Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes Part 10

"Bad enough to have one held fast," he said. "If the whole bunch got stuck, why, we'd have to take to the d.i.n.kies, and go ash.o.r.e on Canada soil. How does your engine work, George? Nothing broken I hope?"

"I don't think so," came the reply from George who looked somewhat humiliated, as does every sailor when held up on a mudbank.

"Give it a try, and see. Reverse, and perhaps you'll glide off backwards, the same way you went on," Jack suggested.

At any rate the engine worked apparently as well as ever; but though George put it at its "best licks," as he declared, there was not a sign of anything going.

Josh tried to use the setting pole, and came very near taking another header.

"Say, this mud goes right along down to China, I reckon; leastways there ain't any bottom to it!" he cried, as he recovered himself just in time.

"We'll take your word for it, Josh," said Nick, sweetly; "because you know you've been over to see for yourself. But I wouldn't try it again.

Next time perhaps you might stick your head in and smother. Then what would I do for any fun at all?"

George kept trying every way he could think of, in the effort to work his boat off the bank of sticky mud. It was in vain. Apparently many unseen hands held it tight, as though unwilling to let the reckless skipper have another chance.

When an hour had pa.s.sed, with several false alarms, as George thought success was coming, he turned to Jack with a blank face, upon which disgust was plainly written.

"You'll have to get me out of this, commodore," he said. "I own up that I don't seem able to budge her a bit. Even with Josh in the d.i.n.ky, pulling like all get-out, and her engine rattling away at full speed astern, she won't move an inch. And already we've lost enough time to make it impossible to get to the s...o...b.. night."

George was apparently penitent, so Jack did not have the heart to rub it in at that time. Later on perhaps he might force the reckless one to promise about turning over a new leaf.

"All right; we'll soon yank you out of that, George. I didn't want to propose anything until you had tried every scheme you could think of.

Herb, throw George your painter, and let him make fast to the stern of the _Wireless_. Then I'll do the same by you. In that way we'll be able to get both boats working. If George starts his engine at the same time, she's just got to come off, or go to pieces. Get what I mean?"

"Sure I do, and it's a good idea," replied the pilot of the _Comfort_, readily.

Of course George was willing enough to accept any sort of a.s.sistance now. And he readily made the painter fast to a ringbolt at the stern of the speed boat.

When all things were ready, Jack asked him to get his engine moving.

"Now, start yours up slowly, Herb," Jack went on; "not too fast to begin with; but gradually increase until you're applying two-thirds of your power. Stop there, and if she refuses to budge, I'll come in. We'll get her yet. She's got to come, I tell you."

And she did, after the _Tramp_ added her drawing facilities to those of the others.

"Hurrah!" shrilled Josh, when the speed boat started to move backwards out of her muddy berth; he had almost plunged over again, and saved himself by a quick clutch at a cleat near by.

"What next?" asked Herb, after they had become disentangled again, and were in a condition to proceed.

"No use thinking of making the Soo today," remarked Jack. "Too dangerous along the upper reaches of this river to try it in the night. We can move along to the upper end of this island, and camp on Canadian land tonight, for a change."

"That sounds good to me," observed Nick; but only suspicious looks were cast in his direction; for well they knew that the word "camp" with Buster was another way of spelling "eat."

"How far would we be from the city at the rapids, then?" asked Herb, as they once more started.

"Oh, we could make it in a few hours," Jack replied, "if all went well.

Keep to the right of that smaller island. That belongs to Michigan. Some use the other channel; but we'll take this one. You see, St. Joseph's Island is all of fifteen miles long, and pretty wild in parts. Ought to be good hunting here in season."

"Don't I wish it was in season, then," said Nick, smacking his lips.

"Always have wanted to eat some venison from Canada right in camp. Say, fellows, if a silly old deer just went and committed suicide before our very eyes, by jumping over a precipice, wouldn't we have a right to get a haunch from his bally old carcase?"

"Well," laughed Jack, "if a Canadian game warden found you in possession he'd take you in. So just forget all you've ever heard about juicy venison. It's dry and tough stuff at the best, and couldn't compare with that Mackinac steak you bought."

Nick sighed.

"And we have to wait till tomorrow noon before we are in touch with a market, do we? I don't ever see how we're going to pull through. Tell you what, somebody ought to try for fish here when we stop. Looks like ba.s.s might hang around waiting for a chance to jump into the pan. How about that, Jack?"

"Just what I had made my mind to try," smiled the other, who liked nothing better than bringing his rod into play when there was a chance for game fish.

After a while George announced that he could see what looked like the end of the big island ahead.

"And here's a pretty decent place to pull in," declared Herb.

As they had nothing to fear from storms or hoboes in such a retired nook, the boys, having secured their boats in proper fas.h.i.+on against the sh.o.r.e, where they could not rub or get into trouble, amused themselves as they saw fit.

Jack, true to his promise, got out his fis.h.i.+ng tackle, and proceeded to try all sorts of lures in the hope of tempting a ba.s.s to bite. Finally he took his little d.i.n.ky, and began to troll, using a phantom minnow.

Almost immediately he had a vicious strike, and after a struggle pulled up a fine fish.

"Do it some more!" called out Herb, who was lying on the sh.o.r.e, watching him at the sport.

Five minutes afterward Jack duplicated his feat, only this was even a larger fish than the first. So the time pa.s.sed. Josh was busily engaged near the tents which he, Herb and George had erected; while Jimmie was doing something aboard the _Tramp_.

"Where's Nick?" asked Herb, after a long time had elapsed. "I hope the silly fellow hasn't gone and lost himself now. A fine time we'd have hunting that fat elephant through all that bush."

"He was here only a little while ago," remarked George, looking up.

"Looky yander, an' ye'll see him!" exclaimed Jimmie; "over beyant that dead three. Sure, he do be sneakin' up on something or other, and thryin' till coax it till kim till him. I say the baste now. Oh!

murdher! by all the powers, somebody call out till him to sthop it!"

"Why, what's the matter with him?" asked Josh, coming to life at the prospect of perhaps seeing his rival for high honors in the farce line duplicate his ridiculous feat of taking a header into the mud and water.

"Look at him, would ye, the crazy wan!" gasped Jimmie, "thryin' till coax a baste loike that!"

"Is it Jocko?" queried Josh, unable to catch sight of the other just then.

"The little monk ye mane?" replied Jimmie. "Och! that would be aisy now.

It's tin times worse than that. Call till him, Herb; I'm that wake I can hardly spake above a whisper. 'Tis a terrible danger he be in, for the animal is a white and black skunk; and poor innocent Nick, I do belave he thinks it be a pretty p.u.s.s.ycat!"

CHAPTER X

MAROONED

"Leave it alone, you Buster!"