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Motor Boat Boys' River Chase

<h2>CHAPTER XXI MAKING THINGS WARM</h2> “Well, what are we going to do next, Jack?” asked Josh, pretending not to hear those irritating words spoken by George; and evidently determined to keep himself “in the swim” if anything was going on. “The question is whether we’d better try to force their hand now, or wait a while,” the one spoken to remarked. “Why should we wait?” queried George, impatiently. “First of all, there’s some sort of chance that Herb may be along pretty soon, with his Comfort, and that would give us three more fellows,” Jack observed. “Huh! such as they are, yes,” the skipper of the speed-boat admitted. “Three would make good showing, anyhow,” Josh broke in to say, seeing his opportunity to agree with Jack, and in this way put George on the other side. “And how’d they know, tell me, that Buster, Herb and our new friend,[212] Algernon, ain’t much on the scrap? Numbers look big, sometimes.” “Then again,” Jack continued, “as we float down the river we’re apt to sight the lights of some town or city. And then George could go ashore to tell the police what a great chance was passing their doors. I’m not greedy about it, and willing enough to let the proper authorities do the fighting, and get what there is in the game. And yet, it kind of goes against my grain to just lie around here, doing nothing all the time.” “Yes,” said George, eagerly, “and just think if we happen to drift anywhere near the bank these fellows are apt to give us the laugh and jump overboard, to swim ashore. Before we could get a boat started to chase after ’em they’d land, and snap their fingers at the lot. I say get a move on, and find some way to make ’em surrender. Let’s scare the pair half to death. We c’n do it by setting the cabin on fire, and paying for the damage done!” “Whew! that’s just like George!” Josh was heard to say, breathlessly. Jack glanced toward the two loggers. “Is that sort of a thing possible; could the shanty be burned if we tried?” he asked them. “Don’t think it kin, son,” came the reply.[213] “Course we never seen it tried; but them logs are kinder green yet, and the spray’s jumped up over the cabin sometimes when we had a headwind. They ain’t no winder in the shack, jest a openin’ like round on the back. I cud crawl up and try the fire game, if so yuh stand ready tuh pony up fur any damage tuh the logs.” Jack was thinking again. “Well, it might pay us to make the try,” he said, presently. “No harm done,” said George, giving Josh a triumphant look, as though he would have him take notice that when really smart fellows started to do things, they meant business every time. Josh shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that he was ready to be convinced. Meanwhile Jack was talking with the two loggers, trying to find out what their ideas might be with regard to getting a supply of kindling ready. One of them strode off, and presently returned with an ax. The other had picked up several strips of wood that seemed to be fairly dry; and as soon as the sharp-edged tool came he started to cut this into long splinters. “By the way,” said George, “I’ve got some cotton waste aboard my boat that’s just soaked[214] with oil, and would burn like fun. I’ll get it.” “And if you go aboard my boat, too, you’ll find a lot more close by the engine, that I was going to throw overboard, because it was getting so sticky,” Jack went on to tell the other, as he was hurrying off. It really began to look like business, at any rate. Josh found himself interested in spite of himself. No matter whose plan it might be, if it won out he must show a spirit of fairness, and render all the aid he could. Josh was not a small minded fellow, though he did love to tease poor Buster on occasion; and often went out of his way to get a sly dig at the good-natured fat boy. The strips of wood having been reduced to kindling, and George coming back with the cotton waste, saturated with oil that would burn, even if it was not explosive, it began to look as though the thing was now up to the logger who had offered to make the attempt. “Here’s a little bottle, and it’s full of gasoline too,” remarked George, as he handed the article over. “When you’re ready to set fire to the pile, just scatter that stuff over it, and take care of your eyebrows, for she goes off with a whoop.” [215] “Say, they’re on to us,” announced Josh just then. Looking toward the cabin, Jack could detect a head thrust around the corner; and from this he knew that one of the men had issued forth, wishing to learn what the forces arrayed against himself and his partner might be doing all this while. So Jack made suggestive motions with his gun, as though tempted to shoot; and the head was withdrawn immediately. “Is there any opening on the back of the shack?” he asked the men. “Nope, not that yuh cud notice, son,” came the reply. “Course, they might dodge out and run around to blaze away at our fire kindler, and then get back under cover again,” suggested George. “I was thinking if I could work it so as to keep them quiet,” said Jack. “Let’s all move around so as to cover the side where the open door is. Then they’ll be liable to think we’re all there in a bunch. And if we see either man trying to