All day long the powerboat kept constantly moving down the reaches of the Danube River. Many were the interesting sights the boys looked upon from time to time. Nor did they see any particular signs of overhanging trouble. War may have been declared by Austria-Hungary upon Serbia and Russia, backing up the action of her ally, Germany, but the indications of it were not immediately apparent.
It was true that in several towns which they passed on that morning’s run they could see that groups were in the streets, and there seemed to be many men in uniform hurrying this way or that. Once they also saw a field battery of glistening guns disappearing up a steep road that led to the south.
“You can see what’s in the wind, all right,” Josh remarked, as they watched a group of uniformed horsemen galloping along the river road as though bound for some distant point of mobilization. “In a few days after the call to the colors, as they say, has gone out for many classes of reserves, the whole country will be swarming with men in uniform.”
“I only wish we could hold over and see what goes on,” grumbled George. “It’s a chance in a lifetime to be a looker-on in a foreign country, with war breaking out; and I think it’s a shame that we are going to miss it.”
Jack took him to task for saying that.
“We ought to thank our lucky stars, on the other hand, George,” was the way he put it, “that we have a chance to get out of Austria before every exit is closed. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of tourists have the time of their lives escaping, because, you see, every train will be taken over by the Government for carrying soldiers, guns, ammunition, horses, stores and such army necessities.”
“Yes,” added Buster, “that’s what I say, Jack. For one I want to tell you I’m mighty thankful to be on board this old boat right now. I only hope they won’t want to commandeer it for carrying soldiers down to the Serbian border.”
“Oh, they wouldn’t want to bother with such a mosquito craft as this, I should think,” remarked Josh uneasily.
“Our little flag seems to attract a heap of attention,” Buster continued, with a vein of pride in his voice, for that small edition of Old Glory was his private possession, it may be remembered.
“Where we landed at noon to see if we could buy some eggs and milk at that farm house,” Josh observed, “those peasant girls were examining it. I rather think they must have somebody over in our country, for when I said the word ‘America’ and pointed to the flag and then myself they laughed and nodded their heads.”
“And don’t forget to mention, please, George, that we got the eggs all right,” suggested Buster; “likewise a bumper mug of fresh milk apiece, and some butter that didn’t have a bit of salt in it, which I think queer.”
“Oh, so far as that goes,” explained Jack, “there’s lots of that made and sold over here. They call it sweet butter, and most people like it. You’d get used to it in time.”
“Four dozen eggs, and whoppers at that,” Buster went on to say, gloatingly; “which I consider a splendid investment; and we didn’t have to pay half what they’d cost us in the States either. I’m going to have a couple fried for my supper, and anybody else that likes them that way can get what they want by giving the tip now.”
They continued to chatter in this manner as the afternoon wore away. It had been decided that while there was a full moon that night they had better not attempt navigating the river after the sun had set. None of them knew what they might run up against; and besides, since war had come, possibly there would be strict rules enforced prohibiting such a thing during the night. None of them felt like taking chances.
Buster, it seems, must have been thinking of some of his previous exploits in the times that were gone, for later on he was seen to be looking over some fishing tackle he produced from his pack.
“Hey! what’s in the wind now, Buster?” sang out Josh upon discovering what the fat chum was doing.
“Oh, nothing much,” replied the other easily, “only it struck me that there might be some kind of eatable fish in this same blue Danube, and I’m looking over my lines. To-night, if I can find any fat grubs or worms, I might set a line and see what happens. You know I’ve had more or less success about grabbing big fish out of fresh and salt water.”
That seemed to make the others laugh, as though certain humorous memories were refreshed. Buster joined them, for he was a jolly fellow and could even enjoy a joke when it was on himself.
“I mean to drop one of these lines over as we go along, so as to soak the snell of the hook, for if it’s too dry it might break,” Buster explained.
“Well, here’s wishing that you meet with good luck,” said Josh, “because I’d enjoy a supper of fresh fish pretty good.”
“Don’t make up your mouth for it, then,” warned George, “because you never can tell about such things. Fish are what some people would call notionate; they bite well one day and then given you the grand laugh the next one.”
“About how far do you think we’ve come since leaving Budapest, Jack?” Buster asked, not deigning to continue the discussion with George.
“I should think something like fifty to sixty miles,” was the reply.
“Whew! as much as that?” whiffed George.
“Well, this current must be all of four miles an hour, and the old boat when going with it ought to average ten. Counting for our stops and all that, we’ve certainly covered sixty miles if we have one.”
“I agree with you, Jack,” said Josh; “George is only saying that to be contrary.”
“Oh, I am, eh?” grinned George, who seemed to take especial delight in stirring Josh up.
“It’s been a pretty good day for August, with the sun shining overhead most of the time, and not so very hot at that,” Buster continued. “There’s no sign of such a thing as a storm that I can see—great guns! what in the mischief can that queer-looking thing be over yonder? Do they have birds shaped like a fat cigar in the Danube country?”
Of course, every one immediately twisted his head around to take a look, and all sorts of exclamations announced that they were about as much astonished as Buster.
Low down toward the horizon they saw an object outlined against the sky that was undoubtedly moving, for they could notice that it passed a small cloud with considerable speed. Just as Buster had said, it looked very much in the distance like a fat cigar, and was of a neutral tint, not very easily distinguished against the heavens.
“Why, that must be one of those German Zeppelins we’ve read so much about!” exclaimed Jack, after taking a second look.
“A war dirigible, you mean, don’t you?” demanded Josh.
“Nothing else,” he was told. “I’ve seen pictures of them often, but never thought I’d set eyes on one. Yes, it’s a Zeppelin, all right, and heading due south, too.”
“What d’ye mean by saying that last?” asked Josh.
