CAMPING OUT
“Hurry up, run the barge ashore and let’s see what he’s up to,”
suggested Ned.
“All right,” agreed Jerry. “We might as well see this thing through
while we’re at it.”
The barge, with its load of hay was no light weight to tow, but the
boys were satisfied to get it out of the way of the schooner. They
steered over toward the bank, and, as Ned slowed up the engine, Jerry
and Bob leaped ashore and tied the line to a tree.
“We can come and get the rope to-morrow,” said Jerry. “Now to find our
queer tramp.”
The hay barge was now securely tied, and, as the boys could see in the
light of the search lantern, the schooner had righted. There seemed to
be no movement on board, and the boys concluded that whoever had been
afraid of losing his life in the accident had quieted down.
“Everybody listen,” said Jerry. “I want to see if we can hear the tramp
moving on shore.”
The engine had been stopped and there was no sound to disturb the
stillness of the night. Suddenly, from the bush that lined the bank of
the river, there came a crackling that betokened some person was moving
through them.
“Maybe this is our tramp,” said Bob.
With a quick movement Ned, who was standing in the bow of the boat,
turned the search light on shore. As he did so there emerged from the
underbrush a figure that was dripping with water. One glance showed the
boys it was the tramp of the hay barge.
“Oh!” exclaimed the tramp. “You’re here, are you?”
“Just about,” said Jerry. “Here’s your load of hay,” and he motioned to
the barge tied to the bank.
“Oh that’s not mine,” the tramp said pleasantly. “You see the way it
was I went to sleep on that barge. It was tied to the bank, some where
along here. The first thing I knew there was a collision and I heard
some one on the schooner shouting that I was sinking him.”
“I guess you came pretty near it,” put in Ned.
“Yes; well maybe I did, but it wasn’t my fault. The barge must have
drifted down stream while I was asleep. Then you boys came along in
the nick of time, and--well you know the rest.”
“Are you stopping around here?” asked Jerry.
“Well, not so’s you could notice it,” the tramp replied. “I’m a sort of
wandering minstrel you might say, here to-day and gone to-morrow.”
“Can we do anything for you?” asked Jerry, taking pity on the man’s
rather forlorn appearance. “Give you a ride down to the town, or
anything like that?”
“No, thanks just the same,” replied the tramp. “It’s going to be a warm
night, and my clothes will soon dry. Besides I’m a nature lover and a
student of the stars. I like to sleep out of doors, so I’ll just curl
up here under a bush and sleep the sleep of the just. In the morning I
will hie me on my way again, fair sirs.”
“Then we can’t help you?” asked Ned, who, with the other boys, was
somewhat puzzled by the man’s queer manner and rather high-flown talk.
“Well, to tell you the truth the only thing you could do for me would
be to hand over a chicken sandwich or two,” the tramp said. “And I
don’t suppose you carry such luxuries with you on your cruises.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t mind roast beef, corned beef and cheese sandwiches,”
suggested Bob.
“Don’t make fun of him,” spoke Jerry in a low voice.
“I’m not,” replied Chunky. “I’ve got some here.”
He fumbled in a side locker of the boat and drew out a bulky package.
Then he put his hand in again and brought forth a bottle of ginger ale.
“Where in the world did you get that stuff?” asked Ned.
“I saved it from the dinner at Mr. Dudley’s,” answered Bob.
“Well, you are the limit!” exclaimed Jerry, while Ned joined in the
laugh at Chunky.
“Here you go,” said Bob to the tramp, extending some of the food and a
bottle of ginger ale. “It will last until you can get something more.”
“You are too generous,” spoke the tramp, but though his tone was
bantering as his previous speech had been, the boys could see he was in
earnest.
He came close to the boat and accepted the sandwiches and bottle which
Bob held out. Then, making his way up the bank again, he was soon lost
to sight in the shadows, while he called back a friendly “good-night.”
“I guess we can go home now,” spoke Jerry. “We’ve had adventures enough
for one night.”
“Yes, and if I’m not mistaken this one will lead to others,” Ned put in.
“What do you mean?” asked Jerry, with sudden interest.
“Did you notice the tramp’s face?”
“Not particularly; why?”
“Well, you remember how much he looked as if he needed a shave when he
came in the glare of the light as he stood on the barge?”
“I sure do.”
“Well, he didn’t look so when he took the sandwiches from Bob, did he?”
“No, he didn’t,” put in Bob. “He was as clean as if he’d just been to
the barber’s.”
“You don’t s’pose he got shaved in the woods, after his bath, do you?”
asked Ned.
“You mean we must have been mistaken in thinking he needed one?” asked
Jerry.
“No, I mean his appearance changed after he fell or jumped into the
water. His ‘whiskers’ came off.”
“Then he was disguised!” exclaimed Jerry.
“That’s what I believe,” Ned replied. “And what with a disguised tramp
on a hay barge, a mysterious schooner named _Bluebird_, and Bill
Berry’s curious reference to something ‘blue’ I shouldn’t wonder but
what there was something strange going on around these parts. And
we’re liable to get mixed up in it at any time.”
“Not any more to-night, if you please,” spoke Jerry. “I’m dead tired,
and I want to go to bed. If there are going to be any more adventures
I’m going to duck.”
“Well, I don’t s’pose we can find out anything more to-night,” admitted
Ned. “So let’s head for home.” And they did.
The next day the boys made a trip up the river to where they had tied
the hay barge. They found several men on the craft, discussing how it
had happened the boat had moved from the place where they had tied it.
The boys moored their craft and went on the barge to get their rope.
“So this is your tow line, eh?” asked a man who seemed to be in charge
of the barge.
“That’s what,” replied Jerry, and he related what happened the night
previous.
“Wa’al, I might have knowed suthin’ would break loose if I let th’
men have a night off,” the farmer, for such he was, went on. “We was
bringin’ this load of fodder down stream, an’ we had t’ tie up as it
was gittin’ dusk. Some of th’ boys wanted t’ go off t’ town t’ a dance,
an’ I let ’em, as we don’t have many amusements on th’ farm. When we
come back we couldn’t find th’ boat, an’ we thought some one had stole
her. We went back t’ town an’ stayed all night an’ come trampin’ down
t’ th’ river this mornin’. Lucky we found th’ craft, an’ the hay not
stole. I’m sure I’m much obliged t’ you boys.”
“I’m sure you’re welcome,” replied Jerry, not saying anything about the
tramp, who, it appeared, had had no hand in the boat drifting away.
Securing their line the boys went back to their boat.
“Where shall we go?” asked Ned. “I’d like to get off in the woods
somewhere and camp out. I wish vacation was here and we could take our
cruise.”
“Let’s take a little one now,” suggested Jerry. “We don’t need to
bother with a tent. We can go off somewhere, and stay over Sunday, and
sleep on board.”
Things were soon in readiness and the start was made about six o’clock
that evening. They went some miles, and when ten o’clock came the boys
lighted the gasolene stove and made coffee, for the night was quite
chilly. They set the small table amidships, and, with the food they had
brought along, they made a good meal. They were so tired, with the
good healthy exhaustion of exercise in the open air, that it was not
long after this before they were all sound asleep.
It must have been past midnight when Jerry, who was sleeping forward,
was awakened by feeling the boat careen to one side.
“What’s the matter?” he cried, sitting up on the bunk.