sneak out, I’ll give him a scare, all right.” To do this they had to go some little distance from the three tied-up motor boats; but Jack knew they could reach them long before the[216] fugitives might, should they conceive the wild idea of making a dash that way. Besides, as a last resort, did he not have his gun, and were there not two trusty shells in its barrels? Having taken up their position they gave the man who had remained behind the signal that he should get busy. And he started to advance toward the rear of the cabin on the raft. When he had gone perhaps half way, a figure was seen to push out of the opening. Jack immediately called out: “Get back there, or I’ll fill you full of shot!” at the same time brandishing his gun in a very threatening manner; which warning appeared to have an influence upon the fellow, since he slipped back again. But no doubt he had discovered the logger who was advancing toward the rear of the shack, his arms filled with fuel; and it would have to be a very dull person who could not guess what his object must be. Then there sounded a sudden report. One of the men in the shack had found some small chink between the logs, through which he was firing his revolver. Perhaps he had shot at the logger; and then again it might have been done just to alarm him, and thus cause the scheme for firing the cabin to be given up. [217] When the man seemed to drop, Jack’s heart was in his throat, for he thought he was looking on a tragedy; but the other logger chuckled, as he remarked: “Don’t be skeered ’bout Fritz; he ain’t teched a whiff; but jest drapped so’s to crawl out’n range. See him gittin’ over ground right smart now, and notice thet he ain’t let go any o’ the stuff, be he?” “You’re right, Hanky,” said Josh, promptly enough. “Bully for Fritz!” burst out the gratified George, whose heart had no doubt taken just as quick a jump as had Jack’s, when that report sounded in a half muffled way, from being inside the cabin. Another shot followed. But the marksman was evidently shooting at random, and without having a target. At any rate, the logger kept right on creeping toward the shack, and it began to look as though he were bound to get there, too. But would he be successful in getting the logs to burn? Jack was rather inclined to doubt it, though of course much depended on whether they were fairly dry, or wet with the spray that may have[218] dashed up over the raft when the wind, being up-river, had made a choppy sea. “What if the whole blooming raft goes up in smoke?” was the awful suggestion which Josh put forward. George laughed out loud, it seemed to strike him as so absurd. “Yes, and worse still, Josh, whatever will we do if we set the river on fire? They’ll certainly have it in for us, believe me. But one thing sure, no danger of you ever setting the river afire with any scheme you think up.” “Shucks! I don’t believe it’ll work a cent,” remarked Josh. “’Cording to my calculations it’d take more’n that kindlin’ to set logs a-goin’.” “Don’t forget the oiled rags, Josh,” said George, tauntingly; “yes, and the little bottle of gasolene I let our friend have. Seems to me all that’s going to build up some fire. And as for the rest we’ll have to trust to luck. Perhaps it’ll catch fire, and again she may kick and balk.” “Like some engines we know about, f’r instance,” Josh wound up with. “You never saw a motor do better than mine did coming down river, and you know it. I have had a lot of trouble with the thing in the[219] past; but that’s all over now; and I’m on Easy Street with my dandy Wireless. Oh! you can laugh all you want to, Josh, but wait and see.” “Proof of the puddin’ lies in the eatin’ of the same, George,” said Josh, “and I know you too well to believe you’ll ever be satisfied to run along like Jack and Herb do. But see there, our fire kindler’s got up to the shack, all serene. And now he’s bending down to fix his kindlin’ right. We’ll soon know, George, and if she goes, since it’s your scheme, I’m willing to say you done it with your little hatch-it.” Just as Josh said, the logger had managed to gain the shelter of the back wall of the shack. Now, in order to keep out the rain without bothering with a door, the cabin had been made with its only opening on the side up-river; so that what the boys had been calling its back was really the front side. And with the movement of the raft always down-stream; and the night air being from the south just then, if the fire were ever properly started, it would be fanned constantly, and helped along by this process. Jack kept watch on the dark opening that stood for the entrance, and means of exit. He meant to shoot, if any figure was seen to appear[220] outside this; not with the idea of doing bodily injury, but in the expectation of frightening the man back, before he could make use of his weapon upon the fire-kindler. So the seconds crept along, until several minutes had passed. “Gee! why don’t he get a move on?” remarked George, to whom the time hung as if it were weighed down with lead. “Let him be,” said the other logger, named Hanky. “Fritz is sum slow, but then he gits there in the end. Watch his smoke, son, an’ see!” <hr class="chap" /> [221] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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