“Well, you remember what that officer said about the Serbians and Austrians on the Danube down below, where it acts as a boundary line, being ready to fight at the drop of the hat? Perhaps they’re already having it hot and heavy. Perhaps the word has been flashed over the wires for one of the Zeppelins to come down and get busy there.”
“What would they use it for, Jack?” questioned Buster, as all of them continued to watch the steady movement of the fast dirigible in the west.
“I believe the main thing for Zeppelins to do is to carry explosives and drop bombs from a great height on forts and barracks occupied by the enemy forces. But they can be also used for scouting and bringing back information of value. That may be what they want this one down along the Danube for.”
So fast was the dirigible going that in a quarter of an hour more it had passed beyond the range of their vision.
“Looks like things are going to happen right along over in old Europe these days,” remarked Josh.
“Yes, but we’ll know next to nothing about it all,” George went on to say; “for we can’t buy a paper, and even if we did none of us could read Magyar. This thing of knocking around in a foreign country may be all very good when there’s no war on, but there are times when you’d like to be able to buy an extra and learn all that’s happening.”
“There’s a good landing by that tree yonder, Jack,” remarked Josh.
“But we’re not quite ready to pull in yet a while,” the commodore announced.
“What’s the hurry, Josh?” asked Buster, again working at his long and strong fish line.
“Oh, I thought George wanted to get out and start right away back,” answered the other with a dry chuckle. “He’ll never be happy until he can have all the comforts of home, including the afternoon extra to read.”
“Forget it!” snapped George. “I’ve always been able to take things as they came as well as the next one, and I reckon I can stand what you fellows do. Because I grumble a little once in a great while, that’s no sign I’m not having a good time. Some of my folks must have been sailors, I guess, and it runs in the blood. Don’t pay any attention when you hear me complain.”
“We’ll try not to, George,” promised Josh blithely; “we’ll have to remember the source, and then forget it.”
“There, now, I’ve got the silly old line untangled,” announced Buster; “and I’ll let the hook and sinker trail after us, just to make believe I’m fishing. It’ll do me a heap of good to feel the twirl as the hook goes around with the swivel—sort of revive old memories like.”
He lay there by the broad stern of the boat amusing himself after his fashion. Josh could not resist the temptation to warn him.
“Better look out for yourself, Buster,” he remarked seriously. “Some hungry fish might snap at your bare hook and get caught. If you were taken off your guard the next thing you knew you’d be overboard.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time, either,” mentioned George.
“Aw, no danger of that happening,” retorted Buster good-naturedly. “Even over here in Austria-Hungary the fish have their eye-teeth cut, and wouldn’t be so green as to bite at a bare hook. If I had anything to bait it with I’d watch my steps, you may be sure. But don’t worry yourself about me, either of you. I can take care of myself.”
No more was said just then with reference to the subject, something else coming up to catch their attention.
The afternoon was nearing its close, and Jack knew that before a great while they must be on the lookout for a place to haul up for the night. Whether they had better select a retired nook for their camp, as had been their habit when cruising down home rivers, or land near some farm, he had not yet decided. Of course, it would be unwise to stop over at any town, since they might have more or less trouble getting away again if the authorities chose to be exacting.
“There goes a long train over there, heading south, too,” remarked Josh, pointing as he spoke.
“Seems like nearly everything is going the same way we are, for a fact,” added George.
“It strikes me it must be a troop train,” Jack was saying, “for, while I’m not dead sure, I think I can see men in uniform leaning from the windows of the carriages, as they call the cars over here.”
“Well, what else could we expect?” Buster wanted to know. “If Austria means to give little Serbia a licking she’ll need a lot of her soldiers down there, many more than she’s got along the lower Danube now. Yes, they’re soldiers, all right, Jack. I can see them plainly in the sunlight.”
“The plot is thickening,” remarked George solemnly; “and right now I wouldn’t be surprised if the Germans were having a hot time over in Belgium, if they’ve really started to cross the little kingdom. They say those Belgians are fighters to the backbone, and will never stand by to let the Kaiser cross their neutral country to strike at France.”
George was deeply interested in all that was going on. He took pride in his knowledge of things connected with the aspirations of these countries, big and little, of Europe, and especially of the turbulent Balkan States. While George undoubtedly has his failings, as what boy has not, as a rule he seemed well informed, and could argue on almost any point.
“A lot of those fine chaps will like as not never come back,” said Buster, as he gave the fish line another idle hitch around his wrist, preparatory to winding it in; “they start out full of enthusiasm and life, and are brought home again wrecks, fit for only the scrap heap.”
“Listen to Buster, will you?” chuckled Josh; “he’s getting to be a regular old philosopher these days.”
“Well, it always did hurt me more or less when it came to parting with any one I cared for a heap,” admitted the fat chum, trying to look serious, though that was always a difficult task with him, because nature had made his round features to bear the stamp of a jovial disposition; “you may remember that it took me two whole days to recover when we left home. I’m of a clinging nature, you see, and this thing of severing the bonds goes against my grain.”
He had just said this when something happened that astounded the others. Buster seemed to be dragged from the end of the moving powerboat as though an octopus had suddenly flung one of its long tendrils up and clasped him.
The others heard Buster give one loud howl of fright, and then the sound was swallowed up in a splash as he disappeared in the river.
As Jack hastily stopped the engine and prepared to back up, he had a glimpse of the stout chum struggling desperately in the water. If his frantic actions counted for anything, it would seem as though Buster must be engaged in a life-and-death struggle with some marine monster that had pulled him from the after deck of the powerboat and into the river.
“Keep a-going, Buster; we’re coming back for you!” shrilled Josh, not a little alarmed on account of seeing such a tremendous splashing back where the stout chum was struggling in the river.
