They got away at a reasonable time, and continued their northern progress through the crooked St. Mary’s River. On the way they saw numerous nooks that aroused the sportsman spirit in Jack; for he just knew the gamy bass lurked in those inviting waters, awaiting the coming of the fisherman. But there was no time to spend just then in seeking sport.
At about eleven o’clock they passed the smaller rapids, a most picturesque spot, where the water rushed boiling through many channels, and innumerable lurking places for the spotted trout seemed to invite a stay. But the Soo was now close at hand, and all of them were eager to look upon the famous big rapids, unexcelled for beauty and grandeur in all the land.
When the three motor boats presently reached a point where the little city on the left hand shore as well as the foamy rapids, and the railroad bridge stretching from Canada to the Michigan bank, came into view, the boys involuntarily waved their hats, and sent forth a cheer.
“Alabama! here we rest!” cried George, as they kept booming along up the strong current of the river, until a spot was reached just below the foot of the rapids.
Not many steamers stop at the Soo, save those which run in connection with the tourist travel, between Mackinac and the rapids city. But there is a constant procession of steamers, and whaleback grain barges going in both directions, day and night, all during some seven months of the year. The tonnage of the government canal through which these boats pass around the rapids far exceeds that of the Suez Canal for the entire twelve months.
After finding a responsible party in whose charge the three brave little boats could be left, the cruisers proceeded to take in the sights.
Of course the rapids came first, and they viewed these from every angle. Jack was also deeply interested in the government fish hatchery on the little island; and watched with an envious eye the various pools in which scores of enormous speckled trout, weighing upward of seven pounds, were kept.
“Wait till we get to the Agawa,” he said, shaking his head with determination. “I want to find out how some of those whoppers feel at the end of a line.”
Nick had made for a clothing emporium, where he fitted himself out in some new clothes. Of course he did not explain just why this was necessary; but judging from the suspicious looks cast upon him every time he came near the clerk, the latter could give a shrewd guess concerning the truth.
Jack was still watching some of those giant trout jump out of the water in the pool when he dangled a long blade of blue grass so as to make the feathery end touch the surface like a fly, when George joined him; for they had settled upon the hatchery as a sort of rendezvous where they could come together, so as to take the thrilling ride down the rapids in a big Indian canoe.
“All off, Jack!” said George, trying to look sober; though there was a merry twinkle in his black eyes that belied the solemn cast of his face.
“What do you mean?” asked the other. “Anything more happened to that fellow Buster? Or perhaps it’s Josh who’s bent on halting our expedition now, with some caper. Go on, tell me.”
“Oh! you’re away off,” grinned George. “I only meant to inform you that they’re gone on ahead of us.”
“I suppose you mean the Mermaid,” Jack remarked.
“That’s right,” George responded, promptly. “Left here this very morning for a cruise through the Big Lake. Went through the canal about breakfast time. Seems as if we’re just bound to keep tagging at their heels, don’t it, Jack? I suppose we’ll hear a howl from Buster now, because he is cheated out of seeing that fat Miss Sallie again.”
“Buster has enough to think of in other directions, I suspect,” smiled Jack.
“Well, I should guess so,” added the other. “Imagine, if you please, Nick trying to call on any young lady at present. She’d be apt to have a swooning spell. For a time Buster will have to cut out all thoughts of girls’ society. He can thank his lucky stars that his chums allow him to hang around.”
“Have you had any lunch?” asked Jack.
“I think there’s the rest of the bunch coming along the stone walk by the canal, right now. Perhaps we’d better postpone our little ride down the rapids until we get a bite. Buster will be starved.”
“There he is dogging the footsteps of the rest,” remarked Jack. “Herb is being cruel to the poor old chap. He won’t let him join them. I guess he’s suffered about enough by now, and we’ll have to let up on it.”
“Sure we will,” agreed impulsive George. “Anyhow, we wouldn’t have the nerve to make Buster take a canoe by himself, and shoot the rapids. Let’s start out and join them. Perhaps Buster had discovered a good feed place, in his wanderings about the town.”
“Ten to one he’s noticed a dozen; and perhaps had a few bites before now,” and Jack led the way across the little bridge connecting the island where the hatchery was situated, with the main shore.
Nick gladly admitted that he had marked a promising restaurant during his foraging expedition in search of the suit of clothes, which he had taken to the boat and donned.
“It ain’t a tony place, fellows,” he argued; “but considering the circumstances, er—I thought we wouldn’t care for style.”
“Why, no, not just at present, Buster;” George said. “You’ve got a level head for once. We’re going to forgive you now, and restore you to good standing, on condition that you never, never again try to stock the camp with a menagerie of strange animals.”
Nick promptly held up his right hand.
“I give you my word, boys, and thank you. Please overlook any slight association between myself and our recent invasion of Canada. And now come along. I tell you I feel as if I could clean out all the restaurants in the Soo. I only took a light breakfast you know, because of low spirits.”
Josh held up both hands in despair, though he said not a word. There are times when silence is much more suggestive than any flow of language; and every one understood.
An hour or so later, before half-past two, they were on the little beach, talking with a couple of wiry-looking men, who claimed to be sons of the famous old guide of the rapids, John Boucher, who died a few years ago, after having carried thousands and thousands of summer tourists in his canoe through those swirling rapids, without ever a disaster.
Then the entire bunch of six boys took their places in the big and staunch canoe, with a wielder of the paddle at either end. Jack happened to occupy a position near the man in the stern, whose post is always the more important, since he guides the destinies of the swiftly running craft, while the one in the bow fends off from impending rocks.
Jack had taken this position more to observe how the experience affected his chums than for any other reason. He certainly never once dreamed that there might be a Providence in such a small thing as his choice of position.
Then began the first stage of the run, with the two Indians pushing the laden craft upstream by means of stout poles. They kept close to the shore, finding a way around the numerous rocks, and other obstacles, where the water boiled madly; and by slow degrees approached the railway bridge, under which the start is generally made.
“Ain’t this simply glorious?” demanded Herb, as they found themselves surrounded by the churning waters, and gradually leaving the shore farther away.
“Wait!” said George, “if you think this is fine, what will you have to say when we get to running the rapids in fact? I’ve been through some smaller than these, and can guess how it feels.”
