JACK TAKES A BATH.
"Come there, I say, are you going to sleep all day?"
Jack Golden was just dreaming that he had run the Sprite into a big
rock and was much relieved to find that the resulting thump was
nothing more serious than the bang of a pillow thrown at his head by
his brother.
"Hey, cut that out," he mumbled, but half awake. "What time is it,
anyway?"
"Time you were up and dressed," was Bob's answer. "Today is Wednesday,
and the race is Saturday, and, take it from me, we have a lot of work
cut out for us before then if we are going to get the Sprite ready."
"I guess that's right, all right," was the sleepy answer. "If we're
going to get that new motor installed in the Sprite, we sure have got
to hustle. I'll be dressed in less than half a shake."
It was not yet 5 o'clock, but the Golden boys were early risers,
especially when they had work to do.
Quickly dressing, they rushed down to the laboratory where they found
old Mike busily engaged sweeping up the dirt they had made the day
before. Mike McGinty was an Irishman and was very proud of that fact.
It was his boast that "Ivery bone in my body is pure Irish, and don't
you fergit it, young feller." He was about 40 years old, and for the
last twenty years had been man-of-all-work for the Goldens. He was
very quick witted, good natured, had a decided mechanical turn, and
his "byes," as he called Bob and Jack, were "the finest iver," and woe
betide the person who said anything against them in his hearing. A
good part of his time was spent helping the boys in the laboratory,
and he was so careful and trustworthy that they found his help almost
indispensable.
While waiting to be called to breakfast, the boys packed up what tools
and material they would need, for as soon as possible they intended to
start for the lake and put a new twenty horsepower electric motor in
the Sprite. Jack had just put the last tool in place when the
breakfast bell rang.
As soon as the meal was finished, Bob said: "Jack, you run over to the
garage and bring round the big car and Mike and I will get the stuff
up from the lab."
"Bejabers and do yees think ye're agoing to take all that truck in the
car?"
"Sure, Mike, there's lots of room in the back. Here's Jack now. Easy
now with that motor and don't for mercy's sake, drop it. If we break
it there'll be no time to get it fixed."
In addition to the tools and motor they were taking a lot of cooked
stuff, for they did not intend to come down till they had finished,
and as the family were not at the lake just then, there was no one to
cook for them, and the boys did not want to take the time, although
they could cook when necessary.
Soon all was packed in the rear of the car and saying goodbye to the
folks, who had come to see them off, they started with Bob at the
wheel, Jack beside him, while Mike sandwiched himself in the back
seat.
It was a run of about ten miles to the cottage, as it was at the
extreme upper end of the lake, but Bob was a fast driver, and in about
thirty minutes their destination hove in sight.
"Well, byes, here we are, right side up wid care, bejabers," shouted
Mike, tumbling out of the machine as it came to a stop. "Sure and I
thought I'd break ivery blessed Irish bone in me body bumping round
wid all that truck."
"I guess Irish bones must be pretty strong," laughed Jack, as he
unlocked the door of the boathouse.
It was but a few minutes' work to unload, and soon all three were in
the boathouse busily engaged taking the old engine out of the Sprite
and so rapidly did they work, stopping only for a cold bite at noon,
that by 6 o'clock it was all apart and out of the boat.
"Now, Jack, while Mike and I are packing this stuff away suppose you
take the canoe and see if you can get a few perch for supper,"
proposed Bob. "You will find some worms in that pail in the corner."
"Right you are, son, perch is my middle name," replied Jack, and in
almost less time than it takes to tell it, he had the little canoe in
the water and was paddling across toward a little cove, the best
fishing ground on the lake.
"Guess I'll try trolling first," he said to himself, and baiting a
hook, he let out about forty feet of line and began rowing at a rate
just sufficient to keep the canoe in motion. The fish bit well, and in
less than a half hour he had a dozen fine perch flopping about in the
bottom of the boat.
"No use in catching more than we can use," he thought, as he reeled in
his line and started for the other shore. Hardly had he taken up the
oars however, when, looking up, he saw a new motorboat coming rapidly
up the pond, and only a short distance away. "That's the Jenkins boys
in their new boat, the Winner, and she sure is some boat," thought
Jack.
"Hello there, sonny, how they biting?" shouted Will Jenkins, as soon
as they were within hearing distance.
"Fair," replied Jack as shortly as possible, for he did not relish
being called "sonny" by them.
"Say," shouted Fred Jenkins, "are you going to enter the Sprite in the
race Saturday?"
"Mebbe."
"Well, it won't be any use; we can run circles round your old tub with
this boat."