Being compelled to fight against the steady current, the boat could not make such very rapid progress, especially when backing up. Still it seemed as though Buster might be swimming toward them. He was using only one hand, and churning the water like the paddle-wheel of a Mississippi steamboat.
“Whew!” they heard him say, after ejecting a stream of water from his mouth, which he persisted in keeping open; “a sockdolager, I tell you! Going to beat all the records this time. It must be a river horse, or a boss sturgeon, boys. I want to save him, you bet!”
Evidently, like a true fisherman, Buster’s first, last and only thought concerned the successful landing of the game he had struck. And presently the boat had come so close to the submerged boy that Jack stopped the engine lest the propeller do Buster some material damage.
Two of them leaned over the stern and with great difficulty managed to drag the water-soaked chum aboard.
“Sit there in the stern until you drain, Buster,” ordered Jack. “If we took all that water aboard we’d be in danger of foundering.”
“What ails your left hand?” demanded Josh.
“Why, don’t you see,” explained George, “the silly went and wound the line about his wrist. Then when the fish took hold it was a case of Buster going overboard or having his left arm pulled out of its socket. No wonder he lets it hang down like that now. I bet you it hurts like fun.”
“But say, the bally old fish has quit pulling like mad!” exclaimed Buster, as though that circumstance troubled him much more than any bodily pain he might be enduring.
Josh leaned forward and took hold of the line. He even started to pull it in after the manner of a skillful fisherman, while Buster eyed him eagerly.
“Tell me you feel him pulling yet, Josh, can’t you?” he pleaded. “Don’t break my heart by saying he’s gone! After all my fight I deserve to land that monster.”
Josh chuckled.
“I do feel something now, all right, Buster,” he remarked. “Watch me yank him alongside in a hurry. You never could handle such a monster with one of your arms next to useless.”
So Josh worked away, possibly putting on more or less, as though he were having the time of his life in trying to drag the captive alongside. Every little while he pretended to lose a foot or so of line, whereupon Buster would call out anxiously and beg him to keep a tight hold on the glorious prize.
“Talk to me about having fish for supper,” the dripping sportsman cried as he watched for the first glimpse of his catch; “why, we could feed a whole village on such a dandy as this. And caught on a bare hook, too! Ain’t I the lucky one for keeps? What d’ye know about that?”
“There he comes, Buster!” cried Josh, pantingly; “get ready now to help me pull him up over the stern, all of you. My stars! but how he does fight.”
In another moment Josh drew alongside a small but broad-nosed log, which in floating with the current of the river had suddenly been snagged by the bare hook. The impact, with the boat running as it was, had been severe enough to drag the fisherman into the water, for the stout line held, and he had foolishly wrapped one end of the same around his left wrist.
Jack and George shouted with mirth, and Josh excelled them both. Buster looked down at the now tamed “fish,” felt ruefully of his lame arm, and then grinned.
“You bit, all right, fellows!” he blandly told them; nor would he offer any further explanation, so that to the end of the chapter none of them really knew whether Buster had been playing a trick on them or not by pretending to fight the object at the end of his line and showing such tremendous solicitude while Josh was pulling in the same.
“What am I going to do about drying off?” asked Buster a little later, after he had succeeded in reeling in all his line without getting it very much tangled—the log he allowed to float off on the current, having no use for it, though Josh did ask him if he had never heard of “planked fish.”
“You’re draining right along,” George told him; “and as the weather is so nice and warm there’s no danger of your taking cold, I guess.”
“When we get ashore,” Jack explained, “we can start a fire, and that will give you a chance to get dry. But I’m sorry about that arm, Buster. It may give you some trouble, because the jerk must have been fierce.”
“Well, I should say it was,” admitted the other, with a sigh. “I thought my arm would come off sure. But then the excitement kept me up, you see. And I knew right well you’d stop the boat and come back after me. But Jack, later on I want you to rub my arm with that liniment you carry with you. Chances are it’ll be black and blue along the muscles. It hurts like fun even now.”
Jack considered that the sooner this was done the better, so he turned the wheel over to George, and bidding Buster bare his arm, proceeded to give it a good rubbing with the liniment he knew to be fine for this purpose.
Buster was glad to find that as yet there were no signs of discoloration, as he had feared.
“It may last a few days,” he cheerfully declared, “but that’s the extent of the damage. I consider that I came off better than I deserved. But then, who’d think a bare hook would catch anything?”
“Well, Buster,” warned George, “be sure you don’t fasten your fishline to your leg, or around your neck. You never can tell what’s going to happen; and after you’re drowned it’s no time to be sorry.”
“I think we’d better go ashore below, where the trees come down to the edge of the bank,” suggested Jack just then, showing that all this while he had been keeping a sharp lookout ahead.
“It makes me think of places where we’ve pulled up over along the old Mississippi,” said Josh; “I wonder now do they have tramps over here, who prowl around looking for a chance to steal what they can lay hands on.”
“I don’t believe they do,” George told him; “for they regulate such things a lot better than we do over the big water. Tramps are a luxury here, while with us they flourish like the green bay tree; the woods are full of them.”
Jack took the boat in closer to the shore. On seeing the proposed landing place at closer quarters all of them seemed to be of the same opinion. It looked like just the camping ground they were looking for. A fire might be built for cooking purposes, and the district seemed lonely enough to make it appear that they might not be disturbed during their short stay of a single night.
On the following morning they expected to be once more on the move down the long and sinuous stream that covered hundreds of miles before emptying its clear water into the Black Sea.
As soon as the landing was effected Buster waddled clumsily ashore.
“I hope somebody will have the kindness now to get that blaze started right away,” he was saying; “I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid all the matches I had in my pocket must have been soaked, and they wouldn’t light easy.”