“My! I’d like to keep doing it all day!” remarked Nick, feeling something like himself again, since he had been restored to favor once more.
“Well, at the rate of fifty per, your bank account would soon collapse. Besides, they say that the excitement is bad on fat people, so that they lose weight right along,” George observed.
“You’re joshing me, I know, George,” declared the other. “If I believed you, I’d be tempted to stay over here while you fellows went on, and keep going all day, so I could cut off, say about thirty pounds or so. No, I wouldn’t either; I forgot!”
“Yes, I should think you did forget Sallie,” jeered Herb. “If you got out of her class she’d never forgive you, Buster. Besides, perhaps she wouldn’t even see you if you wasted away to a shadow. Better leave well enough alone, and enjoy the good things of life.”
“Here we go now; they’re heading straight out on to the river!” cried Josh, as he nervously clutched the side of the big canoe near him; for they were seated two and two, with Jack just behind and George in front, as the boat narrowed.
The Indian guides were indeed pushing strenuously now, and when the water deepened both of them dropped their poles in the bottom of the canoe, to seize upon stout paddles and wield them furiously.
It was intended to reach a certain point in the river before turning the prow of the craft down toward the head of the rapids.
Long familiarity, every day in the week during the season, and many times a day, had made every rock and swirl known to these men. But although they knew the main channel like a book, seldom did any crew dare venture as close to the terrible jaws of the whirlpool as the veteran guide of the rapids, Old John Boucher, had always made it a practice of taking his parties.
Jack had looked several times at the man in the stern. Somehow, he did not wholly like his appearance. There was something about him to signify that he must have recently arisen from a sick bed. Perhaps, tempted by an influx of tourists, and the demand for experienced guides to take them through the rapids, he had come back to work a bit too soon!
“He doesn’t seem as strong as the others,” Jack was thinking, even as he turned his head from time to time as if to see what lay behind, while they were pushing up the sturdy current. “I can hear him pant as if short of breath. Goodness! I hope now nothing is going to happen to him while we’re spinning along down through these old rapids. They say that whirlpool would swallow up anything; and that Old John was the only man whoever went into it, and came out alive. Whew!”
But Jack did not whisper these fears to his comrades. It was too late to change steersman now; and why spoil all their pleasure?
After all, no doubt there was not so much strength needed once they began to move swiftly along with the current, going half a mile in a couple of minutes, they had been told, though Jack doubted the accuracy of that statement at first.
Apparently the guides had overshot the mark at which they aimed; for as the canoe was turned, in the shadow of the bridge, Jack saw that the man in the bow glanced apprehensively over his shoulder while he knelt there, and immediately began to paddle furiously, as though trying to bring the boat back a little toward the American shore.
Had they gone too far, and were they speeding down in the track taken by the one daring prince of guides—a course that would actually skirt the verge of that whirlpool, of which such terrible things were said?
Jack shut his teeth hard at the thought. Then he gave himself up to the keen enjoyment of that glorious ride, when the canoe was seized upon as by invisible hands, and borne along at lightning speed.
Looking at the water alongside, foam-specked as it was, one could not believe the boat was moving at all, because both kept company. But all that was needed was for the voyager to raise his eyes, and send a look toward the shore, when he must realize the tremendous rapidity with which his frail craft was being carried along.
Things just seemed to fairly flit past, as though they were aboard a fast railway train. The boys were evidently enjoying the novel experience to the full, for their heads were constantly turning from side to side, and all seemed to be talking at once.
Jack was nervously looking ahead and on the left, for he knew they must now be approaching the whirlpool, where the eddying waters went furiously round and round and the center seemed to be a deep hole, like the dent a gigantic top would make in the mud.
Yes, there it was beyond, and they were speeding down at a pace that made one dizzy to notice it. He could feel that both Indian guides were paddling desperately away from the left, as though fearing that they were too close to the verge of that death chasm!
What if a paddle chanced to break right then and there? They carried spare ones fortunately—Jack had noted that; but all the same he hoped nothing of the sort would come about.
Hardly had this chilly idea flashed into Jack’s mind than he heard what seemed to be a groan close to his ear. At the same time he felt the boat quiver in a suspicious manner. Turning instantly the boy was horrified to see that the Indian guide in the rear had crumpled in his place, with his head fallen forward, and seemed to be gasping for breath.
He had collapsed just at the most dreadful moment, when the canoe was swooping down close to the edge of the whirlpool!
Fortunately for all of them, Jack Stormways was not given to fear. In emergencies he acted from intuition, rather than through thinking things out, no matter however speedily.
There may come times when a second counts for everything. Jack believed such an occasion was now upon them; and he acted instantly.
The man in falling forward had pushed his paddle alongside Jack. It was as plain an invitation to fill his place as could have been given.
Making one swoop the boy snatched up the stout blade, and instantly dipped it over the port side. Desperately he exerted his strength to steer the canoe away from the fatal eddies that sought to draw them still further into the vortex.
The Indian in the bow may have suspected something of what had occurred; but he dared not turn his head now, or take his attention away from the rocks ahead for even one lone second.
As for the five boys, they were all staring at the near-by whirlpool as though actually fascinated by its terrors; and not suspecting how close they were to plunging straight into its grip.
With every atom of his strength did Jack work, dipping as deeply as he could, and striving against the giant power of the mill race on which they were speeding.
The edge of the circling current was horribly close; in fact they seemed to skirt its very border, closer perhaps than even the veteran guide ever carried his cargoes of tourists, when in his prime.
Jack fairly held his breath as the crisis came. He did not know, could not tell whether they would win out or not. It was an experience that would doubtless continue to haunt the lad for a long time. Perhaps he would awaken in the night with a start and a low cry, having dreamed that once again he sat in the canoe with the dark skinned steersman fallen in a faint, and the hungry maw of the whirlpool yawning so very close on their left that one could have tossed a chip directly into it.
“Wow! wasn’t that a close shave though, boys?” shouted George, half turning his head to look at his mates; and then following his words with another cry: “Look at Jack, would you? Great governor! what happened?”
And as the others twisted around to look, they were amazed to discover that Jack was wielding that paddle like a veteran, his face as white as chalk, and his eyes staring; but his teeth firmly pressed together, with a look of grim determination on his young face.
Not a word was spoken until they had passed the last bristling rock, and spun out below where the foamy water took on a less violent aspect.
