Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence Part 16

"Scaly, I should say," Herb spoke up.

But Jack said nothing. He was thinking along the same line Josh had suggested, but in an altogether different way from the lanky cook of the _Wireless_.

To tell the truth, Jack would have been pleased could he have slipped ash.o.r.e to observe what the professor from Ann Arbor could be doing just then; but he did not dare venture. It would look too much like impudence. As he himself had said, if the gentleman had wished for their company, he certainly must have asked them to go ash.o.r.e with him.

As to his being deeply interested in ghosts, and a patient investigator of remarkable manifestations for years, Jack took all that with a grain of salt. Perhaps it might be so, but Jack believed he was not far wrong in believing that Professor Marshland had only mentioned the fact to excuse his evident desire to go ash.o.r.e and look around.

He was gone a long while. Indeed, Jack guessed that perhaps the gentleman could have explored the whole island in the time that elapsed before he again showed up. Still, there was also a chance that he might have been doing something in connection with the old cabin.

When he did appear he was smiling broadly.

"Sorry to say I couldn't find any evidence of the supernatural," he remarked, in answer to the eager look Josh gave him as he clambered aboard his stubby little boat once more. "And that inclines me to the belief that some one who loves a practical joke was only trying to throw you into a state of fright, boys. I regret, too, that I cannot remain over a night with you, in the hope of being granted a look at this wonderful spectre. If anything more remarkable occurs, I'd be very much obliged if one of you would write an account of it and mail me at the college."

"Sure, we will, Professor," said the willing Josh. "And if so be we capture that flickering ghost, we'll send it to you by express, charges collect."

"Do so," laughed the gentleman. "I won't object, I a.s.sure you. Well, here's wishing you luck, boys. And thank you for all the information you've given. It may be of more a.s.sistance to me in my calling than you imagine. Start up, John. It's back to the hotel for us now."

So the noisy little motor went chugging away, pa.s.sing around the point; and by degrees the sound died out, as other islands came between.

"Say, let me tell you, I like that man," Josh up and said, without any urging.

"He is a smart one, all right, and don't you forget it," remarked George.

"Was he really trolling, do you suppose, in that horrible, noisy power boat?" asked Herb, skeptically.

Jack himself had a suspicion that the rod and line were only being used for a mask of some sort. Everywhere he looked, the mystery seemed to be getting deeper. First the strange actions of the men in the rowboats; then the appearance of that foolish ghost on the island; the questioning of the fisherman whom George and Herb had met while away on the preceding day; the peculiar things he himself had discovered ash.o.r.e; and now, last but not least, the coming of this pretended fisherman, who asked skillful questions, and made out to be a genuine ghost hunter-taking all these things together, and it can be seen that Jack had about all he wanted to ponder over for the rest of that day.

CHAPTER XIV-A STRANGE RIDE

"Time those two fellows were showing up, don't you think, Jack?" asked Josh, as the noon hour came around.

"Oh! I don't know," replied the other. "I noticed that Nick carried a bundle with him, and guessed it might be a little snack to keep off starvation, in case they were detained. Sometimes it's hard to give up, when you are fishing, you know."

"Snack!" echoed Josh, with a sniff of scorn. "Well, I wish you'd seen just what that elephant did roll up in that paper. Herb wasn't looking, but I kept an eye on Buster. Snack! Say, take it from me, that he had as much as I would eat in a week of Sundays."

"Well," laughed Jack, "you're prejudiced against poor Buster, you know, Josh. Just because you have a bird's appet.i.te, and he that of a hog, you pick on him. His greed is his only weak spot. His heart is as big as a bushel basket; and he'd go out of his way any time to do you a good turn."

"Oh! I know it, all right, Jack," returned the other. "You mustn't take everything I say for what it stands. But listen, fellows. Talk of the angel, and you hear the rustle of its wings. Unless I miss my guess, that's the tuneful voice of Buster right now. What in the d.i.c.kens can he be shouting that way for?"

All of them were on their feet by now, and listening to the yells.

"They seem to be coming from around the island," said Jack.

"I bet you it's Jimmie having some fun with poor Pudding. He does like to hear him put up a howl," chuckled Herb.

