Kitabı oku: «Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XXII – BUSTER’S HOUR OF TRIUMPH

It proved that Mr. Carson knew his St. Lawrence in the neighborhood of the Thousand Islands by heart, so that even in the misty moonlight he was able to guide the two speed boats back to the haunted island.

Their arrival was the signal for an outburst of cheers from those of the motor boat boys who had been left behind.

Great was the excitement that took possession of the four when they discovered that it was Clarence and Bully Joe who were now in charge of the mysterious dark speed boat; and after finding out that three smugglers lay in the bottom, with their ankles tied, and steel bracelets on their wrists, Nick and Josh were so overwhelmed with amazement that they could hardly speak for a brief time. And as the others realized, when the tall lad lost his voice it must be something wonderful indeed that had happened.

Mr. Carson meant to lose no time. He sent his Indian assistant across the island to take the little canvas collapsible canoe, and cross over to a neighboring piece of land, where their noisy motor boat had been concealed earlier in the evening.

Of course the boys now understood that it had been this river craft whose loud, rattling pulsations they had caught at the time George first mentioned hearing the sounds.

When, a little later, the pilot returned, bringing the snub-nosed boat with him, the three prisoners were transferred without much trouble. After that the revenue man and his helper went ashore to complete the job. One by one they brought off the trio of prisoners who had been left there helpless.

Finally they carried aboard the large packs that Jack had seen hidden in the cavity under the old straw in the cabin’s earthen floor.

“I think that finishes the job,” remarked the energetic agent, as he wiped his wet forehead. “And I must admit that, taken as a whole, it’s about the most satisfactory piece of business I’ve handled for a long time.”

“Did you get them all, sir?” Josh asked, filled with admiration for the man who could engineer a big scheme like this and bring it to a successful close.

“The entire working force is now in custody, I believe,” replied Mr. Carson. “To be sure there are probably some persons connected with the band whom we will never lay hands on; such as those who supplied the funds, and shipped the goods across the border. But it may be possible to catch some of the guilty receivers over on our side of the river. When rogues find themselves fast in the toils, they frequently offer to confess all they know in order to curry favor with the authorities. And secretly, between us, I imagine Glenwood may yet be induced to turn state’s evidence.”

“Are you going to leave us now, sir?” asked Jack, seeing that the other was evidently preparing to cross over to his own well laden motor boat.

“Yes,” came the reply. “The sooner I get this cargo behind the bars, the better. But I want to shake hands with each one of you, and thank you again most heartily for the assistance you have given me in this matter. I don’t mean to let it drop there; and you may expect to hear from me again, since Jack Stormways has given me his address. Good night boys, and may the balance of your vacation be as peaceful as the beginning has been stormy.”

“Oh! well, we’ve sure enjoyed it, Mr. Carson,” said George, “and it was worth a heap to me to have that chance to try conclusions with the Flash.”

“I’ve no doubt of it, George,” laughed the agent, as he clambered over the side of his stubby little launch. “And since I miss that same evil looking boat, I surmise that our friend Clarence did not care to stay here in your company any longer than he could help.”

“He scooted off as soon as you had gone ashore for the prisoners, sir,” observed Nick, who wanted to have a last word with the man he admired so much.

And in another minute the Indian pilot had set his chatterbox of an engine to beating a lively tattoo, upon which the stub-nosed launch began to draw away. As long as it remained in sight in the moonlight the boys cheered, and called goodbyes, so that if there chanced to be any more ghosts lingering about that haunted island they must have taken this for a clear defiance of their power, and concluded to remain in hiding during the balance of the stay of the motor boat boys.

“Think we can pick up a few winks of sleep, fellows?” asked George, when the clatter of the loud-voiced engine had been mellowed by distance.

“We ought to try, anyhow,” said Jack, “Seems to me we’ve had our rest pretty badly broken up lately. For one I’m going to forget it all for a while.”

But the chances were that none of them got any satisfactory sleep during the balance of that eventful night.

On the following morning they prepared to vacate the cove that had been their anchorage for so long. All of them first went ashore; for Nick and Herb were very anxious to see the cabin, and the hole in the floor were the smugglers kept their goods concealed after secretly bringing the stuff over from the Canada mainland, waiting until a good chance opened to scatter it through the state, free of duty.

“Well,” declared Nick, as they prepared to get underway later in the morning; “this has been a great experience all around, sure enough. And it ended fine – that is for us boys, though I guess poor old Glenwood and his fellow conspirators don’t feel so very gay over it.”

“And don’t forget our friends, Clarence and Bully Joe, while about it,” spoke up George. “Just stop and think what Macklin went through – held a prisoner by those reckless men, and threatened with all sorts of trouble if he so much as squeaked on ’em. Then forced to do whatever they wanted. And last, but far from least, beaten in a fair race by this dandy little meteor boat that he once sneered at. That’s glory enough for me, I’m telling you, shipmates.”

