STUCK
“Well, this is something like living!”
“It sure is! The weather man is good to us!”
“This beats the auto!”
Jerry, Ned, Bob and Andy were taking their ease in the _Scud_, which
was making her way down Silver River toward Lake Mogan, which lay
fifty miles to the south. I say taking their ease, for they were not
trying to make speed, but going along at a comfortable rate. They
planned to spend two days on the river, and about three days more on
the lake, though by urging their motor to higher power they could very
much shorten this time. But, even though Jerry was anxious to have a
consultation with Professor Snodgrass, he did not feel the need of
great haste.
“Well, the auto’s all right when you want it,” commented Jerry, in
answer to Bob’s last remark. “It came in very handy the night you were
hurt.”
“That’s right,” agreed Bob, touching the place on his head where Dr.
Wright had taken the stitches.
“I like an auto!” exclaimed Andy. “It goes so much faster--zip!
Away you go! Up hill and down! Never stop! Faster and faster! Get a
puncture! Fix her up! Away you go!”
“Yes, and away you’ll go, if you’re not careful!” cried Ned, for the
small chap, in his excitement, nearly slipped overboard. He occupied
a rather perilous position on the bow, and Ned pulled him into the
enclosed cabin.
“Andy likes an auto because it’s easier to hide in,” remarked Bob, with
a smile at the stowaway. “And, by the way, Andy, you promised to work
your passage, you know. You might holystone the deck for practice.”
“Shall I?” asked Andy of Jerry. The boy was really in earnest in his
desire to do whatever tasks were required of him, and he had been a
jolly companion since he had been allowed to make the journey.
“No, I guess not this morning,” was Jerry’s answer. “The decks will do
very well.”
“Then you can help me get dinner,” suggested Bob.
“Dinner!” cried Ned. “Why, we just had breakfast!”
“Huh! That was an hour ago!” declared Bob. “You’ve got to plan dinner
ahead, I guess. If I’m going to be cook I want to know what I’ve got
to get ready.”
“Go ahead and be cook,” granted Ned. “Nobody wants your job, Chunky.”
“I’ll help,” volunteered Andy, and the two were soon busy calculating
what sort of a meal to serve. It would be the first one aboard the boat
that trip.
Their craft had been stored, for the remainder of the night following
the fire, at a house farther up the river than the destroyed lumber
yard. And now, as they steamed past it, they saw men at work, trying to
see if anything had been saved from the flames. Some of the piles were
still smouldering, and on these the firemen were playing streams of
water.
“That was a lucky escape for us,” Jerry reminded his chums.
“It sure was,” they agreed.
The weather was fine, their boat was running to perfection, there was
plenty to eat aboard, and the boys could enjoy their vacation to the
full. The only matter that worried Jerry was the financial status of
his mother. And that could not be helped--at least just at present.
“But if we can get back that swamp land, and work the yellow clay
deposits ourselves,” mused the tall lad, “it will make a big
difference. I can’t understand Professor Snodgrass. It doesn’t seem
possible that he would go back on us that way, and yet he did. But, as
mother says, I’ll give him a ‘show for his white alley.’”
They had decided to do no night traveling, as they were on uncertain
waters, and there was no special need for haste. So, as the afternoon
waned they began looking for a good river town where they could tie up
for the night. They passed through one called Birchville about five
o’clock, and learning there was a good restaurant not far from the
river they decided to get supper there, rather than cook aboard the
_Scud_ again. They would, however, sleep in the cabin bunks, as there
were a number of comfortable beds arranged.
“And I think I’ll just stop at the post-office and send mother back a
card,” Jerry decided. “We’ll probably get some mail from home, at Mason
Junction, which we’ll reach in the morning.”
The boys had asked their folks to write to them at this place, and
there was a letter for each one of them except Andy when they arrived
about ten o’clock the next morning. Andy, coming away in such a hurry,
and in such a surreptitious manner, had not been able to give any mail
directions.
“But your folks are all right,” said Bob, reading his own letter. “My
mother says your mother called on her the other day, Andy, and they
spoke of you.”
“That’s good,” said the small chap. “As long as they’re all right I
won’t worry.”
“I never knew him to worry anyhow,” observed Jerry, who was deep in
his own correspondence. There was not much news from Cresville. Mrs.
Hopkins wrote that the men were still taking out large quantities of
clay from the swamp.
“But, whatever you do, Jerry,” she penned, “don’t run into trouble on
account of the swamp land. It isn’t worth it.”
“Well, I’m not going to give it up without a struggle,” Jerry declared.
“If the professor comes over to our side after all we may be able to
beat those fellows yet.”
“Well, we’ll be on Lake Mogan to-morrow morning,” announced the tall
lad as they tied up, the second night on the river. “We’re at Ralston
now, and an hour’s travel after breakfast will bring us to the lake.”
“Is it much of a lake?” Bob wanted to know.
“Pretty fair size. We won’t see much of it this trip, if we head for
the professor’s camp.”
“Oh, well, we’ve seen plenty of lakes,” remarked Ned. “We had quite a
time on Lost Lake, you remember.”
“We sure did--with that old hermit,” assented Jerry.
The second night aboard the boat passed off quietly enough, though
about midnight Andy roused and excitedly whispered:
“Hey, fellows!”
“Huh! What’s matter?” sleepily asked Bob.
“I--I hear something,” murmured Andy.
“Ned snoring, I guess,” answered Bob, turning over to resume his nap.
“No, it’s somebody trying to get aboard the boat!” insisted Andy.
“What’s that?” cried Jerry, suddenly sitting up in his bunk.
“Andy had the nightmare and thought a horse was coming aboard, I
guess,” chuckled Bob.
“I did not!” indignantly denied Andy. “But I heard something, all
right.”
And, unmistakably there did come, just then, a bumping sound at one
side of the craft.
“Keep still,” advised Jerry in a whisper, as he cautiously slipped from
his bunk. He went outside, and, a moment later there was a blinding
flash, as Jerry switched on the searchlight. Then the tall lad laughed.
“What is it?” asked Bob.
“Nothing but a big muskrat. He was swimming alongside. I guess we must
have tied up in front of his nest. Well, we won’t bother you, old
fellow,” and Jerry came back to bed.
After breakfast they went on again, and, in about an hour’s time they
saw, shining before them, at the mouth of the river, the sparkling
waters of Lake Mogan.
“There she is!” cried Bob.
“The last half of our trip!” added Ned.
“And Professor Snodgrass is at the end of this lake--or, at least I
hope he is,” said Jerry, looking ahead as he stood at the wheel.
“Speed her up!” cried Andy, who liked swift motion.
“All right,” assented Jerry, as he opened wider the gasoline throttle.
The _Scud_ shot ahead for a few feet and then the boys were almost
thrown from their feet as the craft struck some obstruction under water.
“What’s that?” cried Ned, as Jerry quickly shut off the power.
“Back water!” called Bob.
Jerry had thrown in the reverse gear, but it was too late. The _Scud_
was as if anchored at the junction of lake and river. The obstruction
which she had struck held her fast.