IN A KENTUCKY COVE.
"Turn out, you sleepy heads! The sun's coming up!"
"That's Jack, of course," grumbled Josh, thrusting his tousled head out
from the curtains of the big launch, and digging his knuckles into his
eyes. "Say, have you been awake all night? Don't you ever sleep,
Jack?"
All were soon astir, and preparations made for a meal. Jimmie, of
course, was keenly awake to the fact that he could pick up a few points
by watching the boss cook of the entire outfit; and hence he turned his
eyes toward the _Comfort_ many times while busy with his own duties.
Jack and Herb took things easy, sitting in the bow of their respective
boats and swapping experiences. Of course both the others had been
deeply interested in the story about the descent of the police and the
daring escape of the mysterious boat manned by the two robbers. And
Herb never wearied asking questions concerning the thrilling events of
that night.
When breakfast was finally a thing of the past, both boats were started
out of the creek. Finding a good anchorage not far distant, they
settled down for a wait, the length of which no one could prophesy.
But Jack, after making preparations for an indefinite stay, electrified
the rest when he declared that he believed he had sighted the missing
launch far up the river and coming like a streak of light.
It was no mistake, as the rest declared once they had taken an
observation. And when the lost boat drew near, such a dreadful clamor
as broke forth, both Jimmie and Josh blowing conch shell and tin horn
for all they were worth; while Nick did his best to drown them out with
his own battered musical instrument.
"Same old story," laughed George, as they came alongside. "Don't rub
it in too hard, fellows. Breakdown right when we were doing the best
stunt of the trip. Only for that it would have been a record breaker
of a run between second and third stations for the _Wireless_. Gee!
but she can fly when she takes the bit between her teeth."
"And gee! but she can bite though," grunted Nick, as usual rubbing his
haunches and putting on a most forlorn expression.
"Well, what's the use of staying here?" remarked Herb. "It's now past
eight, and time we were on the move. It's just a picnic for Josh and
me. We sail along like a big house, and nothing disturbs us. Josh
cooks to beat the band; only I don't believe he eats more'n a bite each
meal himself."
"That's where you're away off, commodore," asserted the other. "Why,
I'm feeling ever so much better since I started. If it keeps on I'll
soon be able to get away with my full share of the prog, as well as the
rest of you--all but Buster. I never want to run a race with that----"
"Don't you dare call me a hog," cried the fat boy, pretending to get
ready to hurl a big spoon, which he was wiping, at the cook of the
other boat.
"I didn't, leave it to the rest if I did. You're the only one who
mentioned the name at all," grinned Josh, ready to dodge behind his
skipper if necessary.
It being decided to get away without further delay, the start was soon
made, and once more the three boats began their progress toward the
Land of Dixie.
For a change George did not rush off immediately; nor did Jack put on
speed so as to leave the _Comfort_ behind. Truth to tell, they wanted
to chat some more; and talk of future plans when they should get
farther along in the journey. For by now it had been impressed upon
the minds of them all that "the worst was yet to come," as Jack put it.
An hour later and George believed he had loitered long enough.
"My boat is just itching to get a move on, fellows," he called out, as
he started to leave the others. "So by-by until we meet up again at
Station Four."
"Good luck to you!" cried Jack, waving his hand after the speed boys,
one of whom looked anything but happy as he sat there with the life
preserver belted on, and his fat hand clutching the brass after rail.
Presently Jack also considered that the pace was altogether too slow
for him, much as it pleased Josh and Herb. Far ahead they could see
the _Wireless_ looking like a speck on the tumbling waters.
"Good-bye, fellows!" Jack called out as he too increased his speed, and
began to draw ahead of the big launch.
"Off, too, are you?" laughed the easy going Herb. "Well, wait up for
us below. And I say, Jack, if you get the chance, you might grab that
nice fat reward that's out for the apprehension of the robbers. Five
thousand ain't to be picked up every day, I'm telling you. And what
with your great luck I believe it wouldn't be hard for the two of you
to do it. Good-bye! Good luck!"
An hour later and those aboard the _Tramp_ could just barely make out
the last boat in the race. The _Wireless_ had long since vanished from
view in the hazy distance down-river way.
"What are you thinking about, Jimmie?" asked Jack, as he saw his
boatmate sitting there with a queer look on his freckled face.
Jimmie grinned, as though tickled with what was passing through his
mind.
"Sure, I do be pityin' that poor Buster," he observed. "Did ye not
hear him tellin' how he longed so much to be havin' thim ilegant wings
of his durin' the six hours George was tinkerin' wid the ingine? It
was the chanct of his loife, so it was; and he says he would have been
sportin' in the wather all the toime, learnin' to shwim loike a duck,
by the same token. I've been wonderin' what he did wid the same, and
I've come to the conclusion that he swallowed thim wings!"
"Oh! that's too much for me to believe, Jimmie," laughed his companion.
"Whatever put such an idea into your head?"
"Becase he ates iverything he says. Josh is right whin he calls him a
human billy goat, so he is. I wouldn't put it past him, now," and
Jimmie shook his head in an obstinate manlier, as if to show he could
not be persuaded differently; so Jack did not waste time trying.