“I guess we all enjoyed it,” remarked Josh.

“Yes, so far as I’m concerned I’d be quite contented and happy right now, if I only knew one thing,” remarked Nick, looking doleful again.

“Here, don’t you go to starting up your tune about that break,” said George, “we all agreed long ago that if you did leak to Clarence, you never would have done it on purpose. So forget it.”

“But I tell you I can’t,” flashed back the fat boy. “I feel sore about it; and I want to find out the truth so that every one of you’ll get down on your marrow-bones and ask my pardon. And something tells me the time ain’t so far away when that very thing is going to happen.”

“Then speed the hour,” grinned Herb; “after you’ve seen us in a row asking forgiveness, perhaps we’ll have peace, and you’ll forget the incident.”

“Don’t count too heavily on that,” George said. “You don’t know Buster as well as I do. Just as like as not he’ll turn out to be made up the same way as that thirsty young woman in the sleeping car, you know.”

“But perhaps we don’t know, so suppose you tell us,” Nick himself burst out with curiosity consuming him.

“Oh! I thought it was a chestnut; but if you will have it, listen. A traveling man, trying to go to sleep, heard some woman keep on saying out loud in the berth next to him ‘Oh! I am so thirsty! Oh! I am so thirsty!’ When he couldn’t stand for it any longer he got up, went and fetched a glass of water, and begged her to accept it. Then he went back to his berth, thinking he would have peace. But soon he heard the same woman saying over and over again: ‘Oh! I was so thirsty! I was so thirsty!’ So look out Buster don’t play that game on you, Herb.”

There was a shout at this, in which Nick joined; for being a good-natured chap in the main, he could take a joke that was leveled at himself.

About nine o’clock the signal was given, and the three motor boats forming the cruising fleet pulled out of the friendly cove. Those on board looked back with more or less rejoicing and regret at the scene of their recent adventures. They would not soon forget all that had happened since first they dropped in there for a night’s stay. And Jack’s entries in the official log would doubtless prove very entertaining reading for the folks at home.

Upon examining the bow of his speed boat George had found where that bullet had struck, that was fired last of all by the desperate smuggler, in hopes of frightening the boy at the wheel of the pursuing craft.

It had made quite a hole, though fortunately doing no real damage. Later on he could of course, have the aperture plugged; but for the present it would stand as a mute witness to the truth of the adventurous story the boys had to tell. If any one of their mates at home ventured to scoff at the idea of their having been actually under a hot fire, he stood ready to pry that bit of lead out of its lodgings, and thus confound the skeptic.

They were now on the second week of their vacation, and of course had lots of territory to cover still, before they could say they had exhausted the pleasures of this wonderful cruising ground. But already the motor boat boys were looking forward to another daring venture, and all of them had written home to gain the consent of those who must be consulted ere determining positively on their plans.

This included a long trip through lakes Ontario and Erie, up past Detroit into Lake Huron, along the shore of this great body of water until the wonderful Soo was reached at the head of the St. Mary’s river; and then possibly into Superior; winding up with a run down Lake Michigan to Milwaukee, where the boats could be sent home the same way they had left, via railroad.

Of course, being real boys, once a great undertaking like this had formed itself in their minds they could talk of little else. And Jack knew very well that if any determined opposition developed at home, that would put a damper on the grand scheme, there would be a feeling of gloom settle down over the whole expedition.

After leaving the haunted island the first object of the boys was to get back to Clayton, and not only replenish their depleted supplies, but gather up any mail that would, according to orders, be held for them at the post office there.

Josh went ashore to get the mail, while Jack looked after the supplies. Nick seemed unusually uneasy all the time they were gone; and upon their showing up he demanded shrilly that the letters be distributed without delay.

“Only one for you, Pudding,” jeered the letter carrier, as he held it up; “and seems to me I smell violet perfume on that. Must be a dainty billet doux from Rosie Sinclair; but here, take it and go off by yourself. It would make us all die of envy to see you reading such sweet stuff, when we are forgotten by our best girls.”

Nick eagerly snatched the missive from his hand, and with trembling fingers tore it open. A minute later the others were astonished to hear him give a loud whoop.

“What did I tell you, fellows?” he exclaimed, trying to dance around like a wild Indian, and waving the open letter. “Mebbe I ain’t something of a detective myself? Come around here, every one of you now, and get ready to do that marrow-bone act you promised.”

“What’s all this mean? Has he gone out of his mind?” asked George.

“Tell us, Buster,” said Jack, who could suspect something of the nature of the communication Nick had received.

“His dad has said he can take the northern cruise, that’s what!” remarked Josh, a bit enviously.

“Oh! you’re away off there,” cried the fat boy, derisively. “Why, you couldn’t guess the truth in a month of Sundays, Josh. It takes real brains to figure out a solution to a mystery like that. And I did it, all by my little self.”

