then shot out into the middle of the stream.
“What’s the matter with you fresh kids?” called a voice from the schooner, and the boys looked over to see a ragged man shaking his fist at them.
“I’ll have the law on you!” the skipper went on. “You’ve got no right to make a turn like that at full speed without blowing a whistle.”
“I guess he’s got us right,” spoke Jerry in low tones. “It’s our fault. Sailing vessels have the right of way.”
The man appeared to be all alone on the craft for he remained at the wheel, and no one else came on deck.
“You’d ought to have kept a little more in shore,” said Jerry. “Unloaded vessels are supposed to at this point as it’s deeper farther out, and the loaded ones take that channel.”
“I don’t care a hang about the channel!” cried the man. “You nearly run me down, and you didn’t blow any warning. If I catch you at it again I’ll sink your tin-pan of a boat if I get a chance.”
“You’ll not get the chance!” fired back Ned, turning to look at the schooner which was disappearing around the bend. As he did so the boy gave a cry of alarm.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry.
“Look at the stern of that boat!” cried Ned.
Bob and Jerry looked. Under the overhanging ornamental work was the name:
BLUEBIRD
“Nothing remarkable about that,” said Bob. “It could just as well have been redbird, or yellowbird or blackbird.”
“I see what you mean,” put in Jerry excitedly. “It may have been the ‘blue’ thing that Bill Berry referred to when he quarreled with us.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Ned. “There’s something queer going on along this river, and we’ll find it out sooner or later.”
They ran along for several miles, and were approaching a small village called Westville, when, as they came around a bend that hid from sight a straight stretch of water which led past the town, they heard shouts of excitement.
“I wonder what we’ve run into now,” said Jerry.
“Looks like a fire,” said Bob.
“It is a fire!” exclaimed Ned. “See, that barn upon the hill is all ablaze!”
Looking to where he pointed Bob and Jerry saw the stable structure, near a handsome country residence was spouting flames. About it a crowd was gathered, and the boys could see men leading out horses and running out wagons, carriages and farm machinery.
“I wonder where the fire department is,” said Jerry. “I heard they had a cracker-jack one here.”
“There they come!” cried Ned pointing to where a crowd of men and boys could be seen hurrying down a hill over which led the road into the village. In the midst of the throng was some sort of machine which was being pulled by long ropes.
“It’s an old hand engine!” cried Bob. “I thought they had a steamer here.”
“Come on; let’s go up and see it work!” cried Jerry.
The motor boat was run close to the bank, and, having been tied to an overhanging tree the boys raced up the slope toward the burning barn.
By this time the hand engine had arrived. It was one of the old-fashioned kind. Two long handles worked a pump mounted on a tank. Into this tank water had to be poured by pails, and from the bottom ran two lines of hose connected to the pumps. The hose was carried on a separate reel. In a few minutes the volunteer firemen, having gotten in each other’s way as many times as was possible, had the hose attached. One little man with a bald head and a fuzz of white whiskers on his chin was giving all sorts of orders.
Then two lines of men and boys were formed, each person with a bucket in hand, the files leading to a small brook which ran near the barn. From one to another the buckets were passed, going down empty on one side and going along filled on the other. As fast as possible the pails were emptied into the tank.
The men at the handles or “brakes” as they were called were pumping away for dear life, and soon a feeble stream came from one hose nozzle.
“Hurrah!” cried the crowd, and half a score of willing hands grabbed the line and started toward the burning barn with it. A little later, the pump having gotten in its stride, so to speak, sent a stream from the other hose.
Again there was a shout of approval, and the two streams were soon playing on the flames. But the fire had gained too much headway to succumb to anything short of the efforts of a regular department. The blaze mounted higher and higher.
“The house is on fire! The house is on fire!” a score of voices yelled.
Sure enough, some sparks from the barn had fallen on the shingled roof of the residence and there were several tiny spurts of flame.
“Let the barn go, boys!” called the chief. “Let’s save the house.”
