COASTING
It was a mean trick, and one that might have had serious consequences.
It was certain that Spink had seen the drifting _Fly-up-the-Creek_ and
might have averted the collision.
“If that lad over there had been able to talk plain,” declared Dan,
helping the girls out from under the smother of canvas, “we could have
gotten out of the way. He tried his best to tell us what was coming.”
Mildred was crying a little, for she was frightened; but Lettie Parker,
Billy declared, sputtered like a bottle of soda.
“What a mean, _mean_ thing to do!” she stammered. “I—I could box that
Spink boy’s ears myself! Stop crying, Milly—we’re not all dead yet.”
Billy chuckled—he had to. “We’re far from dead; but Dan looks kind of
bright-eyed. I wonder what he’d do to Barrington Spink right now?”
“Come on, Mildred,” said the older Speedwell, patting the shoulder of
the doctor’s daughter. “Don’t you mind. We’re none of us really hurt,
and neither is the boat—much.”
Billy was examining the broken cables. The canvas, too, was badly slit
where it had got under the sharp runners.
“We don’t get to Karnac Lake to-day, I reckon,” he said. “Guess you’d
better have taken up that fellow’s offer, girls.”
“I’ll never speak to Barrington Spink again!” declared Lettie.
Mildred dried her eyes, and then began scrutinizing the shore of the
island. “Where is that boy who tried to warn us?” she asked.
“Dummy? I declare! he’s skipped out,” Billy said. “Now, Dan! what do you
think? Didn’t I tell you he was living on this island?”
“And guarding a buried treasure—eh?” chuckled the older boy.
“I’m going to see him—and talk to him!” declared Billy, earnestly.
“Not that he’ll be able to talk to us—eh?” queried his brother.
“Well, he can make himself understood somehow,” said Lettie, taking up
the idea. “Come on, Billy! let’s find him.”
Mildred looked at Dan as though she thought he might forbid the search;
but he did nothing of the kind. “Let the young ones run their legs off,
if they want,” he said to Mildred, as Billy and Lettie climbed the rocky
shore of the island. “I bet they don’t catch that dummy.”
“Why?” she asked, in wonder.
“He’s too blamed elusive,” declared Dan, hard at work mending the
cordage that had been ripped loose by the collision.
Dan flung aside his coat to be less hampered. Mildred held things for
him, and helped as she could until, when Billy and Lettie came
back—disappointed—the iceboat was in some sort of shape for the start
back.
“Well! where is he?” demanded Dan, flinging his coat across the stern of
the boat.
“Ask me!” growled Billy.
“What! not found?”
“There’s something blamed funny about this island,” declared his younger
brother with emphasis.
“We didn’t find a trace of him,” announced Lettie.
“But the smell of smoke,” corrected Billy.
“That’s so,” agreed the girl, rather mildly for her. “We _did_ smell
wood smoke. But we didn’t find a mark—not a footprint——”
“I should say not,” said Billy. “And the island all rocks and frozen
ground—not a smitch of snow on it anywhere.”
“Funny thing,” grunted Dan. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that dummy myself.
Well! let’s get on. Can’t take you any farther up-river, to-day, girls.”
“Of course not!” said Lettie, tossing her head. “It seems as though we
are fated never to get any farther up-stream on this old boat than
hereabout.”
They couldn’t get back to town in the damaged iceboat. They managed to
beat their way to John Bromley’s wharf, and then Billy ran all the way
home and brought back the motor car, in which to transport the girls to
their homes.
“That mean Barrington Spink!” exclaimed Lettie. “He’s just gone past in
his boat. We saw him stop for some time up there by Island Number One.”
And later the Speedwell boys had reason to remember this statement. When
they went to bed that night Dan searched his coat pocket in vain for the
plans and specifications of the new motor-iceboat.
“Lost them—by jolly!” gasped Billy. “Where?”
Dan couldn’t be sure of that; but he had his suspicions. He remembered
clearly removing his coat where they had had the accident at Island
Number One. The envelope might have fallen from his coat pocket.
So anxious were the boys that they went up the river road the next day
after Sunday school, and walked across the ice to the island. There were
no boats on the river, but they saw the marks of their own and the
_White Albatross’s_ runners on the ice at the head of the island.
So, too, did they find the torn envelope in which the plans had been;
but Dan’s drawings and specifications were not in it.
Who had got the plans? Was it Spink, when he stopped on his way down the
river in the _White Albatross_? Or was it the mysterious occupant of the
island whom the boys had dubbed “Dummy”?
The question not alone puzzled Dan and Billy; they were both troubled
vastly by the loss of the drawings. A good mechanic could easily get the
principle of Dan’s invention and—perhaps—build a boat similar to the one
the Speedwells were constructing.
