Motor Boat Boys' River Chase Part 3

"Hi! what's all this mean; got a fit, Pudding?" shouted the alarmed Josh, as he supported the swaying form of the other for just five seconds; when Buster broke loose, and went limping toward the river, uttering all sorts of vaporings, in his excitement.

"Oh! it's only a fish, after all," grunted Josh, who had begun to believe that there was something tremendous the matter.

But at any rate it meant a whole lot for Buster, who, scrambling aboard the Comfort made a bee line for the spot where he had fastened his stout cord. Sure enough the piece of white rag was fluttering from the top of the rudder post, having been pulled up there when the fish had seized the bait, and started away with it.

Everybody just naturally stopped whatever they were doing at the time, to watch the fisherman. Even George poked his head up to see what all the row was about, and for the moment forgot his troubles with that cranky engine.

Buster was giving little cries of mingled delight and wonder.

"Wow! it's sure a big one this time, boys! Takes your Uncle Nick to coax the dandies to take hold. Yes, I spit on my bait every time, and that's the trick to fetch 'em. That'll do, Josh, I'm running this circus, and I'd thank you not to b.u.t.t in. Watch me land him now, boys! Say, ain't this fun, though? Worth while coming fifty miles to see me do the great act. Wow!"

"Look out, b.u.mpus, or he'll pull you in!" called Jack; but evidently the warning meant in good earnest, fell on deaf ears. b.u.mpus was not going to be denied the pleasure of landing his own capture.

They saw him unfasten the cord with trembling hands, hardly able to contain himself. Then he threw himself back in a n.o.ble att.i.tude that made Josh compare him with "Ajax defying the lightning," which every one has seen in marble.

All at once Herb gave a shout that was echoed by others.

"Whip the cord around the cleat again, Buster, quick!"

Buster attempted to obey, realizing when it was too late that he had cut off more than he could manage when he tried to land that monster fish; but unable to do so, and unwilling to let go of the line, for he had a very stubborn nature, the next thing they knew there was a great splash, and Buster was wallowing in the yellow waters of the Mississippi.

CHAPTER IV

A MYSTERY LOOMS UP

That was not the first time Buster Longfellow had taken an involuntary bath in the Father of Waters, as his comrades knew only too well. At the same time, this fact did not lessen the excitement that followed his disappearance one little atom.

Such a splashing and grunting and wallowing as there was when the fat boy took that sudden plunge; why, one could easily imagine a whole troop of hogs had been coaxed in to being scrubbed, preparatory to an exhibition at the county fair.

And the way the water flew was a caution. A young whale working its way up the river from the gulf, or rather a porpoise, since whales are not to be found often in the Sunny South, could not have created a greater racket.

Of course every fellow, after that first shock, sprang to his feet, and made for the sh.o.r.e as fast as his legs could carry him. It might be a ludicrous sight, all very well, but there was a little element of danger connected with it; and they were comrades true, who could not stand by, and see poor Buster dragged out into the middle of the river by a fish.

When the splashing had in a measure subsided, they discovered the stout figure of Buster. He was standing in the yellow water up to his waist and tugging with all his might at the fish line, which he seemed to have wrapped around both hands, as though just determined that his prize should not get away.

Now the boy would gain a foot, and seem to be dragging his capture toward land; when there would be a sudden tremendous effort on the part of the fish to escape, and the first thing Buster knew, he was being pulled back again, though he fought tooth and nail to hold his own.

Once his feet flew from under him, owing to the slippery condition of the mud on which he stood. At that a great "Oh!" broke out from the other five boys; and Jack, who had been hastily removing some of his outer garments, with the intention of being ready in case his help was needed, was just on the point of jumping in, when Buster again emerged from the turmoil, rising up like a Neptune, the water pouring from his head like a young Niagara.

"Let him go, Buster; he's too much for you!" shrilled George, who was leaning over the edge of his boat with a pole in his hand, and regardless for once that the cranky Wireless careened far down until her beam end almost took in water.

"I won't!" snapped back the stubborn Buster, shaking the drops from his face, as a New Foundland dog might after a bath. "He's mine, and I'm going to grab him if it takes all summer, see?"

He had managed to get a good footing once more, and started to tug manfully with the result that he immediately gained several yards. This was the best he had done as yet, and in consequence he seemed to receive inspiration to make a still greater exertion.

After that the victory was as good as won.

Buster marched out on the bank the line over his shoulder; and as soon as they could do so without wetting themselves Josh and Herb seized hold of the stout cord.

"Wow! it sure is a whale!" exclaimed George, from his position of vantage on board his boat, as something that flapped, and made a tremendous splutter, was dragged out of the river, and up on the sh.o.r.e.