Then Bedlam broke loose.
“Sit still, all of you!” cried Jack, as he saw a movement on the part of his chums to get up; “you’ll upset the canoe yet, if you try that. Wait till we reach the shore, and you’ll know about it. The man has fainted, that’s all; and I had to take his place.”
“But he was all right when we started, for I looked around and saw him,” declared Herb.
“That’s true,” Jack answered. “He keeled over just before we got to the whirlpool, and as he dropped his paddle right beside me, all I had to do was to dip it in, and exert myself a little.”
“A little!” echoed George, with thrilling emphasis, “look at the beads of sweat on his forehead, fellows! Jack, honest now, you must have saved all our lives. Ugh! just to think, if the boat had swerved then, where would we be right now?”
They looked at each other, and turned paler than when passing through the yeasty waters of the rapids. But Jack tried to make light of it all.
“Oh! shucks!” he laughed, though his voice trembled a bit in spite of his wonderful nerve; “any of you would have done the same thing. Why, there was nothing else to do, to tell the truth.”
“Me?” exclaimed Nick; “I’d sure have been so frozen with horror that all I could do would have been to grab hold of the boat, and shut my eyes. Kept ’em shut part of the time, anyhow. Felt like I had an awful temptation to just jump out of the boat, and into that nice water that was singing and gurgling along beside us.”
“I guess you’d better never try the rapids any more then, Buster,” said George, “if that’s the way it affected you. I remember now hearing you say you never was able to walk on the ties of a railroad bridge, or look over a precipice, because something made you dizzy.”
They reached the shore near the small house where Old John Boucher and his family, one of the sons said to be a preacher, lived in the days gone by. When the boys climbed out of the canoe, the Indian stepped in to help his comrade, who had by then come out of his swoon, and was able to feebly walk.
To the surprise of Jack the Indian who had been in the bow stopped to hold out his hard-skinned hand, and squeeze that of the boy.
“You Jack all right! Think it all over with everybody when Jim he fall. But you do right, think. Bully!” was what he said.
“Hurray!” shouted Nick, waving his new hat wildly.
“Three cheers and a tiger for our commodore!” exclaimed George; and they were given with a vim that caused many on the stone walk along the canal embankment to look down in wonder toward the little group.
Nor would the guide accept any pay for the trip. They could not force it on him.
“You ride with me all time, and not cent pay, Jack!” he declared, his black eyes sparkling with sincere admiration as he looked in the face of the white boy.
Of course the voyagers had lots to talk about while they continued their exploration of the city on the great canal. They even climbed the hill near where the government barracks stood during the Spanish-American war, and obtained a fine view of the entire neighborhood. Yet nothing attracted their attention as did the ever rushing rapids, where the waters of the greatest inland sea in the world emptied into the river that was to bear them through the other lakes in the chain, and by way of the St. Lawrence River, to the far-distant sea.
The thrilling adventure had apparently sobered the boys too, for there was much less horse play than usual, nor were jokes in order for the balance of that day.
Having some time to spare they took the ferryboat, and crossed to the Canadian side of the river below the rapids. Here they viewed the other canal, through which considerable commerce also passes, principally Canadian.
They also took advantage of their “visit abroad,” as George called it, to inspect the big pulp mills, where spruce logs were ground up, and made into sheets that would later on become paper.
The latter end of the day was put in securing provisions calculated to last for a week or more, since they could not tell when another chance to procure supplies might come their way, once they embarked upon the bosom of Lake Superior.
Nick was once more in his element. He suggested all sorts of things that he had read about in his cook book. Had they sent him forth, with plenty of money and unlimited assurance, the chances were, as George declared, the expedition would have had to hire another boat, just to transport the stuff that fellow would have flooded them with.
“I bet he’d buy out a whole grocery store, given half a chance,” said Josh.
“Why, we’ve got all the stuff right now we can stow away comfortably,” declared Herb, scratching his head as he contemplated the numerous packages, and then looking toward his boat near by.
“Do as we suggested before, Herb,” said Josh.
“What was that?” demanded Nick, suspiciously.
“Make Buster take up his quarters in the dinky. It’ll be a ride that might take the shine off even that dash down the rapids.”
“Not any,” asserted the fat boy strenuously. “I’m too heavy for such monkey shines. Josh likes the water better than I do. You all saw how he can dive so gracefully just as if he had taken lessons from a granddaddy frog. If anybody has to be quartered in a dinky to make room, he’s the chap, all right.”
But after a while the last package was put away, and places found for all.
George drew Jack aside as the others were arranging things aboard the various boats.
“I’ve been making a few inquiries as to whether another small motor boat went through here,” he remarked.
“Oh! yes, I’d come near forgetting Clarence,” laughed Jack. “And I suppose he took the canal several days ago. He must have gained on us while we were losing time, stuck in the mud, stormbound and such things.”
“Well, he didn’t go through here, anyhow,” replied George. “And the chances are ten to one he’d never think of using the Canadian locks.”
“But he had a good start of us,” remarked his chum.
“Well, do you think the Wireless is bound to monopolize all the mud in the St. Mary’s river?” exclaimed George, indignantly. “I guess Clarence has stuck somewhere on the way up; and as he didn’t have any bully chums to pull him off he’s there yet!”
“We didn’t see anything of him,” mused Jack; “but then, there were lots of times when we had a choice of channels. Even the big boats take one of two that are buoyed and targeted. Yes, Clarence might have chosen one we let alone. But of course, if he hasn’t passed through the canal, he must still be below.”
“I’m sorry,” George remarked, gloomily.
“I suppose so, because you’re only thinking of that grand race you expected to pull off with your old rival, sooner or later. But the less I see of Clarence the better I’m pleased.”
“Do we go ashore to a restaurant tonight, Jack?” continued the other.
“Let the others decide,” Jack replied. “As for me, I think it would be the best thing to do. Josh is being overworked, as it is, and needs a little rest. Besides, Buster will be tickled, because that would leave more grub in the bunch for the future.”
Little Jocko, the monkey, had made himself quite at home with the boys. They took turns having him aboard, and he furnished considerable fun for the crowd with his antics. As yet he had not become quite reconciled to Nick, and always showed his white teeth whenever the fat boy came around. But by treating him to choice bits of food Buster was winning the little chap over by degrees.
