TROUBLE WITH THE TRAMPS.
We were a proud lot when the house was finally completed. From the
veranda we had an excellent view up and down the river. We could see our
camp on the island and keep watch of our goods. Late one afternoon
Dutchy and I were lolling about on the Goblins' Platform, idly watching
a hawk soaring above us. The rest of the boys had returned to the island
in canoes an hour before and left the heavy scow for us to row back. It
was drawing near supper time and we had about decided to start for home,
when I chanced to see a scow up the river. It looked exactly like ours,
and in it were two men, evidently drunk, from the way they carried on. A
glance showed me that our scow was not at its moorings. How were we to
reach the camp? One of the men had evidently seen us and was pointing us
out to his companion. We rushed down the Jacob's Ladder, but by the time
we reached the river bank they were in midstream and heading rapidly
northward. Our shouts merely brought forth derisive laughter. We were
certainly in a predicament. First we ran back up the cliff, and tried
from there to gain the attention of the rest of the fellows. They
evidently saw us but couldn't make out what we wanted. Then we ran down
to a point opposite the island and called to them. But the wind was
against us and we couldn't make them hear, so we had to plunge in and
wade across.
A COUNCIL OF WAR.
Immediately we summoned a war council. Dutchy and Jack were chosen by
lot to guard the camp, while the rest of us started in pursuit in
canoes. By the time we got under way the sun had dropped back of the
Pennsylvania hills and the shadows were climbing slowly up the Jacob's
Ladder. Swiftly we paddled up-stream, keeping close to the western
shore, where the water was very quiet. We didn't expect to go far,
because there were rapids less than three miles up, and we were sure
that no tramps would ever be ambitious enough to row a heavy scow
against the swift current at that point. As we rounded a sharp bend in
the river, we noticed a camp fire a few hundred feet further up, around
which five or six men were lounging, and there, just below them, was our
scow. What were four boys to do against six grown men? We were each
armed with a club, and could have made a pretty good fight if necessary,
but after a whispered consultation we decided it would be best to wait
until dark, when we could creep up quietly and steal away unnoticed with
our boat.
VENGEANCE.
It seemed as if darkness never would come. It was scarcely dusk when our
patience gave out and we paddled up stealthily, hugging the shore. Bill
gained the scow unnoticed, but just as he was about to push off he
discerned the body of a man within. It was one of the tramps lying there
in a drunken stupor. What was to be done? Every moment was precious. A
yell from the fireside decided him. With a mighty push he launched the
boat out into the current, while we threw him a line and towed the boat
out to midstream. With a volley of curses the men sprang up and pelted
us with stones. But they were poor shots, and we escaped without serious
injury. Our prisoner, in the meantime, was snoring heavily in the scow
undisturbed. We took him down-stream and then unceremoniously picked him
up and dumped him overboard within a few feet of the shore. It was a
rude awakening, and nearly frightened the wits out of the man. But it
brought him to his senses, and in a moment we were dodging more stones,
sent with such good aim that we had to lie flat in the bottoms of the
boats until the current carried us out of reach.
A DOUBLE SURPRISE.
It was now quite dark, and we had some difficulty in groping our way
back to camp. There was no moon and the stars were obscured by clouds.
Our only course was to follow the shore line until we got around the
bend, and then we steered for the beacon fire, which, by prearrangement,
had been kindled on Point Lookout. But the spirit of mischief was in us.
We thought we would have some fun with Dutchy. We could see him
silhouetted against the blaze. Jim and I hung back in the canoes, while
Reddy and Bill went on with the scow, splashing their oars and shouting
and singing in disguised voices, like drunken men. Dutchy was evidently
very much agitated. His "Hello, there! Boat ahoy!" was greeted with
derisive yells.
[Illustration: Fig. 145. A Joke on Dutchy.]
"Say, we'll lick the life out of you, the same as we did them other
kids," shouted Reddy.
This was too much for Dutchy. He ran for all he was worth, yelling for
Jack to come quick.
We had a merry laugh over the situation when suddenly the tables were
turned. Something whizzed past Bill's ear; I was stung on the arm with a
heavy nail; a large stone hit the scow; Reddy had his hat knocked off,
and Fred upset his canoe trying to duck out of reach of the invisible
missiles before we could make our assailants understand that we were
friends and not the tramps. The joke was on us after all. We hadn't
counted on Dutchy's accurate aim or Jack's skill with the crossbow.
TRAMP-PROOF BOAT MOORING.
[Illustration: Fig. 146. A Tramp-proof Mooring.]
Around the camp fire that night we discussed our adventures and made
plans to prevent their recurrence. It was evident, for one thing, that
we would have to moor our boats off shore in such a way that they would
be out of reach of meddlesome persons, and yet could be drawn in toward
shore by any one who knew how. This was the way we did it. A pair of
galvanized iron ring bolts were procured on Jack's next trip to
Lamington for provisions, also a light rope about forty feet long. The
ring bolts were screwed into a pair of stout anchor stakes about two
feet from their lower ends. The rope was passed through the rings and
the ends were joined by tying them to a galvanized iron link. Then it
was soaked for a while to shrink it before it was set in place. After
the rope had shrunk sufficiently, the two stakes were driven into the
bed of the river, one close to the bank and the other far enough out to
hold the rope belt clear of the bottom. Both stakes were sawed off under
water, just above the ring bolts, so that they were hidden from sight.
When we wanted to moor our boats we secured their anchor ropes or
"painters" to the link. A large stepping stone marked the spot were the
inner stake was driven, and standing on this stone we were able to reach
down and haul in on the lower strap of the belt to draw the boat out a
safe distance from shore, and then when we wanted to use our boat again
we would haul in the upper strap to draw the boat in toward shore.