Willing hands dragged the clumsy machine nearer the residence while the men at the nozzles ran back, and prepared to squirt water on the roof. Once more the buckets passed along the line.
Clank! Clank! went the handles.
“What’s the matter?” cried the chief. “There’s no water coming from the hose!”
The nozzle-men had climbed up on two ladders which were hastily reared against the side of the house. They turned the hose toward the spurts of flame, but no water came. The trouble was the pump was not powerful enough to force the fluid to so great a height.
“Pump! Pump!” cried the chief.
The men at the handles redoubled their efforts. For a minute or so a feeble stream trickled from the nozzles. Then, with a cough and a wheeze the pump gave out. It had broken under the unusual pressure, not being in the best of repair at any time.
“What are we going to do?” cried the chief. “The house will go!”
“Form a chain gang!” cried the owner of the residence. “Have the men stand in line from the brook to the ladder and pass the buckets along and up to the roof!”
“Good idea!” yelled the chief. “Hurry men!”
It was easy to plan but hard to put into operation. The buckets were full when they left the hands of the men nearest the stream, but when they got to those on the roof there was barely a quarter pail-full of the fluid left, so much had spilled out.
The volunteer fire fighters did the best with what they had, but the flames were gaining on them. The roof was afire in a dozen places. As fast as one spot was put out another would ignite.
Jerry ran to the disabled engine. He seemed to be examining the hose. Then he hurried back to the chief.
“How many feet of hose have you?” he asked of that excited official.
“About four hundred. But don’t bother me! What good is hose when you haven’t a pump? Look out the way!”
“I’ll tell you what good it is!” exclaimed Jerry. “Uncouple it from the engine and run it down to our boat!” and he pointed to where the Dartaway was tied at the shore.
CHAPTER XIII
THE QUEER TRAMP
“What good will that do?” cried the chief. “Haven’t I got troubles enough without you bothering me? This whole place is going up in smoke!”
“No it won’t if you do as I say,” insisted Jerry. “Have your men run that hose down to our boat!”
“Have you got a force pump there?” demanded the chief halting in his intention of shouting some new order through his trumpet.
“That’s what we have, and a powerful one too,” cried Jerry.
“Good!” exclaimed the chief. “Here boys! Run the line down to the motor boat!”
Wondering whether their chief had taken leave of his senses the men obeyed. A curious crowd gathered to see what was going on. Some even deserted the bucket brigade lines.
“Don’t leave my house to burn up!” cried the distracted owner.
“Do you think you can attach the hose to the engine?” asked Bob, as he ran along beside Jerry.
“Not to the engine but to the pump; the auxiliary pump,” said Jerry. “I guess you forgot we have a regular force pump which is worked by the engine. Not the one that pumps up water to cool the cylinders, but the one in the stern that is intended for a hose to be attached to. It’s for use in case the boat gets afire, or to wash it off when it’s dirty. It’s a fine pump, double acting, but we never had occasion to use it, and we haven’t any hose for it. I measured the fire hose, and it will just fit on the pump nozzle.”
By this time the men dragging the hose were at the Dartaway. They stared in wonder at the trim craft, for it was the first time many of them had ever seen a motor boat.
“Fasten the line on there!” cried Jerry showing the men where the pump was. “I’ll start the engine!”
He threw out the gear, and started the motor, which, running free, soon attained a terrific speed. Then Jerry threw in the clutch connecting with the pump. In an instant the machine began to suck up water from the river.
A few seconds later there came a shout from the other end of the hose, where some men were holding it ready to play a stream on the roof, which was now blazing furiously.
“By Hook! You’ve done the trick!” exclaimed the chief. “I didn’t think your little machine would force water so far.”
The chief ran back to direct his men, while quite a crowd stayed to watch the motor boys in their unexpected role of firemen.
In a few minutes the firemen had the blaze under control. It had just begun to eat through the shingles, but, so well did the volunteers play the water on, and, thanks to the Dartaway’s pump, so much was there of the fluid, that the fire soon got discouraged and, save for a few little tongues of flame, it was out five minutes later.