The balance were of the same mind as Jack when the proposition was put up to them. And accordingly they went to dinner in two detachments, Nick being with the first, and serving as a connecting link between both; for he was still there when Jack, Jimmie and George arrived at the eatinghouse; and sat them out in the bargain.
Still, the second squad had enough, and could not complain that Nick had made a famine in that particular restaurant; which Josh had hinted was possible, when telling them how the fat boy had refused to leave when they did.
It was an entirely different night they spent there at the Soo, from most of the quiet ones of the trip. Much noise continued throughout the livelong night; for the lock is lighted by electricity, and vessels can keep passing up and down the nineteen feet rise and fall at any and all hours.
Frequently during the night the hoarse whistle of some big steamer, or a tug towing whaleback barges, would sound close at hand, awakening those who were not accustomed to this bustling nature of things.
In the morning all of them declared that they had passed an uneasy night; and professed to be delighted because it would not be repeated.
“Tonight we hope to be in camp somewhere along the quiet shore of the Big Lake,” said George, yawning and stretching.
“Yes,” added Jack, with kindling eyes, “where those whoppers of speckled beauties are to be found, if looked for.”
“Yum! yum! speed the hour!” mumbled Nick; and of course no one needed to be told that already his thoughts were turning to the glowing camp fire, and the tempting odors that would arise when the coffee pot was on, and the pink trout sputtering in the several fryingpans.
And shortly afterward, breakfast having been eaten at the same restaurant, which had evidently laid in a new lot of supplies since their last raid, they entered the big lock, to have the boats elevated to the upper level.
It was just ten o’clock when the trio of little motor boats started out of the canal, and headed for the open lake far beyond. Long afterward they could look back, and see the stone electricity building between the two locks of the canal; and in imagination the picture as viewed from its top would haunt them, with the churning rapids occupying the center of the scene.
Leaving the canal at its juncture with the river, they were soon in the neck of the lake. Far as the eye could reach, and many times farther, stretched the sparkling water, as clear as crystal; and cold enough to satisfy any one, even on as hot a day as this August one promised to be.
At noon they found a good chance to go ashore. Nick of course was solemnly warned that this was sacred Canadian soil, and that on no account was he to try and purloin any strangely marked animals he might discover prowling around.
“You know they have some queer beasts in these foreign lands, Buster,” George remarked, shaking a finger before the other’s stubby nose. “And make up your mind right now that you’re going to let ’em all severely alone. Some time you can join an expedition sent out to Africa, to scoop up all sorts of freak cats and sich; but while you’re with us we’d rather you restrained that curiosity of yours. It’s going to get you in trouble, some fine day, Buster, you hear me?”
“That’ll do for you, George. Just wait, and see if I don’t have a chance to get back on you yet,” replied the other, complacently. “But would you look at Josh, what he’s bringing ashore now? Fish, as sure as you live. Bully for Josh! White fish, too, the best that grow in these waters, barring none. Tell us, where did you catch ’em, Josh?”
“With a silver hook, and from one of the Indian guides,” replied the cook. “He netted ’em in the rapids, I guess. Heard that earlier in the season they get tons and tons of fish that way; two men in a boat, one in the bow to use the net, and the other to hold the canoe against the current with a pole. Bet you they’ll eat fine, too.”
“I’ll help you clean ’em, Josh,” volunteered Nick.
“All right, then; get busy, Buster. Anyhow, you know a good thing when you see it,” returned the cook, only too willing to hand over the disagreeable task.
“Well,” remarked George, as he and Jack lay there in the shade, waiting for the lunch call; “We’re well on our way to the Agawa river region. Think we’ll make it today, commodore?”
“I’m afraid not,” replied Jack. “In the first place it looks dubious over yonder, as though we might get one of these famous Lake Superior storms you read about. If that drops in on us, we wouldn’t like to be caught out on the open, you know, George.”
“Well, excuse me, if you please,” returned the other, with a shrug of his shoulders that spoke louder than his words. “Storms and my speed boat don’t seem to agree very well. When one comes hustling along I prefer to be behind some sort of shelter, where I can laugh at the wind and the waves. But you spoke as if there might be still another reason for our not getting to the river tonight?”
“There is,” Jack answered. “This time you may have the laugh on Herb.”
“Say, you don’t mean to tell me that the staunch old engine in the Comfort has been up to any antics?” exclaimed George; not without a touch of exultation in his voice; for Herb had jeered at him so many times, on account of his troubles, it was only natural that he should feel a little gratification to know there were others.
“Yes, it developed after we left the Soo,” Jack went on. “Just like these mean things always do, you know. He’s been limping along for the last half hour. Of course there’s no telling how serious it may be. Let’s hope we can fix it in short order. Some of us had better get at it right after lunch.”
“If anybody can put it in apple pie order I guess you can, Jack,” George said; “and if you need any help call on me, because you know Herb isn’t much of a mechanic.”
“That’s kind of you, George,” said Herb, who happened to be coming over to where the two were talking at the time. “That’s the best thing about the motor boat boys; they like to josh each other, and get lots of fun out of things; but when it comes right down to trouble there isn’t one of them who wouldn’t do everything in his power to help a chum.”
The call to eat caused them to make haste to gather around. In fact, there was always an involuntary sort of race to the mess table when the meals were eaten on shore, so that all partook. On this very day Josh noticed this fact particularly and made mention of it.
“Say, do you know you fellows are that prompt you just seem to jump into your places?” he said. “I start to pound a fryingpan with my big spoon, and before I get in five licks all of you are in a ring waiting for grub.”
“Huh!” grunted George, “nothing funny about that. We have to!”
Nick of course took that as a reflection on him, and bridled up at once.
“That’s unkind of you, George,” he protested. “I was never known to take any fellow’s share. An equal division is my rule always. And if some one chooses to decline a portion of his prog; and my appetite is not satisfied, what harm in commandeering the remains?”
“Oh! you’re all right, Pudding; George is only tapping you as he does us all, when he gets the chance,” Herb said.
“Well, I take my punishment decently, when my turn comes, don’t I?” demanded George, as he received a generous portion of a delicious white fish, which had been rolled in egg, and cracker crumbs, and then cooked and browned in the grease from some salt pork placed in hot pans until it fried out.
