The Outdoor Chums on the Lake: or, Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island. Allen Quincy
the opinion of the boy who had done so much to save the steamboat.
“I think the gentleman is right,” came the quick response.
“That we ought to search the tramps now,” queried the captain, anxiously; for he felt certain that this move would bring on a fight, which might add still further to the excitement of the already terrified women aboard.
“Undoubtedly. Just as he says, they might think it good policy to conceal their plunder somewhere about the boat, hoping to get it later on, after the excitement had died out. And if you want any help in doing that same thing, Captain, count on myself and two chums.”
The answer came so readily from the lips of the canoeist that Captain Amos was almost overcome. He thrust out his hand impulsively, exclaiming:
“Say, that’s awful kind of you, Frank. We may need your assistance, for, to tell the truth, those hoboes looked mighty tough, and I reckon they’ll put up some sort of a fight before giving in. I only hope they don’t happen to have any sort of guns about them. Wait till I call up Simmons the engineer, Codding the pilot, and Adolphus the coon deckhand. If Mr. Pemberton gives us a hand we will have eight to cow the rascals.”
“We will need the whole bunch if they are half as tough as you say, Captain,” declared Jerry, anxious to be heard.
The captain beckoned, and a negro boy came running up.
“Go and tell the pilot and engineer to come here at once, and you accompany them,” he said.
“Yas, sah!” replied the willing worker, shooting away with a look of curiosity toward the others, as if wondering what new trouble had arisen.
“That boy was working all the time, I believe,” said Mr. Pemberton, thoughtfully.
“Who, Adolphus?” asked the captain; “every minute at my side; and I’d trust him with every penny I owned. But here he comes, and both men are with him. Now we can get ready to look for those ragged tramps, and corner them.”
“H’m! when did you see them last?” asked Frank, starting suddenly, as if he had made an unpleasant discovery.
“Certainly not since the cry of fire first broke out. But what makes you ask such a question, Frank?” demanded the captain, showing new alarm.
“Well, I have an idea that it may be some little time before you get a chance to round those scamps up, and proceed with your search. They are the busy boys all right, and while we’ve been talking matters over here the hobo couple have been doing things. Look there, Captain, half way to the other shore, and tell me what you see!” and Frank pointed as he spoke.
Immediately a chorus of exclamations arose.
“As sure as you live, there they go like hot cakes!” cried Bluff.
“Talk to me about nerve, if they haven’t ‘cribbed’ Frank and Will’s double canoe!” came from Jerry’s lips, as he stared at the retreating object.
“And just notice, fellows, that both of them paddle as if they knew all about canoes. Those hoboes have done some camping in their day, as sure as you live!” observed Frank, always on the lookout for these telling points.
“Say, do we stand here and let them get clean away without lifting a hand?” exclaimed Bluff, piteously.
“Hardly. Into your canoes, boys, and after the thieves at full speed!” cried Frank.
CHAPTER III – THE TELL-TALE PICTURE
Once again all was excitement aboard the steamboat.
Jerry and Bluff dropped into their frail craft with the practiced balance of experienced canoeists. Frank did not mean to be left behind in the wild race, managed to occupy a place in the craft of Jerry. He seized upon the single paddle, intending to work his passage, and make up for the additional burden.
As they started off they could hear the captain giving orders to the crew.
“He means to turn the boat around, and start after the thieves himself!” cried Jerry, as he dipped his double-blade swiftly on one side and then the other.
Both little mosquito craft were by this time fairly flying through the water. As those who wielded the paddles faced forward they were able to see what progress they made all the time toward overhauling the escaping hoboes.
“Not much hope,” declared Frank, finally.
“They’re two-thirds of the way in to shore. We are gaining, but not enough by half to overhaul them,” announced Bluff, making valiant progress.
“Tell me about this, but I hope Will sees his opportunity to snap off a good view. This has your race beat to a frazzle, Bluff!” shouted Jerry.
“There comes the steamboat! The captain is heading to cut them off,” said Frank.
“But he’s too far away. Besides, it’s too shallow in there, and if he knows his business he’ll never try to go much closer. A fire is bad enough, not to speak of a stranded boat,” observed Bluff.
The two men in the double canoe were working like steam-engines to make progress. They handled the paddles fairly well in unison, and as Frank had said, showed a familiarity with the blades that spoke of former experiences.
As the three boys paddled on they saw the leading canoe shoot up on the shelving beach. Then the tramps scrambled ashore.
“Hold on there, you!” bellowed Bluff, in his excitement; “we want to talk with you!”
For answer the two men only made derisive motions. Then they vanished in the thick timber.
“They’re gone, all right, boys. I reckon it will take some hunting to find such slippery rascals again,” remarked Frank, with a laugh; for it was not his packet that had been stolen, and he had no reason to be deeply concerned.
“What will we do now?” demanded Bluff, looking as disappointed as though he had just lost a race.
“Recover our canoe, and put across the lake to where Will stands on that dock.”
“But see here, Frank, do you mean to let those fellows get away?” asked Jerry.
Jerry was always the impulsive one of the four chums. His characteristic temperament often got him into hot water. Only the preceding Fall when the boys had taken a trip into the woods, owing to a storm unroofing the Academy at Centerville, as narrated in the preceding volume of this series, entitled “The Outdoor Chums; or, First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club,” he had found himself precipitated into numerous difficulties because of this failing. Frank was frequently compelled to restrain this impulsiveness on the part of his chum. On this camping trip they had met with many strange adventures, including an invasion of the camp by a wildcat, a bear and also some enemies who wished to do them harm by setting fire to their tents; Jerry had lost himself in the forest and encountered numerous exciting adventures, and there had followed a series of mishaps that had all winter long given the chums a subject for entertainment and discussion.
Frank was pleased to find that the tramps had not been vindictive enough to try and do any harm to the frail craft in which they had made their escape from the steamboat.
For this he was disposed to feel a little kindly toward them. It also made him more convinced than ever that they must have a tender spot in their evil hearts for a canoe, and could not bear to smash up such a delicate little craft.
The steamboat was lying off-shore, and our boys headed in such a direction that they could talk back in answer to any questions asked by the captain.
“Did they get clean away?” called the commander of the boat, using his hands in lieu of a megaphone.
“I reckon they did, Captain. They skipped into the timber, and that was the last thing we saw of them,” replied Frank, pausing for a minute in his labor.
“That’s bad. We were in hopes you could capture them,” said the other, looking plainly worried over what future troubles were in store for his company.
“Boys, I thank you for the trouble