WHEN THE STORM CAME
As Buster had taken a survey of the situation before darkness came
along, he knew of a promising point close at hand. Here they could toss
their lines out, and let the current drag them partly down-stream.
It was not the kind of fishing that the boys preferred, because they
were accustomed to using jointed rods, and even casting artificial flies
with which to lure the frisky trout or the hard-pulling black bass to
their destruction. But as Buster wisely declared, “When you’re fish
hungry you’ve just got to shut your eyes and get ’em any old way;
results are what count then, not methods.”
Presently Buster had a savage bite, and drew in a squirming victim. He
eyed this in the light of the rising moon and then remarked:
“I don’t know the species that fellow belongs to, but he looks good to
me, and all I hope is there are a lot of his uncles and his cousins and
his aunts hanging around, anxious for grub bait. Hello! Got one, have
you, Josh? Bully for you! Whew! He’s a scrapper in the bargain, I tell
you. I hope he doesn’t break loose, and give us the grand laugh!”
Buster’s interest was so taken up with what was going on near him that
he forgot his own line for the time being, until a quick summons at the
other end announced that one of the said finny relations seemed anxious
to follow the first victim to the shore.
Then both boys were kept busy pulling in hand over hand. They succeeded
in landing both prizes, which fact made them very joyful.
“Only needs one more to complete the first circle, though I think I’d
like two for my share, Josh, and so might all the rest. You see there’s
a heap of waste when you come to take off the head and tail. Let’s hurry
up and get ’em while the bitin’s good. You never can tell when fish will
quit takin’ hold.”
It was certainly less than half an hour after they first started off
when the two sportsmen came strolling back to the bright camp fire
dangling a pretty string of still lively fish between them on a little
pole.
“Two apiece, and one left for luck!” announced Buster, triumphantly, as
the other fellows jumped to their feet with expressions of pleasure to
look the catch over.
“They ought to be cleaned right away, and a little salt rubbed inside so
they’ll keep nice and fresh over night,” said Josh, “so let’s get busy,
Buster.”
“But don’t you think that ought to be our part of the business?” asked
George, although there was not very much animation in his manner, for
George hated to handle the job of cleaning fish, though when it came to
eating them no one ever knew him to make any objection.
“Now that’s kind of you, George, to offer to do the thing for us,”
observed Buster, sweetly; “especially since we know how you detest the
job. Thank you, but as our hands are in, Josh and me can attend to them
all right.”
Josh, however, did not look overly well pleased when he heard Buster say
this. Truth to tell, he had already arranged it in his wicked heart that
George should be trapped into “doing something for his keep.”
“We’ll let you off this time, George,” he remarked, pointedly, “but the
very next batch of fish we haul in you can tackle the job.”
George only chuckled, and drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps he may have
said to himself that sometimes people count their chickens before they
are hatched, and that possibly there might never be another “batch;”
remembering the story of the small boy who while eating an apple, upon
being appealed to by an envious comrade to give him the core, told him
“there ain’t a-goin’ to be any core, Jimmy.”
In due time the fish were laid away in a safe place where no roving
animal was apt to discover and appropriate them. Buster might in his
happy-go-lucky fashion have been careless in this particular, but shrewd
Josh was far too smart to take unnecessary chances.
“We don’t know anything about the country around here,” he told the
others. “They may have wild animals, and again p’raps there’s nothing of
the kind to be feared. But it’s best to lock the stable _before_ the
horse is stolen.”
So the fish were kept aboard the boat, although from time to time George
might have been observed to sniff the air suggestively as he prepared to
sleep, plainly indicating that he disliked the fishy smell. But then
George always was what Josh called “finicky” in his habits, and the
rest seemed to pay little or no attention to things that annoyed the
particular one.
When morning came, without any untoward happening, Buster took particular
pains to cook that mess of fish to a beautiful brown color. He followed
the old and well known camp method of first throwing several slices of
fat salt pork into the skillet and rendering it down. Then when it was
boiling hot he placed as many of the fish as it would accommodate in the
pan, first rolling them in cracker dust. Turning them back and forth as
was necessary he finally had them looking so appetizing that the others
refused to wait a minute longer, but made a raid on the lot.
