THE MOTOR BOAT MISSING
There was no sound save the ripple of water past the side of the craft,
and the distant gurgle where the stream flowed over a stony place that
formed miniature rapids.
“Who’s there?” asked Jerry again.
This time he heard a splash in the water as if a big fish was moving
about.
Jerry knew the river did not boast of sufficiently large finny
specimens to careen a boat the size of the _Dartaway_. Nevertheless
something had shifted her.
Jerry was wide awake now. He stepped out into the enclosed space
between the bunks that formed a sort of cabin. As he did so he felt the
boat rock again; this time so violently as to almost cause him to lose
his balance.
To avoid falling Jerry thrust out his hand, and it hit Bob, who was
sleeping on the other side of the boat.
“All right! All right! I’m goin’ to get right up!” exclaimed Bob,
turning over but evincing no other desire to do as he said he would.
He evidently imagined himself in his bed at home, and with his father
calling him to get up, for Bob was no light slumberer.
“What’s the matter?” asked Ned, sitting up suddenly. He was easily
awakened, and the sound of Bob’s voice, with the movement of Jerry
served to arouse him. “What’s the matter?” he repeated. “Are they after
us? Is Noddy up to his old tricks?”
“I don’t know what’s the matter,” replied Jerry in a low voice. “I was
awakened by feeling the boat rock, and I got up to see what the trouble
was. I haven’t found out yet.”
“Maybe we’re adrift,” suggested Ned. “We may have swung down stream and
hit the bank.”
Jerry reached for a swinging lantern, and, parting the canvas side
awnings, held the light over the rail. By the gleam the boys could see
that they were still tied to the shore trees by bow and stern lines.
“The boat hasn’t drifted,” said Jerry. “Something moved it. I heard a
noise in the water as if there was a big fish, but who ever heard of
whales or sharks in the river, and it must have been something as big
as that to cause us to careen so.”
“Maybe it was a log that hit us,” suggested Ned.
“I think not; I would know the bump of a log,” said Jerry. “Hark!
What’s that?”
Both boys listened intently. Off toward the farther bank could be heard
a faint splashing, as if a large body was moving in the water.
“Light the search lantern, and we’ll throw a beam over in that
direction,” said Ned. Jerry crept forward and soon had the big
illuminator kindled. Then he suddenly turned the beams full on in the
direction of the splashing sound.
For a moment nothing could be distinguished save the green bank that
bordered the river. Then, as Jerry swung the search light in a half
circle he “picked up” a dark figure that was crawling up the sloping
shore.
“It’s a man!” exclaimed Ned. “It’s a man with ragged clothes on! I’ll
bet it’s the same tramp that was on the hay barge!”
Jerry was gazing intently through the opened canvas sides of the boat
at the figure. Sure enough it was that of a man, and, he seemed to have
just swam across the river. He climbed the bank, and, turning to take
a look at the motor boat, placed himself full in the glare of the gas
lamp.
“It’s our queer tramp all right!” exclaimed Jerry. “I wonder if it was
he who moved the boat.”
“Must have been,” decided Ned, after a moment’s thought.
The next instant the figure, turning as if to take a last look at the
boat, plunged into the underbrush and was lost to view.
The morning came without further adventures and after breakfast they
walked for a mile or more through the woods, and emerged into a big
field. There were no houses in sight and the boys did not know what
settlement they might be near, for they were about twenty miles from
home, in a part of the country they seldom visited.
“Looks like some sort of habitation over there,” said Bob, pointing to
the left.
“I don’t see anything,” replied Jerry. “Where do you see a house?”
“I don’t see any house, but I see smoke,” replied Bob. “Where there’s
smoke there’s fire, and where there’s fire there’s sure to be some one
living.”
As they came nearer to whence the smoke arose they could see half
hidden in the bushes a sort of log cabin. It was almost in ruins, and
the one window was devoid of glass.
In front of the hut there smouldered the remains of a fire, and, from
some old pots and pans lying about, as well as odds and ends of food
scattered around, it was evident that some one had been dining in rough
and ready fashion.
“Looks like a camping-out party had been here,” said Jerry. “They
weren’t very particular where they stayed though. That hut seems to
have seen its best days.”
“More like it’s a tramps’ shack,” observed Ned. “Maybe our friend of
the hay barge hangs out here.”
The boys went closer to the fire. There were chickens’ feathers and
bones on the ground.
“They lived high, at any rate,” said Bob. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of
broiled fowl myself.”
“Whoever was here left their knife behind,” said Bob, stooping over and
picking up an expensive one. “Doesn’t look like the kind tramps usually
carry.” He turned it over in his hand, and uttered an exclamation.
“Cut yourself?” asked Jerry.
“Look there!” cried Bob, pointing to the silver plate on one side of
the handle. On it was carved: “N. Nixon.”
“Noddy’s knife!” came from Ned. “I wonder what he could have been doing
here.”
“It’s like a good many other things connected with Noddy,” said Jerry.
“No telling what he’s up to until it’s too late.”
“Shall we take it along or leave it?” asked Bob.
“Better take it,” suggested Jerry. “It might come in handy for evidence
some time, and if we leave it some one might come along and steal it.
Put it in your pocket, Chunky.”
Strolling leisurely they retraced their steps, and soon were on the
rude path they had followed in coming from the river.
Jerry was in the lead. When he came to the bank of the stream he
suddenly stopped.
“What’s the matter? Snake?” called out Ned.
“We must have come the wrong road,” said Jerry. “The boat isn’t here.”
The other boys hurried forward and stood beside him. There was no sign
of the _Dartaway_.
“That’s queer,” said Bob. “I thought we were on the right path coming
back. It was just like the one we went over on.”
“It was the same,” insisted Ned. “There’s where the _Dartaway_ was tied
up. I know that willow tree. See, I left my sweater on it, and it’s
there yet,” and he pointed to where the red garment fluttered in the
wind.
“Then where’s the boat?” asked Jerry. “Has it floated away?”
“It couldn’t have,” insisted Ned. “It was tied too securely.”
“Then she’s been stolen!” exclaimed Jerry, and he ran down to the edge
of the river, the others following.
There was no doubt about it, the _Dartaway_ was gone. There was not a
sign of the craft up stream or down.
“Some one’s been here all right,” said Jerry. “See those are not our
tracks,” and he pointed to the soft mud in which were several prints of
large feet which had worn hob-nailed shoes. In the middle of the sole
was a design of an arrow, which the maker of the shoes had put on them
in big nails, and this device was plainly visible in the soil.
“Well, this is tough luck!” exclaimed Bob. “I’d like to find the man
with the arrow shoes.”
“I’d rather find the boat,” said Jerry in a dejected voice. “I wonder
what in the world we’re going to do,” and he sat down on the grassy
bank. The others, looking sadly at where their beloved boat had been
moored, took places beside Jerry.