“Sure you do;” Jack laughingly remarked. “And now forget all your troubles, fellows, and get down to work. Look out for bones. I’ve eaten white fish plenty of times, and they say they’re never so good unless cooked right where they’re caught.”
“I believe it too,” Josh continued. “Just like the pompano an uncle of mine used to tell us he caught down in Florida—used to jump in the boat, he said; and as they’re a delicate, white-flesh fish like this, putting them on ice a week or so takes the flavor out. It also makes them crumble up when cooked.”
“How is it, Buster?” Herb asked; but Nick only rolled his eyes, and kept on munching as though the fate of nations depended on his ability to clear off his tin platter within a given time.
When Nick was eating he wasted mighty little breath in talking, leaving all of that for more convenient times. Besides, he had a perfect horror of some time getting a fish bone in his throat.
“Wouldn’t matter much with a lanky fellow like Josh, you see,” he once said, in commenting on this fear; “because anybody could stick his fist down, and yank the fish-bone out; but my neck is so fat I’d choke to death long before you could say Jack Robinson. So don’t bother me when I’m eating fish, please.”
Afterwards Jack and George took a look at the engine of the Comfort. After doing a little tinkering they announced that it would probably run fairly well during the afternoon; but before starting on another day’s trip more would have to be done to it.
This was not very comforting to Herb; but he made the best of a bad bargain; and with light hearts the motor boys again started forth.
Jack kept an anxious eye on the southwestern sky. He did not altogether like the looks of things in that particular quarter, and was resolved that if they discovered a promising campsite in the afternoon, they could not afford to pass it by, if it afforded an offing for the boats.
That tremendous sea, stretching for several hundred miles away to the west, opened appalling possibilities in the way of a gale. The staunchest steamers that ever plied the fresh water seas would sometimes be as putty in the grasp of a summer storm; and what of the three puny mosquito craft that were as chips on the water?
At three o’clock Herb announced that his engine was getting worse instead of better. And about the same time a welcome hail from George, who was moving along in the van as usual, told that he had by the aid of his glasses sighted a shelter.
“Then it’s us to go ashore,” declared Jack; nor was any one sorry in their hearts; since a little while before a distant sound like thunder had been borne to their ears from the low-down patch of hovering clouds.
The retreat promised to be all the shelter they wanted, though it would hardly have answered for larger boats. Immediately all became as busy as beavers, the two tents being raised, and stoutly secured, so that any ordinary gale could not carry the canvas off like a balloon.
Jack had hardly finished his share of the work before he got out his rod, and busied himself in trying for trout; for he fancied that they were to be found in the clear waters near by this cove, where a limpid little stream emptied into the Great Lake.
Nick, they all noticed, stuck close to camp. It would have to be something very attractive that could induce him to wander far from his fireside, especially when the camp was pitched on Canadian soil, where they grew such queer kitties.
This time it was Jimmie who seemed destined to get into a peck of trouble. Jack always declared that there seemed to be an evil spirit forever hovering around their camp, looking for chances to accomplish his work; and let there appear the least kind of an opening, and he was ready to jump in.
Jimmie was not much of a hunter or fisherman, though able to do either on occasion. But he did have a little fancy for wild flowers, and liked to pry around on occasion, seeing what he could discover.
Now, at this late day in the season, he knew he was not apt to run across any of these pretty gems of the woods; but there seemed to be some sort of fascination about poking here and there examining a bunch of magnificent moss of a pattern he had never set eyes on before, measuring some giant ferns, and watching the antics of a family of squirrels. These had their home in an old hollow tree close by, and seemed filled with mild curiosity concerning the intruders on two legs that had taken up quarters so boldly adjoining the cove.
Herb and George were busily engaged with the balky engine, trying to find out just what ailed the thing, so that it could be remedied once and for all. In the end they felt positive that the blame could be located and effectually cured. At least it was to be hoped so; otherwise the Tramp would have to tow the larger boat back to the Soo, where the trouble could be abated at the hands of a machinist.
Josh, according to his custom, was pottering around the camp, making a better fireplace out of stones, at which he could carry out his part of the business with more comfort and dispatch. If they had been going to remain any length of time here, Josh would have constructed a “cooker” worth looking at; for he was an artist in this particular line.
Nick was apparently quite content to lie around, “getting up an appetite for the next meal,” as Josh sarcastically remarked.
“Just as if that were at all necessary,” was what the fat boy hurled back at him; and the argument was so clinching that Josh subsided on the spot; for no one had ever seen the time when Buster’s appetite needed to be coaxed.
Nick’s eyes finally alighted on the repeating gun which Jack had leaned against a tree at a point where it would be out of harm’s way. Now, Nick himself had seldom fired a gun, though ambitious to become a sportsman; because, as he wisely observed, “if I happened to be left in the woods some time, think I want to starve to death, with a gun in my hands, and plenty of fat game all around me? Not much!”
And in that spirit he had picked up the Marlin; bringing it to his shoulder in a clumsy way, time after time, in order to get accustomed to the movement.
“Keep the muzzle turned the other way, Buster!” commanded Josh, noticing that he was working the pump action of the six-shot weapon, as if he liked to see the ejector send the shell flying out at one side.
“Guess I know enough for that Josh,” grumbled Nick, but at the same time moving still farther around, so that the cook might lose his fears; for when a meal was being prepared the fat boy always handled Josh with gloves, as he frankly admitted.
It was just as he was sitting thus that a sudden scream rang through the neighboring woods, sounding so shrill and angry that every one started as though a bolt of lightning had fallen from the clear blue vault overhead right into their midst, and exploded there!
Everybody in the camp jumped up.
All eyes were turned toward the point from which this racket sprang; and it was a strange sight that immediately met their astonished eyes. Jimmie was jumping about as though he had accidentally stepped into a bee’s nest, and was now engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the entire swarm.
Nick happened to be in a position where he could see better than any of his companions. And he immediately discovered that the troubles of the Irish lad were not at all imaginary.
Something was leaping back and forth, now threatening to land on the shoulders of Jimmie, and then springing to the low limb of a tree, or it might be the ground.
Nick had never before set eyes on such a strange creature, yet he realized that it was a wild animal. His late unpleasant experience was of course still fresh in his mind; and his first suspicion may have been that this was another specimen of a Canadian pussy cat.