"She certainly does look fast," replied Jack.
"Fast? She's a streak, and look at her name--that's no lie."
While talking the Jenkins boys had shut down their engine, and the two
boats were only about thirty feet apart.
"Well, so long, we'll see you Saturday, if you can manage to keep in
sight," taunted Fred, as he threw over the fly wheel of his engine.
The Winner started off at a good speed straight for the canoe.
Probably Fred did not intend to run Jack down, but he evidently
purposed to come as close as possible without hitting and give him a
good scare. But just as he was going to turn to avoid hitting the
canoe, something went wrong with the tiller and the next moment Jack
was in the water. He could swim like a fish and shaking the water out
of his eyes he struck out for the canoe which was floating bottom up a
few feet away.
"You clumsy Claudes," he shouted as he caught hold of the canoe.
"Isn't the lake big enough for you to turn your old scow in?" Jack was
mad clear through, for it had looked to him as though Fred had hit him
intentionally. Fortunately, the canoe was so light, that it was not
stove in, and he had little trouble in righting it and climbing in.
Meanwhile, the Winner had come about.
"Say, Jack, I didn't mean to hit you; my tiller rope stuck and I
couldn't turn her," said Fred. "Are you all right?"
"I guess so, but the next time you want to give me a wider berth or
I'll be tempted to put a head on you."
"Ho, ho, hear the young bantam! Suppose you learn how to spell able."
Jack said nothing more but paddled about and managed to pick up all
but two or three of his fish, while the Winner headed down the lake
and was soon lost to sight round the bend.
"Just the same I don't believe he tried very hard not to hit me,"
muttered Jack as he headed the canoe toward the cottage.
He found that Bob and Mike had just finished packing away the old
engine and told them what had happened.
"Begorra," said Mike, "that was a mean trick. If I had them two young
saplin's in me hands I'd rap their two heads together, so I would."
"Well," said Bob, "perhaps it was as Fred said and only an accident,
but he ought to be taught to be more careful. However no great harm is
done and now let's go up to the house and get some supper; I'm hungry
enough to eat those fish raw."
Supper over and the dishes washed, it was nearly 9 o'clock, and the
boys decided that they would go to bed and be up bright and early in
the morning.
It seemed to Bob that he had hardly touched the pillow when some one
began to shake him and opening his sleepy eyes he saw Mike standing by
his bed, holding a lantern in his hand.
"Jump up and dress quick," he said, "some one is trying to get in to
the boathouse. I was smoking a last pipe by the window and saw him
sneaking round."
By this time Jack also was awake and in less than a minute they were
out of bed and had pulled on trousers and shoes.
"Now, Mike, you slip down by the shore, and Jack and I will go round
through the woods. Go easy now, for I want to find out who it is."
The boathouse was about 100 feet from the cottage, and the boys crept
quickly through the trees, which were not very dense. It was a bright
moon-light night, and as they emerged from the woods and were within
about twenty feet of the boathouse, they saw two boys close to the
house, evidently trying to get a window open.
"Come on now," whispered Bob, "let's make a rush for them."
Springing from the bushes the two boys darted toward the boathouse,
and before the intruders could recover from their surprise, they were
grabbed and thrown to the ground. It is not to be supposed that they
gave in without a struggle, and for a few moments the fight waged fast
and furious. But the Golden boys were strong and the fight was over by
the time Mike showed up.
"Ah, I thought so," muttered Bob, as he turned his captive over. "What
are you doing here this time of night, Will Jenkins?"
"You let me up," was the dogged reply. "Can't a fellow take a walk
without being jumped on?"
"Yes," replied Bob, "but you can't get into our boathouse in the
middle of the night, not if we see you first."
"Aw, we weren't trying to get into your old shack. We were only
walking by and happened to look in," was the sullen answer.
"I don't believe a word of it," said Jack, letting up his captive, who
proved to be Fred Jenkins. "They were trying to get in to find out
what we have been doing."
"Now see here," said Bob, letting his captive up, "you hike out of
here and what's more you keep away, see?"
"Yis and begorry," broke in Mike, "if I catch yees sneaking round
here again sure and it's meself that'll be timpted to throw yees into
the drink."
Muttering something about getting even, the two crestfallen boys slunk
away.
"Now you byes go up to the house and go to bed," ordered Mike. "I'm
agoing to sleep in the boathouse, and if them fellers come back here
they'll think the auld bye hisself is after them."
"All right," agreed Bob, "I guess that will be the best plan. Come on,
Jack, it is nearly 1 o'clock, and we have a big day's work ahead for
tomorrow."