CHAPTER VII

IN DANGER

Jerry, Ned and Bob were gazing straight into the faces of Bill Berry and Noddy Nixon. The two cronies, in turn, returned the stare, and to our friends it seemed as if there was an insolent look on Noddy’s face--a sort of half smile of triumph, as if he had divined their plans, and was going to try to frustrate them.

“Mind your wheel!” suddenly called Ned sharply to the tall steersman. “There’s a rock just ahead of you, Jerry!”

“That’s so, I forgot about that,” and Jerry twisted the rudder about so that the _Dartaway_ swung toward the middle of the stream, missing the rock by a narrow margin.

“Too close for comfort,” murmured Bob.

“That’s right,” agreed Jerry. “I don’t know why I should have stared so at Noddy.”

“It looks as if he and Bill came out on purpose to see us off,” commented Ned, as the motor boat rapidly opened up a gap between herself and the rowing craft. “I wonder if he heard what Andy said about Pittsburg?”

“I’m afraid so,” said the tall lad. “Sounds carry very clearly over the water, you know, and Andy has rather a loud voice. Well, it can’t be helped, and I suppose the only thing for us to do is to be on our guard.”

“That’s all,” agreed Ned, and by this time they had gone around a bend, losing sight of the rowboat, and the dock from which they had started. The last glimpse they had of Andy Rush was when that excitable chap was dancing up and down, waving his hands to them, and doubtless letting off all sorts of explosive expressions.

Professor Snodgrass, during this episode, had taken no part in the conversation, remaining quietly in his place, scanning the water for a glimpse of some rare aquatic insect. At times he would dip into the river a small net he carried, and, bringing it up filled with mosquito wrigglers, or other forms of life, he would gravely examine his catch through a magnifying glass.

“Ah, here is a rare one!” he would occasionally cry. “A triple-jointed worm. But I don’t understand how it got into the water, as it is a form of land life. This is very puzzling. I must make notes on this. Perhaps the worm, having lived on land all its life, is going to become aquatic in his habits, as the whale did centuries ago. It is very strange.”

“Let’s see the worm, Professor?” requested Ned, when he had adjusted the motor to work smoothly, and while Jerry was steering in and out to avoid floating logs.

“There it is,” said the scientist, lifting the specimen out of one of the glass-topped boxes. “A beautiful creature! Most perfect! And yet I cannot account for it being in the water. I shall devote a good deal of space in my new book to this find. Perhaps I am the first to discover it, and, if so, I shall be made an honorary member of the Society for Advanced Scientific Research. A most beautiful and perfect specimen!”

“Why, it’s an angle worm--a fish worm!” cried Bob, as he caught sight of the wriggling creature. “A common, ordinary angle worm!”

“Of course it is,” agreed the professor. “I know that. It is, as you say, an angle worm--_angulus vermis_ it might be called or even _vermis lophius piscatorius_. The first Latin words being merely indicative of angle and worm, while the latter, which I prefer, indicates the curious fish known as the angler, and which is said to catch other fish by angling for them with some attachment to its head, which resembles a baited hook. Of course it’s an angle worm, Bob, but the funny part of it is how did it get in the water?”

“Easily enough,” spoke Ned. “The river is much higher than usual, and I suppose it has overflowed some bank, and washed the poor worms out. I’m afraid, Professor, that you can’t claim to be the discoverer of a new kind of worm.”

“Oh pshaw! I guess you’re right!” exclaimed Uriah Snodgrass in disappointed tones. “That accounts for it. Well, I don’t want the specimen then,” and he tossed it back into the water. There was a little swirl, amid the muddy waves, and something grabbed the floating worm.

“Fish!” cried Bob. “There are lots of fish around here, fellows. I’m going to catch some for dinner.”

“There he goes again!” cried Ned with a laugh. “We’ve just had breakfast, and yet he’s thinking of the next meal. Oh, Bob! You’re hopeless.”

“All right, you don’t have to eat the fish,” retorted the stout lad, as he got out his line and some bait he had thought to bring along. “I’ll catch ’em, and Jerry and I and the professor will eat ’em. You can live on canned sardines.”

“You won’t catch any with the water as high and as muddy as it is to-day,” predicted Ned.

“Just you watch,” was all Bob replied.

He cast in, as Jerry steered the boat, the tall lad having to give his whole attention to it, for the stream was filled with floating débris that had been carried down by the rising water, and it required skill to avoid collisions. But Jerry knew his business, and rarely did a log scrape the _Dartaway_ ever so gently.

Bob went out on the little after-deck to fish, while the professor also took his place there to look for more valuable specimens than angle worms. Ned busied himself about the engine, and got out some packages of food, and the dishes that would be needed for the mid-day meal.

Bob did have pretty good luck fishing, and, when noon came, he had a number of good-sized specimens. In order that Jerry could enjoy his meal without having to eat with one hand and steer with the other, the boat was tied up in a little cove and there Bob proceeded to get dinner on the gasolene stove that was in a small galley off the main cabin.

“Um! But this is good!” murmured the stout lad with his mouth fairly well filled.

“It’s a bad habit for cooks to praise their own broth,” remarked Ned.

“Well, isn’t it good?” demanded Bob.

“Of course it is,” put in Jerry. “It’s a good meal, Chunky, and Ned is only jealous. Don’t mind him.”

“I don’t intend to,” declared the stout lad, helping himself to more fish.

They started off again after dinner, and making good speed, aided by the current of the river, they found themselves that night on a small lake into which the stream emptied. They tied up near shore, and, the collapsible bunks being let down, they retired, after sitting up for a while, talking over the events of the day.

