SIGNS OF COMING TROUBLE
All day long the powerboat kept constantly moving down the reaches of
the Danube River. Many were the interesting sights the boys looked upon
from time to time. Nor did they see any particular signs of overhanging
trouble. War may have been declared by Austria-Hungary upon Serbia and
Russia, backing up the action of her ally, Germany, but the indications
of it were not immediately apparent.
It was true that in several towns which they passed on that morning’s
run they could see that groups were in the streets, and there seemed to
be many men in uniform hurrying this way or that. Once they also saw a
field battery of glistening guns disappearing up a steep road that led
to the south.
“You can see what’s in the wind, all right,” Josh remarked, as they
watched a group of uniformed horsemen galloping along the river road as
though bound for some distant point of mobilization. “In a few days
after the call to the colors, as they say, has gone out for many
classes of reserves, the whole country will be swarming with men in
uniform.”
“I only wish we could hold over and see what goes on,” grumbled George.
“It’s a chance in a lifetime to be a looker-on in a foreign country,
with war breaking out; and I think it’s a shame that we are going to
miss it.”
Jack took him to task for saying that.
“We ought to thank our lucky stars, on the other hand, George,” was the
way he put it, “that we have a chance to get out of Austria before every
exit is closed. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of tourists have the
time of their lives escaping, because, you see, every train will be
taken over by the Government for carrying soldiers, guns, ammunition,
horses, stores and such army necessities.”
“Yes,” added Buster, “that’s what I say, Jack. For one I want to tell
you I’m mighty thankful to be on board this old boat right now. I only
hope they won’t want to commandeer it for carrying soldiers down to the
Serbian border.”
“Oh, they wouldn’t want to bother with such a mosquito craft as this, I
should think,” remarked Josh uneasily.
“Our little flag seems to attract a heap of attention,” Buster continued,
with a vein of pride in his voice, for that small edition of Old Glory
was his private possession, it may be remembered.
“Where we landed at noon to see if we could buy some eggs and milk at
that farm house,” Josh observed, “those peasant girls were examining it.
I rather think they must have somebody over in our country, for when I
said the word ‘America’ and pointed to the flag and then myself they
laughed and nodded their heads.”
“And don’t forget to mention, please, George, that we got the eggs all
right,” suggested Buster; “likewise a bumper mug of fresh milk apiece,
and some butter that didn’t have a bit of salt in it, which I think
queer.”
“Oh, so far as that goes,” explained Jack, “there’s lots of that made
and sold over here. They call it sweet butter, and most people like it.
You’d get used to it in time.”
“Four dozen eggs, and whoppers at that,” Buster went on to say,
gloatingly; “which I consider a splendid investment; and we didn’t have
to pay half what they’d cost us in the States either. I’m going to have
a couple fried for my supper, and anybody else that likes them that way
can get what they want by giving the tip now.”
They continued to chatter in this manner as the afternoon wore away. It
had been decided that while there was a full moon that night they had
better not attempt navigating the river after the sun had set. None of
them knew what they might run up against; and besides, since war had
come, possibly there would be strict rules enforced prohibiting such a
thing during the night. None of them felt like taking chances.
Buster, it seems, must have been thinking of some of his previous
exploits in the times that were gone, for later on he was seen to be
looking over some fishing tackle he produced from his pack.
“Hey! what’s in the wind now, Buster?” sang out Josh upon discovering
what the fat chum was doing.
“Oh, nothing much,” replied the other easily, “only it struck me that
there might be some kind of eatable fish in this same blue Danube, and
I’m looking over my lines. To-night, if I can find any fat grubs or
worms, I might set a line and see what happens. You know I’ve had more
or less success about grabbing big fish out of fresh and salt water.”
That seemed to make the others laugh, as though certain humorous
memories were refreshed. Buster joined them, for he was a jolly fellow
and could even enjoy a joke when it was on himself.
