For several minutes all sat still in the launch, viewing the situation with considerable dismay.
“This is something I didn’t bargain for,” said Fred. “But we may as well make the best of it.”
“Let us try to shove her off,” suggested Dick.
On board the launch were three poles of good size, each fixed so that a small, square board could be fastened to one end. Dick took one of these poles and Tom and Sam seized the others.
“Now, Hans, Fred, and Songbird, get in the stern,” said Dick.
“That’s the talk, and I’ll try to back her at the same time!” cried Harold Bird. “All ready?”
In a minute they were ready to try the experiment and the power was turned on. As the screw churned the water and mud once more, the three Rovers pushed on the poles with all their might.
“Hurrah! she’s moving!” cried Fred.
He was right, the Venus was slowly but surely leaving the bank of mud. Suddenly she gave a twist and then ran backwards rapidly, and then the power was shut off again.
“Free at last!” cried Tom. “Now what’s the next move?”
“We must find the proper channel into the bayou,” answered the owner of the launch.
Dick and Tom went to the front with their poles and the power was turned to a slow speed forward. The Rovers felt their way in the water with the poles, calling to turn to the right or the left, as the case required. By this means they soon left the treacherous mud bars behind and reached a point where forward progress was more certain.
“Now then, let us look around and see if we can find any traces of the Dora,” said Dick.
“The houseboat couldn’t have come over that spot—she would have been stuck sure,” said Fred.
“Years ago Solly Jackson used to be a riverman,” said Harold Bird. “He would probably know exactly how to get the houseboat into the bayou. Gasper Pold couldn’t run the craft himself, so he had to take in a fellow like Solly.”
As the gasoline launch entered the bayou all kept their eyes on the alert, and presently Songbird set up a shout:
“Look over yonder—there are some sort of marks on the bank!”
He was right, and they turned the launch in the direction indicated, advancing slowly. There was a sharp cut in the mud and also several pole holes which looked to be rather fresh. A few feet further on they came to a piece of a pole painted blue.
“That settles it,” exclaimed Dick. “They certainly brought the houseboat in here. Our poles were painted blue, and that is a piece of one.”
“The very one I cracked in the storm,” added Sam.
“I can explain it,” said Harold Bird. “They got the houseboat around the mud bars, but the force of the current, combined with the current in the bayou, swung the craft up against this bank. Then they had to pole the houseboat off.”
“But how did they go on, against the current from the lake?” asked Songbird.
“Pulled and poled the houseboat. Just wait and see if I am not right.”
They waited, and soon reached a point where one bank of the bayou was fairly firm. Here they could see footprints and the “shaving” of a rope as it had passed over the edge of the bank.
“We are on the right track,” said Dick. “Now, all we have to do is to locate the houseboat and corner the rascals who stole her.”
“All!” cried Fred. “I should say that was enough!”
“Especially if they offer to fight,” added Sam.
“It is a pity we can’t come on them unawares,” said Tom. “But that is impossible, for you can’t run the launch without making a noise.”
“Maybe you don’t besser git out dem bistols alretty,” came from Hans. “Of da ton’t gif ub ve plow der heads off, ain’t it!”
“Yes, we may as well get out the firearms,” said Dick. “The sight of the pistols may have a good effect. Perhaps the rascals will give up without fighting.”
The pistols were gotten out, and all of the youths saw to it that they were in perfect condition for immediate use. As he looked at the weapons Harold Bird shuddered.
“I suppose you hate the sight of them,—after what happened to your father,” said Dick, in a low tone.
“I do. I sincerely trust there is no bloodshed,” answered the young Southerner.
It was nightfall by the time the launch was clear of the bayou. In front of them lay the calm waters of Lake Sico—a shallow expanse, with mud flats at one side and a wilderness of trees, bushes, and wild canebrake at the other. They shut off the power and listened. Not a sound broke the stillness.
“Talk about solitude,” was Tom’s comment. “Here is where you can chop it out with an ax!”
“It’s enough to make one shiver,” added Fred.
Just then the dog Harold Bird had brought along set up a mournful howl.
“Even the dog doesn’t like it,” said Songbird. “Let us go on—I’d rather hear the puff-puff of the gasoline motor than listen to such stillness.”
“I thought a poet craved solitude,” said Dick. “This ought to fill you with inspiration.”
“I think it will fill us with chills and fever,” said Fred. “Ugh, how damp it is, now the sun is going down.”
“There is a mist creeping up,” said Harold Bird. “Too bad! I was in hope it would remain clear.”
Soon the darkness of night settled over the lake. The mist continued to roll over them until they were completely enveloped and could no longer see where they were going.
“It can’t be helped,” said the owner of the launch. “We’ll have to wait until daylight. If I light the acetylene gas lamp it will simply put those rascals on guard.”
“Vot is ve going to do—sthay on der poat all night?” asked Hans.
“We can either do that or go ashore—just as you wish.”
“Let us move towards shore,” said Dick. “It will be more pleasant under some overhanging trees or bushes.”
This was agreed to, and they steered for the bank of the lake, which was not far away. None of them dreamed of what that night was to bring forth.
