PIERRE CATCHES UP
“You can go a bit further in, Jack,” said Joe, who was busy sounding
with the lead.
“Too much risk of getting the propeller all choked up with weeds, Joe,
old boy. Shut off the power, Norman; that’s right. Give me a hand with
the anchor, George. Good! Now, fellows, we are all right for the night.”
“I don’t see any of those school chaps around; do you?” asked Tom,
presently.
“No,” said Jack.
“Wonder what in thunder they are doing, so far away from Albany; and
how is it that the rivals are together?”
“Say, does this sort of thing go on every year? I’d jolly well like to
join.”
Norman smiled, as the volley of questions was fired at him.
“Give me a chance, boys, and I’ll explain,” he said. “No! I don’t
believe the boys are together. Most likely there is the same rivalry
as before; and they are having lots of fun at each other’s expense.
You see, the seniors of Ripley Academy--my school--formed a motor boat
club; and every year, just before school begins, they take a long
cruise on the Hudson. Thornton Preparatory School, not to be outdone,
followed their example, and this time the rival clubs may have met by
chance, or, perhaps, one followed the other.”
“Should think they’d leave some chaps on guard,” murmured Tom.
“Probably a truce has been declared,” smiled Norman. “But if you don’t
see some lively times when the boys get back, things have changed since
I left the school.”
“And I hope we do,” said Bob, briskly. “We may give ’em a bit of help,
too.”
“Now let’s get our stuff on shore, and do the camping out in the best
style.”
“Wonder if the fish would bite, out here,” mused Aleck.
“Put your hand in the water and see,” snickered Joe.
“No fooling, fellows; but lend a hand,” said Jack. “Fire to start and
grub to cook, you know.”
Within a few minutes, the boys had gathered and chopped a quantity of
wood, an old, decaying log close by furnishing most of the fuel. Then
the bright flames began twisting and curling, sending aloft a shower of
sparks, while the smoke lazily drifted away among the trees.
“We’re just as good as woodsmen at this game even if we do come from
the city,” remarked Jack.
“Some fellows would have been crazy enough to try and cook their grub
hunter fashion,” added Joe, with a wink at Bob.
A slice of ham was soon sizzling away; then the coffee-pot began
to simmer over a pile of glowing embers. Sardines, biscuits and
gingerbread completed the supper, which all the boys thoroughly enjoyed.
By the time they had cleaned up, the clouds above were edged with an
orange glow. Between the trees close at hand, they caught glimpses in
the western sky of brilliant yellows, pinks, and purples, and pale,
delicate greens, all forming a riot of color which rivaled that of the
rainbow.
“Must be a jolly fine sunset,” said George; “I’m going to take a walk
and get a good look at it. Coming, fellows?”
All but Norman assented.
“I’ll stick by the ‘Gray Gull,’ George,” he said; “and work on that
telescope stand a bit. It will be a fine night for a peep at the moon,
too, which should be at its best.”
“All right,” said George. “If those school chaps get back, tell ’em to
wait. Funny the duffers are staying away so long.”
The five plunged directly into the woods. A touch of the warm sunset
glow rested upon the foliage and tree trunks, relieving the somber
tones of the denser portions. Over vines and masses of ferns, with
George in the lead, they went, listening to the chatter and song of the
birds so soon to be hushed by the approaching night.
“Haven’t enjoyed myself like this for a year,” declared George,
enthusiastically. “It’s grand to feel as free as one of these birds.
Guess I can square it with Uncle Dan.”
“And ‘Pouf,’ too?” asked Joe, with a grin.
“Pierre may learn a few things,” said George, with a touch of anger in
his voice. “Say--isn’t that a road ahead?”
“Surest thing you know,” said Jack. “And the woods end right here; and
I’m glad of it--about forty-five twigs have scraped acquaintance with
my face already. Great Scott, what’s that?”
A weird cry suddenly echoed through the woods; then from the distance
came another.
“Only an owl, Jack,” laughed Bob. “Thought you were going to jump out
of your boots.”
“Make an all-fired racket, don’t they?” murmured Jack, slightly
confused.
“Here’s the road, fellows. Lovely view of the sunset. Going to put this
in your history, Joe?”
“You bet.”
“Begin to-night?”
“Of course,” said Joe, in very uncertain tones. “Say! Where are we
going now?”
“This way,” said George, waving his hand.
“I’d rather go in the other direction,” objected Joe. “Looks more
interesting, eh, Jack?”
“Count me in, old boy.”
“I’ll go with George,” said Bob Somers.
“Think I’ll go that way, too,” put in Dave.
“So shall I,” added Tom.
Aleck and Fred studied the situation a moment and also decided to cast
their lot with George.
“All right,” laughed Jack. “Have your own way. We’ll meet you here,
after a bit. Come on, Joe.” And the boys separated.
The road was wide and lined here and there with trees and fences. Broad
fields extended off toward the low-lying hills, now purple against
the sunset sky. It was a pleasant pastoral scene, with farmhouses and
growing crops and patches of trees.
The two wandered along until the glow had faded from the clouds and a
grayness was beginning to steal over the landscape.
“Better be skipping back now, Joe,” remarked Jack. “It’s getting kind
o’ late; and you’ve got that history to write.”
“And you could begin makin’ some pictures for it,” gurgled Joe.
When the two arrived at the place where the others had parted from
them, they found it deserted; so Jack seated himself on a broad slab of
rock, while Joe idly leaned against a fence close by.
“Maybe the whole bunch got tired, and went back to the boat,” remarked
Jack, presently. “We won’t wait here all night, either. Say! There’s an
auto coming along to beat the band.”
“Let it come,” said Joe, absently; he was looking for a chance to
tickle Jack on the back of the neck with a blade of grass.
Nearer and nearer the car approached, until its red color was faintly
distinguished; the two acetylene lamps threw a dazzling glare, to
pierce the gathering gloom.
To the surprise of both boys, it suddenly slackened speed, and just as
it came abreast, halted. A stern-looking man, leaning forward, stared
down at them.
“Great Scott!” thought Jack, with something like a start; “it’s George
Clayton’s Uncle Dan!”