The Young Oarsmen of Lakeview
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“Hang the luck!” howled Peters. “But just wait, Jerry Upton, I’ll get square with you yet.”
He turned away with his friends, and the quartet scooted for the lake, with Jerry, Blumpo, and half a dozen others at their heels.
Wash Crosby’s launch was tied up at a dock, and into this they tumbled. The line was cut, and off they steamed, amid a perfect shower of stones, lumps of dirt, old bottles, and anything that came handy to the Lakeview boys’ reach.
“There, I fancy that’s the end of them,” said Jerry. “I thought they had gone long ago.”
“Da laid for me!” groaned Blumpo. “Wish I dun had a hoss pistol, I would shoot ’em all full of holes!”
Soon the steam launch faded away in the darkness, and a little later found Jerry again on his way home. Of course his folks were proud to think he had won the race.
“My boy, Jerry!” was all Mrs. Upton said, but the way she said it meant a good deal.
It was a week later that the boat club gave a reception, at which Jerry was the lion. He was presented with the silver trophy, and made a neat little speech. There were refreshments and music, and altogether the affair was the most brilliant Lakeview had seen for some time.
Matters moved along slowly for a week after the racing and the reception were over. Jerry worked on the farm, and never was there a more industrious youth.
In the meanwhile Harry Parker made several arrangements for the outing up the lake, in which Jerry and Blumpo were to accompany him.
One day Mr. Upton received a letter from Rockpoint. It was from a friend, and asked if the farmer could send him over at once a load of hay.
“I can’t go very well,” said Mr. Upton. “Supposing you take it over to Mr. Dike, Jerry?”
“I will, sir,” replied Jerry, promptly.
The young oarsman had not been over to Rockpoint since the races, but he thought he could go over and come back without encountering trouble.
The hay was soon loaded on the rick, and then Jerry started off for the other shore. He was compelled to drive nearly to the lower end of the lake to cross on the bridge, consequently it was well on toward the middle of the afternoon when Rockpoint was reached.
He and Mr. Dike put the load in the barn, and after being paid, and partaking of a glass of cold milk and a piece of home-made pie, Jerry, at just six o’clock, started on the return.
It had been a gloomy day, and, consequently, it was already growing dark, although it was midsummer.
But Jerry knew the way well, so he did not mind the darkness. He let the team go their own gait, and took it easy in the rick on a couple of horse blankets.
He was in a sort of day dream, when suddenly, his team was stopped by a couple of boys, who sprang from behind a clump of trees.
The boys wore masks over their faces, and when they spoke, they did their best to disguise their voices.
Jerry sprang up in alarm. At the same time four more boys, also masked, surrounded the hay-rick.
“What’s the meaning of this?” demanded Jerry. “Let go of those horses.”
Instead of replying, the two boys continued to hold the team. The other four leaped into the hay-rick and fell on Jerry. Taken so suddenly, he was at a disadvantage. Hardly could he make a move before one of the boys struck him on the head with a club, dazing him.
Then a rope was brought forth, and Jerry’s hands were tied behind him and he was thrown on the ground.
The boys sent the team on their way, trusting to luck that the horses would find their way home.
“What are you going to do with me?” asked Jerry, when he found himself bound and helpless.
“You’ll soon see, Jerry Upton,” came from the leader, in such a muffled voice that our hero tried in vain to recognize the speaker.
“Make him march!” said another.
“All right, march!”
Into the woods the masked gang hurried Jerry. When he attempted to turn back, they hit him with their sticks and tripped him up.
Finally, when he would go no further, four of the boys picked him up and carried him.
Nearly a quarter of an hour was spent in this manner, and the party reached a little clearing. On three sides were tall trees, and on the fourth a wall of rocks.
“This is the spot,” cried the leader. “Now tie him to a tree and get the stuff out of the cave.”
At once the young oarsman was bound to a tree on the edge of the clearing.
Then two of the boys entered a cave between the rocks.
Soon they came forth with a pot filled with a thick, black liquid and two big pillows.
At once Jerry realized what his captors meant to do. They were going to tar and feather him!
CHAPTER IX.
TAR AND FEATHERS
The prospect was far from pleasant to our hero. In spite of his bravery, he shivered as he saw the gang of masked boys start up a fire over which to heat the tar.
“So you intend to tar and feather me,” he said to the leader.
“You’ve struck it, Jerry Upton.”