“Great governor!” ejaculated George, “listen to him, would you, fellows? Honest now, if it don’t sound as if he’d found out where that leak lay. Here, Buster, it isn’t fair to keep us on the ragged edge so long. Open up now, and explain. Did anybody talk in their sleep? Who told Clarence our plans?”

“You did, George; yes, and so did Jack and Herb and Josh – I guess Jimmie and myself had a hand in it too!” laughed the fat boy, to their great mystification!

CHAPTER XXIII – HAPPY DAYS – CONCLUSION

“Poor old Buster! He’s sure getting weak in the upper story,” said George.

“It’s going to be a strait-jacket for him before long!” sighed Josh.

But Jack spoke not a word; for he could somehow see further than the rest of the boys, and understood that Nick held a strong hand.

“Oh! is that the way you’re thinking?” said the fat boy, still trembling with the violence of his excitement. “Just wait till I read this little letter, and then if you’re honest you’ll do the right thing by poor old Buster.”

“He’s going to read Rosie’s little note to us, fellows!” cried Josh, pretending to be horror-stricken at such a base betrayal of confidence.

“Who said it was from Rosie, or any girl at all?” demanded Nick, indignantly. “Look at the name signed at the bottom, and you can read Aleck. Yes, it’s from my old friend, Aleck Sands. I wrote him a week ago, when that bright thought first dazzled me. And you remember, when Josh here gave me that start by talking through that old rusted tin water pipe? Well, that made me believe harder than before that I’d got on the track.”

“Read the letter, plague take you, Nick!” roared impatient George; “don’t you see you’re giving some of us heart disease right now, with your everlasting slow way of getting at things.”

So Nick, assuming a posture that, according to his mind signified the attitude of a victor awaiting the laurel wreath, began in his slow way.

“Dear Buster:

“As soon as I got your interesting letter I hit it up for the school house. Found old Crusty Bill Edwards hard at work, and had to bribe him to let me get in. Went up to the little room where we hold our club meetings. Yes, you were right, Buster; the register from the furnace in that room does back into the cloak room. Found both of ’em shut, but got old Bill to stand in the club room while I opened the registers, and then listened in the cloak closet while he talked to himself. And Buster, why, say, I could near hear the old man think, every sound came through that hole so plain. If you fellows talked about your plans that day you were there, and Clarence was hiding in the cloak room, make up your mind, old chap, he heard every word you said; In a hurry so I’ll ring off.

“Yours, Aleck.”

As Nick read the last word he paused and looked expectant. His motor-mates stared at one another as though for the moment rendered incapable of speech. The cleverness of the fat boy’s deduction was stunning; had it sprung from Jack, now, they might not have considered it so very wonderful; but to think that Buster, always so slow to grasp anything, could have done it, fairly staggered them.

Jack was the first to recover. Laughingly he dropped on one knee beside Nick, and seizing the fat hand of the victor he pretended to kiss it with due humility.

The others entered into the spirit of the occasion; and right there on the dock, regardless of the stares of passersby, the five clung around the grinning Buster, begging him to forgive their thick-headedness, and restore them to favor.

Nick of course, enjoyed the game most heartily, and laughed himself into a fit of choking, as he raised his chums, one by one, and tapped them on the head in token of his pardon.

“However did you come to think of it?” asked George, a little later, as they were once more aboard their boats, and ready to start forth in search of new adventures.

“I dreamed about it, and that’s the truth,” declared Nick, solemnly; nor could they ever get him to change his assertion. “Woke me right up in the middle of the night too. Thought I saw Clarence peekin’ through a hole, and laughing to beat the band; and then I saw the silly crowd in the next room. That gave me an idea, and started me to thinking. I believed I remembered that register, and had an idea there was another one just back of it opening into that cloak room. Now you don’t blame me for wanting to get that letter, do you?”

“I should say not,” declared George frankly. “Why you’ve just covered yourself with glory, Buster. After this, when anything mysterious happens, we’ll turn to you to guess the answer. You ought to be a lawyer, sure.”

“Or a revenue man,” suggested Herb.

“Guess Buster’d like to be the head steward on a big Atlantic liner best of all,” was the wicked remark of the envious Josh.

But the fat boy was in a jolly frame of mind, and could not be provoked by any sort of fling just then. He turned to his tormentor, and smiling sweetly, remarked:

“Josh knows my weak point; but then you fellows understand that it’s only green envy that makes him say such things. Right now he’d give almost anything if only he had my honest appetite. I never make faces at my meals. Why, I’m ready for one right at this present minute, fellows.”

“Well,” said Jack, “let’s get off a few miles from Clayton before we think to start the stoves going. Perhaps we’ll find a nice quiet place where we can go ashore, and do the cooking stunt. This place is too thickly populated to make a show of ourselves to the gaping natives.”