It was a tremendous yellow catfish, one of that species that help to make the Mississippi famous among market fishermen.

"Whee! must weigh about as much as Buster does, and that's a fact!"

remarked Josh, as he surveyed the monster.

It was not a lovely spectacle, with its slippery skin, and great gaping mouth resembling that of a big bulldog.

"What whiskers it's got, the omadhaun!" Jimmie called out, "and say the horn on his back, wud yees? Whoo! but 'tis a brave lad ye arre, Buster, to holdt sich a monster stiddy, and walk ash.o.r.e wid the same. I take off me hat till yees, so I do, me laddybuck!"

Buster was panting like anything, and could hardly get his breath; but Jack believed he had never seen him look quite so happy, as when he stood over that giant Mississippi cat, and had his picture snapped off by George, who got his new kodak out especially to preserve the incident among the annals of the club.

"Get some dry clothes on you in a hurry, Buster," suggested Jack, after they had all congratulated the hero of the occasion on his dogged pluck, "it's all very well holding on like that, but you ought to know when it's time to let go, too. I thought that time had come when it pulled you under. You had the cord wrapped around both hands, Buster, a very foolish thing to do, I think. If you hadn't been able to get your footing again, and had no friends near by to lend a hand, it was apt to go hard with you. And let me tell you there have been more fishermen than a few drowned by just such a foolish trick as that. Hold on as long as you want, but never put yourself in a position where you can't let go."

Buster smilingly agreed that this was good advice, and promised to remember. He was feeling so remarkably happy over his great luck that he could not have taken offense at anything, and would have made the rashest sort of promises.

And while he rooted out his clothes bag, so as to get some dry togs, Jack and Andy proceeded to cut up the big fish; because they knew that, horrible looking though the creature might be to a sportsman, its flesh is highly esteemed as an article of food along the length of the whole river.

It was no easy task they had set themselves; and more than once they wished the slippery catfish had broken loose, and gone off with Buster's hook dangling from its jaw like cheap jewelry, with which to dazzle its fellows. But in the end they managed to secure all the meat they wanted, and tossed the balance into the river to feed its kind.

"Now, let's be getting off!" called out Jack, after he had washed up, and in some measure removed the fishy smell from his hands.

Since the other boys had taken everything aboard, there was really nothing to detain them; and presently the merry reports from the various engines told that the three motorboats had again resumed their journey down the Mississippi in the direction of Bedloe's Island.

That was an afternoon not soon to be forgotten by any of them, for the air was just warm enough to make them delight in lying around, and taking a sun bath. No doubt George was having the time of his life with Buster, who must be so chock full of his recent triumph that every little while he would burst out with a new string of questions concerning his battle, and wishing to know what it looked like from every angle ash.o.r.e.

But the time pa.s.sed, and as George's engine gave him no new trouble, the little flotilla made splendid progress while the hours crept on.

At just three-forty-seven Jack gave a blast from his old conch sh.e.l.l horn which he had brought up from Florida with him--in fact, every boat was provided with a similar means for exchanging signals, and the boys had arranged a regular code, so that when separated by a mile or so they could talk with each other after some sort of fashion.

This single blast just now announced that Jack believed he had sighted the island that was to be their destination, away down the river.

Judging from their speed, aided by the swift current, they ought to make it inside of another half hour. This would give them plenty of time to hunt a good landing place, where they could put up their tent, and make things at least half way comfortable before night set in.

Although the boys could sleep aboard, and very comfortable too, they preferred being ash.o.r.e whenever it was possible, all save George, who could seldom be coaxed to desert his beloved Wireless craft, even for a brief time. He acted as though he dreaded lest that engine think up some new trick if he left it alone; eternal watchfulness was the price of victory with George; and his chums often declared that when he was on a cruise George hardly knew what sort of country he pa.s.sed through, for keeping his nose down so persistently over that motor of his.

Jack's prediction came true, and when a quarter after four came around, they were running along the sh.o.r.e of a wooded island which he announced was the object of their search.

"Where are we going to land, Jack?" called out Buster, for the three boats were now very close together, and the crews had been exchanging comments on the sombre appearance of the lonely island for some time past.

"I don't know," came the answer, "because I've never been here before.

We'd better just float along down close to the sh.o.r.e, and keep an eye out for a suitable landing place. If we don't find one on this side, by the time we get to the foot of the island, why, what's to hinder our working along up the other sh.o.r.e, and looking for it there?"

"That's so, Jack!" admitted Buster, who was in one of his finest humors; though for that matter they seldom knew the fat boy to be anything but amiable and good-natured, as most of his kind are.