THE POWER BOAT--MINUS THE POWER.
The boys were astir early, it being their intention to reach Madison
and the Lorry home before Mr. Lorry could get away to cross the
lake--providing that proved to be his intention.
The boys had a frugal breakfast off the cold food McGlory and Lorry had
brought from the cabin, and immediately after they emerged from the
cave upon the narrow shelf that ran in front of it.
The rain seemed to be over, and the leaden clouds were being scattered
by a fierce wind from the west.
"This is a bad morning to be on Fourth Lake," said George, casting an
anxious eye upward. "I had hoped the wind would blow itself out, but
it appears to be as strong as ever."
"Why not leave the _Sprite_ here," suggested McGlory, "and hike for
Madison along the wagon road?"
"It would take us too long," protested Matt. "I think a boat that
can stand the seas in 'Frisco Bay ought to be able to negotiate this
fresh-water lake. The _Sprite's_ reliable, I can say that for her; and,
so long as we have power, I guess we needn't fear the wind."
"We'd better have a look at the boat by daylight," said McGlory. "For
all we know, pards, the end may have been burned off her."
But an examination showed that the _Sprite_ had suffered little damage
from the fire. The luggage was thrown aboard and the boys climbed to
their places. One turn of the flywheel and the cylinders took the
spark; then, on the reverse, the boat was pulled from the shoal into
deep water, Matt changed to the forward drive, and they were off in a
wide circle that pointed them for Lake Mendota.
"I don't care a whoop what happens now," gloried the cowboy, "we've got
George out of the woods, and that's the main thing."
"Call it that if you want to, Joe," said Lorry, "but there's music for
me to face, over on Fourth Lake Ridge."
"And you're goin' to face it like a little man, Georgie; and if Uncle
Dan don't back down on that military-school proposition he'll get a
cold blast from Joe McGlory. And that, pards," the cowboy added, "is a
shot that goes as it lays."
"I'll take my medicine and not make much of a face, no matter how
bitter the dose is," went on George; "but there's one thing that's
bound to happen."
"Meanin' which, George?" inquired McGlory.
"Why, my father is going to be set right on the subject of Motor Matt."
"Don't let me cause any friction between you, George," urged Matt. "The
breach between you and your father is in a fair way of being healed."
"So far as I am concerned," said Lorry, a flush tinging his cheeks,
"I'm willing to admit that I acted like a fool. I'll go on record with
that, face to face with the governor; I'll even go further and say
that it was weakness that made me hang back from Madison, stop in that
cabin, and send Motor Matt on to make a dicker and save my pride. But
the governor has got to understand that Motor Matt's my friend, and
that, but for him and you, Joe, I'd not be here now. Right is right,
and Motor Matt is going to have justice, if nothing more."
"I'm glad as blazes, George," caroled McGlory, "to hear you tune up in
that fashion. The more I listen to you, since last night, the better I
feel."
"I was quite a while getting to sleep in that cave," pursued Lorry.
"I lay there, on the hard rocks, and reviewed everything I've done
since leaving Madison. It seems as though a fog had been cleared out
of my brain, and that I was able to stand off and get a clean-cut,
impersonal look at myself. The sight wasn't pleasing. I know why Motor
Matt suggested that stop at Waunakee, and a probation in the cabin on
the creek. He read me better than I could read myself. He knew that I
had pride which would not suffer humiliation and disgrace, and that
if I was not pampered and humored a little I would probably go off on
another rebellious splurge--and wind up my future prospects. By staying
at that cabin, I brought all these dangers upon Matt; and yet, if he
had not suggested some such move as the halt at Waunakee, I should very
likely have bolted from the train between 'Frisco and here. Oh, what an
unreasoning idiot I have been!"
Lorry dropped down on a seat and bowed his head in his hands.
"Speak to me about this, Matt!" whispered McGlory, placing himself
alongside the king of the motor boys. "Who'd ever have dreamed my
haughty, high-and-mighty cousin would ever have come to the scratch in
such a way? Sufferin' tyrants! I wonder if Uncle Dan is going to do the
right thing by George, or make as big a fool of himself as George did?"
"I think Mr. Lorry, after he sees and talks with George, will do the
right thing," returned Matt.
Just here the _Sprite_ shot out of the river into the rolling waters of
Fourth Lake. The west wind, marshaling its strength on the broad sweep
of the prairies, caught up the waves and flung them headlong toward
Maple Bluff. The launch leaped and staggered, shoved her bow into the
highest waves, and then shivered and flung off the spray in a double
cataract on each side.
It was a nerve-tingling ride, and McGlory suddenly made up his mind
that his stomach would feel better if he sat down.
George, his face flushed with excitement, looked around him and gave a
jubilant shout.
"Great!" he cried.
"I wish I felt like that," groaned McGlory. "For Heaven's sake, Matt,
see how quick you can get us to the other side."
"We can tie up at the yacht club on the west shore," said Lorry.
"All right," answered Matt. "Look at that boat over there, George," he
added, nodding his head in the direction of Governor's Island. "She's
the only other boat on the lake, so far as I can see, and she's acting
as though something is wrong with her."
Lorry stood up, braced himself, and peered ahead.
"She's a bigger boat than ours," he remarked, "and looked to me like
the _Stella_. The _Stella_ is a thirty-footer, and belongs to Barkley
Cameron, a neighbor of ours up on the Hill. By Jupiter," he added, a
few moments later, "it is the _Stella_, and she's in trouble, as sure
as you're a foot high."
"The wind is driving her toward the Bluff," said Matt excitedly. "Her
engine's dead--she hasn't any power to fight the wind and waves."
"And there are four men aboard her," went on Lorry. "Great Scott! If
they ever go on those rocks at the point, the boat will be smashed
to kindling and every one aboard of her drowned. Let's stand by the
_Stella_, Matt, and try and do something for her."
"I'm rushing the _Sprite_ in the _Stella's_ direction," answered Matt,
"and have been for some time. But we may not be able to do anything.
She's half a mile nearer the rocks than we are, and she may go onto
them before we can overhaul her."
Far off, just beyond the drifting and helpless launch, Matt and Lorry
could see the white waves flinging themselves against the jutting crags
of McBride's Point. The _Sprite_ was coming up with the _Stella_ hand
over fist, but the _Stella's_ drift was carrying her toward the cliffs
with tremendous speed.
"I can see the people on board," cried George, "and two of them are
tinkering with the engine. If they can get the motor in shape they're
all right, but if they can't----"
George broke off abruptly, and stood clinging to Matt and staring at
the other boat with frenzied eyes. Two of the _Stella's_ passengers, as
Matt could see, were looking toward the _Sprite_ and waving their hands
frantically.
"Matt," called George huskily, "one of those men is my father!"
"Great guns!" gasped Matt. "He started across the lake in the _Stella_.
We didn't leave the Catfish quick enough. But keep your nerve, George.
We're going to save them if we have to run into the breakers and pull
the _Stella_ off the cliff!"