“Now, I know you mean me when you say that, Jack,” observed Nick, reproachfully. “But while I confess that I’ve got a bully good appetite, I hope I don’t disgrace the bunch when I join in the eating game. Herb, are we ready to start? While we are moving along I’ll try and hatch up a new dish out of my new book here, that will make your mouths water.”

“If Herb was wise he’d have drowned that cook book long before this,” muttered Josh, as George gave his engine a fling and immediately started away in the lead.

The three motor boats kept close company. George had apparently experienced all the running on ahead he wished, during that previous memorable cruise down the Mississippi; and was content after rushing half a mile in the lead to slow down and let the others catch up with him.

He was in great spirits this morning. That wonderful little race in the moonlight on the preceding night, with its successful termination, had made him fall in love with his cranky speed boat more than ever. He could hardly talk intelligently about anything else; and finally the others declared that he was even a worse sinner in that respect than Nick had ever been.

The day was sunshiny, and everything around them seemed joyous, so it was not to be thought strange that the motor boat boys were every little while bursting out in snatches of song, or exchanging joking remarks as the boats chanced to close up.

“Wonder if we’ll ever hear from the gentleman again?” Herb was saying, as they later on headed for a bit of lonely shore, where it seemed inviting to campers.

“If you mean Mr. Carson,” Jack replied, “I’m sure we will, for he gave his promise; and a man like him never goes back on his word. I’ve an idea he means to send us some little thing to put in our clubroom, to remember the adventure by.”

“As if we’d be likely to ever forget it?” laughed George, patting his throbbing motor affectionately.

“I’ve thought up that new mess, fellows!” called out Nick, just then.

Everybody groaned in unison.

“You know we’ve always had Boston baked beans and coffee for lunch whenever we got a chance to go ashore at noon. All right. I’m for progress. I like to vary our meals some. Let’s turn things upside down, and right around. If you agree, then today let the bill of fare be coffee and Boston baked beans.”

“Bully for Buster! He’s the one bright mind in the bunch!” laughed George.

“We can have a new dish every day at that rate, fellows!” sang out Herb.

And so, joking and laughing in this way, they ran close in, found a deep place to anchor the three motor boats, and began to get ashore with such things as they needed for the meal.

The future looked very bright to those six jolly fellows just then, with never a cloud in sight. Presently they hoped to be hearing the returns from home, when they would know whether their plan for an extended cruise was looked upon favorably by the powers that controlled their destinies.

But no matter what the outcome of that proposition might be, they did not mean to worry over anything. The great St. Lawrence was an ideal cruising place, and doubtless if they were forced to stay there during the balance of the summer they could find plenty of amusement in the way of fishing, racing, and exploring.

Only Josh solemnly expressed the hope that in their “nosing around,” as he called it, they might not happen upon another haunted island. Once spelled enough for him; and there was no telling but that on another occasion the ghost might prove to be more real than the one manufactured by Glenwood and his fellow smugglers, to frighten the owners of the three motor boats away from their pet cove.

There was always the chance that sooner or later they would again run across Clarence Macklin and his crony, Bully Joe Brinker. George would be only too glad of another opportunity to test his beloved Wireless against the very best that the Flash could put forth.

“Make up your mind, George,” said Jack, when his chum was mentioning this thing one day. “You never would get that tricky Clarence to acknowledge your boat to be better than his. If you beat him six times he’d have six good excuses ready, and each one different from all the rest. Whoever caught him with the goods on, and made him confess? A fellow he didn’t know stopped him and stuck the things in his pocket. He was right then on the way to hand them over to the police. Don’t you remember when he said that? Well, you may have your race, and win out handsomely, but don’t expect Clarence to hand you an honest admission that his boat ran second.”

“I don’t,” grinned George; “but I’d like to race him all the same; and I only hope the chance comes along, sooner or later.”

Perhaps it would, for stranger things were likely to happen to the motor boat boys than that they would run across Clarence again during their outing days.

“I saw him in Clayton when ashore,” remarked Jack. “He was talking with a man who, from his soiled clothes, I’d take to be an engineer, or something like that.”

“Sure,” laughed George, evidently pleased. “Knowing that in her present condition the Flash is no match for my bully boat, he’s going to see if she can’t be improved somehow, so as to squeeze just a little more speed out of her. Huh! perhaps I might do something of that kind myself. But just wait and see, fellows. If there is another race between us it’s going to be for keeps.”

When some time later their mail began to arrive from home it might be judged from the excitement and congratulations to be heard that favorable replies were coming in from headquarters. And that this was really the fact, the reader who has been interested in the fortunes of Jack and his chums thus far, will take for granted, when he learns that the title of the next volume in this series, already published, and ready for his enjoyment, is: “The Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes; or, Young Pilots to the Rescue.”

THE END