“I mean to drop one of these lines over as we go along, so as to soak
the snell of the hook, for if it’s too dry it might break,” Buster
explained.
“Well, here’s wishing that you meet with good luck,” said Josh, “because
I’d enjoy a supper of fresh fish pretty good.”
“Don’t make up your mouth for it, then,” warned George, “because you
never can tell about such things. Fish are what some people would call
notionate; they bite well one day and then given you the grand laugh the
next one.”
“About how far do you think we’ve come since leaving Budapest, Jack?”
Buster asked, not deigning to continue the discussion with George.
“I should think something like fifty to sixty miles,” was the reply.
“Whew! as much as that?” whiffed George.
“Well, this current must be all of four miles an hour, and the old boat
when going with it ought to average ten. Counting for our stops and all
that, we’ve certainly covered sixty miles if we have one.”
“I agree with you, Jack,” said Josh; “George is only saying that to be
contrary.”
“Oh, I am, eh?” grinned George, who seemed to take especial delight in
stirring Josh up.
“It’s been a pretty good day for August, with the sun shining overhead
most of the time, and not so very hot at that,” Buster continued.
“There’s no sign of such a thing as a storm that I can see--great guns!
what in the mischief can that queer-looking thing be over yonder? Do
they have birds shaped like a fat cigar in the Danube country?”
Of course, every one immediately twisted his head around to take a look,
and all sorts of exclamations announced that they were about as much
astonished as Buster.
Low down toward the horizon they saw an object outlined against the sky
that was undoubtedly moving, for they could notice that it passed a
small cloud with considerable speed. Just as Buster had said, it looked
very much in the distance like a fat cigar, and was of a neutral tint,
not very easily distinguished against the heavens.
“Why, that must be one of those German Zeppelins we’ve read so much
about!” exclaimed Jack, after taking a second look.
“A war dirigible, you mean, don’t you?” demanded Josh.
“Nothing else,” he was told. “I’ve seen pictures of them often, but
never thought I’d set eyes on one. Yes, it’s a Zeppelin, all right, and
heading due south, too.”
“What d’ye mean by saying that last?” asked Josh.
“Well, you remember what that officer said about the Serbians and
Austrians on the Danube down below, where it acts as a boundary line,
being ready to fight at the drop of the hat? Perhaps they’re already
having it hot and heavy. Perhaps the word has been flashed over the
wires for one of the Zeppelins to come down and get busy there.”
“What would they use it for, Jack?” questioned Buster, as all of them
continued to watch the steady movement of the fast dirigible in the
west.
“I believe the main thing for Zeppelins to do is to carry explosives and
drop bombs from a great height on forts and barracks occupied by the
enemy forces. But they can be also used for scouting and bringing back
information of value. That may be what they want this one down along the
Danube for.”
So fast was the dirigible going that in a quarter of an hour more it had
passed beyond the range of their vision.
“Looks like things are going to happen right along over in old Europe
these days,” remarked Josh.
“Yes, but we’ll know next to nothing about it all,” George went on to
say; “for we can’t buy a paper, and even if we did none of us could read
Magyar. This thing of knocking around in a foreign country may be all
very good when there’s no war on, but there are times when you’d like to
be able to buy an extra and learn all that’s happening.”
“There’s a good landing by that tree yonder, Jack,” remarked Josh.
“But we’re not quite ready to pull in yet a while,” the commodore
announced.
“What’s the hurry, Josh?” asked Buster, again working at his long and
strong fish line.
“Oh, I thought George wanted to get out and start right away back,”
answered the other with a dry chuckle. “He’ll never be happy until he
can have all the comforts of home, including the afternoon extra to
read.”
“Forget it!” snapped George. “I’ve always been able to take things as
they came as well as the next one, and I reckon I can stand what you
fellows do. Because I grumble a little once in a great while, that’s no
sign I’m not having a good time. Some of my folks must have been
sailors, I guess, and it runs in the blood. Don’t pay any attention
when you hear me complain.”