Whatever it was, Jimmie seemed to be having the time of his life fighting. True to his inherited instincts, the Irish lad had snatched up some sort of stick, to serve him as a shillalah. It was a stout bit of wood too, and he wielded it in a manner that proved him to be a “broth of a boy.” Several times it landed with a resounding whack upon the flying body of his antagonist, and at each connection the unknown beast was hurled heavily backward.
But evidently the furious animal was grim and determined. Instead of being cowed by these temporary setbacks it only resumed the attack with added zeal; so that Jimmie had often to throw up his left arm in addition, to fend off his foe.
Now, Nick chanced to remember that at the very moment he was holding a gun in his hands. With one of his chums in grave peril it seemed to devolve upon him to engineer a rescue party.
“Come on, boys! Jimmie needs help!” he shouted, starting to run forward as well as his bulk admitted.
“Careful of that gun, Buster!” called Herb.
“Yes, don’t shoot Jimmie instead!” added Josh.
“Hold your fire till you can get ’em separated!” supplemented George; who being a little farther away at the time, managed to bring up the rear.
In this way then the quartette started to the assistance of Jimmie, who was still whanging away with might and main. What with the loud shouts of the aroused Irish lad, the whoops of the runners, and the angry snarling of the enraged beast, one would think a menagerie must have broken loose in the neighborhood.
Just then George happened to get a good look at the beast as it jumped up on the limb, and whirling, crouched to make another leap.
“It’s a wildcat!” he shouted as loud as he could. “Be careful, Nick! Don’t you try to grab it now, on your life!”
Nick heard, but was too busy to think of replying. The cat had sprung again at the pugnacious Irish boy, to be met with another smart thump that landed with a loud thud, and sent the beast sprawling to the ground.
“Ye would, hey?” howled Jimmie in derision, though the blood was streaked upon his face, where the sharp claws of the beast had scratched him. “Thry for it again, plaze! And be the powers, ye’ll foind Jimmie Brannagan at home whin ye knock at the dure. Come on, ye omadhaun! I’ll soon knock all the breath out of the body of ye! Wow!”
The Canadian cat was a fighter. It looked it every inch, now that the defiant defense of the intruder had aroused its fury. Once more it sprang to the limb of the tree, as though recognizing that here it had a better chance to leap than from the ground.
“Now! Buster! But be careful! Keep back Jimmie!” shouted George.
The others held their very breath, for they saw that Nick had the Marlin repeater up at his bulky shoulder. Perhaps every one of them was mentally hoping that he would not shut his eyes while pulling the trigger; for a little swerve might bring Jimmie within range, and the result be disastrous at that short distance.
Bang!
Instantly a series of whoops broke forth, and every fellow started forward once more, as though meaning to be in at the death. George and Herb and Josh had each managed to possess himself of some sort of improvised weapon. The first had in his hand a hatchet which he had been using at the time; Josh was waving his favorite big spoon, with which he was wont to beat the summons to meals on a pan; and the skipper of the Comfort had picked up a billet of wood while passing the fire, which he now flourished eagerly above his head.
Nick himself stood there, struggling with the pump-gun. As usual with novices he could not work the mechanism; for in his excitement he was trying to fire without having ejected the used shell; and no self-respecting modern arm will stand for that sort of treatment.
Fortunately all around, no second shot was needed. The animal was kicking its last upon the ground, and emitting agonizing screams of anger and pain. Whether by accident or real accuracy of aim, Nick had apparently managed to send the contents of the shell where it counted.
Already Jimmie was indulging in what seemed to be a war dance, waving his stick, and singing. George was compelled to laugh just to see his antics, streaked as his freckled face was with smootches of his own gore.
“Ye done it, Buster, sure ye knocked the silly gossoon clane over!” he called. “’Tis a broth of a boy ye arre, and afther me own heart. Look at the baste, would ye? If he hasn’t got tassels on his ears!”
“That’s a fact!” declared George, now arriving to see the last kick of the animal on the ground, and note the unquenchable fury shown to the very end. “Why, I tell you what it is fellows. A Canadian lynx, that’s what!”
“It does look different from my cat—er, that other animal,” admitted Nick, as he cautiously advanced, evidently ready to beat a hasty retreat should he discover any need.
“I’ve heard of the missing links,” spoke up Josh; “but we never lost any; so this critter couldn’t belong to us.”
“A good shot, Buster, old man!” declared George, bending down to see where the charge had struck the beast while crouching on the limb, and preparing for still another leap at Jimmie.
Nick swelled up with importance. Apparently this was one of the few occasions when he could assume an attitude, and receive congratulations. Usually it was just the other way; and like a wise fellow he believed in making hay while the sun shone.
“Oh! pretty fair, considering how quick I had to shoot!” he remarked, carelessly, as much as to say that, given a little more time, and he could have done better.
Jack now came running up, having of course heard all the row, and being consumed with curiosity to know its meaning.
“What is it?” he called, as he ran. “Another Canada pussy cat?”
“That’s just what it is,” replied George quickly.
“And is Buster at his old tricks again?” continued the other; at which Nick was compelled to grin amiably, knowing his hour of triumph was at hand.
“Buster was in the mix-up, all right,” George went on; “only this time he happened to be at the other end of the gun. Buster has covered himself with immortal glory. We all must knuckle down to him after this as the great Nimrod; for he has just slain the Jabberwock. Looky here, Jack; what d’ye call that?”
“Well, I declare, a big Canada lynx!” cried the newcomer, recognizing the dead beast as soon as he saw its queer tasseled ears, and its ferocious whiskers.
“It tackled Jimmie here, and they were having a hot old argument of it, Jimmie pounding with his club, and the cat using its claws,” Herb said, turning to the Irish boy, to see how badly he was wounded.
Jack became sympathetic at once, and anxious in the bargain.
“Only a few little scratches you say, Jimmie,” he remarked. “That’s true, they don’t seem serious; but it’s always dangerous to be marked with the claws of animals that live on carrion, like lions, grizzlies or wildcats. And I’m glad to say I’ve got something along for just such a case. Come on back to camp with me.”
Jimmie, still protesting, did so; while the others, dragging the lynx, made Buster head the procession, while they sang: “Lo! the Conquering Hero Comes; Sound the Trumpets, Beat the Drums!” greatly to the delight of the fat boy.
