THE BOAT IN THE FACE OF THE MOON
A single look told Jack another story, for after all it was no human
life in peril that had given rise to that girlish shriek.
Upon the dancing waves he saw a pretty hat, which had evidently been
snatched by the wind from the head of the golden-haired maid, who was
half standing up in the boat, with her hands outstretched toward her
floating headgear.
The men had started to change their stroke, and try and turn the boat;
but with the wind blowing so hard this was no easy matter. The chances
seemed to be that possibly the hat might sink before they could get to
it.
Jack never hesitated an instant. No sooner did he ascertain how things
lay than he was off like a shot, headed straight for the drifting hat.
It chanced that the wind and waves carried it toward him at the same
time; so that almost before the two men in the boat had turned the
head of the craft properly, Jack was reaching out an eager hand, and
capturing the prize.
"Hooray!" came in a chorus from the boys ashore near the fire. Even
Buster tried to wave his hands, forgetting that he had full need of them
in the effort to remain afloat, with the result that he temporarily
vanished from view under a wave.
Jack smiled to see the two girls in the boat clapping their hands as
they bore down upon him. He noticed now, that while the one who had lost
her hat was slender and a very pretty little witch, her companion was
almost as heavy in her way as Buster himself, and with the rosiest
cheeks possible.
"Oh! thank you," cried the maiden whose headgear had been rescued from a
watery grave. "It was nice of you to do that. And it was my pet hat,
too. Whatever would I have done if it had sunk, with poor me so far away
from our Chicago home. Is one of those dear little boats yours?"
"Yes, the one with the burgee floating at the bow," returned Jack, as he
kept treading water, after delivering up the gay hat. "We're taking our
vacation by making a trip from the Thousand Islands all through the
Great Lakes. My name is Jack Stormways."
"And mine is Rita Andrews. My father owns that big power boat there; and
we live in Oak Park near Chicago. This is my cousin, Sallie Bliss. I'm
sorry to say that we're going to leave here early in the morning; or
I'd ask you to come aboard and meet my father."
Nick meanwhile was approaching, making desperate efforts to hurry along
before the boat passed on. For Nick had discovered that the rosy-cheeked
girl was just the match for him, and he wanted to be introduced the
worst kind.
Unfortunately the cruel men took to rowing again, and though Nick swam
after, puffing and blowing like a porpoise, he was left in the lurch.
But he succeeded in waving his hand to the departing ones, and laughed
joyously when he saw that Miss Sallie actually returned his salute.
So the boat with its fair occupants passed away. Jack wondered whither
the millionaire, whose name he remembered having heard before, was
bound; and if a kind fate would ever allow him to see that charming face
of Rita Andrews again. Little did he dream of the startling conditions
that would surround their next meeting.
"Hi! there, you fellows, come ashore and get some duds on!" called
George, who had been an interested observer of this little play.
"Yes," supplemented Josh, waving a big spoon as though that might be the
emblem of his authority as "chief cook and bottle-washer," "supper's
about ready, and my omelette eats best when taken right off the pan. Get
a move on you, fellows."
It was amusing to see the scramble Nick made for the shore. The jangle
of a spoon on a kettle always stirred his fighting spirit; he felt the
"call of the wild" as George said, and could hardly wait until the rest
sat down.
So the two swimmers went ashore, and hastily dressed. Nick was forever
talking about the lovely roses in the cheeks of Miss Sallie.
"You didn't play fair, Jack," he complained. "When you saw how anxious I
was to get up, why didn't you pretend to have a cramp, or something, to
detain the boat. I didn't even get introduced. She don't know what my
name is. It's mean, that's what I think."
Jack knew that Buster would never be happy unless he had some cause for
grumbling. It was usually all put on, though, for naturally the fat boy
was a good-natured, easy-going fellow, ready to accommodate any one of
his chums to the utmost.
While they ate the fine supper which Josh spread before them, George
entertained the party with a droll account of the adventure two of their
number had had with a bull. He had purposely kept silent up to now, and
bound Josh to secrecy, so that he could spring the story while they sat
around.
Loud was the laughter as George went on in his clever way of telling
things. But Nick laughed with the rest. Viewed from the standpoint of
safety things really looked humorous now; whereas at one time they had
seemed terrifying indeed.
"Catch me wearing that blessed red sweater again when I go for milk or
eggs," he declared. "Once is enough for me. Oh! if I'd only had a camera
along to snap Josh as he went climbing over that fence, with the bull so
close behind. I'd get that picture out every time I felt blue, and laugh
myself sick."
Josh assumed an injured air, as he spoke up, saying:
"Now would you listen to that, fellows? Just as if I looked a quarter as
funny as Nick did, trying to scramble up that tree, nearly scared to
death, because he thought Johnny Bull wanted to help him rise in the
world. Oh! my land! but he was a sight. When I went off to get help I
wanted to laugh so bad I just fell over in the grass, where he couldn't
see me, and just had it out. Couldn't help it."
"That's what kept you so long, was it?" demanded Nick, reproachfully.
"All right, the very next time you get in a pickle, and yell out for
help, I'm going to get a crick in my leg when I try to run, see if I
don't."
"All the same I noticed that you could swim to beat the band when you
tried to join Jack, before the sweet girlies got away," put in George,
maliciously.
"Nick was afraid the boat was going to upset, and he saw a chance to
save that red-cheeked little dumpling from a watery grave," Herb
remarked, with a grin.
"Suppose something _had_ happened, Jack couldn't have rescued them both.
But you can laugh all you want to, smarties, she waved her hand to me
all the same, didn't she, Jack?" appealed the fat boy, stubbornly.