“All right, Si Peters, do it, and you shall go to prison, mark my words.”
Jerry had only guessed at the identity of the leader, but he had hit upon the truth.
“Who told you I was” – began Peters, and broke off short. “You’re mistaken,” he went on in his assumed voice.
“I am not mistaken, Si Peters. I know you, and you had best remember what I say.”
“Oh, you’re too fresh, Upton, and we’re going to teach you a lesson,” put in another of the crowd.
“A good coat of tar and feathers is just what your system needs.”
“We’ll paint you up so artistically that even your own mother won’t know you.”
“Not if I can help it,” muttered Jerry, under his breath.
A great mass of wood had been collected, and this gave a roaring fire and also afforded a good light for the workers.
On each side of the fire a notched stick was driven into the ground. A third stick was laid across the top, just beyond the flames. From this upper stick the pot of tar was suspended by an iron chain.
The heat soon began to tell on the tar. As it softened it could be smelled a long distance off.
“How do you like that smell?” asked Peters of Jerry.
“Oh, it’s a good enough smell,” replied our hero, as coolly as he could.
“Never had a dose of tar before, did you?”
“I haven’t had this dose yet.”
“That’s so, but you soon will have.”
“Maybe not.”
“Oh, you can’t escape us.”
“Not much, he can’t,” put in another, and now Jerry felt sure that the speaker was Wash Crosby.
“We’ll talk about that later, Crosby.”
The masked boy started back and denied his identity. But it was plain to see he was much put out.
“I know you, Peters, Crosby, Banner and Graves,” went on Jerry. “And I’ll discover who you other two fellows are before I leave here, too.”
“Fiddlesticks!” shouted one of the boys by the fire who was stirring the tar.
“Is it getting soft?” asked Crosby.
“Yes.”
“Where is the brush?”
“I’ve got it,” spoke up another, and he held up the stump of an old whitewash brush.
“That’s all right.”
At a signal from Peters the crowd of masked boys withdrew to the side of the fire.
Here a long talk followed. It was so low that Jerry could not hear a word.
Peters was making the crowd solemnly promise that they would not inform upon each other, no matter what happened.
“If we stick together, Upton can prove nothing,” he said. “He has no witnesses.”
“Right you are, Si.”
“We want to get square, and this is the chance of our lives to do it.”
“We can give him the tar and feathers and then leave him tied up in such a fashion that he can get free, but not before we have had a chance to make good our escape and get home and to bed.”
“That’s the way to fix it.”
“It will teach Lakeporters a good lesson,” put in one of the unknowns. “My! but ain’t I down on every one of ’em.”
“And so am I!”
“And I!”
“And I!”
In the meanwhile the young oarsman was trying his best to work himself free of his bonds. He felt that unless he escaped he would surely be tarred and feathered.
He tugged at the ropes around his body, and after a hard struggle he managed to free his left arm.
His right arm followed, although this cost him a bad cut on the wrist, from which the blood flowed freely.
But he gave the wound no thought, and in haste began to work at the rope at his waist.
Now that was loosened, only the one around his knees remained.
He looked anxiously toward the fire. The masked boys were still in deep discussion, and not a single eye was directed toward the prisoner.
Oh, for three minutes more time!
He worked with feverish haste.
And now he was practically free!
Si Peters turned and beheld him as he took a step behind the tree, out of the glare of the fire.
“He has got away, fellows!” he shouted. “After him, quick!”
A yell went up, and the crowd rushed forward.
“He mustn’t escape us!”
“We worked too hard to capture him!”
“See, he is limping! The rope is still fastened to one of his legs!”
Like a pack of wolves after a rabbit they came after Jerry.
Our hero did his best to outdistance them, and he would have succeeded had it not been for the rope around one knee, which caught in a tree root and threw him down flat on his face. In another moment the crowd was on top of him.
They showed him no mercy. Si Peters was particularly brutal and kicked Jerry heavily in the side half a dozen times.
“I’ll teach you to crawl away, you sneak!” he cried. “You can’t fool us in this fashion.”
The kicks stunned Jerry and deprived him of his wind. He fought as best he could, but he was no match for six strong boys.
Again he was overpowered. Then the gang dragged him to the side of the roaring camp fire and threw off their masks.
“Now we’ll strip him,” said Wash Crosby. “The tar is all ready and so are the feathers.”
Jerry’s struggles availed him nothing. His coat and vest were literally ripped from his body, and his shirt followed.