“This sure is sport,” declared Ned, as he pulled the blankets over him, for, while the day was warm it was cool at night on the water.

“It’s the right way to spend a vacation,” agreed Bob.

“And when we get in the auto, and the airship, we’ll have more fun yet,” predicted Jerry. “I’m anxious to get to Snake Island.”

“I hope that place doesn’t get its name from the fact that it’s filled with snakes,” commented Ned, in sleepy tones. “I hate the things.”

“I hope there are a lot of the reptiles,” spoke the professor. “I may be able to get a few specimens. And I certainly do want to get that two-tailed toad.”

“And I want some radium,” added Jerry.

The next day’s trip was without incident, and by night they had crossed the lake to its outlet, down which they expected to proceed for about a hundred miles.

The first part of this trip was delightful, but on the third day it rained hard, and they had to stay cooped up in the cabin, which was not much fun. But the storm could not last forever, and the sun finally came out, to the satisfaction of all.

“Well, we’ll soon have to take a little land journey,” remarked Ned, at the close of the fifth day of their trip.

“How’s that?” asked the professor. “Are you going to desert the boat?”

“No,” spoke Bob, “but by to-morrow noon we’ll come to the end of water travel, for a short space. That is, we’ll need to have the boat hauled over land to the canal that connects with the river by which we will get on the Alleghany. I wrote to a man who is going to move the boat, and he promised to be on hand with a big truck, and some helpers. We’ll run the _Dartaway_ up on the truck, drive over to the canal, and float her again. Then it will be smooth sailing to Pittsburg.”

“And we haven’t seen a sign of Noddy Nixon,” remarked Ned.

“I hope we don’t--the whole trip,” spoke Jerry earnestly.

It was a little before noon when they had gone as far as was practical up the stream on which they were then motoring.

“The dock where the truck is to meet us must be around here somewhere,” said Ned, who was steering.

“There’s a man just ahead, who seems to be waving to us,” put in Jerry.

“That’s the place!” cried the merchant’s son. “Now we’re all right.”

It was no easy work to get the _Dartaway_ out of the water, and upon the truck, but finally it was accomplished by means of tackle and windlass.

“Are you boys going to walk, or ride on the truck to the canal?” asked the teamster, as he gathered up the reins of the four powerful horses.

“Guess we might as well ride,” decided Ned. “We’ll be there as soon as you are then.”

Accordingly the boys climbed up on the truck, and seated themselves in the cabin of their boat. The professor accompanied them, and the men who were to help unload the boat dispersed themselves about the big vehicle.

It was about a two hours’ ride to the canal, with so heavy a load, as part of the distance was up hill. When about half of the journey had been accomplished one of the men discovered that the boat was slipping down toward the end of the truck, and a halt had to be called to shift it forward.

“We don’t want it sliding off, and trying to navigate in the dust!” exclaimed the truckman with a laugh.

Professor Snodgrass grew restless at the delay and finally climbed down off the vehicle, with an insect net.

“I’m going to walk on ahead,” he remarked. “I may be able to catch a few rare bugs. I think I can find the way to the canal all right, in case you don’t overtake me.”

“It’s a straight road,” called Ned, who had provided himself with maps of their journey.

The professor walked on, swinging his net from side to side in an endeavor to catch a butterfly or bug.

“Has he been that way long?” asked one of the men of Jerry, as there came a pause in the work of shifting the boat.

“What way?”

“Cracked, you know. Crazy--bug-house? Does he get violent?”

“Oh!” laughed the tall lad. “He’s not crazy,” and then he explained what a scientist Mr. Snodgrass was.

“Um,” said the man apparently unconvinced. “It does take queer forms, sometimes. I had a cousin who always wanted to sleep with his shoes on. No accounting for their notions. Come on, now, all together! Heave!”

Jerry gave up the attempt to make the man understand, and, a little later, the boat was shifted back to its place, and the journey resumed.

They were almost at the end of it, and were going down a slight hill, when suddenly a dog, running out from a farmhouse, dashed at the off forward horse, and nipped its leg. The frightened animal reared, crowded its mate, and, a moment later, dashed ahead, breaking one of the reins. The next instant the team of four powerful steeds was in a wild gallop down the hill, the truck swaying from side to side in the road, and the motor boat creaking and groaning as it strained at the ropes that held it fast.

“Stop the horses!” yelled one of the men.

“We’ll have a smash-up in another minute if you don’t!” added Bob.

“The boat is slipping back again!” cried Ned. “Jerry--Bob--help hold her on! If she slips off into the road she’ll be smashed!”

The lads braced themselves against their craft to prevent it sliding off. Some of the men helped them, but, in spite of this, the terrific speed of the truck threatened to bring about the danger they were trying to avoid.

“Stop those horses, Bill!” yelled one of the men.

“I can’t!” cried the truckman. “One line is busted, and if I pull on the other I’ll run them into the ditch, and then we _will_ be in a mess. I’ve got to let ’em run it out.”

“They’ll run us into the canal if they keep on much longer!” cried someone.

“Brace, everybody!” gasped Ned, as he felt the boat slipping nearer and nearer to the end of the truck.

“Put on the brakes!” suggested Bob.

“Got ’em on, but that’s all the good it does,” responded the truckman. “I’m afraid we’re goners, boys! Get ready to jump when you see the water. Whoa, there! Whoa!” he called in vain to the horses, who were still madly galloping down the hill.

“I guess it’s all up with the _Dartaway_,” murmured Jerry, as he pressed his shoulder against the craft.