"WIRELESS DAY"
"Hurrah!" shouted Josh, wildly excited, and glad for once to be on the
narrow speed boat.
"May the best one win!" called Jack, as he watched the rivals drawing
ahead of the two slower boats.
"That means us!" laughed Bully Joe.
"Just wait and see!" answered Josh; between whom and Joe there had
always been more or less bad blood.
Herb had given his staunch engine all it could stand; and as the _Tramp_
stood by him, they were soon left far in the lurch.
"Talk to me about speed," observed Herb, as Jack turned his face that
way, "strikes me the _Wireless_ has her work cut out for today, to beat
Clarence."
"You heard what he said about the improvement made when at the
machinist's. It was a knot an hour increase, I believe," Jack remarked,
casting a look down at the throbbing motor of the _Tramp_.
"That's right," Herb spoke up. "But you know we did some tinkering to
George's engine, and he has always said that it ran better afterwards.
Anyhow, it looks like a pretty race."
"I think so with you, Herb," Jack admitted. "Judging from here, they're
running neck and neck now."
"Yes," continued the other, "but don't forget that tricky Clarence is
always up to something. Two to one he's got a bit more speed held in
reserve."
"Well, George knows him like a book," laughed Jack. "And make up your
mind he'll keep something held back himself. Don't you remember he did
before? Possibly Clarence may be the one to run up against a surprise
after a while."
As the racers drew farther and farther away, those in the other boats
began to think of other things. None of them had half the interest in
the outcome of the rivalry as did George. With him there were many old
accounts to square; and he meant to make a good job of it, if he had his
way about the matter.
For some miles the two speedy motor boats kept along, neither appearing
to gain half a length on the other. If one seemed to be going ahead, the
skipper immediately busied himself stopping the advantage. It was as if
both were holding themselves in for the home stretch.
Josh was on needles and pins all this while. He paid little attention to
what lay in the rear. Part of his time was taken up in scanning the
watery waste ahead, through the powerful marine glasses. And when not
thus employed he sat there, quivering with suspense, wondering whether
there would come a sudden stoppage of the engine, which might spring
from one of its eccentric tantrums.
But, strange to say, the motor seemed to be doing its best today, as if
bent on meriting all the good things its builders had said in their
catalogue.
"I see it!" suddenly hoarsely whispered Josh, in a mysterious way, as
though he did not wish those in the other craft to overhear him.
"You mean the little bay at the mouth of the river?" queried George,
setting his teeth hard together; for he knew that the crisis so long
awaited was at hand.
"Sure, look for yourself, George," handing him the glasses.
"Yes, I believe you're right," returned the skipper of the _Wireless_,
as he once more turned his attention to his engine. "Now, get in the
middle of the boat, Josh, and don't move any more than you can help."
"You're going to open up, then?" asked the tall, ungainly lad,
feverishly.
"I am. Are you ready?" George went on.
"My hair is parted exactly in the middle, I believe," chuckled Josh.
"You know Buster used to say that was one thing you made him do when he
was on board here. Let her go, George! Get the jump on him; it may count
in the end!"
A shout from Bully Joe was the first knowledge Clarence had that his
rival had taken the bit in his teeth, and shot ahead. Instantly the
speed of the _Flash_ was increased; and the two powerful engines began
to throb like little giants; while the sound of the exhausts, from which
the mufflers had been entirely removed, was like the tattoo of a couple
of snare drums calling the long roll.
Josh steadied himself as best he could; though when the boat was rushing
through the water at this frightful speed it did not seem so cranky as
when at rest.
"George, we're gaining on him!" he said, in a husky voice that trembled
with the excitement under which Josh labored.
"I see we are; and still I could get a bit more out of old _Wireless_ if
hard pushed. Don't worry, Josh; we're bound to show Clarence up for a
bluffer this time, sure."
"If only something don't happen!" gasped the anxious Josh, with an
intake of breath that was like a big sigh.
"Make your mind easy on that score," said George, positively. "Nothing
is going to break down. She's running as smooth as silk, and never
missing a stroke. Oh! ain't this great, though? I've looked forward to
this ever so long. Wouldn't I like to be close enough right now to see
the look on Clarence's face."