“I’ll take care of the fire, and do the cooking tonight in the bargain if you want me to, Buster,” Josh told him.
“That’s kind of you, Josh, and I won’t forget it in a hurry, either. Fact is this arm of mine pains a little too much for me to sling the pots and skillets around in my customary way. But fry me two eggs, remember, Josh; I’d say three if nobody kicked up any sort of a row.”
“You shall have them, Buster,” Josh told him; “because the chances are we can pick up as many as we want as we go along.”
“But no fish for supper tonight, how’s that?” George demanded, trying to frown at Buster.
“Oh, well, nobody really promised you any,” the latter explained. “But if there are any fat grubs in some of those rotten stumps around here I’m meaning to have a line out with three hooks to-night, and mebbe, George, you can indulge in fresh fish for breakfast. Will that do?”
“Guess I’ll have to make it; besides, ham and eggs suits my taste well enough this time. I’ll forgive you, Buster, only be careful not to get our mouths watering for fish again when it’s only a floating log you’ve caught.”
Josh was already busy with the fire. He had long since graduated in this department of woodcraft, and knew about all there was going in connection with fires of every description.
Then, too, he could cook in a way to make the mouths of his chums fairly water. Josh had a way of browning things so cleverly that they were unusually attractive, where so many boys more careless would frequently burn whatever they had on the fire, and in a happy-go-lucky fashion dub it “pot-luck.”
“One thing sure,” said Jack, as they sat around waiting for the call to supper, “we’re a lucky set to have two such willing workers with the pots and pans as Buster and Josh here.”
“That’s right,” declared George, agreeable for once; “it would be hard to find their match, search where you will. What one lacks the other makes up for, and the opposite way around too. And we want them to know we appreciate their services, don’t we, Jack?”
“Come, now, no taffy, George,” said Josh, though his eyes sparkled under praise from such a source; “as they used to say in olden days, beware the Greeks who come bearing gifts. And when you get to praising anything there must be a deep motive back of it.”
“There is,” assented George frankly, “a very deep motive, for I’m hollow all the way down to my heels, seems like. Sure the grub must be done by now, Josh. That’s a good fellow, ring the bell for us to gather round.”
Whenever these lads were sitting about the camp fire they always had plenty of fun on tap. If “jabs” were given at times it was done with such good-natured chaff that no one could get provoked.
So they started to discuss the supper Josh had prepared. Meanwhile Buster had managed to dry himself after a fashion by turning around near the fire, presenting first one side and then another to the heat. He likened himself to a roast fowl on the spit, and jokingly asked the others how they would have him served.
“After I’m all through eating my share of the excellent mess Josh here has provided for us,” Buster remarked, when his mouth chanced to be empty, which was not often, by the way, “I know what I mean to do.”
“Oh, anybody can guess that the first shot out of the locker,” George asserted; “that is if they know what a fellow you are for remembering things. Of course you mean to smash some of these rotten stumps, and find out if they contain any grubs. Stumps are fine for holding the same, I understand; at least over where we live; and I guess grubs are grubs the world over.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m aiming to do,” Buster admitted. “Just because I had the hard luck to be dragged overboard by a measly old log, don’t think I’m the one to be scared off. If there are any fish in this Danube River, and they like bait such as I can offer them, we’re bound to have a mess for breakfast.”
“Hurrah! That’s the ticket!” cried Josh; “if at first you don’t succeed try, try again. I plainly perceive that my honors as boss fisherman are going to be put in peril if this thing keeps on. I’ll sure have to get out a line myself, and run you a race, Buster.”
“Wish you would,” snapped the other, as though this just suited him.
“You remember,” continued Josh, “we had some pretty tall rivalry in that line once or twice before. Never mind who came out first best; that’s ancient history, and pretty musty by now. You find enough worms and I’ll get a rig ready, Buster.”
George rubbed his hands as though the prospect looked pretty bright to him. With two ardent anglers engaged in a warm contest to see who could do the better in the way of making captures, those who loved fresh fish might expect to be well taken care of.
When the supper had been disposed of, and every one declared he felt “full to the brim,” Buster secured the little camp hatchet they had been wise enough to fetch along with them, and which had been a useful adjunct on many past outings.
With this in hand he started to attack some of the old stumps that could be seen scattered around. Josh felt considerable interest in his labors, as from time to time he could be heard calling out, and asking what the score was.
“Got three dandies in that stump,” Buster presently made answer, “and here’s a whole nest of bigger ones than the others. Say, we’re fixed all right, my friend, so far as plenty of attractive bait goes. I can see a lovely time among the finny tribes when some of these fat boys get in the drink. They’ll actually fight among themselves for a chance to bite; especially if you spit on your hook after impaling the grub.”
By the time he had placed a full dozen of the victims of his hunt in the little can that had contained sardines at one time, Buster pronounced himself ready to begin serious operations.
Josh had in the meantime managed to get his line ready just as Buster finished his work; George told him it looked suspiciously as though he had been “soldiering,” and meant to let his rival do all the work; but gallant Buster, hearing all this talk, immediately came to the rescue.
“And why shouldn’t Josh take it easy, after going to all the trouble to prepare that fine supper?” he demanded. “You’ve got a bad habit, George, of looking a gift horse in the mouth, and the sooner you break yourself of it the better. Now, come along Josh, and let’s find a good place for throwing our lines out into the river.”
“We’re not going to be partial or play favorites,” warned Jack, laughingly; “may the best man win; but please don’t try to give us any more planked shad, Buster, you hear!”
As Buster had taken a survey of the situation before darkness came along, he knew of a promising point close at hand. Here they could toss their lines out, and let the current drag them partly down-stream.
