Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence Part 10

So when Jack began to wonder how much longer he and Josh ought to hold the fort, he had to strike a match and consult the little nickel watch he carried.

"Gosh! how you scared me!" exclaimed the other sentry, as the match crackled.

"Half past twelve," Jack remarked, in a low tone. "That means another half hour for us, Josh. How are you feeling about now?"

"Well," admitted the other, "I guess I was near dozing that time.

Thought somebody shot at me when you scratched that match. How loud everything sounds at this time of night. Wish that old bird would let up on that screeching, over on the Canada sh.o.r.e. He makes me tired, for a fact."

"Depends on the way you look at things," chuckled Jack. "Now, for my part I rather like to hear a whippoorwill call. Never yet kept me awake either, like some things would do. Have a bite of this gingerbread, Josh. Keeping watch is hungry work, after all, I find. Besides, while your jaws are working, you won't get sleepy."

Josh was nothing averse to a "snack," and so they sat there, eating, and occasionally exchanging some remark, while the balance of the crowd slept on.

The boats were anch.o.r.ed far enough apart to avoid striking should a wind arise. But on account of his desire to keep in touch with Josh, Jack had seen to it that the stern of each craft was drawn toward the other. In this fashion then they could have shaken hands by leaning over the intervening foot or so of water.

It so happened that while Jack was devoting most of his attention to the watery expanse that stretched away toward the east, Josh on the other hand found the neighboring island more interesting.

Each acted on his own idea as to the nature of the danger that might come upon them. With Josh it was the peril that stalks during the middle of the night, and frightens men through its connection with spectral forms. Jack, on the other hand, suspected that Clarence and his crony, Bully Joe, might be planning some sort of a mean raid, that would spoil the pleasure of the motor boat club.

"Jack!" whispered the occupant of the _Comfort_ in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

"Well, what do you want?" replied the other lad, serenely.

"I am sure I heard a suspicious noise ash.o.r.e just then!" Josh continued.

"Oh! rats! You're always hearing things, Josh. Like as not it was only a poor old 'c.o.o.n, hunting around on the beach for a fish that has been cast up. Get it off your mind. It's only a little time longer, and then you to dreamland."

"There it goes again, Jack! Didn't you catch it that time? I tell you it means something. Hark! now will you believe me?"

Josh was growing more and more excited. He even raised his voice above the low tone in which up to now they had conversed. But small danger of any of those sound sleepers being so easily awakened. It would require a shaking to accomplish that.

Jack certainly did hear the sounds now. These consisted of a strange clacking, the nature of which it was impossible to guess. Then would come a plain, unmistakable groan! No wonder poor Josh shivered, and turned cold with apprehension, considering what his recent belief had been.

"Oh, my! there's sure something moving up there, Jack! Don't you see it-over by that place where we saw the silver birch? Watch it, Jack!

There, look! look!" and as he spoke Josh raised his voice still more until it almost became a shout.

Movements told that he had finally succeeded in arousing the sleep squad. Nick was heard to yawn, and grumble, as usual; while Herb poked his head out from the side curtains to ask what all the row meant.

"Didn't I tell you it would come?" shouted Josh suddenly. "Just look there on that blamed island, and see what we get for sticking here! Now laugh at me for believing in ghosts, will you? Herb, can't we cut the anchor rope, and make a quick getaway? Please say yes, because I'm that scared I'm shaking all over!"

And every eye was by this time glued upon the strange spectacle ash.o.r.e that had given poor Josh his fright.

CHAPTER IX-THE GHOST OF THE ISLAND

"Wow! it's sure a banshee!" whooped Jimmie.

"A-am I dreaming, fellows?" exclaimed Herb, rubbing his eyes desperately.

"O-oh! look at it shake its fist at us, would you! It's ten feet high, if it's one!" came from the quivering lips of Buster.

But Jack as yet had not said a word, though he was staring just as hard at the remarkable sight ash.o.r.e as any of them. It was something different from anything that had ever before crossed his path. Perhaps Jack might have felt a little chilly sensation as he looked; but he was not at all frightened.

Up on the rise of the mysterious island there had appeared a dim figure that seemed, just as Nick vowed, to be all of ten feet in height. At first it was like a curling column of smoke, when a certain kind of wood has been thrown on the fire. Then it seemed to take form, and change to a flickering yellow glow.

The groaning sounds continued all the while, as though this disturbed spirit from the other world might be in great pain. And certainly the figure was waving one of its arms as though waving them off.

All of this Jack saw, yet no panic gripped him as it seemed to do the rest, who were crouching there, staring, and gasping for breath.

"Jimmie, hand me my shotgun, and let's see if it can stand Number Threes!"

Jack called this out in a loud, clear voice. Not that he wanted the gun to any great extent; but he had an object in saying it.

But Jimmie really believed he meant what he said. While he groped for the gun he was saying aloud:

"Sure, now, 'tis mesilf as doan't belave ye kin knock the daylight out of that banshee wid little shots, Jack, darlint. But if so be ye mane to thry, take the gun, while I shut me eyes."

"'Tain't any use," broke in George; "the thing's disappeared!"

And so it had, vanishing as mysteriously as it had come, and leaving only a black void in front of them. Even that steady groaning had stopped, proving conclusively that it had had to do with the appearance of the spectre.

Jack laughed, to the utter astonishment of the rest.

"I don't see anything funny about this business," complained Nick.

"Well, p'raps you fellers will quit quizzing me after that experience!"

said Josh, with just a little ring of triumph in his unsteady voice.

"And will you please stop shaking that way?" remarked George. "For you make the boat rock the worst kind. It was bad enough seeing that blessed thing, without taking a header overboard right now."

"Jack, what makes you laugh?" asked quiet Herb, who knew that the other would not have acted in the way he did unless with good and sufficient cause.

"Do you really want to know?" asked Jack, quietly.

Somehow the fact that one of their number did not seem to be affected by the panic that had swept over the rest began to make George and Jimmie ashamed.

"Sure we do, Jack," remarked the latter, eagerly.

"I was laughing because it was so funny to see how our fine ghost bobbed out of sight the very instant I called to Jimmie to hand me my Marlin,"

said Jack.

"Oh! I see now!" cried George; "you mean that ghosts needn't be afraid of a handful of bird shot. Is that it, Jack?"

"That's what I meant. I've read lots of ghost stories, just like Josh here; though I never believed them for one minute. But in every case the fellow who tells the yarn declares that bullets have no effect at all on real goblins. Am I right, Josh?"

"It's true, every word of it, Jack!" the other answered, promptly. "Why, I've heard where a soldier whacked the head off a ghost, who coolly picked it up and stuck it on again as neat as you please. Oh! no, they needn't be afraid of little bird shot, not a bit of it."