“Give me the brush. I want to give him the first dose,” sang out Si Peters.
The old whitewash brush was handed to the leader. Si dipped it deeply into the pot of hot tar, and approached the young oarsman.
“Now, Jerry Upton, we’ll tar and feather you in spite of your threats,” he said.
CHAPTER X.
WHAT TOWSER DID
“Well, by creation! what does this mean?”
The speaker was Mr. Upton, Jerry’s father. He was gazing at the hay-rick, which was coming down the road to the barn at a lively gait.
As the boys who had captured Jerry had thought, the horses had found their way home alone.
Anxiously, Mr. Upton looked around for Jerry, and then he stopped the team and put them up in the barn.
Running into the house he told his wife of the state of affairs. Instantly Mrs. Upton grew alarmed.
“Perhaps they ran away and threw Jerry out!” she cried.
“It ain’t likely they could get away with Jerry,” replied Mr. Upton. “But I allow it is curious.”
A half hour went by, and the farmer determined to start on a hunt for his son. He went off on horseback, and took with him Towser, the farm dog.
Towser was an old and faithful animal, a prime favorite with Jerry, and he trotted along beside the horse as if he knew something was wrong.
“We want to find Jerry, Towser,” said Mr. Upton. “Jerry, Towser, Jerry!”
And the dog wagged his tail as if to say that he understood perfectly.
It was now quite dark. The farmer had brought along a lantern, and this he lit and swung around first on one side of the road and then on the other. As he journeyed along he remembered Jerry’s troubles with the Rockpoint boys.
“Maybe he has had another fight,” he thought. “It was foolish to let him go over there.”
Inside of an hour the other side of the lake was reached, and they struck the lonely road leading into Rockpoint.
As the farmer went on he became more and more sober in mind. He seemed to feel in his mind that something was wrong.
Towser let out a mournful howl.
“Jerry, Towser, Jerry!”
Again the dog howled. Then he came to an unexpected halt and although Farmer Upton went on, the dog refused to budge.
“What is it, Towser?”
For reply the dog started into the bushes, and this at first made the old farmer angry, for he did not understand the dog.
“Come, Towser!” he cried. “We are not after game just now!”
But the dog would not come. He wanted to enter the brush.
At last Mr. Upton went to catch him by the collar, but just as he did so the dog gave a short bark and picked up something from among the bushes.
“Hullo!”
No wonder the old farmer was surprised. The article Towser had discovered was a sling-shot Jerry often carried with him.
“Must have come in here,” mused Farmer Upton.
Then of a sudden he began to examine the ground. It was soft in spots and plainly showed the footmarks of Jerry and the Si Peters’ crowd.
“He’s in trouble!” said the old farmer to himself. “Maybe some tramps have carried him off and robbed him.”
Urging on the faithful dog, Mr. Upton hurried along the path through the woods, leaving the horse tied to a tree.
It was an uneven way, and he stumbled many times. But he did not mind – his one thought was to reach his son and find out the boy’s condition.
Towser ran ahead, howling dismally at every few yards. But the faithful dog did not lose the scent.
Presently, through the bushes, Farmer Upton caught sight of a distant campfire.
“Hist!” he called to Towser. “Go slow, now! Down!”
And the dog obeyed and howled no longer.
A hundred yards more were passed, when a loud cry rent the air.
“Help! help!”
It was Jerry’s voice. Si Peters was in the act of applying the first brushful of tar to his back. Utterly helpless, there was nothing left for Jerry to do but to use his lungs.
“Shut up!” cried Si Peters. “Yell again and I’ll hit you in the mouth with the tar.”
“You are an overgrown coward!” retorted Jerry. “Give me a fair show, and I’ll knock you out in short order.”
And again he called for help.
In a rage, Si Peters started to plaster Jerry’s mouth with the hot tar. But ere the brush could descend, Mr. Upton and Towser burst upon the scene.
“Stop, you young scamps!” roared the old farmer. “At ’em, Towser! Chew ’em up!”
Startled at the unexpected interruption, the rowdies fell back. Then Towser leaped forward and caught Si Peters by his trowsers.
“Save me!” yelled Si, in terror. “The dog is going to chew me up!”
“Good, Towser!” returned Jerry. “Hold him fast!”
And Towser did as bidden.
In the meantime Mr. Upton ran after the boys who had been holding Jerry. He caught two of them, and before they knew it, knocked their heads together so forcibly that they saw stars.
