[Illustration: cover]
MOTOR BOAT BOYS
_ON THE_
GREAT LAKES
_OR_
_Exploring the Mystic Isle
of Mackinac_
_By_
LOUIS ARUNDEL
[Illustration]
Chicago
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
COPYRIGHT 1912.
M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by
M. A. Donohue & Co.
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. UP A TREE 7
II. THE CAMP IN THE COVE 18
III. THE BOAT IN THE FACE OF THE MOON 29
IV. CAUGHT BY THE STORM 40
V. A STRANGE SOUND 51
VI. "CARRY THE NEWS TO ANDY!" 59
VII. TIED UP AT MACKINAC ISLAND 67
VIII. GEORGE WAITS FOR HIS CHUMS 76
IX. IN TERRIBLE PERIL 85
X. MAROONED 94
XI. DOWN THE SOO RAPIDS 104
XII. WINNING AN INDIAN'S ADMIRATION 114
XIII. THE GREAT INLAND SEA 124
XIV. NICK WIPES OUT HIS DISGRACE 135
XV. HELPING AN ENEMY 145
XVI. "WIRELESS DAY" 155
XVII. CAUGHT NAPPING 164
XVIII. A NIGHT OF ANXIETY 172
XIX. PERIL RIDES THE STORM WAVES 181
XX. PAYING THE PENALTY 189
XXI. ANOTHER SURPRISE 197
XXII. TO THE RESCUE 208
XXIII. HOMEWARD BOUND 217
The Motor Boat Boys on the
Great Lakes
or, Exploring the Mystic Isle of Mackinac
By LOUIS ARUNDEL
CHAPTER I
UP A TREE
"What a funny cow that is, Josh! Look at the silly thing poking her
bally old horns in the ground, and throwing the dirt up. Say, did you
ever see anything like that? Why, the poor beast must be sick, Josh!"
"Cow? Great Jupiter! Buster, you silly, don't you know a bull when you
see one?"
"Oh, dear! and just think of me having the nerve to put on my nice red
sweater this morning, because this Michigan air was so nippy. I don't
believe bulls like red things, do they, Josh?"
"They sure don't. And then we had to cut across this field here, to save
a few steps. He's looking at us right now; we'll have to run for it,
Buster!"
The fat boy, who seemed to fully merit this name, set down the bucket of
fresh milk he had been carrying, and groaned dismally.
"I just can't run--never was built for a sprinter, and you know it, Josh
Purdue!" he exclaimed. "If he comes after us, I've got to climb up this
lone tree, and wait till he gets tired."
"Then start shinning up right away, Buster; for there he comes--and here
I go!"
With these words long-legged Josh started off at a tremendous pace,
aiming for the nearest fence. Buster, left to himself, immediately
commenced to try to get up the tree. He was so nervous with the
trampling of the bull, together with the hoarse bellow that reached his
ears, that in all probability he might have been caught before gaining a
point of safety, only that the animal stopped once or twice to throw up
some more soil, and thus give vent to his anger at the intrusion on his
preserves.
Josh got over the ground at an amazing rate, and reaching the fence
proceeded to climb over the topmost rails; never once relinquishing his
grip on the package of fresh eggs that had just been purchased from the
farmhouse, to make a delicious omelette for a camp dinner.
Meanwhile, after a tremendous amount of puffing, and frantic climbing,
the fat boy had succeeded in getting a hold upon the lower limb, and
pulled himself out of the danger zone just as the bull collided with the
trunk of the tree.
"Gosh!" exclaimed Buster, as he hugged his limb desperately; "what an
awful smash that was! And hang the luck, he's just put his foot in our
pail of milk too. There goes the shiny tin bucket the farmer loaned me,
flying over the top of the tree, I guess."
He presently managed to swing himself around so that he could sit upon
the limb and look down at his tormentor. The bull was further amusing
himself by tearing up a whole lot more of the turf, and bellowing
furiously.
"Mad just because you didn't get me, ain't you, mister?" mocked Buster;
whose name was really Nick Longfellow, strange to say, considering how
short and stout nature had made him.
The bull did not bother answering, so after watching his antics for a
minute, and wondering if he, too, would have been tossed over the tree
had he been caught, Nick remembered that he had had a companion in
misery.
