CHAPTER XI ALONE ON THE LAKE

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The four boys huddled together near the stern of the swiftly moving motor-boat. For a few minutes silence rested over the group. They were aghast at the turn of events and all were alike fearful of the consequences of their appropriation of the Gadabout, although no one acknowledged his fears.

George was the first to break the silence, when, leaning toward his friends he said in a whisper, “He’s veering off to the left now. Do you see what he’s doing?”

“So we are,” replied John after the boys had carefully looked ahead. “That must mean that we are headed for the Canadian shore somewhere.”

“I don’t know where we are headed,” said Grant, “but we’re going to get there pretty soon. I wish I knew what the trouble is.”

“You don’t suppose Mr. Button is crazy, do you?” suggested Fred.

“I don’t know,” replied Grant soberly. “Most of the people that have his name are candidates for insane asylums.”

“You are safe in making that remark now,” retorted Fred. “I shan’t forget it, however. You wait until we go back to Mackinac—”

“I’m afraid if you wait until then,” broke in George, “you’ll forget all about his kind words. You don’t suppose this fellow is really crazy, do you? He acts like a man beside himself.”

“That’s as true as you live,” said John in a whisper. “I’m wondering if we ought not to jump on him all together and take the wheel away from him.”

“They say a crazy man is ten times as strong as a man who isn’t crazy,” suggested Fred. “I don’t believe we had better attempt that, yet awhile, anyway.”

“What’s become of his man?” inquired Grant abruptly. “He isn’t on the boat.”

“That’s right,” responded the boys all together, after they had glanced all about the boat, as if they were expecting to discover the guide whom Mr. Ferdinand Button had taken with him when the party had set out from Mackinac Island.

“We’re four to one anyway,” said John. “I’m not in any hurry yet to try to do anything violent, but if the worst comes we ought to be able to handle him. There’s a fellow for each foot and each hand and between us we ought to be able to take care of him.”

Meanwhile the swift little Gadabout was speeding forward, as if it was governed by a spirit of its own. The water rushed past the stern, boiling and singing on its way. The eyes of the boys, more accustomed now to the dimness of the light, saw no objects in whichever direction they glanced over the dark waters. And the speed of the motor-boat was unchecked.

Still the Gadabout swept forward in its course. Not once did Mr. Ferdinand Button give any token to indicate that he was even aware of the presence of the boys on board the boat. He had not once glanced behind him and if he was looking steadily ahead, the boys, who frequently glanced in that direction, were unable to discover any object toward which he was guiding his course.

Silence fell upon the little group seated in the stern of the motor-boat, and the depression which rested upon all alike seemed to deepen with the passing moments.

Suddenly the speed of the Gadabout slackened. A moment later the engine ceased to go and although the motor-boat was still moving swiftly forward it was doing so because of the headway under which it had been speeding.

Instantly every boy leaped to his feet and stared blankly into the faces of his companions. In spite of the dimness of the light the alarm which every one felt was manifest and for a moment there was silence deep and intense.

“What’s that?” demanded Fred, who was the first to speak.

“I give it up,” replied John. “There’s something happened.”

“You talk like a philosopher,” said George impatiently. “As if we didn’t know that! What’s wrong, Mr. Button?” he added in louder tones.

“I’m not sure,” replied Mr. Button, who now turned and joined the boys. “I cannot quite make out whether our gasoline has given out or whether a blade in our propeller is broken.”

“If our gasoline is gone,” said Grant, “we’re likely to be out here on the lake for some time.”

“Yes, and if a storm comes up,” added Fred, “we’re going to have troubles of our own.”

“Don’t begin to borrow troubles,” said Mr. Button in a tone of irritation. “They may come, but it will be time enough to face them when we have to.”

“But what are we going to do?” demanded Fred.

“I’m going to have one of you boys get into the skiff with me and I’m going to try to find out if anything is the matter with the blades.”

“I’ll find out,” said George, “what the supply of gasoline is.”

Taking his place on board the skiff, which was in tow, John seized the oars while Mr. Button seated himself in the bow.