Jerry, delighted at the unexpected turn of affairs, turned upon Wash Crosby. Si Peters had dropped the tar brush, and this Jerry secured.
Bang! whack! Crosby received a blow over the head, and one in the ear, which left a big black streak of tar.
“Oh, don’t! please don’t!” he screamed. “Let up, Jerry! It was only a joke! We weren’t really going to tar and feather you!”
Then the fellow ran for his very life.
During this time Si Peters was trying his best to get away from Towser, who held on with a deathlike grip.
Around and around the campfire the two circled, until Jerry came up.
The youth called off the dog and went at Si in about the same manner as he had treated Wash Crosby.
Si wanted to run for it, and in his hurry rushed through the fire, knocking over the kettle of tar.
The sticky mess emptied itself over his clothing. Then the young oarsman tripped him up, and over he rolled among the loose feathers.
“Now you can see how you like it!” cried Jerry.
And growling and panting for breath, Si Peters ran away after the others.
The Rockpoint rowdies were thoroughly demoralized.
CHAPTER XI.
OFF FOR HERMIT ISLAND
It took Jerry and his father some little time to get back their breath sufficiently to leave the woods and make their way to the road.
“You came in the nick of time, father,” said the lad. “In another five minutes I would have been tarred and feathered.”
“Tell me about the whole affair, son,” said the old farmer; and Jerry did so.
“The good-for-nothing rascals!” cried the old farmer. “If they touch you again I’ll have ’em all up before the squire.”
“That won’t help us, father,” replied Jerry. “They are rich, you know. They would get off somehow.”
“Then I’ll take it out of their hides.”
Mr. Upton told how Towser had led the way into the woods. Jerry had always loved the farm dog, but now he thought more of him than ever.
“Good boy,” he said. “You shall go with us when we take our outing – that is, if father will let you go.”
“Yes, Jerry, take him along. He may help you out of some more trouble,” replied Mr. Upton.
It was rather late when they arrived home. Mrs. Upton was shocked to learn of what had occurred, but glad to learn that Jerry had escaped his enemies.
The next day the young oarsman told Harry Parker and the other boys of his adventure. Harry was very indignant.
“Those Rockpoint boys ought to be driven out of the state.”
“I dun racken I’ll carry my hoss pistol after dis,” said Blumpo. “Da don’t cotch dis chile for to tar and feather him!”
A week later Jerry, Harry, and Blumpo started up the lake on a ten days’ outing.
They were in Harry’s largest row-boat, the one that had a sail, and carried with them a tent and a good stock of ammunition. Jerry and Harry were armed with guns, and Blumpo carried his “hoss pistol” and a rusty spear.
They were bound for Hermit Island, a wild but beautiful patch of land situated almost at the end of Otasco Lake. The island was so called because it was said by some that the place was inhabited by an old hermit who lived in a cave and never showed himself to visitors.
Some did not believe this story, for try as hard as they could, they had never been able to locate the strange creature, who was said to have a white beard to his waist, and white hair equally long.
The day that the trio started away was a fine one, and the boys were in excellent spirits.
“I trust we have no more squalls,” remarked Harry, as they glided along, the sail set and the oars out.
“No storm to-day,” returned Jerry. “We are going to have at least three or four days of fine weather.”
“Say, I wondah if I could shoot a bar wid dis yere gun,” put in Blumpo, as he held up his pistol.
“You might if you threw the pistol at the bear when you pulled the trigger,” laughed Jerry. “Sure as you are born, Blumpo, that pistol will go to pieces if you try to fire it.”
“Den I’ll fire it dis way,” replied the homeless youth, and swung the weapon as if to heave it away.
An hour passed, during which the boys laid their plans for a camp and talked over what they would do.
“I hope we have good hunting and fishing,” said Jerry.
“So do I,” returned Harry. “And I likewise hope we find the hermit, if there really is such a creature.”
“Maybe he won’t want us on his island,” put in Blumpo. “He may be an ugly feller.”
“We’ll risk it, Blumpo.”
“I ain’t in fer stirrin’ up no hornets’ nest,” went on the homeless youth. “I jess like ter lay around an’ take it easy under de trees – a-listening to – ”
“‘The tumble bugs tumbling around,’ as the song says,” laughed Jerry. “Blumpo, you must get more ambition in you. Come, row up lively. It’s a good long distance to the island, and we must make it before sundown.”