Upon looking across the field he saw Josh perched on the rail fence,
surveying the situation, craning his long neck to better observe the
movements of the animal, and ready to promptly drop to the ground at the
first sign of danger.
"Hey, Josh! ain't you goin' to help a feller?" shouted the prisoner of
the lone tree in the pasture.
"Course I'd like to, Buster; but tell me, what can I do?" answered the
other. "Perhaps now you'd like to have me step inside, and let the old
thing chase me around, while you scuttled for the fence. What d'ye take
me for, a Spanish bull-baiter? Well, I ain't quite so green as I look,
let me tell you."
"That's right, Josh," replied the fat boy with emphasis; "and it's lucky
you ain't, 'cause the cows'd grabbed you long ago for a bunch of juicy
grass. But why don't you do something to help a feller out of a hole?"
"Tell me what I can do, and I'll think about it, Buster," answered the
other; as though not wholly relishing the remark of his comrade, and
half tempted to go on his way, leaving the luckless one to his fate.
"If you only had my red sweater now, Josh, you might toll the old feller
to the fence, and keep him running up and down while I slipped away."
"Well, send it over to me then," replied the tall boy, with a wide grin.
"You just know I can't," declared the prisoner. "Don't I wish I had
wings right now; or somebody'd drop down in an aeroplane, and snatch me
out of this pickle? But I suppose I'll have to get up a way of escape
myself. Don't I want to kick myself now for not thinking about a packet
of red pepper when I was at that country store down near Pinconning
yesterday. Never going to be without it after this, you hear, Josh?"
Only recently Nick had read an account of how a boy, on being hard
pressed by a pack of several hungry wolves, somewhere in the north,
had shown remarkable presence of mind in taking to a tree, and then
scattering cayenne pepper in the noses and eyes of the fierce brutes as
they jumped up at his dangling feet.
In that case the brutes had gone nearly crazy with the pain, and the boy
easily made his way home. The story had impressed Buster greatly, and
that was why he now lamented the fact that he had no such splendid
ammunition to use on the bull.
"Say, suppose you toss down that red sweater to him," suggested Josh,
making a speaking trumpet of both his hands.
"What good would that do?" demanded the captive, plaintively; for he was
unusually fond of the garment in question, and gloried in wearing it;
though after this experience he would be careful about how he donned it
again while ashore.
"Oh! he might take to tossing it around, and perhaps run to the other
side of the field. Then you could sneak for the fence," called the one
who was safe.
"Yes, and have him come tearing after me before I was half way there,"
cried Nick. "I guess not. Think of something easier. Can't you coax him
over there, Josh? Oh! please do. I half believe you're as much afraid of
him as I am."
"Who says I am?" retorted the other, at once boldly jumping down inside
the fence; upon which the bull started on a gallop for that quarter,
and it was ludicrous to see how the valiant boaster went up over that
barricade again, sprawling flat as he jumped to the ground.
Nick laughed aloud.
"He near got you that time, Josh!" he cried. "Ain't he the terror
though? Look at him smash at that fence. Better keep an eye out for a
tree, I tell you, if he breaks through. And Josh, for goodness sake save
the eggs. Our milk is gone, the tin pail is ruined; but we don't want to
lose the precious eggs."
A few seconds later Nick broke out into a loud wail.
"Hold on, Josh," he called; "I was only fooling when I said that about
you being afraid. Of course you ain't; only it stands to reason nobody
wants to let that old bull get a chance to lift him with those horns.
Don't go away and leave your best chum this way, Josh."
"Chuck it, Buster," called back the other. "I'm not going to desert you.
But somebody's got to go after the farmer, and get him to come and coax
the bull to be good. You can't go, so I'm the only one left to do the
job. Hold on tight, and don't talk the bull to death while I'm gone."
"Oh! bless you, Josh!" called the captive of the tree. "I always knew
you had a big heart. But don't be too long, will you; because if he
keeps banging the trunk of this rotten old tree all the time and
chipping off pieces, I'm afraid he'll get it down yet. Hurry, now, Josh!
Tell the farmer what a mess I'm in; and that he's just got to bring out
some feed, and coax his mountain of beef to be good. Hurry, please,
Josh, hurry!"
