THE ICEBOAT SQUADRON
At exactly ten o'clock, on Monday morning, December 26th, Bobolink
sounded the "Assembly" on his bugle. A great crowd had gathered on the
bank of the frozen Bushkill. For the most part this was made up of
boys and girls, but there were in addition a few parents who wanted to
see the start of the scouts for their midwinter camp.
Up to this time their outings had taken place in a more genial period
of the year, and not a few witnessed their departure with feelings of
uneasiness. This winter had already proved its title to the stormiest
known in a quarter of a century, and at the last hour more than one
parent questioned the wisdom of allowing the boys to take the bold
tour.
However, there were no "recalls," and as for the ten lads themselves,
to look at their eager faces it could be seen that they entertained no
doubts regarding their ability to cope with whatever situations
arose.
The five iceboats were in line, and could be compared with so many
fleet race horses fretting to make a speedy start. Each had various
mysterious packages fastened securely, leaving scanty room for the
pair of "trippers."
"After all we're going to have a fine day of it," remarked Tom Betts,
as he gave a last look to the running gear of his new ice craft, and
impatiently waited for Paul to give the word to be off.
"Luck seems to be with us in the start," admitted Bobolink, who was
next in line. "I only hope it won't change and slap us too hard after
we get up there in the woods."
"I heard this morning that the Lawson crowd had started overland, with
packs on their backs," Phil Towns stated.
"Oh! we're bound to rub up against that lot before we're done with
it," prophesied Bobolink. "But if they give us any trouble I miss my
guess if they won't be sorry for it."
"Scouts can take a heap," said Tom, "but there is a limit to their
forbearance; and once they set out to inflict proper punishment they
know how to rub it in good and hard."
"Do you really believe there's any truth in that report we heard about
Mr. Briggs' safe being found broken open and cleaned out?" asked
Phil.
"There's no question about it," replied Bobolink. "Though between you
and me I don't think the robbers got much of a haul, for the old man
is too wise to keep much money around."
"I heard that Hank Lawson and his crowd were spending money pretty
freely when they got ready early this morning to start," suggested
Tom.
Jack, who had listened to all this talk, took occasion to warn his
fellow-scouts, just as Paul had done on the other occasion.
"Better not say that again, Tom, because we have no means of knowing
how they got the money. Some of them are often supplied with larger
amounts than seem to be good for them. Unless you know positively,
don't start the snowball rolling downhill, because it keeps on growing
larger every time some one tells the story."
"All right, Jack," remarked Tom, cheerfully; "what you say goes.
Besides, as we expect to be away a couple of weeks there isn't going
to be much chance to tell tales in Stanhope."
They waited impatiently for the word to go. Paul was making a last
round in order to be sure that nothing had been overlooked, for
caution was strongly developed in his character, as well as boldness.
There were many long faces among the other boys belonging to Stanhope
Troop, for they would have liked above all things to be able to
accompany their lucky comrades. The lure of the open woods had a
great attraction for them, and on previous outings every one had
enjoyed such glorious times that now all felt as though they were
missing a grand treat.
At last Paul felt that nothing else remained to be done, and that he
could get his expedition under way without any scruple. There were
many skaters on the river, but a clear passage down-stream had been
made for the start of the iceboat squadron.
A few of the strongest skaters had gone on ahead half an hour back,
intending to accompany the adventurous ten a portion of the way. They
hoped to reach the point where the old canal connected the Bushkill
river with the Radway, and a long time back known as Jackson's Creek.
Here they would await the coming of the fleet iceboats, and lend what
assistance was required in making the passage of this crooked
waterway.
When once again the bugle sounded the cheering became more violent
than ever, for it was known that the moment of departure had arrived.
Tom Betts had been given the honor of being the first in the
procession. His fellow passenger was Jack Stormways. As the new
_Speedaway_ shot from its mooring place and started down the river it
seemed as though the old football days had come again, such a roar
arose from human lungs, fish-horns, and every conceivable means for
making a racket.
A second craft quickly followed in the wake of the leader, then a
third, the two others trailing after, until all of them were heading
down-stream, rapidly leaving Stanhope behind.
The cheering of the throng grew fainter as the speedy craft glided
over the ice, urged on by a fair wind. There could be little doubt
that the ten scouts who were undertaking the expedition were fully
alive to the good fortune that had come their way.
Tom Betts was acknowledged to be the most skilful skipper, possibly
barring Paul, along the Bushkill. He seemed to know how to get the
best speed out of an iceboat, and at the same time avoid serious
accidents, such as are likely to follow the reckless use of such frail
craft.
It was thoughtful of Paul to let Tom lead the procession, when by all
rights, as the scout-master, Paul might properly have assumed that
position. Tom must have been considering this fact, for as he and Jack
flew along, crouching under the big new sail that was drawing
splendidly, he called out to his comrade:
"Let me tell you it was mighty white in Paul to assign me to this
berth, Jack, when by rights everybody expected him to lead off. I
appreciate it, too, I want you to understand."
"Oh! that's just like Paul," he was told. "He always likes to make
other fellows feel good. And for a chap who unites so many rare
qualities in his make-up Paul is the most unassuming fellow I ever
knew. Why, you can see that he intentionally put himself in last
place, and picked out Spider Sexton's boat to go on, because he knew
it was the poorest of the lot."
"But all the same the old _Glider_ is doing her prettiest to-day and
keeping up with the procession all right," asserted Tom, glancing
back.
"That's because Paul's serving as skipper," asserted Jack, proudly.
"He could get speed out of any old tub you ever saw. But then we're
not trying to do any racing on this trip, you remember, Tom."
"Not much," assented the other, quickly. "Paul impressed it on us that
to-day we must keep it in mind that 'safety first' is to be our motto.
Besides, with all these bundles of grub and blankets and clothes-bags
strapped and roped to our boats a fellow couldn't do himself justice,
I reckon."
"No more he could, Tom. But we're making good time for all that, and
it isn't going to be long before we pass Manchester, and reach the
place where that old abandoned canal creeps across two miles of
country, more or less, to the Radway."
"I can see the fellows who skated down ahead of us!" announced Tom,
presently.
"Yes, they're waiting to go through the canal with us," assented Jack.
"Wallace Carberry said they feared we might have a bad time of it
getting the iceboats over to the Radway, and he corralled a few
fellows with the idea of lending a hand."
"They hate the worst kind to be left out of this camping game,"
remarked Tom, "and want to see the last they can of us."
A few minutes later and the skipper of the leading iceboat brought his
speedy craft to a halt close to the shore, where several scouts
awaited them. The other four craft soon drew up near by, thus
finishing what they were pleased to call the "first leg" of the novel
cruise.
It was decided to work their way through the winding creek the best
way possible. In places it would be found advisable to push the boats,
while now and then as an open stretch came along they might take
advantage of a favorable wind to do a little sailing.
Two miles of this sort of thing would not be so bad. As Bobolink sang
out, the worst was yet to come when they made the Radway, and had to
ascend against a head wind that would necessitate skilful tacking to
avoid an overturn.