The house was saved, but the barn was a total loss. Seeing that there was no further need of a stream on the roof, the chief directed the men to play on the burning embers of the stable, which had collapsed into a huge bon-fire.
“Well, I reckon I can call off my men now,” said the chief some time later, when there was only a little smoke to show where the barn had stood. “I guess the danger’s over. One of you men take a look upon the house roof to see there are no sparks left.”
A volunteer fireman scrambled up and reported that the roof-fire was out completely.
“Then we’ll pull up and go home,” went on the chief. “I’m sure we’re much obliged to you boys. I don’t know what we’d ’a done only for you.”
“That’s all right,” spoke Jerry. “Glad we happened along in time to be of service.”
The hose was uncoupled from the boat pump, and coiled on the reel, while the hand engine was dragged out into the road in preparation for being taken back to quarters.
The motor boys prepared to continue on their trip. Just as Jerry was adjusting the engine in readiness to start off, a man came running down the bank to the river.
“Hi; you boys!” he called.
“Well, what is it; more fire?” asked Ned.
“No, but Mr. Dudley wants to know if you won’t come up and stay to supper. He wants to thank you, and he’s asked the other fire department also.”
“The other fire department, eh?” remarked Jerry in a low voice. “They must count us as one. Shall we go up, boys?”
“If you leave it to me I say yes every time,” put in Bob.
“Oh we knew that,” said Jerry. “What do you say, Ned?”
“Oh I could toy with a bit of food if it isn’t too heavy,” said Ned with a smile.
“Tell Mr. Dudley we’re much obliged to him, and we’ll be right up,” said Jerry, and the man, who seemed to be a helper about the place, ran back to the house.
Mrs. Dudley and several of the servants had set a table in the big dining room. The members of the volunteer fire department were standing awkwardly around discussing the events of the last few hours, and Mr. Dudley was going about from one to the other thanking them for what they had done.
“Here comes the real heroes of the day!” cried the fire chief as the boys entered. “They are the ones who jumped right into the breach and pulled us out of the hole.”
“That’s so!” cried Mr. Dudley, hurrying over and shaking hands with the boys. “I don’t know your names yet,” he went on, “but I’m a thousand times obliged to you.”
Jerry introduced himself and his comrades, and soon every one was at his ease, the volunteers firing question after question at Bob, Ned and Jerry as to how their “machine” worked.
“Now, never mind the fire, but sit down and eat,” cried Mr. Dudley. “I’m sure you’re hungry and that you all deserve better than we have here. You must make allowances for the meal. It was gotten ready in a hurry, and we’re a little upset.”
“I should think you would be,” said the chief. “Good land, we ain’t had as much excitement as this, no sir, not in ten years.”
The meal was a good one in spite of the adverse circumstances under which it was prepared, and the boys and every one else ate heartily.
During a lull in the serving of the victuals, the chief arose at his place.
“Members of the Towanda Fire Department,” he said, “I have a motion to make. I know this ain’t a regular meeting, but I ask for a suspension of the rules.”
“Hurrah! You’re all right! Go ahead chief! Make a dozen motions if you want to!” were some of the cries that greeted the head of the volunteers.
“Then I move you that we elect these three boys, who helped us so well to-day, honorary members of our department!” exclaimed the chief.
“Second the motion!” cried every member of the volunteers.
“I guess there’s no use to take a vote on that proposition,” the chief went on. “You’re elected unanimously!”
“Thank you, very much,” said Jerry, speaking for himself and his chums.
There was a cheer for the boys, and congratulations on every side. Mrs. Dudley came up, shook hands with the boys, and with tears in her eyes thanked them for their aid in saving her home.
“I don’t know what I would have done if it had burned down,” she said. “I’ve lived here so long I don’t believe I ever could live in a new place. I must write and tell you boys’ mothers what you did for me.”
As soon as they could, the boys made an excuse for leaving. Shaking hands with their host and hostess, they went down to the motor boat, followed by about half the members of the fire department. Amid cheers from the men the boys started off.