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The High School Boys' Canoe Club, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 13. The Ripley Heir Tries Coaxing |
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_ CHAPTER XIII. THE RIPLEY HEIR TRIES COAXING Fred studied the now distant canoe, then glanced carefully about the camp. He knew that any sign of his presence, observed by Dick & Co., would be sure to result in the swift return of the canoe, with its load of six indignant boys. Nor did young Ripley dare to risk discovery as the perpetrator of the outrage he was now planning. He feared his father's certain wrath. "There are screens of bushes behind which I can operate," Ripley decided. "I am glad of the bushes, for, if I use care, not a living soul can see me. Now, for some swift work." It did not take Ripley long to discover where the boys' food supply was stored. "These fellows act like boobs!" muttered Fred in disgust. "Here they go away and leave everything exposed. If they didn't have an enemy in the world, even then some tramp could come along and clean out the camp. Humph! Two tramps, if they wanted to work for a little while, could carry away all the food there is here. What a lot of poor, penniless muckers Prescott and his friends are!" Again Fred studied the lay of the land, then drew off his coat and flung it aside. "Now, to work!" he said to himself gleefully. First of all, he got the food supplies all together. Most of this stuff was in the form of canned goods. Ripley gathered it up in one big pile. Then he stepped over to the tent, from which, at several points and angles he looked carefully over to the hotel landing float on the other side of Lake Pleasant. "They can't see, from the hotel, whether the tent is down or up," Fred determined. "So here goes!" Opening the largest blade of his pocketknife, Fred cut one of the guy-ropes. He passed around the tent, cutting each one in turn, until the canvas shelter fell over in a white mass. "Won't they be sore, though?" laughed Fred maliciously, as he started to carry off the camp supplies. Gr-r-r-r-r! Gr-r-r-r! Just as Fred was straightening up to start off with his load for a bush-screen near the lake front, Ripley heard that ominous growl. There was also the sound of something moving through the bushes. As Fred turned his face blanched. "Harry Hazelton's bull-dog!" he quivered, now utterly frightened as he caught sight of the gleaming teeth in that ugly muzzle. "I didn't know that they had brought that beast with them. It's the lake for mine! If I can only get into the water I can swim faster than the dog!" All this flashed through his mind in an Instant. Young Ripley started in full flight. Close behind him, bounding savagely, came the bull-dog, Towser! Trip! Fred's foot caught in a root. Crying out in craven fright, Fred Ripley plunged to the ground. There was no time to rise. Towser, growling angrily, was upon him with a bound. Gr-r-r-r-r! Fred, with a shriek, felt the dog's teeth in the back of his shirt. "Get out, you beast!" begged young Ripley in a faint voice. Gr-r-r-r! was all the answer. Plainly the dog liked the taste of that shirt, for he held to it tight. "Get away---please do!" faltered Fred in a broken voice. "Get away. Don't bite. Nice doggie! Nice, nice doggie! Please let go!" Gr-r-r-r-r! But Towser didn't attempt to bite as yet. For a bull-dog, and considering how fully he was master of the field at present, Towser displayed amazing good nature. Only when young Ripley moved did the four-footed policeman of the camp utter that warning growl. "Nice doggie!" coaxed Fred pleadingly. "Good old fellow!" To this bit of rank flattery Towser offered no reply. It began to look as though he would be quite satisfied if only his captive made no effort to get away. "Wouldn't I like to be on my feet, with a shotgun in my hands!" gritted Fred. "Gr-r-r-r," replied Towser, as though he were an excellent reader of human minds. For a few moments Fred lay utterly quiet, save for the trembling that he could not control. During those same moments Towser made himself more comfortable by shifting himself so that he lay with his paws across Fred's left shoulder-blade. His teeth remained firmly fastened in Ripley's shirt. "Now, how long are you going to stay here, you beast?" glared Fred Ripley, though he did not dare emphasize his displeasure by stirring. It was an instance in which his own displeasure amounted to infinitely less than that of the dog. Over at the hotel Dick Prescott was reading this telegram to his chums: "Letter received. Am communicating with other members of Council. Will let you know when I have word. Signed Howgate." "Oh, you'll get your authorization all right," Laura declared cheerily. "It's only a matter of form." Laura did not tell something she knew---to the effect that at her request Dr. Bentley had wired Mr. Howgate, urging that the permission be granted to the boys to race as a high school organization. "May we take you young ladies out in the canoe this morning?" Dick inquired. "Only a few of us, or for very short, trips," Laura replied. "The fact is, we girls are to play hostess to you this noon." "Hostess?" asked Dave, looking puzzled. "Yes; we are going to be your hostesses at luncheon," Laura smiled. "But I thought you girls were going to skip luncheon in favor of the picnic meal to-night." "Wait until you boys see the luncheon," laughed Susie Sharp, "and you'll be sure to think we might as well have skipped that meal. It will be light and shadowy, I promise you. Toast, lettuce salad, moonbeam soup, sprites' cake, feather pudding and ghost fruit." "Won't there be some dog biscuit?" asked Danny Grin hopefully. "You shall have a special plate," Susie promised. So the canoe was hauled up on the float and left there, and a general chat followed. At noon, Dr. Bentley joined the young people, talking with them pleasantly, after which he led the way to the hotel. There, in a little private dining room, the boys met Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Meade. The luncheon was soon after served. It was a dainty meal, though far more elaborate than Susie had led the boys to expect. At the end of the meal a waiter, looking duly solemn, presented at Danny Grin's elbow a plate holding three dog biscuits. "Thank you," said Dan Dalzell politely. "But I shall keep them for future use." Very calmly, notwithstanding Dick's slight frown, Dan placed the biscuit in his coat pockets, though some of the girls found it hard indeed not to giggle. After the meal the party adjourned to the lawn under the shade of some fine old elms. A little later a farm wagon, drawn by a pair of horses, stopped near the group. "Now, you must excuse us, boys," announced Laura, rising with a mysterious air. "We girls have a little errand to perform. We shall be back before half-past four o'clock." "Wouldn't it be better to be back a good deal before that time?" urged Dick. "You see, we can't carry more than three passengers at once, and we are to have eleven guests to ferry across the lake." "Why, didn't I tell you?" asked Laura, looking astonished. "My father said it would be an imposition to ask you boys to make four round trips this afternoon, and as many more to-night, so he has engaged one of the hotel launches to take us over, and to call for us this evening. You don't mind, do you, boys? But we would like to have you here at half-past four o'clock to go across the lake with us." "We'll be here," Dick promised promptly. Six high school boys watched the girls drive off in the farm wagon, waving handkerchiefs and parasols back to the boys. "Two o'clock," remarked Dick, looking at his watch. "Suppose we take a spin up the lake?" "Or go back to camp, to make it more ship shape?" suggested Tom Reade. "What's the use?" inquired Prescott. "We fixed everything as well as we could before leaving there this morning. As to the safety of the camp, Harry's dog, Towser, can be depended upon to look after that." So Dick & Co. headed up the lake in their canoe. _ |
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