"It's as long as a foot rule, I warrant you!" chuckled Josh. "Don't I
know them two fellows though? They take a beat hard. Ten to one that if
you are ahead when we come to the bay, they'll go on past, and never
enter at all."
"Well, now, that wouldn't surprise me one little bit," remarked George.
Slowly but surely was the _Flash_ falling behind, or rather the other
boat forging ahead. Doubtless Clarence must be trying every device known
to ambitious racing skippers in order to just coax a little more speed
from his engine; but it was now keyed up to top-notch, and utterly
incapable of doing a particle better.
Already Clarence must know that he was badly beaten, unless fortune
stepped in to bring about an accident to the _Wireless_.
"That's what he's playing for now," said George, when his companion
suggested this very thing. "But I reckon Clarence will find himself
barking up the wrong tree. This race has just got to be mine. You hear
me warble, Josh?"
It was not often George spouted slang; but the excitement had seized
upon him to such an extent now, that he hardly did know what he was
saying.
Minutes crept along.
Now the _Flash_ was a stone's throw in the rear, and losing all the
while.
"Careful about the turn, George," cautioned Josh, as they came near
where the bay opened up. "We don't want to lose this thing at the last
stretch. Now you're safe to turn in. Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! siss! boom!
crash! we win!"
The _Wireless_ safely made the turn, and thus Josh announced her
victory.
"What did I tell you," Josh went on. "Look at 'em, George! They're
spinning on right past, and don't mean to come in at all. Clarence won't
even look this way, but keeps staring ahead. Talk to me about taking a
beat to heart, there never was a fellow as bad as Macklin, in baseball,
hockey or any sport. Well, good-bye to you, fellows! Come again when you
can't stay so long. It's _Wireless_ day, you know!"
There was no answer to the shout with which Josh wound up his remarks.
He saw Bully Joe wave his hand in a derisive way, and then the _Flash_
passed by at full speed, as though the race were still on.
There was a big camp on the shore, and several boats drawn up on the
beach. Many signs told that this was one of the favorite places along
the north shore for the white fish men to gather. Doubtless innumerable
barrels of this delicate inhabitant of the Great Lakes were shipped from
this coast during each season; with the supply still undiminished.
It had been agreed upon that George was not to go ashore until the rest
of the little motor boat fleet arrived. This was not for half an hour or
so, since the _Comfort_ was not capable of doing better than ten miles
an hour, and the more speedy _Tramp_ had to accommodate her pace to that
of the steady boat.
Nick and the rest gave the victor a good cheer as they turned the point,
and entered the bay at the mouth of the famous trout river.
Then the three craft made for the beach, off which they anchored, to go
ashore in the smaller boats.
There were some shanties and tents in sight, with a number of rough
looking men; who however seemed glad to welcome the boys. The smell of
fish was everywhere, as was natural.
"Do you happen to have a young fellow here in this camp by the name of
Andy Fosdick?" Jack asked a man who seemed to be the boss.
"Yes, but just now he's out at work. There's a boat coming in and p'raps
Andy may be one of the crew," the other replied.
They waited until the boat landed, and those who were in it jumped out.
Jack could use his judgment, and he immediately selected a sturdy
looking young chap, with a skin the color of an Indian's, as the one
they sought.
"Come along, fellows," he said to his chums; "and we'll find out."
He made straight for the young man; who, seeing the procession
approaching, and all eyes glued eagerly on him, stood there looking
curious, and a bit apprehensive, Jack thought.
"Are you Andrew Fosdick?" Jack asked, as they reached the spot where the
other stood, one hand resting on the edge of the boat, from which his
comrades were already shoveling their catch of fish.
"That's my name, though I generally answer to plain Andy," replied the
fisherman wondering doubtless what all this meant, and why these boys
should want to see him.
"Bully!" exclaimed Nick. "Found him the first shot! We're sure in great
luck on this cruise, fellows!"
"Tell him what you want with him, Jack," urged Herb, who saw the other
was being consumed with anxiety.
"We have come straight from your father, Andy," said Jack, softly. "He
wants you to come home to him."
Then they saw a hard look pass over the dark face of Andy Fosdick.
"It ain't no use, boys," he said, bitterly. "He run me off long ago, and
I don't go back there again. I'm gettin' to forget my name even is
Fosdick, and that settles it."