CHAPTER VI
FIGHTING BOB CATS
It was certainly a dismal and dreary outlook, and it did not help matters much to run the launch under the wide overhanging boughs of several trees growing at the edge of the lake. They were in something of a cove, so the view was shut off on three sides.
“I wish we had brought along some extra blankets,” said Sam. “If it is raw now what will it be by midnight?”
“Hadn’t we better build a little campfire?” questioned Fred. “It will make it ever so much more pleasant.”
“I do not advise a fire,” answered Harold Bird. “If those rascals should see it, they’d come here to investigate, and then try to slip away from us in the darkness.”
“You are right,” put in Dick. “We must keep dark until we have located them,—otherwise the game will be up.”
To protect themselves still more from the mist and cold, they brought out four rubber blankets of good size. These were laced into one big sheet and raised over the launch like an awning. Then all huddled beneath, to make themselves as comfortable as possible.
“Don’t you think somebody ought to remain on guard?” asked Tom. “We don’t want those fellows to carry us off and us not know it!”
“Da can’t vos carry me off dot vay,” said Hans, who could never see the funny side of a remark. “I vould kick, I tole you!”
“As there are seven of us, why not have everybody stand guard for just an hour?” suggested Sam. “If we turn in at ten that will carry us through to five in the morning—when we ought to continue our hunt.”
“Providing the mist will let us,” smiled Harold Bird. “But I think your plan a good one,” he added.
Lots were drawn and Fred went on guard first, to
be followed by Hans and Tom. At ten o’clock all of the crowd but Fred turned in, to get as much sleep as possible.
“I tole you vot.” remarked Hans, as he tried to make his head feel easy on one of the seats. “Dis ton’t vos so goot like mine ped at Putnam Hall!”
“Not by a good deal!” answered Songbird. “Dear old Putnam Hall! After all the pleasures we have had, I shall be glad to get back to that institution again.”
The Rover boys had been through so much excitement during their lives they did not think the present situation unusual and so all went to sleep without an effort. Harold Bird remained awake nearly an hour, thinking of the new friends he had made and of the strange fate of his father. The young Southerner was of a somewhat retiring disposition, and it astonished even himself when he realized how he had opened his heart to the Rovers and their chums.
“I feel as if I had known them for years, instead of hours,” he told himself. “There is a certain attractiveness about Sam, Tom, and Dick I cannot understand. Yet I do not wonder that they have a host of friends who are willing to do almost anything for them.”
When Tom went on guard he was still sleepy and he did a large amount of yawning before he could get himself wide-awake. He sat up in the bow of the launch, the others resting on the cushions on the sides and stern. All was as silent as a tomb, and the mist was now so thick that he could not see a distance of six yards in any direction.
“Ugh! what a disagreeable night!” he muttered, as he gave a shiver. “I’d give as much as a toothpick and a bottle of hair-oil if it was morning and the sun was shining.”
A quarter of an hour went by—to Tom it seemed ten times as long as that—and then of a sudden the lad heard a movement at the bottom of the launch. The dog Harold Bird had brought along arose, stretched himself, and listened intently.
“What is it, Dandy?” asked Tom, patting the animal on the head. “What do you hear?”
For reply the dog continued to listen. Then the hair on his back began to rise and he set up a short, sharp bark.
“He certainly hears something,” reasoned Tom. “Can any of those men be in this vicinity?”
The bow of the launch was close to a sprawling tree branch, and to look beyond the rubber covering, Tom crawled forward and stepped on the branch. The dog followed to the extreme bow of the boat and gave another short, sharp bark.
“He hears something, that is certain,” mused the boy. “But what it can be, is a puzzle to me.”
Tom tried to pierce the darkness and mist, but it was impossible. He strained his ears, but all he could hear was the occasional dropping of water from one leaf to another over his head.
“Maybe I had better arouse the others,” he murmured, for the barking of the dog had apparently not disturbed them. “I am sure the dog wouldn’t bark unless there was a reason for it; would you, Dandy?”
Tom looked at the animal and saw the dog had his nose pointed up in the tree next to that which the launch was under. He peered in the direction and gave a start.
Was he mistaken, or had he caught the glare of a pair of shining eyes fastened upon him? Tom was naturally a brave boy, yet a strange shiver took possession of him. The dog now bristled furiously and gave two sharp barks in quick succession.
“Hullo, what’s up?” came from Dick, who was awakened.
“I believe there is some wild animal up yonder tree, spotting us,” answered Tom. “I think I just caught a glimpse of its eyes.”
This announcement caused Dick to rouse up, and taking his pistol he crawled to the bow of the launch and joined his brother on the tree limb. Just then the dog started to bark furiously.
“There he is!” cried Tom, and raised the pistol he had in his pocket. There could be no mistake about those glaring eyes, and taking hasty aim, he fired.
The report of the firearm had not yet died away when there came the wild and unmistakable screech of a wounded bob cat—a wildcat well known in certain portions of our southern states. At the same time the dog began to bark furiously, and everybody on board the launch was aroused.
“What’s the matter?”
“Who fired that shot?”