It was not the kind of fishing that the boys preferred, because they were accustomed to using jointed rods, and even casting artificial flies with which to lure the frisky trout or the hard-pulling black bass to their destruction. But as Buster wisely declared, “When you’re fish hungry you’ve just got to shut your eyes and get ’em any old way; results are what count then, not methods.”
Presently Buster had a savage bite, and drew in a squirming victim. He eyed this in the light of the rising moon and then remarked:
“I don’t know the species that fellow belongs to, but he looks good to me, and all I hope is there are a lot of his uncles and his cousins and his aunts hanging around, anxious for grub bait. Hello! Got one, have you, Josh? Bully for you! Whew! He’s a scrapper in the bargain, I tell you. I hope he doesn’t break loose, and give us the grand laugh!”
Buster’s interest was so taken up with what was going on near him that he forgot his own line for the time being, until a quick summons at the other end announced that one of the said finny relations seemed anxious to follow the first victim to the shore.
Then both boys were kept busy pulling in hand over hand. They succeeded in landing both prizes, which fact made them very joyful.
“Only needs one more to complete the first circle, though I think I’d like two for my share, Josh, and so might all the rest. You see there’s a heap of waste when you come to take off the head and tail. Let’s hurry up and get ’em while the bitin’s good. You never can tell when fish will quit takin’ hold.”
It was certainly less than half an hour after they first started off when the two sportsmen came strolling back to the bright camp fire dangling a pretty string of still lively fish between them on a little pole.
“Two apiece, and one left for luck!” announced Buster, triumphantly, as the other fellows jumped to their feet with expressions of pleasure to look the catch over.
“They ought to be cleaned right away, and a little salt rubbed inside so they’ll keep nice and fresh over night,” said Josh, “so let’s get busy, Buster.”
“But don’t you think that ought to be our part of the business?” asked George, although there was not very much animation in his manner, for George hated to handle the job of cleaning fish, though when it came to eating them no one ever knew him to make any objection.
“Now that’s kind of you, George, to offer to do the thing for us,” observed Buster, sweetly; “especially since we know how you detest the job. Thank you, but as our hands are in, Josh and me can attend to them all right.”
Josh, however, did not look overly well pleased when he heard Buster say this. Truth to tell, he had already arranged it in his wicked heart that George should be trapped into “doing something for his keep.”
“We’ll let you off this time, George,” he remarked, pointedly, “but the very next batch of fish we haul in you can tackle the job.”
George only chuckled, and drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps he may have said to himself that sometimes people count their chickens before they are hatched, and that possibly there might never be another “batch;” remembering the story of the small boy who while eating an apple, upon being appealed to by an envious comrade to give him the core, told him “there ain’t a-goin’ to be any core, Jimmy.”
In due time the fish were laid away in a safe place where no roving animal was apt to discover and appropriate them. Buster might in his happy-go-lucky fashion have been careless in this particular, but shrewd Josh was far too smart to take unnecessary chances.
“We don’t know anything about the country around here,” he told the others. “They may have wild animals, and again p’raps there’s nothing of the kind to be feared. But it’s best to lock the stable before the horse is stolen.”
So the fish were kept aboard the boat, although from time to time George might have been observed to sniff the air suggestively as he prepared to sleep, plainly indicating that he disliked the fishy smell. But then George always was what Josh called “finicky” in his habits, and the rest seemed to pay little or no attention to things that annoyed the particular one.
When morning came, without any untoward happening, Buster took particular pains to cook that mess of fish to a beautiful brown color. He followed the old and well known camp method of first throwing several slices of fat salt pork into the skillet and rendering it down. Then when it was boiling hot he placed as many of the fish as it would accommodate in the pan, first rolling them in cracker dust. Turning them back and forth as was necessary he finally had them looking so appetizing that the others refused to wait a minute longer, but made a raid on the lot.
The breakfast was a pronounced success. Even George was heard to say that he did not care how soon it was repeated; which was quite reckless on his part, since he had been given due warning as to his duties next time.
The sun was well up and shining brightly when they left the scene of their camp. It promised to be a rather warm day, Josh predicted, after taking a look around at the sky, and sizing up the breeze. Josh pretended to be something of a weather sharp, though hardly calling himself a prophet along those lines.
“And,” said he, as they started down the river again, “it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if we ran into a squall before we see that old sun go down tonight.”
“Do you really mean that, Josh?” asked Buster.
“All humbug,” muttered George, disdainfully, as though he never pinned any faith on “signs,” and considered all weather predictions as founded on mere guess work.
Josh shrugged his shoulders as he went on to say:
“Oh! very well, just wait and see if I know beans or not, that’s all. They have some pretty lively thunder storms along the Danube, I’m told, and if that’s so what better time than in August could you expect to run across one? Course I may be mistaken, because I’m only a tenderfoot of a weather sharp; but wait and see.”
“Oh! we will, Josh, we will,” replied George, in his tantalizing way.
The morning passed pleasantly enough, though as noon came on it might be noticed that everybody showed signs of being hot. The sun certainly did blaze down upon them, and it was even warmer inside the cabin of the powerboat than outside, so it seemed useless trying to get any relief by seeking the shade.
They drew in at a place where there were trees, just to lie around for possibly an hour under their shelter, while they ate a cold “snack.” It was too furiously hot to dream of building a fire and making a pot of coffee.
Then once again they embarked for another run down-stream. Jack figured they had covered more distance that morning by five miles than on the other day. This fact cheered them up immensely, and as they continued to go with the current they took their customary interest in what was to be seen along the eastern shore, where they would not have the bright rays of the declining sun in their eyes.
