HELPING AN ENEMY
Jack kept his wits about him.
He had snatched up something as he ran to the very point where he might
best be seen through the flying spray. It was the conch shell which,
with its apex sawed off, made a horn or trumpet that could be heard a
mile away, under even the most discouraging conditions.
Reaching the point for which he had been aiming Jack immediately started
sending a hoarse blast out over that tumultuous sea. The others waved
their hats, and made suggestive motions toward the small inlet, to show
that a boat could enter the cove where the stream of water emptied into
the Big Lake.
"They see us!" shrilled Nick, dancing up and down in his excitement; for
in this moment all past animosity was forgotten, because human lives
seemed in jeopardy--the lives of those who had gone to school, and
played baseball with them, in the days that were past.
"Yes, they're waving their hands!" declared Herb.
"And now they put about!" George added. "Careful there, Clarence! You
nearly keeled over then on your beam ends. That was a narrow squeak! I'd
hate to have the poor old _Flash_ meet such a fate, not to speak of her
crew."
"It's all right now, fellows!" cried Jack. "They're heading for the
inlet. Run over, and be ready to give any help needed. In times like
this let's forget that Clarence and Joe have always been up against us.
We're all Americans now; and we must stick together!"
"Bully talk!" said Josh, hastening after George and Jack, leaving Nick
to amble along in the rear.
Clarence knew how to handle his boat with considerable skill; and once
he drew close in, he was able to see how the ground lay. Those on shore
also directed him as best they could; and the net result was that the
_Flash_ finally shot around the point, arriving in the little sheltered
bay that a kind nature seemed to have provided for just such
emergencies.
As Jack had more than once said, could they but look back hundreds of
years, no doubt they would find that it had sheltered fleets of Indian
canoes many a time, when the storm king rode the waves of the Great
Lake.
When the _Flash_ had been moored safely, her crew came ashore. Joe
Brinker was looking a bit sullen, as though he did not much fancy the
idea of accepting aid from these fellows, whom he had always looked upon
as enemies. But Clarence walked straight up to Jack, holding out his
hand.
"I say it's mighty decent of you, Stormways, to throw us a line this
way," he declared, with considerable feeling. "I admit I was badly
rattled, and thought we were in for a wreck. Neither of us glimpsed this
opening here, and we'd sure have swept by, if you hadn't signalled. I'm
sorry now I ever--"
"Let by-gones be forgotten while we're here, Clarence," spoke up Jack.
"See, the storm is whooping things up out there now, and it's just as
well you're not on the lake."
Clarence did look, and shuddered at what he saw; for it was not a
pleasant spectacle, with the lightning flashes, and the heaving billows,
seen through the flying spray that even reached them by the tents.
"Get busy, fellows!" George called. "Carry everything inside. Yes, take
that pan of fish, and the coffee, Nick. I guess our callers are hungry,
and will be glad of a bite. Quick now, for here she comes with a rush!"
Hardly had they found shelter, and the flaps of the tents been secured,
when down the rain pelted, to the accompaniment of the most tremendous
thunder crashes any of them had ever heard; while the fierce wind tried
its best to tear the canvas shelters from over their heads.
But the work had been well done, and the tents stood, though wobbling
more or less under the fierce onset of the wind.
Clarence and Joe had been taken in with Jack and George, while the other
four occupied the second tent. Seated on the ground, the two newcomers
proceeded to break their fast, and drink what remained of the coffee.
"Guess you wonder what kept us back so long?" remarked Clarence, after
they had finished the meal, and while a little lull came in the tempest
without.
Jack and George looked at each other and smiled.
"We might give a good think," remarked the latter; "seeing that I pushed
the nose of my _Wireless_ boat so hard into Mud Lake that it took an
hour and more for the other two to pull me off."
"Huh! that's where you were lucky, then, George," continued the other.
"We didn't have any chums to do the pulling act; and so we just had to
flounder there for hours and hours. I reckon we must have spent the best
part of two days sticking in the mud. Happened that nothing came along
but some big steamers; and they wouldn't stop to help a poor little
motor boat off."
"Well, how did you get away finally?" asked Jack, interested.
"Worked our way out of it by ourselves; and we're proud to tell it,"
Clarence proceeded. "I managed to climb up into a tree that hung over
the boat, and threw down branches until we made a mattress that would
bear our weight. Then we got out a block and tackle we carried, and
fixed it in a way to get a strong pull. I kept the engine working for
all she would go, while Joe bent to the tackle; and inch by inch we
finally yanked the _Flash_ out of her mud berth."
"Good for you!" remarked George, with real emphasis. "Looking back,
there's always some satisfaction in remembering how you managed to get
out of a bad hole by means of your own wits."
"All the same, we wished many times we had some chums handy, who would
give us a pull," said Joe, whom the meal and hot coffee had put in a
better humor.
All night long the storm raged on the lake. Any vessel that was so
unlucky as to be caught out in it was to be pitied, or at least those
aboard were. Morning saw its abatement; but the seas were beating wildly
against the rock bound north shore and it was sheer folly for any one
to dream of putting out while such a condition of affairs lasted.
