Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes; or, Exploring the Mystic Isle of Mackinac

by George Cary Eggleston

  CHAPTER XIV

  NICK WIPES OUT HIS DISGRACE

  Everybody in the camp jumped up.

  All eyes were turned toward the point from which this racket sprang;and it was a strange sight that immediately met their astonished eyes.Jimmie was jumping about as though he had accidentally stepped into abee's nest, and was now engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the entireswarm.

  Nick happened to be in a position where he could see better than any ofhis companions. And he immediately discovered that the troubles of theIrish lad were not at all imaginary.

  Something was leaping back and forth, now threatening to land on theshoulders of Jimmie, and then springing to the low limb of a tree, or itmight be the ground.

  Nick had never before set eyes on such a strange creature, yet herealized that it was a wild animal. His late unpleasant experience wasof course still fresh in his mind; and his first suspicion may have beenthat this was another specimen of a Canadian pussy cat.

  Whatever it was, Jimmie seemed to be having the time of his lifefighting. True to his inherited instincts, the Irish lad had snatched upsome sort of stick, to serve him as a shillalah. It was a stout bit ofwood too, and he wielded it in a manner that proved him to be a "brothof a boy." Several times it landed with a resounding whack upon theflying body of his antagonist, and at each connection the unknown beastwas hurled heavily backward.

  But evidently the furious animal was grim and determined. Instead ofbeing cowed by these temporary setbacks it only resumed the attackwith added zeal; so that Jimmie had often to throw up his left arm inaddition, to fend off his foe.

  Now, Nick chanced to remember that at the very moment he was holding agun in his hands. With one of his chums in grave peril it seemed todevolve upon him to engineer a rescue party.

  "Come on, boys! Jimmie needs help!" he shouted, starting to run forwardas well as his bulk admitted.

  "Careful of that gun, Buster!" called Herb.

  "Yes, don't shoot Jimmie instead!" added Josh.

  "Hold your fire till you can get 'em separated!" supplemented George;who being a little farther away at the time, managed to bring up therear.

  In this way then the quartette started to the assistance of Jimmie, whowas still whanging away with might and main. What with the loud shoutsof the aroused Irish lad, the whoops of the runners, and the angrysnarling of the enraged beast, one would think a menagerie must havebroken loose in the neighborhood.

  Just then George happened to get a good look at the beast as it jumpedup on the limb, and whirling, crouched to make another leap.

  "It's a wildcat!" he shouted as loud as he could. "Be careful, Nick!Don't you try to grab it now, on your life!"

  Nick heard, but was too busy to think of replying. The cat had sprungagain at the pugnacious Irish boy, to be met with another smart thumpthat landed with a loud thud, and sent the beast sprawling to theground.

  "Ye would, hey?" howled Jimmie in derision, though the blood wasstreaked upon his face, where the sharp claws of the beast had scratchedhim. "Thry for it again, plaze! And be the powers, ye'll foind JimmieBrannagan at home whin ye knock at the dure. Come on, ye omadhaun! I'llsoon knock all the breath out of the body of ye! Wow!"

  The Canadian cat was a fighter. It looked it every inch, now that thedefiant defense of the intruder had aroused its fury. Once more itsprang to the limb of the tree, as though recognizing that here it had abetter chance to leap than from the ground.

  "Now! Buster! But be careful! Keep back Jimmie!" shouted George.

  The others held their very breath, for they saw that Nick had the Marlinrepeater up at his bulky shoulder. Perhaps every one of them wasmentally hoping that he would not shut his eyes while pulling thetrigger; for a little swerve might bring Jimmie within range, and theresult be disastrous at that short distance.

  Bang!

  Instantly a series of whoops broke forth, and every fellow startedforward once more, as though meaning to be in at the death. George andHerb and Josh had each managed to possess himself of some sort ofimprovised weapon. The first had in his hand a hatchet which he had beenusing at the time; Josh was waving his favorite big spoon, with which hewas wont to beat the summons to meals on a pan; and the skipper of the_Comfort_ had picked up a billet of wood while passing the fire, whichhe now flourished eagerly above his head.

  Nick himself stood there, struggling with the pump-gun. As usual withnovices he could not work the mechanism; for in his excitement hewas trying to fire without having ejected the used shell; and noself-respecting modern arm will stand for that sort of treatment.

  Fortunately all around, no second shot was needed. The animal waskicking its last upon the ground, and emitting agonizing screams ofanger and pain. Whether by accident or real accuracy of aim, Nick hadapparently managed to send the contents of the shell where it counted.

  Already Jimmie was indulging in what seemed to be a war dance, wavinghis stick, and singing. George was compelled to laugh just to see hisantics, streaked as his freckled face was with smootches of his owngore.

  "Ye done it, Buster, sure ye knocked the silly gossoon clane over!" hecalled. "'Tis a broth of a boy ye arre, and afther me own heart. Look atthe baste, would ye? If he hasn't got tassels on his ears!"

  "That's a fact!" declared George, now arriving to see the last kick ofthe animal on the ground, and note the unquenchable fury shown to thevery end. "Why, I tell you what it is fellows. A Canadian lynx, that'swhat!"

  "It does look different from my cat--er, that other animal," admittedNick, as he cautiously advanced, evidently ready to beat a hasty retreatshould he discover any need.

  "I've heard of the missing links," spoke up Josh; "but we never lostany; so this critter couldn't belong to us."