The breakfast was a pronounced success. Even George was heard to say
that he did not care how soon it was repeated; which was quite reckless
on his part, since he had been given due warning as to his duties next
time.
The sun was well up and shining brightly when they left the scene of
their camp. It promised to be a rather warm day, Josh predicted, after
taking a look around at the sky, and sizing up the breeze. Josh
pretended to be something of a weather sharp, though hardly calling
himself a prophet along those lines.
“And,” said he, as they started down the river again, “it wouldn’t
surprise me a bit if we ran into a squall before we see that old sun go
down tonight.”
“Do you really mean that, Josh?” asked Buster.
“All humbug,” muttered George, disdainfully, as though he never pinned
any faith on “signs,” and considered all weather predictions as founded
on mere guess work.
Josh shrugged his shoulders as he went on to say:
“Oh! very well, just wait and see if I know beans or not, that’s all.
They have some pretty lively thunder storms along the Danube, I’m told,
and if that’s so what better time than in August could you expect to run
across one? Course I may be mistaken, because I’m only a tenderfoot of a
weather sharp; but wait and see.”
“Oh! we will, Josh, we will,” replied George, in his tantalizing way.
The morning passed pleasantly enough, though as noon came on it might be
noticed that everybody showed signs of being hot. The sun certainly did
blaze down upon them, and it was even warmer inside the cabin of the
powerboat than outside, so it seemed useless trying to get any relief by
seeking the shade.
They drew in at a place where there were trees, just to lie around for
possibly an hour under their shelter, while they ate a cold “snack.” It
was too furiously hot to dream of building a fire and making a pot of
coffee.
Then once again they embarked for another run down-stream. Jack figured
they had covered more distance that morning by five miles than on the
other day. This fact cheered them up immensely, and as they continued to
go with the current they took their customary interest in what was to be
seen along the eastern shore, where they would not have the bright rays
of the declining sun in their eyes.
Many were the odd sights they beheld from time to time. First it was
this thing that attracted them, and hardly had their exclamations of
delight ceased than something else would be discovered further down that
chained their attention until they were close enough to make out its
character.
One thing Jack called their attention to, and this was the fact that
they were meeting with more evidences of mobilization than ever, as they
proceeded further from the Hungarian capital.
The news may have been belated in reaching many of these interior
hamlets and pretty little towns along the Danube; but it must have
arrived at last, and no end of excitement had followed.
They saw scores and even hundreds of men in uniform, some marching in
squads as if hurrying to join the colors; others guarding bridges, or
other vulnerable structures, the latter doubtless being old men who
could not go to the front, though still possessing the military spirit,
and desirous of doing something for the country of his birth.
Jack was delighted with this chance to see things he had often read
about but never really expected to set eyes on.
“I used to believe that it was a terrible crime to have every young
fellow serve a couple of years in the army before he could go into
business, and then be reckoned as belonging to the reserves, but I’m
changing my mind some, let me tell you,” was what he said later in the
afternoon.
“How’s that, Jack?” asked Buster.
“Well,” continued the other, obligingly, “in the first place it makes
for a love for their country when they know they represent a unit in her
defense. Then again it goes to make the young fellows amenable to
discipline, something millions of boys in our country are lacking in. It
teaches them to be frugal, and the life outdoors makes them a lot more
healthy.”
“Sounds good to me, Jack,” assented Josh.
“I know we’ve done a heap of talking over in America about the mad folly
of Germany in making every young man serve a term in the army, and
boasted that our boys needn’t ever fear of being forced to join the
colors; but perhaps, fellows, after this world war is over, we’ll be
doing the same thing. Preparedness is what is going to count for a
whole lot, let me tell you; and both Great Britain and the States will
learn a lesson before they’re through.”
