CHAPTER VIII—FACE TO FACE AT LAST
“What happened?” cried Frank, unable to understand why the boat acted so queerly, and seemed trying to head up-stream again.
“Must be a snag has hold of her, and is trying to turn her around!” grunted the straining Jerry; thereby acknowledging that he had not kept as good a lookout ahead as a careful pilot should, or he would certainly have known where a snag lay hidden, by the swirl of water about it.
“Where’s Bluff?” cried Will.
“Oh! reckon he went over to see what sort of a snag it was!” replied Jerry.
Then Frank remembered that the last thing he had seen of Bluff he was perched on the bulwark of the boat, with his back down the river, and enjoying his second relay of lunch.
“He’s been knocked overboard by the sudden stop of the boat!” he exclaimed, making a rush for the bow.
As he looked over, he discovered the object of his anxiety holding on to the stem of the craft with desperate zeal. Doubtless, as he was sent flying, losing his balance, Bluff had had the good sense to let his sandwich go, and seize the first projection he could find, to prevent his being carried under the bulky craft, if she continued on down-stream.
“I’m here, right-side up with care, Frank!” he spluttered; “and I don’t like it any too well, either. So please reach me your helping hand, and give a pull.”
Frank called to Will to hurry over and help, for he realized that Bluff, with all his clothes thoroughly soaked, would be too much of a load for one.
So together they drew him up, none the worse for his ducking, save that he must change his clothes.
“Worst thing about it,” declared Bluff, good-naturedly, when the others were standing around, grinning at his forlorn appearance, “is that I lost that nice wedge of ham. Somebody make me up another sandwich; won’t you, while I get out of these soggy duds, and into some dry ones?”
“But the first thing we ought to do is to swing the boat free from that snag,” remarked Frank, “I don’t fancy being held up here like this. It must be a grounded log, with one end pointing up-stream; and we’re stuck on that like a pivot, by the way the boat swings around, first this way, then that.”
He took an observation, and found out just where the point of the snag seemed to be pressing into the bottom planks of the houseboat.
“By good luck it’s over on one side,” Frank remarked, after a while; “and if we all throw our weight over to starboard, perhaps the boat may list enough to let her slip off. Come along, and try it, anyhow. If that fails, we may have to start something else moving.”
But it did not fail, fortunately. Just as Frank had said, the nose of the submerged log happened to be against the slippery bottom of the houseboat near the edge, and a very small list started the craft to sliding. They heard a grating noise, and then the boat once more came to an even keel, starting to glide along with the current.
Of course it was easy enough, after that, to work her head around, so that it again pointed down the river.
“I’ll keep a better lookout after this, Frank,” Jerry asserted, knowing that the fault was principally his, since he had been left in charge as pilot of the expedition.
Will had meanwhile obligingly made up another “snack” for the swimmer; and Bluff ate it with the utmost unconcern, just as though falling overboard from a snagged houseboat were an every-day occurrence in his experience.
During the afternoon they sighted the first real shantyboat seen on the cruise. A savage dog aboard barked at them as long as they were passing; for the boat happened to be tied up to the shore at the time. A rough-looking man was filing a saw, and Frank gave it as his opinion that he followed this trade; dropping down the river, a mile or so at a time, as business permitted, and possibly following the profession of sewing-machine agent as well.
Late that afternoon it began to look blustery, and Frank was more or less concerned as to where they might find a suitable place at which to tie up for the coming night.
They had passed several good spots, but it was too early to stop drifting for the day; and now that they wanted a shelter, and a stout post for the cable, both seemed absent.
“Looks like something ahead there, Frank,” announced Jerry, who still stuck to the heavy sweep, as though he wanted to make amends for his carelessness earlier in the day.
“Yes, you’re right,” the other answered; “and unless my eyes tell me wrong, seems as if there might be several boats collected there. I can see a shantyboat; there are some small row-boats, and another big craft moored to the shore that must be a rich man’s pleasure craft.”
“Ought we take chances by joining them?” asked cautious Will.
Frank swept a look around at the darkening sky ahead.
“The way things look,” he observed, reluctantly, “I’m afraid we’ll have to chance it for once, though we were warned to keep away from other boats all we could. But there is some bad weather coming, and perhaps these fellows know it, and have put in here to avoid being caught below in the open.”