When Jack applied the purple colored tincture from a small bottle to the wounds on Jimmie’s face and hands, the Irish boy gave a whoop of pain.
“Sure, the rimedy is worse nor the disease!” he complained.
“That’s all right,” said Jack; “just stand the pain for a little. It’s an insurance against blood poisoning. Many a hunter has lost his life from little cuts no worse than yours, when they were caused by the claws of a wild beast. My father would not let me come out unless I carried this.”
“What is it, Jack?” asked Herb, curiously.
“A strong tincture of permanganate of potash,” was the reply. “Just remember that, will you; and it’s got to be powerful enough to hurt like fun; eh, Jimmie?”
“Indade it did, that,” was the immediate response; while the Irish boy screwed up his good humored face in a knot.
Jack went back to his fishing, for he had already managed to take one pretty good specimen of the Lake Superior speckled trout that would have weighed nearly four pounds; and was eager for more.
All the while he sat there, employing every device he knew of to tempt the finny denizens of the depths to bite, he kept one eye to windward. That low bank of clouds interested him; for it seemed to presage a storm.
Since everything possible had been attended to in order to ward off any evil effects of a gale, Jack did not stop fishing until he had succeeded in catching a fine mess, that would please the heart of Buster.
Josh was preparing the fish as fast as they were caught. Indeed, he dispatched Nick several times to see if there were any more forthcoming; when the sportsman would toss ashore his latest catch, and the cook’s assistant hurry back with the prize, his hungry eyes fairly glistening with anticipation.
Of course it was a royally good supper that followed. Josh cooked the trout in the same capable manner he had served the lake white fish; and every fellow declared they had never tasted anything more delicious.
Still, there was plenty for all, and to spare. Even Nick had to shut his eyes with a deep sigh, because he had reached the extreme limit of his capacity; and a pan of trout remained untouched.
The growling of the thunder now became more pronounced. Across the heavens the zigzag lightning shot, in a way that was as terrible as it was fascinating. Supper done, the boys clustered near the fire, talking, and watching the coming of the gale. Again and again had Jack and George gone around, to see that every tent peg was clinched in the ground.
“They’re going to hold, unless the wind tears the blessed things to flinders!” Jack had announced; and at the same time he had seen to it that the boats were protected by the friendly point of land from the giant waves that would soon be sweeping in from the sea beyond.
Already were they rising in majestic grandeur that was awe inspiring. The storm was about to swoop down upon the shore line, and hurl the rising sea against the mighty rocky barrier, as it had done for countless ages past without success.
“Oh! ain’t I just glad I’m not out there!” exclaimed Nick, as he shudderingly surveyed the darkening picture of warring elements.
“But look there, fellows; what d’ye call that?” cried Herb, as he pointed a quivering finger at some object that had suddenly come in sight from the east.
It was a little motor boat, wallowing in the rising sea, and doomed to certain destruction unless able to make shelter immediately. And with the waves dashing wildly against the rocks, those aboard would never see the small opening through which the motor boat boys had come to their present snug harbor!
“It’s the Flash!” shouted Jack; “and unless we manage to show them the way in, it’s good-bye to Clarence and Bully Joe! We must do it, fellows. Come on!”
Jack kept his wits about him.
He had snatched up something as he ran to the very point where he might best be seen through the flying spray. It was the conch shell which, with its apex sawed off, made a horn or trumpet that could be heard a mile away, under even the most discouraging conditions.
Reaching the point for which he had been aiming Jack immediately started sending a hoarse blast out over that tumultuous sea. The others waved their hats, and made suggestive motions toward the small inlet, to show that a boat could enter the cove where the stream of water emptied into the Big Lake.
“They see us!” shrilled Nick, dancing up and down in his excitement; for in this moment all past animosity was forgotten, because human lives seemed in jeopardy—the lives of those who had gone to school, and played baseball with them, in the days that were past.
“Yes, they’re waving their hands!” declared Herb.
“And now they put about!” George added. “Careful there, Clarence! You nearly keeled over then on your beam ends. That was a narrow squeak! I’d hate to have the poor old Flash meet such a fate, not to speak of her crew.”
“It’s all right now, fellows!” cried Jack. “They’re heading for the inlet. Run over, and be ready to give any help needed. In times like this let’s forget that Clarence and Joe have always been up against us. We’re all Americans now; and we must stick together!”
“Bully talk!” said Josh, hastening after George and Jack, leaving Nick to amble along in the rear.
Clarence knew how to handle his boat with considerable skill; and once he drew close in, he was able to see how the ground lay. Those on shore also directed him as best they could; and the net result was that the Flash finally shot around the point, arriving in the little sheltered bay that a kind nature seemed to have provided for just such emergencies.
As Jack had more than once said, could they but look back hundreds of years, no doubt they would find that it had sheltered fleets of Indian canoes many a time, when the storm king rode the waves of the Great Lake.
When the Flash had been moored safely, her crew came ashore. Joe Brinker was looking a bit sullen, as though he did not much fancy the idea of accepting aid from these fellows, whom he had always looked upon as enemies. But Clarence walked straight up to Jack, holding out his hand.
“I say it’s mighty decent of you, Stormways, to throw us a line this way,” he declared, with considerable feeling. “I admit I was badly rattled, and thought we were in for a wreck. Neither of us glimpsed this opening here, and we’d sure have swept by, if you hadn’t signalled. I’m sorry now I ever—”
“Let by-gones be forgotten while we’re here, Clarence,” spoke up Jack. “See, the storm is whooping things up out there now, and it’s just as well you’re not on the lake.”
Clarence did look, and shuddered at what he saw; for it was not a pleasant spectacle, with the lightning flashes, and the heaving billows, seen through the flying spray that even reached them by the tents.
“Get busy, fellows!” George called. “Carry everything inside. Yes, take that pan of fish, and the coffee, Nick. I guess our callers are hungry, and will be glad of a bite. Quick now, for here she comes with a rush!”
Hardly had they found shelter, and the flaps of the tents been secured, when down the rain pelted, to the accompaniment of the most tremendous thunder crashes any of them had ever heard; while the fierce wind tried its best to tear the canvas shelters from over their heads.
But the work had been well done, and the tents stood, though wobbling more or less under the fierce onset of the wind.