At the time of course Jack was only taking a vague peep into the future;
but events that have happened since then show he had a wise head on his
young shoulders. When these words are being penned camps are springing
up all over the States where business men can have a month’s training in
military ways; and those who come back home admit that they have taken
on a new lease of life, such are the great benefits to be obtained in
that fashion.
It must have been past the middle of the hot afternoon, when the boys
were lolling about, almost panting for breath, and taking things as easy
as possible, that a sudden sound startled them.
“Thunder!” ejaculated Buster, as he popped up his head to look around.
Black clouds were sweeping swiftly down back of them, and even as they
looked a flash of vivid lighting resembling a forked dagger shot toward
the earth, almost immediately succeeded by another deep-toned burst of
thunder.
“What do you say to that, George?” demanded Josh, turning a triumphant
face on the other.
“Oh! seems like you hit the mark with that guess,” admitted the other,
“but then anybody might one out of three. Besides, we haven’t got the
storm yet, have we? It may go around us.”
“No danger of that,” declared Josh; “these summer storms nearly always
follow the channel of a river. I’ve known ’em to pour down pitchforks
for half an hour on the water and the other bank, and never a drop fall
on me. But we’ll get all the rain you want to see right soon now.”
“I do hope it’ll cool the air some then,” complained Buster, who being
stouter than any of his chums, must have suffered more in proportion
from the heat.
“What had we better do, Jack?” asked George, surveying the black clouds
uneasily.
“It’s too bad that we don’t happen to see any cove where we could run in
and stay,” replied the pilot; “so on the whole I think we’d better make
a turn and head into the storm that’s coming down the river.”
“That sounds good to me!” declared Josh, instantly understanding the
benefit such a course would likely bring to them; “our cabin is partly
open in the rear, but well protected forward. We can use that tarpaulin
to cover the well back here, and after all the storm won’t last long.
Swing her around, Jack, and edge in a bit closer to the shore while
you’re about it. The river is pretty wide right here.”
It seemed three times as wide to Buster just then, as at any time
before; but of course this came from his suddenly awakened fears.
“How deep do you think it can be out here, Josh?” he asked after another
fearful rolling crash of thunder had passed into rumblings in the
distance.
“Oh! a mile or so,” replied Josh, carelessly.
“Whee! then all I hope is we don’t get blown over on our beam-ends, and
have to swim for it,” Buster was heard to say.
They had just managed to get the boat headed up-stream when the squall
struck them with almost hurricane force. The water was lifted and flung
against the little boat with terrific violence. Indeed, the boys working
energetically could hardly manage to fasten the stout tarpaulin to the
hooks by which it was meant to be secured in an emergency like this, so
as to cover the open well at the stern.
The rain began to come down in wild gusts, the wind howled around them,
the boat rose and fell frantically, and Jack had all he could do to keep
the plunging craft headed into the furious storm.
It grew almost dark around them. Water found entrance despite the cover,
and the boys prepared to take a soaking. As they were not made of salt,
and had undergone many privations and discomforts during other days,
they uttered no complaint. Indeed, Buster was telling himself that it
would be all right if they only got through in safety; clothes could be
easily dried, but it was another thing to be wrecked out on a raging
river in a storm like this.
The waves were mounting pretty high, so that with every plunge they
could tell that the propeller was fighting the air, as it was hoisted
above the resisting water. This was what alarmed Jack, for he knew the
danger attending such a sudden and constant change of speed.
He tried the best he could to ease the strain each time they rose and
fell; but it was always with an anxious heart that he listened to hear
if the propeller still continued to do its duty after every mad plunge.
Minutes had passed, just how long a time since the beginning of the
storm none of the boys could tell. Then all at once every one noticed
that they had ceased to progress steadily. The noise of the churning
propeller had also ceased.
“We’re turning broadside to the blow, Jack!” shouted Buster, although
that was hardly the case as yet, his fears magnifying the danger.
“What happened, Jack?” roared Josh.
“Engine’s broken down, and we’re at the mercy of the storm!” came the
staggering reply.