As before, the day wore on, and with the coming of the hour which was
to mark the close of the run they began to carefully watch the bank as
they flew along, in the hope of discovering a friendly haven of refuge.
These things may seem a bit wearisome, but they became an important
part of the daily program with the venturesome small boat cruisers, and
as necessary as partaking of their meals.
Once more luck seemed to favor them, for after a long search Jimmie
discovered what seemed to be a series of little coves, in one of which
they could doubtless find water enough to float the _Tramp_.
It was almost dusk by now, and they would have to deduct considerable
time from their balance sheet in making up the record for the day's
run, according to the conditions set for the participants in the race.
"Think we can get in?" asked Jack of his mate; for Jimmie was in the
bow, using a pole to test the depth of the water.
"Aisy it is, wid plenty of wather, and to spare," came the reassuring
reply.
So, urging the boat gently on, Jack sent her over the bar and into what
proved to be a splendid little cove, apparently just made for a haven
of refuge to small craft, risking the dangers of the vast river flood.
"Snug as a bug in a rug!" declared Jack, joyfully, as they came to a
stop in the cove, being able to run alongside the bank, which fact
would allow of their going ashore if they chose.
Jimmie looked about him a bit nervously.
"Sure it's mesilf is wonderin' if we'll have the luck to run slap up
against that other motor boat agin," he called out, as Jack happened to
be bending over the engine at the moment.
The skipper made no response, as his attention happened to be taken up
just then with something that required a little work. But the words
had been spoken loud enough to have been heard twenty yards away in
that quiet nook.
"I wouldn't shout so, if I were you, Jimmie," remarked Jack a little
later, as he came back to where the other was getting the tent ready
for erecting over the boat.
"Why, who's agoin' to hear me, sure?" demanded Jimmie, at the same time
casting a nervous glance around at the heavy growth of bushes and trees
that bordered their little cove.
"Oh! I don't suppose there's a human being within a mile of us right
now," admitted Jack, laughingly; "but all the same it isn't good policy
to tell all you know. Nobody can be sure there isn't some tramp lying
hidden in these woods. And we don't want company, you see."
Frequently after that Jimmie would turn to glance around him, even
while he was building the fire ashore and cooking the supper over it
for a change. He could not get the warning of his boatmate out of his
head, and Jack noticed that for a wonder the usually merry and
light-hearted Irish lad made no attempt to carol any of his favorite
school songs that evening.
They sat there by the fire a long while after eating. The night air
had grown a bit cool, for it was October, when the early frosts nip.
vegetation in the north; and even this far south the coming of night
brings a change from the warm day.
And about nine o'clock Jack, feeling his eyes growing heavy, wondered
whether it would not be wise for them to turn in. They had concluded,
since everything seemed so safe, to try sleeping ashore for a change
from the narrow quarters aboard the little motor boat; and the blankets
were already lying in a heap; in fact, one served Jack as a means of
keeping him from coming in contact with the bare ground as he sat there
writing in his log book and figuring out the respective positions of
the participants in the race, up to that time.
"I say, Jimmie," he began, when, looking around, he discovered that he
was alone, the other having crept away at some time while Jack was
busily employed.
"Now, where under the sun did that boy go to?" Jack said to himself, as
he turned his head this way and that in the endeavor to see some sign
of the missing one.
Presently he made another strange discovery.
"Well, I declare, if he didn't take my little Marlin gun along with
him," he muttered, failing to find the weapon where he felt sure he had
laid it down.
This gave him food for more serious thought. He remembered now how
Jimmie had been impressed with that chance remark of his about the
possibility of danger in the shape of concealed hoboes. Evidently,
unable to resist the temptation, Jimmie had silently picked up the gun
and crept away to make the rounds of their immediate neighborhood, his
design being to learn whether there could be any hobo camp near by.
"Oh! well, I suppose I'll just have to sit here and wait for him to
come back, after he's had his little turn. A queer boy Jimmie is, and
inclined to be superstitious. Perhaps he's looking for a ghost right
now, or one of those banshee's the Irish people believe in. Hello! I
believe I hear something moving over there! Wonder if that's Jimmie
now?"
Jack had arisen to his feet as he watched to discover what came in
sight. Although he might not have confessed to the fact that he was
excited, still his hand was trembling a little as he held back the
branch of the tree to see better.
"Of course it's Jimmie. But what does he act that way for? Why is he
beckoning to me and holding a finger on his lips, just as if he'd taken
a turn to tell me not to call out. What has the boy discovered now, I
wonder?"
Jack awaited the coming of his comrade, who was crawling along, looking
back every little while as though fearful lest he had been followed.
"What under the sun ails you, Jimmie?" asked Jack, in a low tone, as
the other reached his side. "Have you gone clean daffy, and are you
seeing things that no decent, self-respecting boy ought to see?"
"H'sh!" whispered the other mysteriously; and then after another quick
look in the direction from whence he had just come, he went on
hurriedly: "They're roight over there, Jack, me bye, both of 'em as big
as loife, wid the sassy little motor boat alongside in another cove;
and Jack, they belaves us to be officers of the law, come to take thim
till the bar of justice. I know it, becase I heard 'em talk!"