“We’ll try not to, George,” promised Josh blithely; “we’ll have to
remember the source, and then forget it.”
“There, now, I’ve got the silly old line untangled,” announced Buster;
“and I’ll let the hook and sinker trail after us, just to make believe
I’m fishing. It’ll do me a heap of good to feel the twirl as the hook
goes around with the swivel--sort of revive old memories like.”
He lay there by the broad stern of the boat amusing himself after his
fashion. Josh could not resist the temptation to warn him.
“Better look out for yourself, Buster,” he remarked seriously. “Some
hungry fish might snap at your bare hook and get caught. If you were
taken off your guard the next thing you knew you’d be overboard.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time, either,” mentioned George.
“Aw, no danger of that happening,” retorted Buster good-naturedly. “Even
over here in Austria-Hungary the fish have their eye-teeth cut, and
wouldn’t be so green as to bite at a bare hook. If I had anything to
bait it with I’d watch my steps, you may be sure. But don’t worry
yourself about me, either of you. I can take care of myself.”
No more was said just then with reference to the subject, something else
coming up to catch their attention.
The afternoon was nearing its close, and Jack knew that before a great
while they must be on the lookout for a place to haul up for the night.
Whether they had better select a retired nook for their camp, as had
been their habit when cruising down home rivers, or land near some farm,
he had not yet decided. Of course, it would be unwise to stop over at
any town, since they might have more or less trouble getting away again
if the authorities chose to be exacting.
“There goes a long train over there, heading south, too,” remarked Josh,
pointing as he spoke.
“Seems like nearly everything is going the same way we are, for a fact,”
added George.
“It strikes me it must be a troop train,” Jack was saying, “for, while
I’m not dead sure, I think I can see men in uniform leaning from the
windows of the carriages, as they call the cars over here.”
“Well, what else could we expect?” Buster wanted to know. “If Austria
means to give little Serbia a licking she’ll need a lot of her soldiers
down there, many more than she’s got along the lower Danube now. Yes,
they’re soldiers, all right, Jack. I can see them plainly in the
sunlight.”
“The plot is thickening,” remarked George solemnly; “and right now I
wouldn’t be surprised if the Germans were having a hot time over in
Belgium, if they’ve really started to cross the little kingdom. They say
those Belgians are fighters to the backbone, and will never stand by to
let the Kaiser cross their neutral country to strike at France.”
George was deeply interested in all that was going on. He took pride
in his knowledge of things connected with the aspirations of these
countries, big and little, of Europe, and especially of the turbulent
Balkan States. While George undoubtedly has his failings, as what boy
has not, as a rule he seemed well informed, and could argue on almost
any point.
“A lot of those fine chaps will like as not never come back,” said
Buster, as he gave the fish line another idle hitch around his wrist,
preparatory to winding it in; “they start out full of enthusiasm and
life, and are brought home again wrecks, fit for only the scrap heap.”
“Listen to Buster, will you?” chuckled Josh; “he’s getting to be a
regular old philosopher these days.”
“Well, it always did hurt me more or less when it came to parting with
any one I cared for a heap,” admitted the fat chum, trying to look
serious, though that was always a difficult task with him, because
nature had made his round features to bear the stamp of a jovial
disposition; “you may remember that it took me two whole days to recover
when we left home. I’m of a clinging nature, you see, and this thing of
severing the bonds goes against my grain.”
He had just said this when something happened that astounded the others.
Buster seemed to be dragged from the end of the moving powerboat as
though an octopus had suddenly flung one of its long tendrils up and
clasped him.
The others heard Buster give one loud howl of fright, and then the sound
was swallowed up in a splash as he disappeared in the river.
As Jack hastily stopped the engine and prepared to back up, he had a
glimpse of the stout chum struggling desperately in the water. If his
frantic actions counted for anything, it would seem as though Buster
must be engaged in a life-and-death struggle with some marine monster
that had pulled him from the after deck of the powerboat and into the
river.