He watched the tall boy making his way leisurely along, and groaned
because Josh seemed determined to let him have quite a siege of it
there.
The bull had come back, and was nipping the grass almost under the tree.
Now and then he would move off a little distance, and deliberately turn
his back on Nick, as though he had forgotten that such a thing as a boy
existed. But the captive was not so easily deceived.
"No you don't Mr. Bull!" he called, derisively. "I can just see you
looking this way out of the corner of your eye. Like me to slip down,
and try to make that old fence, wouldn't you? Guess I'd sail over the
rails with ten feet to spare. But think what an awful splash there'd be
when I landed. I can wait a while, till Josh takes a notion to tell what
he came back for."
Minutes passed, and he grew more and more nervous. Long ago had his tall
chum passed out of sight behind the clump of trees that shut off all
view of the farmhouse. Nick half suspected that Josh was lying down
somewhere, resting, perhaps in a place where he could watch what went on
in the pasture.
"Oh! don't I wish I had wings now?" he kept mumbling, as he shook his
head angrily, and watched the movements of the bull. "I'd fly away, and
let Josh think the ugly old beast had swallowed me, that's what. He'd be
sorry then he loafed, when I sent him for help. But is that him coming
over yonder?"
He thought he had detected something moving; but it was at a point far
removed from the place where he expected Josh and assistance to show up.
"Well, I declare, if it ain't George!" he exclaimed presently. "He must
have begun to believe we were having too good a time at the farmhouse;
and is on his way over to get his share. George is always looking for a
pretty girl. I've got half a notion to let him get part way across the
field, and then holler at him. When a feller is in a scrape it makes him
feel better to see somebody else getting it in the neck too. There he
comes across, sure enough!"
The bull had evidently seen George, too; but as he happened to be
standing half concealed by the trunk of the tree just then, the boy who
so lightly started to cut across the pasture, meaning to head for the
house among the trees, failed to discover the bull.
"Oh! my, won't he be surprised though!" muttered Nick, craning his fat
neck in order to see the better; for he did not want his friend to get
so far along that, in a pressure, he could not gain the fence before the
coming of the wild bull.
Now the beast had started to paw the ground. George stopped short as he
caught the sound, and looked around him. Just then the bull tore up some
more turf, and tossed it in the air. That meant he was primed to start
on a furious rush to overtake the newcomer.
"Run, George!" shrieked the boy in the tree, at the top of his
high-pitched voice. "Run for the fence! He's got his eye on you! The
bull's coming like hot cakes! Go it for all you're worth, George. Oh!
my! did I ever see such a great lot of sprinting! George can run pretty
near as good as Josh did, and that's saying a heap."
It was. George seemed to be making remarkably fine time as he shot for
that friendly fence. Evidently George knew something about bulls;
enough at least not to want to stay in an enclosure with an angry one,
and interview him.
For a very brief period of time it seemed nip and tuck as to whether
George would be allowed to get over that barrier unassisted, or be
helped by the willing bull. But apparently, after one look over his
shoulder at the approaching cyclone, George was influenced to let out
another link, for his speed increased; and he just managed to scramble
over the rails when the bull came up short against the fence, to look
through with his red eyes, and shake his head savagely.
"Hey! where are you, Buster?" shouted George, after he had succeeded in
getting his breath again.
"Here, in this bally old tree, George. He chased us, and I had to hustle
up here, while Josh went for help. He knocked my milkpail to flinders;
but thank goodness Josh saved the eggs!" cried Nick; whose greatest
failing was a tremendous appetite, that kept him almost constantly
thinking of something to eat.
"Say, you're a nice one," called the other. "Why didn't you warn me
sooner?"
"I'm real sorry now I didn't, George," replied Nick, as if penitent;
though at the time he was shaking with laughter, just as a bowl of jelly
quivers on being moved; "but I was in hopes you'd scare him off. When I
saw him getting mad, I knew he had it in for you; and then I yelled. But
George, please think of some way to coax the old rascal off, won't you.
It's awful hard on me sitting up here on this limb, and he means to stay
till I just starve to death. Have pity on me George and get up some plan
to rescue your best chum."