Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes Part 19

As the racers drew farther and farther away, those in the other boats began to think of other things. None of them had half the interest in the outcome of the rivalry as did George. With him there were many old accounts to square; and he meant to make a good job of it, if he had his way about the matter.

For some miles the two speedy motor boats kept along, neither appearing to gain half a length on the other. If one seemed to be going ahead, the skipper immediately busied himself stopping the advantage. It was as if both were holding themselves in for the home stretch.

Josh was on needles and pins all this while. He paid little attention to what lay in the rear. Part of his time was taken up in scanning the watery waste ahead, through the powerful marine gla.s.ses. And when not thus employed he sat there, quivering with suspense, wondering whether there would come a sudden stoppage of the engine, which might spring from one of its eccentric tantrums.

But, strange to say, the motor seemed to be doing its best today, as if bent on meriting all the good things its builders had said in their catalogue.

"I see it!" suddenly hoa.r.s.ely whispered Josh, in a mysterious way, as though he did not wish those in the other craft to overhear him.

"You mean the little bay at the mouth of the river?" queried George, setting his teeth hard together; for he knew that the crisis so long awaited was at hand.

"Sure, look for yourself, George," handing him the gla.s.ses.

"Yes, I believe you're right," returned the skipper of the _Wireless_, as he once more turned his attention to his engine. "Now, get in the middle of the boat, Josh, and don't move any more than you can help."

"You're going to open up, then?" asked the tall, ungainly lad, feverishly.

"I am. Are you ready?" George went on.

"My hair is parted exactly in the middle, I believe," chuckled Josh.

"You know Buster used to say that was one thing you made him do when he was on board here. Let her go, George! Get the jump on him; it may count in the end!"

A shout from Bully Joe was the first knowledge Clarence had that his rival had taken the bit in his teeth, and shot ahead. Instantly the speed of the _Flash_ was increased; and the two powerful engines began to throb like little giants; while the sound of the exhausts, from which the m.u.f.flers had been entirely removed, was like the tattoo of a couple of snare drums calling the long roll.

Josh steadied himself as best he could; though when the boat was rus.h.i.+ng through the water at this frightful speed it did not seem so cranky as when at rest.

"George, we're gaining on him!" he said, in a husky voice that trembled with the excitement under which Josh labored.

"I see we are; and still I could get a bit more out of old _Wireless_ if hard pushed. Don't worry, Josh; we're bound to show Clarence up for a bluffer this time, sure."

"If only something don't happen!" gasped the anxious Josh, with an intake of breath that was like a big sigh.

"Make your mind easy on that score," said George, positively. "Nothing is going to break down. She's running as smooth as silk, and never missing a stroke. Oh! ain't this great, though? I've looked forward to this ever so long. Wouldn't I like to be close enough right now to see the look on Clarence's face."

"It's as long as a foot rule, I warrant you!" chuckled Josh. "Don't I know them two fellows though? They take a beat hard. Ten to one that if you are ahead when we come to the bay, they'll go on past, and never enter at all."

"Well, now, that wouldn't surprise me one little bit," remarked George.

Slowly but surely was the _Flash_ falling behind, or rather the other boat forging ahead. Doubtless Clarence must be trying every device known to ambitious racing skippers in order to just coax a little more speed from his engine; but it was now keyed up to top-notch, and utterly incapable of doing a particle better.

Already Clarence must know that he was badly beaten, unless fortune stepped in to bring about an accident to the _Wireless_.

"That's what he's playing for now," said George, when his companion suggested this very thing. "But I reckon Clarence will find himself barking up the wrong tree. This race has just got to be mine. You hear me warble, Josh?"

It was not often George spouted slang; but the excitement had seized upon him to such an extent now, that he hardly did know what he was saying.

Minutes crept along.

Now the _Flash_ was a stone's throw in the rear, and losing all the while.

"Careful about the turn, George," cautioned Josh, as they came near where the bay opened up. "We don't want to lose this thing at the last stretch. Now you're safe to turn in. Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! siss! boom!

cras.h.!.+ we win!"

The _Wireless_ safely made the turn, and thus Josh announced her victory.

"What did I tell you," Josh went on. "Look at 'em, George! They're spinning on right past, and don't mean to come in at all. Clarence won't even look this way, but keeps staring ahead. Talk to me about taking a beat to heart, there never was a fellow as bad as Macklin, in baseball, hockey or any sport. Well, good-bye to you, fellows! Come again when you can't stay so long. It's _Wireless_ day, you know!"

There was no answer to the shout with which Josh wound up his remarks.

He saw Bully Joe wave his hand in a derisive way, and then the _Flash_ pa.s.sed by at full speed, as though the race were still on.

There was a big camp on the sh.o.r.e, and several boats drawn up on the beach. Many signs told that this was one of the favorite places along the north sh.o.r.e for the white fish men to gather. Doubtless innumerable barrels of this delicate inhabitant of the Great Lakes were s.h.i.+pped from this coast during each season; with the supply still undiminished.

It had been agreed upon that George was not to go ash.o.r.e until the rest of the little motor boat fleet arrived. This was not for half an hour or so, since the _Comfort_ was not capable of doing better than ten miles an hour, and the more speedy _Tramp_ had to accommodate her pace to that of the steady boat.

Nick and the rest gave the victor a good cheer as they turned the point, and entered the bay at the mouth of the famous trout river.

Then the three craft made for the beach, off which they anch.o.r.ed, to go ash.o.r.e in the smaller boats.

There were some shanties and tents in sight, with a number of rough looking men; who however seemed glad to welcome the boys. The smell of fish was everywhere, as was natural.

"Do you happen to have a young fellow here in this camp by the name of Andy Fosd.i.c.k?" Jack asked a man who seemed to be the boss.

"Yes, but just now he's out at work. There's a boat coming in and p'raps Andy may be one of the crew," the other replied.

They waited until the boat landed, and those who were in it jumped out.

Jack could use his judgment, and he immediately selected a st.u.r.dy looking young chap, with a skin the color of an Indian's, as the one they sought.

"Come along, fellows," he said to his chums; "and we'll find out."

He made straight for the young man; who, seeing the procession approaching, and all eyes glued eagerly on him, stood there looking curious, and a bit apprehensive, Jack thought.

"Are you Andrew Fosd.i.c.k?" Jack asked, as they reached the spot where the other stood, one hand resting on the edge of the boat, from which his comrades were already shoveling their catch of fish.

"That's my name, though I generally answer to plain Andy," replied the fisherman wondering doubtless what all this meant, and why these boys should want to see him.

"Bully!" exclaimed Nick. "Found him the first shot! We're sure in great luck on this cruise, fellows!"

"Tell him what you want with him, Jack," urged Herb, who saw the other was being consumed with anxiety.

"We have come straight from your father, Andy," said Jack, softly. "He wants you to come home to him."

Then they saw a hard look pa.s.s over the dark face of Andy Fosd.i.c.k.

"It ain't no use, boys," he said, bitterly. "He run me off long ago, and I don't go back there again. I'm gettin' to forget my name even is Fosd.i.c.k, and that settles it."