"I saw her wave to somebody, so I suppose it was meant for you," replied
Jack.
"Birds of a feather flock together," chanted Josh.
"That'll do for you," Nick declared sternly. "She was a fine and dandy
little lady, and I hope some time in the future I'll see Sallie Bliss
again."
"Bliss! Oh! what d'ye think of that, fellows?" roared George.
"Leave Buster alone, can't you?" Jack said, in pretended indignation.
"He's all right, and honest as the day is long. None of your Crafty
Clarence in his makeup, you know, fellows."
Clarence Macklin was a boy who came from the same town as those around
the camp fire. He was the son of a very rich man, who supplied him with
almost unlimited spending money. Consequently Clarence was able to carry
out any folly that chanced to crop up in his scheming mind.
Learning through trickery of the intention of the motor boat boys to
cruise among the Thousand Islands, he had shipped his fast speed boat,
called the _Flash_ thither, and succeeded in giving them more or less
annoyance. He was accompanied by his pet crony, a fellow called Bully
Joe Brinker, who usually did the dirty work Clarence allowed himself to
think up.
"Say, speaking of that fellow, wonder what's become of him?" George
remarked; for there was a standing rivalry between his boat and that of
the other, both being built solely for speed, and not comfort or safety.
"Didn't he hint something about coming up in this region later on?" said
Jack.
"I understood it that way," observed Herb. "And more than a few times,
while we cruised along the southern shore of Ontario and Erie, I thought
we'd see his pirate boat bob up."
"I hope we don't run across that crowd again," observed Nick. "For
they're sore on us, and bound to do us a bad turn if they find the
chance."
"Well, we can keep our eyes open," remonstrated George. "You know
Clarence believes that _Flash_ can make circles around my bully boat,
and I'm wanting to give him a chance to prove it."
"Chuck that, George," said Josh. "You know you beat him out once
handsomely."
"Yes, but he said he hadn't tried to do his level best. Anyhow, if the
chance comes again I'm ready to race him."
"How long would we be gettin' up till the Soo now, Jack, darlint?" asked
Jimmie; who being second "high notch" in the line of eaters in the
crowd, had been too busy up to now to do any great amount of talking.
"That depends pretty much on the weather," replied the leader of the
expedition, who studied his charts faithfully, and was always ready to
give what information he picked up, to his chums. "We are now something
like one hundred and fifty miles sou'-east-by-south from Mackinac
Island, where we expect to stop over a few days. If we pick out a good
morning we ought to navigate the head of Huron and the crooked St.
Mary's river to the Soo in one day. The steamers do, and we can make
about as fast time."
"Of course we have to hold up for the _Comfort_ pretty much all the
way," said George; "not that I'm complaining, fellows, for I understand
that it takes all sorts of people to make a world, and lots of different
kinds of boats to please everybody. And in bad weather Herb and Josh
fare better than the rest of us. Well, suppose we leave here tomorrow
morning, if the weather lets us, Jack?"
"We will try and make Mackinac with just one more stop," Jack replied.
"That will be easy enough; though if the wind gets around and the waves
increase, we'll have to run for some snug harbor, George, because your
boat and mine are hardly storm craft on these big lakes."
"It's been a foine trip so far, I say," observed Jimmie, reaching for
another baked potato, which Josh had cooked to a turn in the ashes of
the fire, somehow keeping them from blackening, as is usually the case
in camp.
"You're right there, Jimmie," replied Herb. "And with no serious
accidents to come, we'll make a record to be proud of. Just imagine
us sitting around the fire in our cozy club house that is right now
building, while Jack reads the stirring log of our experiences up here.
It will make us live over the whole trip again."
"Yes," chimed in George, "and think of the _bliss_ that must bring."
Nick colored a little, as he felt every eye on him.
"Look at the moon just peeping up over yonder, fellows," he observed,
meaning to distract their attention.
"Just about full too," remarked Jack. "Going to be a great night for a
camp."
"Makes me think of that moonlight race we had with the _Flash_," George
went on, his heart always set on the matter of speed and victories.
Night was just closing in, and the grand full moon was rising from the
watery depths, so it seemed.
"There comes a motor boat down yonder," remarked Herb. "See what a fine
searchlight she has. No need of that, though, as soon as the moon gets
fairly up."
"Say, she's just humping along to beat the band, I tell you!" declared
Josh, as all eyes were turned to where the shadowy form of the advancing
craft could be seen, growing plainer with every passing second.
"Oh! I don't know," instantly remarked George, who was unable to see
much good in any small craft when his pet _Wireless_ was around. "I
should say she was doing just fairly, you know; but then she doesn't
have to hold back for any elephant."
"That's a mean hit, George," said Herb, though he never changed his mind
about his comfortable boat because of any slurs cast by his mates, who
might come to envy him in bad weather.
"Look at her cut through the water, would you?" Josh went on. "The
fellows aboard don't intend to turn in here to stop over. Must be in a
hurry to get somewhere, I guess."
"There, she's just passing the rising moon. Why, I declare, fellows,
seems to me she looks kind of familiar like!" Nick exclaimed.
Jack jumped up, and secured a pair of marine glasses. They were
guaranteed for night work, and through them he could see the passing
motor boat splendidly.
"Is it, Jack?" asked George, eagerly; and the other nodded.
"That's the same old _Flash_, all right," he said, looking around the
circle.
"Gosh!" exploded Nick, "Crafty Clarence is on the trail once more, bent
on revenge for the beat George gave his pirate motor boat. I see warm
times looming up ahead of us, shipmates all. And ain't I glad I know how
to swim now!"