Motor Boat Boys Down the Danube Part 8

So they started to discuss the supper Josh had prepared. Meanwhile Buster had managed to dry himself after a fashion by turning around near the fire, presenting first one side and then another to the heat. He likened himself to a roast fowl on the spit, and jokingly asked the others how they would have him served.

"After I'm all through eating my share of the excellent mess Josh here has provided for us," Buster remarked, when his mouth chanced to be empty, which was not often, by the way, "I know what I mean to do."

"Oh, anybody can guess that the first shot out of the locker," George a.s.serted; "that is if they know what a fellow you are for remembering things. Of course you mean to smash some of these rotten stumps, and find out if they contain any grubs. Stumps are fine for holding the same, I understand; at least over where we live; and I guess grubs are grubs the world over."

"Yes, that's what I'm aiming to do," Buster admitted. "Just because I had the hard luck to be dragged overboard by a measly old log, don't think I'm the one to be scared off. If there are any fish in this Danube River, and they like bait such as I can offer them, we're bound to have a mess for breakfast."

"Hurrah! That's the ticket!" cried Josh; "if at first you don't succeed try, try again. I plainly perceive that my honors as boss fisherman are going to be put in peril if this thing keeps on. I'll sure have to get out a line myself, and run you a race, Buster."

"Wish you would," snapped the other, as though this just suited him.

"You remember," continued Josh, "we had some pretty tall rivalry in that line once or twice before. Never mind who came out first best; that's ancient history, and pretty musty by now. You find enough worms and I'll get a rig ready, Buster."

George rubbed his hands as though the prospect looked pretty bright to him. With two ardent anglers engaged in a warm contest to see who could do the better in the way of making captures, those who loved fresh fish might expect to be well taken care of.

When the supper had been disposed of, and every one declared he felt "full to the brim," Buster secured the little camp hatchet they had been wise enough to fetch along with them, and which had been a useful adjunct on many past outings.

With this in hand he started to attack some of the old stumps that could be seen scattered around. Josh felt considerable interest in his labors, as from time to time he could be heard calling out, and asking what the score was.

"Got three dandies in that stump," Buster presently made answer, "and here's a whole nest of bigger ones than the others. Say, we're fixed all right, my friend, so far as plenty of attractive bait goes. I can see a lovely time among the finny tribes when some of these fat boys get in the drink. They'll actually fight among themselves for a chance to bite; especially if you spit on your hook after impaling the grub."

By the time he had placed a full dozen of the victims of his hunt in the little can that had contained sardines at one time, Buster p.r.o.nounced himself ready to begin serious operations.

Josh had in the meantime managed to get his line ready just as Buster finished his work; George told him it looked suspiciously as though he had been "soldiering," and meant to let his rival do all the work; but gallant Buster, hearing all this talk, immediately came to the rescue.

"And why shouldn't Josh take it easy, after going to all the trouble to prepare that fine supper?" he demanded. "You've got a bad habit, George, of looking a gift horse in the mouth, and the sooner you break yourself of it the better. Now, come along Josh, and let's find a good place for throwing our lines out into the river."

"We're not going to be partial or play favorites," warned Jack, laughingly; "may the best man win; but please don't try to give us any more _planked shad_, Buster, you hear!"

CHAPTER VII

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 ba.s.s 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. h.e.l.lo! Got one, have you, Josh? Bully for you! Whew! He's a sc.r.a.pper 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 sh.o.r.e.

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 p.r.o.nounced 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 pa.s.sed 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 sh.o.r.e, where they would not have the bright rays of the declining sun in their eyes.