Frontier Boys in Frisco Part 25

"Thank you, Frau Scheff," replied Jim; "while ours are getting dry it will give us more room to eat."

"Aye, dot is a true wort," and she laughed with a jolly, shaking heartiness.

It was comical beyond words when they made the change in clothing, while Frau Scheff had gone to the front to help her husband to prepare the meal for the two guests. The engineer, who was short, was almost lost in the voluminous trousers of mein host, and could have easily tied them around his neck, while another pair came to half mast on the long-legged Jim, and were much too large so that they flapped like a sail.

"Talk about dressing for dinner, John, you ought certainly to be pleased," said Jim with a grin.

"No time for humor," declared the engineer; "I am too weak to laugh."

At this saying, he tripped in his newly acquired garments and fell full length, and Jim over him. They were both so exhausted from laughing they could scarcely get up. Jim was the first to arise and he helped up the other "end man," for that was the character the two suggested to each other. When they got in the quaint restaurant car, the proprietor accepted their appearance with professional gravity, only growling under his breath, "It's a wonder Lena didn't let them have mein best suit."

What a repast the two comrades found on the little round table in the corner, covered with a snowy cloth! Two big thick tender steaks well garnished with potato salad, the handiwork of Frau Lena Scheff, creamed potatoes, huge cups of delicious coffee and a grand finale of broad, sugar-frosted, German pancakes.

By the time this feast was finished their own garments were thoroughly dry, and as lightning change artists they appeared in their own clothes, renewed in body as well as in appearance.

"We have fed and slept," said Berwick, "and ought to be ready for the next move."

"Herr Scheff," questioned Jim, "do you happen to know where we can get a good rowboat?"

This gave to his comrade some indication of what the next move would be.

"Yah! Yah! mein freund," replied the German, who felt as gracious as it was possible for him to feel. "You go down the beach haf a mile and you find a fisherman and him got two very nice boats."

Thanking their German acquaintance, they spoke a hearty good-by to Frau Scheff who bade them a cheerful and affectionate farewell, making them promise to come to the restaurant when they needed food, clothing or shelter. The two comrades started down the beach, continuing until they came to a sheltered cove where, in a small, s.h.i.+p-shape hut, they found a weazened old fisherman who regarded them with taciturn scrutiny when they told him what they wanted.

"For a couple of days you want my boat? All right, I charge you five dollars."

Jim readily agreed to this.

"We haven't got much sense," exclaimed the engineer suddenly. "If we are going on a cruise we ought to have some provisions." Jim hit his skull a sound rap.

"Dunkerhead," he exclaimed. "I tell you, John, when we select the boat we will row up to Frau Scheff's and lay in a supply. That must have been my original plan, but I forgot it," concluded Jim brazenly.

Berwick threw back his head and laughed heartily.

"There is no getting away from it, Jim, you have a good opinion of yourself."

This gave Jim a certain shock as the expression of his face showed.

"I was only jos.h.i.+ng," he said, and there was a slight sense of hurt in his tones that Berwick was quick to recognize.

"That's all right, old chap," he said, "your head is level."

This straightened out, they went and took a look at the old sailor's two boats in the cove. One was painted white with a red stripe, and the other was as black as a Venetian Gondola.

"That's a beauty," exclaimed Jim enthusiastically, looking at the lines of her, and he pointed to the black boat.

"She oughter be, I built her myself," said the old sailor, "and I know somethin' about boats, too."

"Got speed?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jim.

"Enough to burn a streak across this bay, boy."

Jim laughed good-naturedly, and the old sailor was evidently pleased with his appreciation.

CHAPTER XXIX

A REMINISCENCE

The bargain completed, the two comrades were about to board the craft when the old sailor of the cove interposed.

"I reckon you ain't in any sort of a hurry. If you start across the bay now before it gets plumb dark old Bill Broome is liable to ketch yer,"

and the aged fellow gave Jim a shrewd look from under his grizzled eyebrows.

"I guess that he wouldn't really do us any damage," replied Jim, with an a.s.sumed carelessness.

"I should think that you would have to look out for him, yourself," put in the engineer; "he's just as likely as not to drop in on you sometime, and take your two boats and such ballast as you have stowed away in your cabin, that he might take a fancy to."

"Him," said the old sailor with indescribable contempt; "why, old Bill wouldn't come within a mile of my cabin, unless he was drug here. I had quite a set-to with him a few years ago, and since thet time he don't even pa.s.s the time of day with me." He was quick to see that he had roused the deep interest of his two visitors. "Come in to my cabin, while I smoke a pipe," he continued, "and I'll tell yer about that fracas between old Broome and myself."

"Certainly we will come in," said the engineer; "we are in no rush that I know of."

"Suits me," agreed Jim tersely.

They entered the cabin through a low doorway that caused Jim to stoop his proud crest as it were. The interior was snug and cozy with brown-hued walls and wooden beams that gave the room the appearance of a s.h.i.+p's cabin. A large lamp swung from the center of the ceiling gave a tempered light through a green shade.

There were several nautical prints upon the wall, and in front of a small stove, wherein glowed coals through its iron teeth, lay on a rug of woven rags a huge yellow cat stretched out at full and comfortable length. Everything was scrupulously neat about the place, and kept in s.h.i.+p-shape condition. The old man seated himself in a hacked wooden chair with semicircular arms and a green cus.h.i.+on. Jim took his place on a sea-chest, once green but now much faded, and with heavy rope handles, while the engineer occupied the other chair. After the sailor's wrinkled old wife had brought in some coffee for his two guests, and he had filled his short black pipe, he began his narrative of his once-time sc.r.a.p with Captain William Broome, of unpious memory.

"That was one of the most unusual jobs I ever tackled when I took command of the _Storm King_ for J. J. Singleton."

"That's the famous mining man, who used to live in San Francisco,"

remarked John Berwick.

"The same fellow," continued the old sailor, "and in spite of his money he had a lot of sensible ideas. You see, old 'J. J,' as he was known hereabouts, had three sons, the oldest seventeen, and their mother being dead for some years he brought 'em up according as he thought best. Had 'em work in one of his mines learning to run an engine and earning their own money. The youngest was on a big cattle ranch that the old man owned down in the southern part of the state.

"He told the boys that when they earned a certain amount they could put it into a steam yacht and what was lacking he would make up. Maybe those kids didn't work hard for some years until they had what was needed. I had been in command of one of Singleton's coasting s.h.i.+ps and the old man picked me to take charge of the _Storm King_, which was the fool name of the yacht that they invested in, but there was nothing the matter with the boat herself.

"'Teach 'em navigating, Captain,' he says to me in his final instructions, 'and give 'em a taste of the rope's end if they ain't sharp to obey orders.'

"But shucks, I had no trouble with them boys, they weren't like rich men's sons, but knew what hard work meant and could obey orders as well as give 'em. The oldest one's name was John--about your size," pointing to Jim, "but one of those sandy complected chaps, with white eyelashes and cool, gray eyes and no end of grit. The other two named Sam and Joe, were active, competent lads, and they had brought with them a friend off the cattle ranch, whom they called 'Comanche,' and I want you to know that boy was some shot with a revolver, rifle or cannon.

"Well, the second day out was where Captain Bill Broome put in an appearance. He was a smuggler and cutthroat in those days, and did a little kidnaping on the side."

"He hasn't reformed yet either," put in Jim.