“Vos dose rascals here to fight mit us alretty?”
“It’s a bob cat!” cried Dick. “Tom just fired at it!”
“Look out, it’s coming down!” yelled Tom, and that instant the bob cat, unable to support itself longer on the tree limb, fell with a snarl on the rubber covering of the launch, carrying it down upon those underneath.
The next few minutes things happened so rapidly that it is almost impossible to describe them. The bob cat rolled over and over, clawing at the rubber cloth and ripping it to shreds. The boys tried to get another shot, but did not dare to fire for fear of hitting each other. But the dog leaped in and caught the bob cat by the back of the neck, and an instant later cat and canine went whirling over the side of the boat into the waters of the lake.
“They are overboard!” cried Sam.
“Make a light, somebody!” yelled Songbird. “It isn’t safe in the dark.”
The acetylene gas lamp of the launch was ready for use, and striking a match Harold Bird lit it. The sharp rays were turned on the water, and there dog and bob cat could be seen whirling around in a mad struggle for supremacy.
Bang! went Dick’s pistol. He had taken quick but accurate aim, and the bob cat was hit in the side. It went under with a yelp, letting go of the dog as it did so. Dandy gave a final nip and then turned and swam back to the launch and was helped aboard by his master.
“Wonder if the bob cat is dead?” asked Fred, in a voice that he tried in vain to steady.
“Hasn’t come up again,” came laconically from Songbird. He had taken the lamp from Harold Bird and was sending the rays over the surface of the lake in several directions.
They watched for several minutes and then made out the dead form of the bob cat floating among the bushes on the opposite side of the little cove.
“Done for—and I am glad of it,” murmured Tom, and he wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead.
“I don’t know if we are out of the woods or not,” said the owner of the launch. “Where there is one bob cat there are often more.”
“In that case I think we had better move the boat away from the shore,” answered Dick. “It may not be as comfortable as under the trees but it will be safer.”
At that moment the gas lamp began to flicker and die down.
“Here, give the lamp to me,” said the launch owner, and taking the lamp he shook it and tried to turn more water on the carbide. But the water would not run for some reason and a few seconds later the light went out.
In the darkness the boys started to untie the launch. As they did this they heard a movement in the tree directly over their heads and then came the cry of a bob cat calling its mate.
“There’s another!” yelled Sam. “Say, we had better get out as fast as we can!”
The gasoline launch was just shoved away from the tree limb when the bob cat above made a leap and landed on the bow of the craft! It glared a moment at the boys, its two eyes shining like balls of fire, and then started to make a leap.
Bang! crack! bang! went three pistols in rapid succession, and as the reports died away the bob cat fell in a heap on the bottom of the launch, snarling viciously. Then Dandy, still exhausted from his fight in the water, leaped on the beast and held it down while Tom finished it with a bullet in the ear.
“Is it dead?” asked Songbird, after a painful silence.
“I guess so. Light a match, somebody.”
Several matches were lit and then an old oil lantern which chanced to be on board. The bob cat was indeed dead and near it lay the dog, with a deep scratch in its foreshoulder.
“Noble Dandy, you did what you could,” said Harold Bird, affectionately.
Very gingerly To
m and Dick picked up the carcass of the bob cat and threw it overboard. By this time the launch had drifted a good fifty feet from shore, and there they anchored.
“Keep that lantern lit,” said Fred. “I can’t stand the darkness after such doings!”
“If those thieves are around they must have heard the shots,” said Sam. “So a light won’t make much difference.”
“I am going to examine the gas lamp,” said the young Southerner, and did so. A bit of dirt had gotten into the feed pipe of the lamp, and when this was cleaned out with a thin wire the light worked as well as ever.
It was some time after the excitement before any of the crowd could get to sleep again. Then Hans got a nightmare and yelled “Bop cats! fire! murder!” and other things as loudly as he could, and that put further rest out of the question, and all waited anxiously for the coming of morning.
CHAPTER VII
THE HOUSEBOAT IN THE BUSHES
With the coming of morning the mist cleared away as if by magic, and soon the warm sunshine put all on board of the gasoline launch in better spirits.
“How is the dog?” questioned Dick, of the owner of the canine.
“He has been pretty well mauled up, but I think he’ll come around with proper attention,” answered the young Southerner. “He is a valuable animal—valuable to me because he was a pet of my father—and I’d hate to lose him.”
All were hungry and ate their morning lunch with considerable satisfaction, washing it down with some coffee made on a small oil stove that had been brought along.
“Well, I don’t see anything of the houseboat,” announced Dick, as he stood on a seat and took a long and careful look around. “Not a craft or a building of any kind in sight.”
“Some negroes used to live on the north shore of the lake,” said Harold Bird, “but the floods last year made them vacate in a hurry.”
It was decided to move around the shore of the lake slowly, scanning every cove and inlet with care. That the houseboat was hidden somewhere on that expanse of water none of the party had any doubt.
“You could take quite a trip in this launch,” said Sam to Harold Bird, as they moved along. “The more I see of the craft the better I like her. May I ask what she is worth?”
The Rover Boys Megapack Page 156