So they concluded to make a day of it. Clarence for the first time in
his life began to realize what fine fellows these motor boat chums
really were; and how they stood ready to forget all the trouble that he
and his crony had been only too willing to shower upon them in the past.
They talked of dozens of things, some of which were connected with their
life in school at home, and others that bore upon the recent series of
happenings on the St. Lawrence river.
"Looks like we wouldn't have any more bother with Clarence after
this," said Josh to Herb, as they watched Jack and the other two doing
something at the camp fire that afternoon, just as though the best of
friends.
"I hope we won't," replied the other; "but you never can be sure of
Clarence. He's tricky; and besides, impulsive. Just now he means to drop
all enmity toward us; because we've fed him, and treated him white. But
wait till something rubs him the other way. That's the time to see if
the thing is more than skin deep."
During the midst of their conversation George purposely mentioned the
name of Jonathan Fosdick.
"What; do you know the old apple grower, too?" demanded Clarence,
looking surprised.
Of course Jack told how they had found the old man sick in his stable;
and helped him to his house.
"And he told us all about his runaway boy, Andy, too; and how word came
he was working in a fishing camp up along this shore," George went on.
"Yes, we promised that if we ran across the fellow we'd tell him he was
wanted at home the worst kind," Clarence remarked.
"And he was that thankful he just loaded us down with stuff--eggs,
butter, and such. Couldn't do enough for us," Joe added, grinning at the
recollection.
"History repeated itself then, for we promised the same thing," laughed
Jack.
"And he just wouldn't take a cent in payment for the things we got,"
remarked George. "But see here, Clarence, it looks like we're in for
another race between the _Flash_ and the _Wireless_, to see which can
get to the mouth of the Agawa first; for I hear there's a big fish camp
there, run by a man at the Soo, where they take tons and tons of white
fish, the trout not being for sale."
"I guess I get the notion that's struck you, George; and let me say
right here, I still believe the _Flash_ to be the better boat," Clarence
went on, stubbornly.
"Shall we try it out then, tomorrow, when we leave here; in a friendly
way of course, I mean?" George asked, eagerly.
"Take him up, Clarry!" said Joe.
"All right then, we'll call it a go," declared the other. "Only I wish
we had something worth making a run for, a prize of some sort."
"It will give me some pleasure to be the one to tell Andy Fosdick that
he's wanted bad at home," George observed.
"Then we'll call it a go; and this time you'd better look out for
yourself, because the _Flash_ has had a knot an hour added to her speed
since we raced last. And besides, I didn't have any heart in that trial
of speed, you know. That smuggler was forcing me to run my boat, to get
him out of a pickle; and for me to win only meant that my boat would be
lost to me. I was really glad to play him a trick in the end, and throw
the race."
Jack and George may have had their own opinions with regard to the truth
of the matter; but they knew enough to keep their tongues still. While
the dove of peace hovered over the camp, it would be folly to stir these
fellows up again.
Overhead the sun shone in a clear sky. Only for those waves the motor
boat club could have easily continued on their cruise. But with the
waning of the afternoon the seas began to sensibly decline.
"I prophesy a good day tomorrow for our race, George," Clarence
remarked, as, in company with the others he sat by the fire, enjoying a
feast that Josh and his assistants, Nick and Jimmie, had prepared for
the crowd.
Jack and George were both of the same opinion since all the well known
signs seemed to point that way. They sat up until a reasonable hour,
chatting and singing; and Clarence realized as never before what a fine
thing he and Joe were missing in never having found a chance to join
this merry group before.
The night was a peaceful one. At early dawn the camp was astir, for much
had to be done ere they might put out on the calm lake.
"Looks like a big mirror; didn't I tell you that wind had blown itself
out?" remarked Clarence, upon casting his first glance beyond the point.
At eight they were all ready to leave the snug harbor that had opened so
opportunely for the storm threatened crew of the _Flash_.
Clarence had charts also, and doubtless studied them eagerly when he had
an opportunity to go aboard his boat again. For although this was only a
friendly race, he always threw himself into whatever he did with a vim,
heart and soul, that made defeat all the more bitter, should it come.
Of course Jack, deep down in his heart, knew full well that this was
only a temporary truce in the warfare that had always existed between
himself and Clarence. Once away from their society the other would soon
drift back to his old way of thinking and acting. But Jack decided that
not because of any unfriendly act on the part of himself or chums should
these two find cause for again digging up the buried hatchet.
Leaving the cove, the four boats were soon moving along the glassy
surface of the calm lake, headed almost due west. Somewhere, many miles
away, lay the first goal, the mouth of the Agawa, which was to mark the
expiration of the race.
"Ready, both of you?" demanded Jack, as the two rival speed boats ranged
alongside the _Tramp_, one on either quarter.
"Ready here!" answered Clarence, briskly.
"Same here, Jack!" called George, hovering over his engine, which was
running at about its next to slowest notch.
"Then go!" shouted the starter; and instantly both craft shot forward
like arrows, while the rattle of their exhausts sounded as if a battle
were in progress.