The Border Boys Along the St. Lawrence. Goldfrap John Henry

The Border Boys Along the St. Lawrence - Goldfrap John Henry


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Fish dynamiters are poor, poverty-stricken fellows who are too lazy to get fish in a proper, lawful manner, and crawl out at night to ply their trade in wretched, patched-up boats! No mere fish dynamiters could afford a swift, powerful craft such as the one ahead surely is.”

      “That’s so,” agreed Harry, “but that craft ahead is surely a riddle just the same. I think – ”

      He broke off with what might be fairly termed a yell.

      “Ow! – oo! Look there! Now do you say that there isn’t something more than natural about that boat?”

      In spite of himself, Ralph felt his scalp stiffen as he beheld the extraordinary sight to which Harry’s alarmed exclamation had attracted his attention.

      Outlined against the night in a vivid green glare was what appeared to be a boat of living flame!

      The water around her burned lambently as the apparently flaming boat plunged along through it.

      “Gracious!” gasped Ralph, as he looked at the strange spectacle. There was a touch on his arm. He started in spite of himself and turned quickly.

      Malvin was at his elbow. He was pointing at the green, blazing craft ahead of them.

      “It’s – it’s the Lost Voyageur!” he exclaimed, in trembling tones. “Don’t chase it any more, sir! The legend is, that it means death to those who see that boat and pursue it.”

      By this time Ralph had recovered his equanimity. His sturdy common sense asserted itself. He listened impatiently while Harry exclaimed triumphantly:

      “There; what did I tell you! That’s the boat I heard about! The boat in which a party of the old voyageurs committed all sorts of outrages on the St. Lawrence Indians. In revenge for their cruelties the Indians attacked the boat one night and massacred the whole party. Ever since, at times, the ghost craft has been seen on the river, and death has followed every one who has tried to chase it or inquire into its mystery.”

      “Oh, dry up!” snapped Ralph. “Malvin, get forward where you belong instantly.”

      “But, sir – ”

      The man appeared genuinely frightened, but somehow Ralph had an idea that he was not so scared as he seemed.

      “See here, Malvin, obey my orders. I am in command of the River Swallow. Get forward at once and keep a bright lookout. As for you, Harry, I’m more than astonished at your being foolish enough to believe such a pack of children’s stories.”

      As Malvin left the bridge, seemingly with reluctance, Harry spoke up:

      “But, Ralph, look at that green fire! Ugh! it makes me shudder.”

      “Heard of phosphorus, haven’t you?”

      “Y-y-y-yes, but – ”

      “No ‘buts’ about it. Those fellows think that we are just a pack of kids that they can scare by a foolish ghost trick. See, the light is dying out. Well, they’ll find out in a few minutes that their trick didn’t scare us. I’m more convinced than ever now that we have tumbled headlong into a big game of some kind. What it is I can’t imagine, but that fellow Malvin knows more about that boat than we do.”

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