Part 8 (1/2)
Bang! crack! bang! went three pistols in rapid succession, and as the reports died away the bob cat fell in a heap on the bottom of the launch, snarling viciously. Then Dandy, still exhausted from his fight in the water, leaped on the beast and held it down while Tom finished it with a bullet in the ear.
”Is it dead?” asked Songbird, after a painful silence.
”I guess so. Light a match, somebody.”
Several matches were lit and then an old oil lantern which chanced to be on board. The bob cat was indeed dead and near it lay the dog, with a deep scratch in its foreshoulder.
”n.o.ble Dandy, you did what you could,” said Harold Bird, affectionately.
Very gingerly Tom and d.i.c.k picked up the carca.s.s of the bob cat and threw it overboard. By this time the launch had drifted a good fifty feet from sh.o.r.e, and there they anch.o.r.ed.
”Keep that lantern lit,” said Fred. ”I can't stand the darkness after such doings!”
”If those thieves are around they must have heard the shots,” said Sam. ”So a light won't make much difference.”
”I am going to examine the gas lamp,” said the young Southerner, and did so. A bit of dirt had gotten into the feed pipe of the lamp, and when this was cleaned out with a thin wire the light worked as well as ever.
It was some time after the excitement before any of the crowd could get to sleep again. Then Hans got a nightmare and yelled ”Bop cats!
fire! murder!” and other things as loudly as he could, and that put further rest out of the question, and all waited anxiously for the coming of morning.
CHAPTER VII
THE HOUSEBOAT IN THE BUSHES
With the coming of morning the mist cleared away as if by magic, and soon the warm suns.h.i.+ne put all on board of the gasoline launch in better spirits.
”How is the dog?” questioned d.i.c.k, of the owner of the canine.
”He has been pretty well mauled up, but I think he'll come around with proper attention,” answered the young Southerner. ”He is a valuable animal--valuable to me because he was a pet of my father--and I'd hate to lose him.”
All were hungry and ate their morning lunch with considerable satisfaction, was.h.i.+ng it down with some coffee made on a small oil stove that had been brought along.
”Well, I don't see anything of the houseboat,” announced d.i.c.k, as he stood on a seat and took a long and careful look around. ”Not a craft or a building of any kind in sight.”
”Some negroes used to live on the north sh.o.r.e of the lake,” said Harold Bird, ”but the floods last year made them vacate in a hurry.”
It was decided to move around the sh.o.r.e of the lake slowly, scanning every cove and inlet with care. That the houseboat was hidden somewhere on that expanse of water none of the party had any doubt.
”You could take quite a trip in this launch,” said Sam to Harold Bird, as they moved along. ”The more I see of the craft the better I like her. May I ask what she is worth?”
”I gave two thousand dollars for her. I bought her in New Orleans and brought her up the river myself. The folks around here don't know much about gasoline launches, but I think she's as nice a craft as anybody would wish.”
”How much water does she draw?”
”Only two and a half feet when loaded down--so you see we can get over some pretty shallow spots, if it is necessary.”
They were moving along a scantily-wooded stretch of sh.o.r.e when Tom let out a short cry:
”Stop!”