  "A good shot, Buster, old man!" declared George, bending down to seewhere the charge had struck the beast while crouching on the limb, andpreparing for still another leap at Jimmie.

  Nick swelled up with importance. Apparently this was one of the fewoccasions when he could assume an attitude, and receive congratulations.Usually it was just the other way; and like a wise fellow he believed inmaking hay while the sun shone.

  "Oh! pretty fair, considering how quick I had to shoot!" he remarked,carelessly, as much as to say that, given a little more time, and hecould have done better.

  Jack now came running up, having of course heard all the row, and beingconsumed with curiosity to know its meaning.

  "What is it?" he called, as he ran. "Another Canada pussy cat?"

  "That's just what it is," replied George quickly.

  "And is Buster at his old tricks again?" continued the other; at whichNick was compelled to grin amiably, knowing his hour of triumph was athand.

  "Buster was in the mix-up, all right," George went on; "only this timehe happened to be at the other end of the gun. Buster has coveredhimself with immortal glory. We all must knuckle down to him after thisas the great Nimrod; for he has just slain the Jabberwock. Looky here,Jack; what d'ye call that?"

  "Well, I declare, a big Canada lynx!" cried the newcomer, recognizingthe dead beast as soon as he saw its queer tasseled ears, and itsferocious whiskers.

  "It tackled Jimmie here, and they were having a hot old argument of it,Jimmie pounding with his club, and the cat using its claws," Herb said,turning to the Irish boy, to see how badly he was wounded.

  Jack became sympathetic at once, and anxious in the bargain.

  "Only a few little scratches you say, Jimmie," he remarked. "That'strue, they don't seem serious; but it's always dangerous to be markedwith the claws of animals that live on carrion, like lions, grizzlies orwildcats. And I'm glad to say I've got something along for just such acase. Come on back to camp with me."

  Jimmie, still protesting, did so; while the others, dragging the lynx,made Buster head the procession, while they sang: "Lo! the ConqueringHero Comes; Sound the Trumpets, Beat the Drums!" greatly to the delightof the fat boy.

  When Jack applied the purple colored tincture from a small b
ottle to thewounds on Jimmie's face and hands, the Irish boy gave a whoop of pain.

  "Sure, the rimedy is worse nor the disease!" he complained.

  "That's all right," said Jack; "just stand the pain for a little. It'san insurance against blood poisoning. Many a hunter has lost his lifefrom little cuts no worse than yours, when they were caused by the clawsof a wild beast. My father would not let me come out unless I carriedthis."

  "What is it, Jack?" asked Herb, curiously.

  "A strong tincture of permanganate of potash," was the reply. "Justremember that, will you; and it's got to be powerful enough to hurt likefun; eh, Jimmie?"

  "Indade it did, that," was the immediate response; while the Irish boyscrewed up his good humored face in a knot.

  Jack went back to his fishing, for he had already managed to take onepretty good specimen of the Lake Superior speckled trout that would haveweighed nearly four pounds; and was eager for more.

  All the while he sat there, employing every device he knew of to temptthe finny denizens of the depths to bite, he kept one eye to windward.That low bank of clouds interested him; for it seemed to presage astorm.

  Since everything possible had been attended to in order to ward off anyevil effects of a gale, Jack did not stop fishing until he had succeededin catching a fine mess, that would please the heart of Buster.

  Josh was preparing the fish as fast as they were caught. Indeed, hedispatched Nick several times to see if there were any more forthcoming;when the sportsman would toss ashore his latest catch, and the cook'sassistant hurry back with the prize, his hungry eyes fairly glisteningwith anticipation.

  Of course it was a royally good supper that followed. Josh cooked thetrout in the same capable manner he had served the lake white fish; andevery fellow declared they had never tasted anything more delicious.

  Still, there was plenty for all, and to spare. Even Nick had to shut hiseyes with a deep sigh, because he had reached the extreme limit of hiscapacity; and a pan of trout remained untouched.

  The growling of the thunder now became more pronounced. Across theheavens the zigzag lightning shot, in a way that was as terrible as itwas fascinating. Supper done, the boys clustered near the fire, talking,and watching the coming of the gale. Again and again had Jack and Georgegone around, to see that every tent peg was clinched in the ground.

  "They're going to hold, unless the wind tears the blessed things toflinders!" Jack had announced; and at the same time he had seen to itthat the boats were protected by the friendly point of land from thegiant waves that would soon be sweeping in from the sea beyond.

  Already were they rising in majestic grandeur that was awe inspiring.The storm was about to swoop down upon the shore line, and hurl therising sea against the mighty rocky barrier, as it had done forcountless ages past without success.

  "Oh! ain't I just glad I'm not out there!" exclaimed Nick, as heshudderingly surveyed the darkening picture of warring elements.

  "But look there, fellows; what d'ye call that?" cried Herb, as hepointed a quivering finger at some object that had suddenly come insight from the east.

  It was a little motor boat, wallowing in the rising sea, and doomed tocertain destruction unless able to make shelter immediately. And withthe waves dashing wildly against the rocks, those aboard would never seethe small opening through which the motor boat boys had come to theirpresent snug harbor!

  "It's the _Flash_!" shouted Jack; "and unless we manage to show them theway in, it's good-bye to Clarence and Bully Joe! We must do it, fellows.Come on!"