Many were the odd sights they beheld from time to time. First it was this thing that attracted them, and hardly had their exclamations of delight ceased than something else would be discovered further down that chained their attention until they were close enough to make out its character.
One thing Jack called their attention to, and this was the fact that they were meeting with more evidences of mobilization than ever, as they proceeded further from the Hungarian capital.
The news may have been belated in reaching many of these interior hamlets and pretty little towns along the Danube; but it must have arrived at last, and no end of excitement had followed.
They saw scores and even hundreds of men in uniform, some marching in squads as if hurrying to join the colors; others guarding bridges, or other vulnerable structures, the latter doubtless being old men who could not go to the front, though still possessing the military spirit, and desirous of doing something for the country of his birth.
Jack was delighted with this chance to see things he had often read about but never really expected to set eyes on.
“I used to believe that it was a terrible crime to have every young fellow serve a couple of years in the army before he could go into business, and then be reckoned as belonging to the reserves, but I’m changing my mind some, let me tell you,” was what he said later in the afternoon.
“How’s that, Jack?” asked Buster.
“Well,” continued the other, obligingly, “in the first place it makes for a love for their country when they know they represent a unit in her defense. Then again it goes to make the young fellows amenable to discipline, something millions of boys in our country are lacking in. It teaches them to be frugal, and the life outdoors makes them a lot more healthy.”
“Sounds good to me, Jack,” assented Josh.
“I know we’ve done a heap of talking over in America about the mad folly of Germany in making every young man serve a term in the army, and boasted that our boys needn’t ever fear of being forced to join the colors; but perhaps, fellows, after this world war is over, we’ll be doing the same thing. Preparedness is what is going to count for a whole lot, let me tell you; and both Great Britain and the States will learn a lesson before they’re through.”
At the time of course Jack was only taking a vague peep into the future; but events that have happened since then show he had a wise head on his young shoulders. When these words are being penned camps are springing up all over the States where business men can have a month’s training in military ways; and those who come back home admit that they have taken on a new lease of life, such are the great benefits to be obtained in that fashion.
It must have been past the middle of the hot afternoon, when the boys were lolling about, almost panting for breath, and taking things as easy as possible, that a sudden sound startled them.
“Thunder!” ejaculated Buster, as he popped up his head to look around.
Black clouds were sweeping swiftly down back of them, and even as they looked a flash of vivid lighting resembling a forked dagger shot toward the earth, almost immediately succeeded by another deep-toned burst of thunder.
“What do you say to that, George?” demanded Josh, turning a triumphant face on the other.
“Oh! seems like you hit the mark with that guess,” admitted the other, “but then anybody might one out of three. Besides, we haven’t got the storm yet, have we? It may go around us.”
“No danger of that,” declared Josh; “these summer storms nearly always follow the channel of a river. I’ve known ’em to pour down pitchforks for half an hour on the water and the other bank, and never a drop fall on me. But we’ll get all the rain you want to see right soon now.”
“I do hope it’ll cool the air some then,” complained Buster, who being stouter than any of his chums, must have suffered more in proportion from the heat.
“What had we better do, Jack?” asked George, surveying the black clouds uneasily.
“It’s too bad that we don’t happen to see any cove where we could run in and stay,” replied the pilot; “so on the whole I think we’d better make a turn and head into the storm that’s coming down the river.”
“That sounds good to me!” declared Josh, instantly understanding the benefit such a course would likely bring to them; “our cabin is partly open in the rear, but well protected forward. We can use that tarpaulin to cover the well back here, and after all the storm won’t last long. Swing her around, Jack, and edge in a bit closer to the shore while you’re about it. The river is pretty wide right here.”
It seemed three times as wide to Buster just then, as at any time before; but of course this came from his suddenly awakened fears.
“How deep do you think it can be out here, Josh?” he asked after another fearful rolling crash of thunder had passed into rumblings in the distance.
“Oh! a mile or so,” replied Josh, carelessly.
“Whee! then all I hope is we don’t get blown over on our beam-ends, and have to swim for it,” Buster was heard to say.
They had just managed to get the boat headed up-stream when the squall struck them with almost hurricane force. The water was lifted and flung against the little boat with terrific violence. Indeed, the boys working energetically could hardly manage to fasten the stout tarpaulin to the hooks by which it was meant to be secured in an emergency like this, so as to cover the open well at the stern.
The rain began to come down in wild gusts, the wind howled around them, the boat rose and fell frantically, and Jack had all he could do to keep the plunging craft headed into the furious storm.
It grew almost dark around them. Water found entrance despite the cover, and the boys prepared to take a soaking. As they were not made of salt, and had undergone many privations and discomforts during other days, they uttered no complaint. Indeed, Buster was telling himself that it would be all right if they only got through in safety; clothes could be easily dried, but it was another thing to be wrecked out on a raging river in a storm like this.
The waves were mounting pretty high, so that with every plunge they could tell that the propeller was fighting the air, as it was hoisted above the resisting water. This was what alarmed Jack, for he knew the danger attending such a sudden and constant change of speed.
He tried the best he could to ease the strain each time they rose and fell; but it was always with an anxious heart that he listened to hear if the propeller still continued to do its duty after every mad plunge.
Minutes had passed, just how long a time since the beginning of the storm none of the boys could tell. Then all at once every one noticed that they had ceased to progress steadily. The noise of the churning propeller had also ceased.
“We’re turning broadside to the blow, Jack!” shouted Buster, although that was hardly the case as yet, his fears magnifying the danger.
“What happened, Jack?” roared Josh.
“Engine’s broken down, and we’re at the mercy of the storm!” came the staggering reply.
“Just what I expected!” exclaimed George, when he heard what Jack had to say.