Clarence and Joe had been taken in with Jack and George, while the other four occupied the second tent. Seated on the ground, the two newcomers proceeded to break their fast, and drink what remained of the coffee.
“Guess you wonder what kept us back so long?” remarked Clarence, after they had finished the meal, and while a little lull came in the tempest without.
Jack and George looked at each other and smiled.
“We might give a good think,” remarked the latter; “seeing that I pushed the nose of my Wireless boat so hard into Mud Lake that it took an hour and more for the other two to pull me off.”
“Huh! that’s where you were lucky, then, George,” continued the other. “We didn’t have any chums to do the pulling act; and so we just had to flounder there for hours and hours. I reckon we must have spent the best part of two days sticking in the mud. Happened that nothing came along but some big steamers; and they wouldn’t stop to help a poor little motor boat off.”
“Well, how did you get away finally?” asked Jack, interested.
“Worked our way out of it by ourselves; and we’re proud to tell it,” Clarence proceeded. “I managed to climb up into a tree that hung over the boat, and threw down branches until we made a mattress that would bear our weight. Then we got out a block and tackle we carried, and fixed it in a way to get a strong pull. I kept the engine working for all she would go, while Joe bent to the tackle; and inch by inch we finally yanked the Flash out of her mud berth.”
“Good for you!” remarked George, with real emphasis. “Looking back, there’s always some satisfaction in remembering how you managed to get out of a bad hole by means of your own wits.”
“All the same, we wished many times we had some chums handy, who would give us a pull,” said Joe, whom the meal and hot coffee had put in a better humor.
All night long the storm raged on the lake. Any vessel that was so unlucky as to be caught out in it was to be pitied, or at least those aboard were. Morning saw its abatement; but the seas were beating wildly against the rock bound north shore and it was sheer folly for any one to dream of putting out while such a condition of affairs lasted.
So they concluded to make a day of it. Clarence for the first time in his life began to realize what fine fellows these motor boat chums really were; and how they stood ready to forget all the trouble that he and his crony had been only too willing to shower upon them in the past.
They talked of dozens of things, some of which were connected with their life in school at home, and others that bore upon the recent series of happenings on the St. Lawrence river.
“Looks like we wouldn’t have any more bother with Clarence after this,” said Josh to Herb, as they watched Jack and the other two doing something at the camp fire that afternoon, just as though the best of friends.
“I hope we won’t,” replied the other; “but you never can be sure of Clarence. He’s tricky; and besides, impulsive. Just now he means to drop all enmity toward us; because we’ve fed him, and treated him white. But wait till something rubs him the other way. That’s the time to see if the thing is more than skin deep.”
During the midst of their conversation George purposely mentioned the name of Jonathan Fosdick.
“What; do you know the old apple grower, too?” demanded Clarence, looking surprised.
Of course Jack told how they had found the old man sick in his stable; and helped him to his house.
“And he told us all about his runaway boy, Andy, too; and how word came he was working in a fishing camp up along this shore,” George went on.
“Yes, we promised that if we ran across the fellow we’d tell him he was wanted at home the worst kind,” Clarence remarked.
“And he was that thankful he just loaded us down with stuff—eggs, butter, and such. Couldn’t do enough for us,” Joe added, grinning at the recollection.
“History repeated itself then, for we promised the same thing,” laughed Jack.
“And he just wouldn’t take a cent in payment for the things we got,” remarked George. “But see here, Clarence, it looks like we’re in for another race between the Flash and the Wireless, to see which can get to the mouth of the Agawa first; for I hear there’s a big fish camp there, run by a man at the Soo, where they take tons and tons of white fish, the trout not being for sale.”
“I guess I get the notion that’s struck you, George; and let me say right here, I still believe the Flash to be the better boat,” Clarence went on, stubbornly.
“Shall we try it out then, tomorrow, when we leave here; in a friendly way of course, I mean?” George asked, eagerly.
“Take him up, Clarry!” said Joe.
“All right then, we’ll call it a go,” declared the other. “Only I wish we had something worth making a run for, a prize of some sort.”
“It will give me some pleasure to be the one to tell Andy Fosdick that he’s wanted bad at home,” George observed.
“Then we’ll call it a go; and this time you’d better look out for yourself, because the Flash has had a knot an hour added to her speed since we raced last. And besides, I didn’t have any heart in that trial of speed, you know. That smuggler was forcing me to run my boat, to get him out of a pickle; and for me to win only meant that my boat would be lost to me. I was really glad to play him a trick in the end, and throw the race.”
Jack and George may have had their own opinions with regard to the truth of the matter; but they knew enough to keep their tongues still. While the dove of peace hovered over the camp, it would be folly to stir these fellows up again.
Overhead the sun shone in a clear sky. Only for those waves the motor boat club could have easily continued on their cruise. But with the waning of the afternoon the seas began to sensibly decline.
“I prophesy a good day tomorrow for our race, George,” Clarence remarked, as, in company with the others he sat by the fire, enjoying a feast that Josh and his assistants, Nick and Jimmie, had prepared for the crowd.
Jack and George were both of the same opinion since all the well known signs seemed to point that way. They sat up until a reasonable hour, chatting and singing; and Clarence realized as never before what a fine thing he and Joe were missing in never having found a chance to join this merry group before.
The night was a peaceful one. At early dawn the camp was astir, for much had to be done ere they might put out on the calm lake.
“Looks like a big mirror; didn’t I tell you that wind had blown itself out?” remarked Clarence, upon casting his first glance beyond the point.
At eight they were all ready to leave the snug harbor that had opened so opportunely for the storm threatened crew of the Flash.
Clarence had charts also, and doubtless studied them eagerly when he had an opportunity to go aboard his boat again. For although this was only a friendly race, he always threw himself into whatever he did with a vim, heart and soul, that made defeat all the more bitter, should it come.
Of course Jack, deep down in his heart, knew full well that this was only a temporary truce in the warfare that had always existed between himself and Clarence. Once away from their society the other would soon drift back to his old way of thinking and acting. But Jack decided that not because of any unfriendly act on the part of himself or chums should these two find cause for again digging up the buried hatchet.
Leaving the cove, the four boats were soon moving along the glassy surface of the calm lake, headed almost due west. Somewhere, many miles away, lay the first goal, the mouth of the Agawa, which was to mark the expiration of the race.