"Well, I don't know about that, fellows. Just listen, and hear what he seems to be saying. Perhaps, after all, there may be something crooked about it. We seem to be up to our necks in all sorts of queer mysteries, you know."

George was not smiling when he said this; indeed, all of them could now realize that there was something of appeal and alarm in connection with the l.u.s.ty yells Buster was letting loose.

"Hey! stop it, you! What d'ye mean trying to drown me? Let up, I tell you! Can't you give a feller a chance? Somebody head me off, won't you?

Help! help!"

"There he comes!" shouted Jack, pointing.

"Well, what under the sun is he doing?" cried Herb.

"Since when did Buster put a motor in his d.i.n.ky?" asked George, feebly.

"And ain't he just making the time, though?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Josh. "Just look at the way the foam flies up before the blunt bow of the d.i.n.ky!"

Jack looked again and then gave a shrill laugh.

"Motor!" he exclaimed. "The only motor Buster is dealing with now has got fins and scales, and is in the water. Don't you see what he's doing, boys? He got a whooping big muskalunge at the end of his line. In some way Buster has got the line twisted around his body. And there he sits in the d.i.n.ky, bracing his feet against a knee of the boat, and holding on for dear life, while the fish runs away with him."

Then the others burst into a loud laugh, seeing the comical side of it.

To Buster it was not so funny, however. He had been straining so long now that he fancied he might be pulled over the side of the cranky little snub-nosed craft any time; and with that cord wrapped around his arms, drowned because of his inability to swim, despite the cork life preserver.

"Quit your laughing, and chase after us, fellows," he bawled, as he shot past the mouth of the cove; and at the same time sending a mute look of appeal toward his mates.

"Why don't you get out your knife and cut loose?" shouted George, making use of his hands in lieu of a megaphone.

"Can't move-got my arms tied down at my sides. Ouch! it hurts, for the line is cutting into the bone of my wrists. Come and help me before it's too late. You'll be sorry if I get drowned. Then you'll never learn the truth of how our secrets leaked. I'm the only one who is on the track.

Hurry up, boys; I mean it!"

Jack saw that after all the situation was more desperate than might have appeared at first sight. It must be an enormous fish, the grandfather of all the muskies around the Thousand Islands, and powerful enough to drown poor Nick, if once it succeeded in upsetting the boat, or dragging him out of it.

Accordingly he immediately jumped over, and unfastened the cable that held his anchor.

"Hold that for me, will you, Herb?" he said, tossing one end of the rope over to the skipper of the _Comfort_.

Then without any further delay he started his engine with one energetic fling of the wheel.

Immediately the boat started, amid a rattling fusillade of sharp reports that told how responsive the well equipped motor was to the demands of its master.

Of course, once Jack fairly started after the little d.i.n.ky that was being so vigorously towed by the captive fish, he had no difficulty in overtaking it.

"Now keep a firm hold on your seat, Buster," he said. "I'm going to push in ahead of you, and see if I can fasten on to that line myself. The big thing can't well pull both boats. After that I'll free your arms. I want you to pull him in by yourself, if possible."

"Not me!" cried Buster. "I'm done with the brute. Shoot him dead. Hit him with a club. He's a villain, a desperate villain, because he wound me up like this, and then tried his level best to yank me over. Jack, bless you, I believe you've saved me from a watery grave. Have you got him now? Are you real certain he can't jump into my little boat and take a chunk out of my leg? Oh, my! what a puller! I was sure going a mile a minute that time. Talk about Neptune and his sea horses, they can't ever come up to a pesky muskalunge that feels the barb of the hook. I'm all tired out, Jack. You finish him, please."

Jack saw that this was so; and having untangled the line from Nick's body, he took the rod and proceeded to get in touch with the now sulking monster.

Nick clambered aboard the motor boat in a hurry, as though really afraid that the fish in its anger might leap into the shallow d.i.n.ky to bite him.

"Glory! just look at him jump and kick, would you?" shouted Nick, as the baffled captive sprang from the water, shaking its ma.s.sive head furiously in an effort to dislodge the hook, which, however, was too securely placed by this time in the hard bone of its mouth to be shaken out. "He's trying to locate me, that's what! Let me have that gun of yours, Jack. Next time he jumps I'm going to pot him sure."