In a brief time the motor-boat was motionless and then pushing the bow of the skiff against the stern of the Gadabout, Mr. Button, who had taken off his coat, rolled back his sleeves and began to investigate the condition of the blades.

“There,” he said abruptly, “it is what I feared. There’s something wrong there.”

“What can we do?” inquired John.

“I don’t think we can do anything until it is light.”

“Then we’ll just drift about over the lake.”

“That’s it exactly.”

“But suppose a storm comes up?”

“But suppose it doesn’t? There isn’t anything we can do to bring it on or to keep it away. We’ll have to take things as they come.”

“It will be a hard job for the Go Ahead Boys to hang out here all night. We aren’t used to that.”

“It will be a good time to learn it,” replied Mr. Button dryly, as pulling himself alongside the motor-boat he directed his companion to step on board, an example which he himself followed a moment later.

“The gasoline is out,” said George.

“Are you sure?” inquired Mr. Button quickly.

“Yes, sir. I am sure.”

“Then we’re in a worse plight than I thought we were,” said Mr. Button, “for there’s something wrong with the blades.”

“I guess it won’t make any difference whether the blades are right or wrong, if there’s no gasoline to drive the engine,” said Fred disconsolately.

“We cannot do anything but wait,” said Mr. Button. “The morning will be here before long.”

“And so won’t breakfast,” said Grant dolefully.

“We’ll have no trouble,” explained Mr. Button, “just as soon as it is light. Somebody will be out here fishing and we’ll get help.”

“But we don’t want to wait until morning,” protested Fred.

“If you really don’t want to wait,” said Mr. Button, “then the only thing you can do is for two of you to take the skiff and row ashore.”

“We might get lost,” suggested Fred.

“Yes, so you might,” acknowledged Mr. Button. “I was following a suggestion, that’s all. It’s the only thing which can be done that occurs to me.”

“I don’t think the suggestion is so bad,” said Fred. “We can keep within hailing distance of the Gadabout and it may be that we shall find some other boat nearby, or it may be that we are not very far from the shore.”

“I know we are not very far from the shore,” declared Mr. Button, “but it isn’t the shore of the mainland.”

“What is it?” demanded George.

“Western Duck Island. I’m sure we cannot be far away from it. Now, if two of you boys want to take the skiff and make some investigations I don’t think there will be any special danger. Don’t go too far away, though your whistle or your voices will carry a long distance over the water.”

“I’m one of the Go Ahead Boys, and I’m for trying it,” said Fred sturdily.

“And I’m with you,” said John.

A moment afterward both boys stepped on board the skiff and with John at the oars and Fred seated in the stern, they speedily left the Gadabout behind them.

“Don’t go very far away,” called George warningly.

“You’re right, we won’t,” called back John, and then silence rested over the waters of Lake Huron.

“We had better row in a circle,” suggested Fred. “I’m the captain of this expedition and I want you to follow my directions.”

“All right, sir,” responded John glibly, “but the main thing is to keep a sharp outlook for a boat coming or going, or for any light that we may see on the shore.”

For a time John rowed forward in silence. Both boys were keenly observant, but they were unable to discover any trace of the shore, nor were any lights of passing vessels seen on the water.

“I think we have gone about far enough,” suggested Fred, when a half-hour or more had elapsed.

“So do I,” answered John.

“Better let me row back,” said Fred.

“That’s all right, too,” responded John.

The boys exchanged places and Fred rowed more rapidly on their return than his companion had done on their advance.

Several minutes elapsed and then John said in a low voice, “It’s strange we don’t see anything of the Gadabout. I thought that we were headed right for it.”

“So did I,” answered Fred. “We had better call.”

John placed his hands about his mouth and shouted: “Ahoy, there! Is this the Gadabout?”

He repeated his hail several times, but as no answering shout was heard, he again hailed the invisible motor-boat.

Still no response was given to his call.

“Maybe we had better shout together. Two can make more noise than one,” suggested Fred, rising from his seat as he spoke. “Now, then,” he added, “when I say three, let’s yell together.”

But though the boys united a half-dozen times in their shouts, the silence of the night was still unbroken and no signs of the presence of the Gadabout were seen.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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