Under Billy’s earnest urging Dan agreed that they should search the
island for some trace of the boy who could not talk; but they made
absolutely nothing out of it. Not even a smell of smoke this time.
“That chap has the magic, all right, all right!” grumbled Billy. “He
disappears as though he had an invisible cap.”
“More probably he’s here only once in a while,” said Dan.
“How about yesterday?” demanded the younger boy. “He wasn’t on the ice
when Lettie and I hunted for him—that’s sure. He’s got a hide-out here,
and don’t you forget it.”
“Maybe he buries himself—along with the treasure—when he is pursued by
curious folk,” chuckled Dan.
But it was really no laughing matter. Dan was as glum as Billy when they
returned home that Sunday evening. The plans were gone—and with them,
perhaps, the chance the Speedwells had of building a faster boat than
anybody who would enter for the iceboat races.
Not that Dan was unable to redraw the plans. That was easy. But the
brothers feared that whoever found the original plans would make use of
Dan’s invention in the line of motor-propulsion for ice craft.
This was really a very novel arrangement, and might be worth some money
if once the boys made a practical test of the idea on the river, and
demonstrated its worth. Mr. Robert Darringford, the young proprietor of
the machine shops, was always on the lookout for worthy inventions; he
was the Speedwell boys’ very good friend. Dan had rather hoped to
interest Mr. Darringford in the invention.
Of course, he did not want to show the plans to the machine shop
proprietor until after the races on the ice, for Mr. Darringford was
going to enter an iceboat of special design himself. But Robert
Darringford was a trustworthy man, and the boys were greatly tempted to
tell him about the loss of the plans.
However much disturbed they were by this loss, there were other matters
which kept the boys busy and their minds alert during the next few days.
The Speedwells were more than ordinarily good scholars, and stood well
in their classes. Even “Doc Bugs,” as one of their chief instructors was
called by the more irreverent youth of Riverdale, seldom had to set down
black marks against Dan or Billy.
Billy’s superabundance of energy and love of fun was well exercised out
of school hours; he stuck pretty well to his books in the classroom.
There was another snowfall which rather spoiled the skating for a few
days; but did not halt the trials of the several iceboats on the river.
The snow brought to the fore another sport that had always been popular
in Riverdale—and is worthy of being popular in every section of our
country where winter holds sway for any length of time.
“Coasting to-night on Shooter’s Hill!” yelled Money Stevens, seeing the
Speedwell boys making for their electric truck, which they had left
behind Appleyard’s store, as usual. “Bring down the ‘bob,’ boys. We’ll
have a jim-hickey of a time.”
“Whatever _that_ may, be—eh?” chuckled Dan.
“Girls allowed?” asked Billy.
“Sure!” said Money. “Wouldn’t be any fun bobsledding if it wasn’t for
the girls. They usually supply three things: The lunch, unnecessary
conversation, and plenty of squeals,” and he went his way to stir up
other of the young folk of Riverdale.
That he—and others—were successful in gathering a throng at the top of
Shooter’s Hill by eight o’clock that evening, was a self-evident fact.
Dan and Billy hitched old Bob and Betty to the pung and drove into town
for Mildred and Lettie.
But for once the Speedwell boys were disappointed in their plans. They
had not thought to call up either the doctor’s daughter, or the town
clerk’s lively daughter. Dan and Billy took too much for granted.
When they reached the doctor’s house, they were told Mildred had gone to
spend the evening with Lettie; and when they pulled up with a flourish
at the latter’s domicile their hail brought nobody but a maid to the
door.
“The girls ban gone off to Chooter’s for sledding,” explained the
Swedish serving maid, grinning broadly at the disappointed boys.
“Goodness, Dan!” exclaimed Billy. “We’re stung. What do you know about
this?”
Dan was a bit grumpy himself. Yet he couldn’t blame Mildred. She, of
course, had no idea the Speedwells, who lived so far out of town, knew
anything about the plans for the evening.
“Hey, Selma!” yelled Billy, before the door closed. “Who’d they go
with?”
“Das gone mit Mr. Greene and Mr. Spink,” replied the girl.
“Stung twice!” grunted Billy. “That blamed Barrington Spink is getting
under my skin, Dan. He’s forever putting his oar in where it isn’t
wanted. Just as sure as you live, boy, he and I are going to lock horns
yet.”
“You keep out of scraps, Billy,” advised his brother, as he turned the
horses.
“Take care of the bob!” cried Billy, suddenly.
Their bobsled was tailing on behind the pung and Billy didn’t want to
see it smashed. “Shall we keep on to the hill?” asked Dan.
“Bet you! We’ll show Let Parker that she’s made a mistake by going with
the Spink kid. No matter what he’s got to slide on—even if it goes by
steam—I bet we can beat him.”
“That’s putting it pretty strong, Billy,” laughed Dan. “Do you think you
can fulfill the contract?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------