All three braced up, and the big boat went forward at an increased rate of speed.
“Hullo!” cried Harry, presently. “Jerry, doesn’t that look like Si Peters’ yacht?”
And Harry pointed over to the west shore of the lake, where a craft had just emerged from behind a small headland.
“It is the Peters’ yacht, sure enough,” replied Jerry, after studying the craft.
“If she cums dis way, we’ll hab lively times,” remarked Blumpo.
“That’s true, Blumpo. Come, maybe we can get away from her.”
The boys kept steadily on their course, and for a long time those on the yacht seemed to pay no attention to them.
But after awhile the big boat put on another tack, and fifteen minutes later it was within hailing distance. Then they saw that Si Peters and Crosby were in posession. They had with them five other Rockpoint lads, including Banner and Graves.
“Hi, you fellows, stop rowing!” yelled Peters at the top of his voice.
“Mind your own business, Si Peters,” retorted Harry.
“You won’t stop?”
“No. Leave us alone.”
“We want you to give up Jerry Upton.”
“Give him up?”
“Exactly. Come up alongside and let him jump on board of the yacht.”
“That’s as cool as a cake of ice!” cried Jerry. “You want everything, don’t you?”
“We are going to get square with you, Jerry Upton!” put in Wash Crosby.
“Let us pull away as fast as we can,” whispered Harry. “Those chaps mean trouble.”
“Dat’s de talk,” said Blumpo, who was the worst scared of the three.
They bent to their oars, and soon moved off a hundred feet or more.
Then Si Peters ran out to the jib of the yacht.
“Stop!” he commanded. “Pull another yard and you’ll be sorry for it.”
“We’ll risk it,” replied Jerry.
“We’ll run you down!”
“You won’t dare!” yelled Harry, in alarm.
“Won’t we? Just see if we won’t!”
At once Si Peters gave some directions to Wash Crosby, who was at the wheel. The course of the yacht was slightly changed, and now the craft was headed directly for the boat containing our friends.
“Anudder smash-up, shuah as you’re born!” groaned Blumpo, and he prepared to leap into the lake.
“Stay where you are!” ordered Jerry. “I’ll check their little game.”
Reaching into a locker, the young oarsman brought out his gun. Leaping on one of the seats, he pointed the weapon at Si Peters’ head.
“Sheer off!” he cried. “Sheer off, or I’ll fire on you!”
CHAPTER XII.
AN ATTACK IN THE DARK
Si Peters was nearly dumfounded at the unexpected turn affairs had taken. The bully at once gave the necessary directions, and the yacht passed to windward of the other boat.
“A good idea, Jerry!” exclaimed Harry. “That will make them steer clear of us for good, I reckon.”
“If they haven’t got guns of their own, Harry.”
The boys on the yacht were evidently much crestfallen. They had hoped to get Jerry in their power, but that plan was defeated. They dropped behind several hiding places, and again headed for the big row-boat.
But once more Jerry outwitted them. Calling to Blumpo to steady the temporary mast, he climbed to the top, his gun slung over his shoulder.
From this elevated point he was able to sweep the yacht’s deck from stem to stern.
“Now turn about, or I’ll fire on you, as sure as fate!” he ordered.
“You think you are smart, don’t you,” sneered Wash Crosby.
“I’m too smart for your crowd,” retorted Jerry.
“We can fire as well as you,” put in Graves.
“If you had a gun, which you haven’t,” retorted Jerry.
The boys on the yacht growled among themselves, but could do nothing. Wash Crosby tried to throw a piece of iron on the row-boat, but it fell short. Then Harry retaliated by shooting through the yacht’s main-sail.
Seeing the boys on the big row-boat meant business, Si Peters and his crowd withdrew from the encounter.
As soon as they were gone, Jerry came down from his perch, and off they started once more for the island.
The yacht sailed so far off they thought they were no longer observed.
But in this they were mistaken for Si Peters had a field glass with him.
This glass was now brought into play, and Peters’ crowd kept track of Jerry and the others until the vicinity of Hermit Island was reached.
“Going to camp there,” said Wash Crosby.
“It ought to give us a fine chance to get square,” replied Si Peters, and the crowd began to plot against our hero and his friends.
But in the meantime the big row-boat disappeared behind the bushes which fringed a narrow inlet, and, try their best, those on the yacht could not locate it again.
“Never mind, we’ll come up some other day,” said Si Peters. “It’s getting too late to do anything now.”