“Then shall I swing her in toward the shore now?” asked Jerry.
“I’ll give you a helping hand,” volunteered Frank, who knew the sensitive nature of his chum, and understood how, in all probability, Jerry must have been repenting of his carelessness all the afternoon.
Between them they easily managed to get the cumbersome houseboat into the cove where the others lay snugly. It was a good harbor, at any rate, in case of a blow; and Frank would have been greatly pleased did the Pot Luck lie there all alone.
“Say, that’s a fine affair there,” remarked Bluff, as he stood at the side, and looked toward the large craft that snuggled against the shore, being held by strong cables both above and below; “and some rich fellow’s pleasure boat, too, because she can go up or down the river, having a gasolene engine. I’d like to see what she might be like inside. There’s a young fellow standing watching us, Frank; would you mind if I stepped over, and struck up an acquaintance with him?”
“Sure not, Bluff; and I’ll go you one better by keeping you company.”
“Fine,” remarked Bluff; “just wait a minute, and I’ll join you. I want to get my gun.”
“Hold on,” laughed Frank; “what do you think you’re going to run up against here? Ten to one these people are all honest chaps. Why, I can see a sign right now, on one of the shantyboats, and it tells us that the man aboard is a locksmith.”
“That’s just it,” spoke up Bluff, as he dived into the cabin, and came out again bearing his repeater; “don’t you see that he’s got what’s meant to be a picture of a gun on his sign? That means he mends them; and I’ve a notion my pump-gun needs a little attention.”
“Same old story, eh?” remarked Frank; “I remember that long ago it used to be getting out of order every little while, and made you lots of trouble.”
“Oh! it’s nothing to speak of,” Bluff declared, always ready to stand up in defense of his arms; “but while I had the chance I thought it would be a good thing to have a repair man take a look at it. When you want a gun you want it bad; and it ought to be always ready for use.”
“Glad to hear you say that, Bluff,” Frank admitted; because as a rule his chum was inclined to be careless in his ways.
Leaving Jerry starting preparations for the supper, with Will to assist in case of need, the other two stepped ashore, and sauntered toward the clump of boats.
Frank noticed that the young fellow watched them coming with something of interest; but then, that would only be natural under such circumstances. He also made certain that the other was a complete stranger, and therefore could not be one of Oswald Fredericks’ college cronies.
“Howdy, strangers?” remarked the other, as they came up; “I suppose, now, that you’re off on a little trip, the same as I am, with my helper here?” and he pointed to a husky-looking fellow who was wiping some machinery.
This fact seemed to allay any slight suspicion the lads may have entertained in the beginning, so they stopped to chat with the two. Instead of hurrying on in the direction of the boat where the gun repairer had his headquarters, Bluff hovered around. To tell the truth, he was greatly struck with the elaborate appearance of the boat, which had the name of Lounger painted on her bow; and he was hoping the owner would invite them both inside to see how she was fitted up.
This was just what did happen presently, as they continued to talk. Frank might have thought it wise to decline the invitation, giving as an excuse the plea that the hour was growing late; but the impetuous Bluff was not going to be cheated out of a treat so easily.
“Sure we’ll step in, and look around, since you’re so kind as to invite us,” he declared, before Frank could say a word. “Some fine day, when my ship comes home, I may be wanting to build a boat like this to knock about in; and I’d like to know how you’ve arranged things inside. Come along, Frank; plenty of time.”
Of course Frank could not well hold back after that, so he followed at the heels of the others.
“Please step in, both of you!” said the owner of the fine pleasure houseboat, and as he said this, he opened the cabin door, allowing the eager Bluff to enter; and then gently pushing Frank after him, closed the door behind him.
“Wait, I’ve got electrics here, and I’ll push the button. This is what you might call a modern, up-to-date boat, and you’ll get the surprise of your life right now.”
They surely did; for as the light suddenly sprang up they saw sitting about the luxuriously-furnished cabin three other fellows, in whom they easily recognized Oswald Fredericks and his college chums, Raymond Ellis and Duke Fletcher!
It was certainly a tableau, as the rivals stared at each other.