“Will the boat upset, do you think?” bellowed Buster, as he fancied he could feel the craft already tilting dangerously, so that he “sidled” across to the other side of the crowded little cabin.
“Oh! I hardly think it’ll be as bad as that,” the commodore told him; “but while we’re about it we’d better fasten on these life preservers!”
They had discovered half a dozen cork belts under one of the lockers, and these Jack proceeded to hastily throw out. Every fellow was immediately engaged in trying to buckle one about his person, well up under the arms.
The thunder bellowed at quick intervals, so that talking could only be indulged in between these outbursts. It was almost dark inside the cabin of the rocking boat, and of course the boys were all very much excited, not knowing what was going to happen at the next minute.
“Be sure to get it up under your arms, Buster,” warned Jack, while he worked.
“Yes,” added Josh, who could be sarcastic even when confronted by such danger, “for if the old thing slips down any it’ll keep your feet out, and your head under water. Better put two more on you, Buster, because you’re a heavyweight, you know.”
Perhaps Josh was joking when he said this, but Buster took it all solemnly enough.
“Guess I will, if the rest of you don’t need ’em!” he declared. “If you’re done fixin’ yours Josh, please lend me a hand. I don’t seem able to get the fastening the right way. Oh! we nearly went over that time, didn’t we?”
“Keep still, Buster, and quit trying to balance the boat!” urged George; “your weight won’t matter a bean if she’s bound to turn turtle; and you nearly smashed my foot that time, you came down on it so hard. Talk to me about a sportive elephant, it isn’t in the same class with you when you get excited.”
“Here, I’ll try and fix you up, Buster, if only you keep quiet a spell,” Josh told him, and between the two mentors Buster resolved to bear up and show a brave front.
Jack was peeping out as if hoping to see some sign of the storm breaking. The boat meanwhile was wallowing dreadfully, showing that by degrees she must be turning sideways to the waves and the wind, the latter still blowing “great guns.”
A vivid flash came just when Jack had the tarpaulin drawn aside, and made Buster give a loud cry.
“Oh, what a scorcher!” he exclaimed; “I thought I was struck at first.”
The speedy crash that followed drowned the rest of his words.
“Any hope of its being over soon, Jack?” demanded Josh, as soon as he could make himself heard.
“Nothing doing that I could see,” came the loud reply, for what with the howl of the wind and the dash of the agitated waters against the boat it was no easy matter to make oneself heard. “All black around. You can’t see twenty feet away for the rain and the gloom.”
“Jack, do you happen to know whether there’s any rapids or falls along the Danube?” asked George presently.
“I’m not so sure about it,” replied the other; “seems to me I did hear some talk about rapids or falls or something, though it may have been about the river away up above Vienna.”
Buster at that found himself possessed with a new cause for alarm. He pictured Niagara Falls, and the powerboat plunging over the beetling brink, with four boys he knew full well fastened in its interior, helpless victims. Then as the mood changed he could see Whirlpool Rapids below the falls, through which no ordinary boat had been known to pass safely, but always emerged in splinters, after buffeting the half-hidden sharp-pointed rocks, and urged on by the frightful current.
“Listen! I thought I heard a distant roaring sound just then that might be the falls, fellows!” Buster broke out with.
Although the others all suspected that it was only the result of a lively imagination that caused him to say this, at the same time they could not help straining their hearing to ascertain whether there could be any truth in it.
“You fooled yourself that time, Buster,” announced George finally, and with a vein of positive relief in his voice; “it must have been the rain coming down like a cloud-burst, or else the wind tearing through some trees ashore.”
The action of the boat continued to cause more or less anxiety. Frequently when the wind struck savagely on the counter of the wallowing craft it would careen over so far that even Jack feared a catastrophe was impending.
Everything conspired to cause alarm—the darkness, the heavy crash of thunder, the blinding flashes of lightning that stabbed the gloom so suddenly, and the possibility of the boat turning turtle.
In the midst of this Jack was seen to be crawling out of the cover.
“What are you going to do?” shouted Josh.
“All of us have forgotten that we’ve got an anchor forward,” Jack told him; “I’m going to drop it over. It may take hold; and anyway it’s bound to keep our head into the storm by dragging!”
“Let me help you, Jack!” added Josh with his usual impulsiveness.
“You may come along, but no one else,” he was told.
Of course, that was aimed primarily at Buster, for Jack could not forget how clumsy the fat chum always proved himself to be; and the chances were that he would manage to fall overboard did he attempt to crawl along the slippery sloping deck.
Once outside and Josh realized what a difficult thing it was going to be to get forward to where the anchor might be found. The little boat rolled and tossed like a chip on the angry seas. Josh felt almost dizzy with the motion, but he shut his teeth grimly together and resolved to stick it out to the end. If Jack could stand it surely he should be able to do the same. Besides, he would sooner die almost than let George see him show the white feather.
“Get a good hold before you move each time,” called Jack in his ear; “and better grab me if you find yourself going!”
That was just like Jack’s generous nature; he thought nothing of the added risk he was assuming when he gave Josh this advice.
Josh would never be apt to forget that exciting experience as long as he lived. Except when the lightning came it was as impossible to see anything as though they were in the midst of a dark night; and even then all they could detect was what seemed to be a wall of gray fog enveloping them on every side, with the white-capped waves leaping and tossing like hungry wolves around them.
Of course, both boys were immediately drenched, but of this they thought nothing. Both had their coats off at the time, on account of the afternoon heat, which turned out to be a lucky thing for them, since their movements were apt to be less fettered and confined in consequence.
Foot by foot they made their way forward. Jack’s advice to always retain one grip until the other hand could take hold of something ahead saved Josh more than once from being thrown overboard. A little recklessness would have cost him dear in a case like that.
Finally Jack seemed to have gained his end, for he was bending down over the anchor when a flash of lightning enabled the other boy to see him again. Josh, determined to have a hand in casting the mudhook overboard, hastened to join him.
“The end of the cable is fast all right, is it, Jack?” he shouted, as together they took hold of the rusty iron anchor.
“Yes. I made sure of that before we started, and tested the cable in the bargain,” he was instantly assured.
It was a good thing some one had been so careful, for Josh himself had evidently not given the matter a single thought.
“Look out not to get a leg tangled in the rope, Josh!” shouted Jack.
“I will, all right!” the other replied, knowing that in such an event he would be dragged overboard like a flash.
So the anchor was let go.
There was no result until the whole of the cable had been paid out. Jack waited anxiously to see what followed, though he knew fairly well it would steady the drifting boat and turn the bow into the storm again.
Both of them felt the sudden jerk that announced the expected event.
“She’s turning right away, Jack!” bellowed Josh, trying to make himself heard above the heavy boom of the thunder’s growl.
There could be no doubt on that score, for already the motions of the runaway motorboat seemed to be much less violent. Jack believed his scheme was going to be a success, and it pleased him to know that his wetting would not have been taken for nothing.
They lingered no longer, but started back toward the stern. It was not quite so difficult now to creep along the slippery deck, holding on to the cabin roof, and finally reaching the open well in the stern. A head was in sight, showing that one of the anxious chums could not rest easy until he learned what the result of the venture had been.
“You must have done it, fellows!” exclaimed Buster, for it was no other than the stout boy who had thrust his head out like a tortoise, “because she rides so much easier now. I knew Jack’d manage it if anybody could.”
Drenched as they were, the two boys had to drop down under the tarpaulin. After all, that was a minor matter, since by their bold action they had warded off what might have turned out to be a grave disaster.
“Let her blow and thunder all she wants to now,” said Josh triumphantly; “we’ve got the anchor trailing from the bow, and that’s going to keep her nose in the wind. I’ve read how a vessel nearly going down in a hurricane has been saved by making a storm anchor out of hatches, or anything else that will float, and towing the same behind to keep the ship steady. That’s what we did, you see.”
Josh was more than glad now he had insisted on accompanying the commodore in attempting to carry out his hazardous undertaking. It would give him an opportunity to swell with importance whenever the deed was mentioned, and to use the magical word “we” in speaking of the adventure. What boy is there who does not like to feel that he personally partook of the danger when brave things were undertaken and accomplished?
After that they settled down to wait. The storm must surely come to an end before a great while, and as they were now moving at less than one-half the mad pace they had been going before that drag had been instituted, it seemed perfectly safe even to Buster.
“All I hope for now is that we don’t run afoul of some half-sunken rock, or it may be a snag!” Josh was heard to say.
“We do know there are snags floating along, because you remember I struck one only yesterday,” ventured Buster, referring, of course, to the log which, by catching his trailing fish hook, had dragged him overboard.
“Not much danger of that,” Jack assured them; “they keep a pretty clear channel over here, it seems, even if we haven’t met steamboats on the river like you would on the Mississippi. Given another ten minutes or so and I think we’ll see the break in the storm we expect. It can hardly last much longer now.”
“Must have done some damage ashore, too, boys?” suggested George.
“So long as it hasn’t killed off all the chickens, so we can’t get any more eggs, that doesn’t really concern us, I s’pose,” said Buster, not meaning to be unfeeling in the least, but just then that seemed to be in the nature of a calamity in his mind.
Slowly the time passed, but the boys were soon delighted to discover that there was actually a slackening up of the elements that had combined to make such a furious discord. The thunder became less boisterous, the wind lulled perceptibly, and even the waves had lost much of their force.
Jack, taking an observation, made an important discovery, and followed it with an announcement that gave his comrades considerable pleasure.
“There’s a break in the storm clouds over there in the west, boys, and I guess we’ve got to the end of this trouble!”
“With no damage done except a wetting for two of us,” added Josh, trying to act as though that counted for next to nothing, considering the benefits that had probably sprung from the work of Jack and himself.
“Why, it seems to me the rain has let up, too, Jack!” exclaimed Buster, forcing his head through the opening in the tarpaulin cover of the well.
“In a few minutes more we can get rid of this old thing and breathe free once more,” Jack told him.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll be mighty glad,” said Buster, “because I’m nearly stewed as it is, with the heat below here; and that breeze feels mighty good to me. It won’t be near as warm after this storm, that’s sure.”
“Like as not, Buster,” advised Josh, shivering a little because of his wet condition, “we’ll all be frozen stiff before an hour goes by. Queer things happen over in this Danube country, I’m told.”
“Rats! You can’t scare me, Josh,” Buster immediately informed him; “course, since you’re all wet through and through you might freeze, but not a healthy specimen like me. This time we’ll have to make a fire for you other fellows, if we can find enough dry wood to burn, that is.”
Jack’s prediction was soon fulfilled. The break in the storm clouds grew rapidly in magnitude until quite a large sized patch of blue sky became visible. They soon had the tarpaulin dragged on top of the cabin roof to dry out; and when the sun appeared the pair who had been drenched took positive delight in sprawling there and letting the warm rays start drying their garments on them.
“Well, seems like we got through that scrape O. K.,” ventured Buster; “but we’re not yet out of the woods by a big lot. We’ve got a broken engine on our hands, and no means of fixing the same, even if we knew how to do it. What’s to be done now, Commodore Jack?”
Somehow the others always thought to give Jack his full title when relying on him to get them out of a scrape. But Jack let this significant fact pass, for he knew these three chums from the ground up, and could not hold a single thing against any one of them. And, as usual, he had a remedy ready for every disease.