“What do you make of them, Kernertok?” Bob asked.

“Heap big tracks. No seen um before.” ([Page 70])

THE GOLDEN BOYS
ALONG
THE RIVER ALLAGASH

By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
Dean of Pennsylvania Military College

Author of
“The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell,” “The Golden Boys at the Fortress,” “The Golden Boys in the Maine Woods,” “The Golden Boys with the Lumber Jacks,” “The Golden Boys on the River Drive,” “The Golden Boys Rescued by Radio.”

A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York

THE
GOLDEN BOYS SERIES

A Series of Stories for Boys 12 to 16 Years of Age
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
Dean of the Pennsylvania Military College

The Golden Boys and Their New Electric Cell The Golden Boys at the Fortress The Golden Boys in the Maine Woods The Golden Boys with the Lumber Jacks The Golden Boys on the River Drive The Golden Boys Rescued by Radio The Golden Boys Along the River Allagash

Copyright, 1923
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
Made in “U. S. A.”

CONTENTS

I. [Mr. Fixit] 3 II. [Jack Investigates a Principle] 18 III. [The Legend of the Umsaskis] 30 IV. [Rex Learns How to Make a Carry] 47 V. [A Cry in the Night] 67 VI. [Rex Disappears] 86 VII. [Rex Encounters Wild Cats] 109 VIII. [A Mysterious Message] 127 IX. [Bob Meets the Enemy] 149 X. [Kernertok Gets His] 175 XI. [Stebbins is Found] 194 XII. [Besieged] 214 XIII. [Kernertok to the Rescue—Conclusion] 233

THE GOLDEN BOYS ALONG THE RIVER ALLAGASH

CHAPTER I.
MR. FIXIT.

“What do you suppose can be the matter with the pesky thing?”

The speaker, a freckled faced boy about eighteen years old looked up from where he was kneeling on the bottom of the boat in front of the engine.

“Search me,” his companion, a tall lanky boy of about the same age, who was sitting in the stern, replied. “Gas’s all right, spark’s all right, everything’s all right and still she won’t go. Can you beat it?”

“And I’ll bet I’ve cranked it enough to run her the length of the lake,” the first speaker declared, wiping the sweat from his face. “It’s the queerest thing. An automobile engine can have a dozen things the matter with it and still run but you can get one of these little dinky marine engines all in perfect order and then it’s ten to one she won’t more than give a kick or two.”

“Reckon that’s just because it’s a motor boat engine,” and the boy in the stern laughed.

“It’s all right to laugh, but suppose you come here and give her a few spins. Mebby it won’t seem quite so funny then.”

“Gladly, Sweet Cherub, and you just watch her go.”

The two boys exchanged places and the lanky one, kneeling in front of the refractory engine was soon spinning the fly wheel while the freckled faced boy sat back and grinned.

“There, she coughed six times. That beats your record by one.”

“Keep it up and you may get her up to seven.”

But six seemed to be the limit of the engine’s willingness and soon he gave it up.

“No use to crank your head off,” he panted as he got to his feet. “She just won’t go that’s all, and—”

The freckled faced boy, who happened to be looking toward the shore, interrupted him:

“There’s Jack Golden on the hotel porch. He can fix about anything that’s fixable. Hello, Jack. Come out here a minute, will you?”

Jack Golden, a sturdy well set up boy of about the same age as the others, glanced up from the paper he was reading, and, seeing who was calling him, ran down the steps.

“Hello, Cherub. What seems to be the main difficulty?” he asked as soon as he reached the end of the pier.

“There’s no ‘seems’ about it. It just won’t go that’s all.”

“Where there’s a result there’s always a reason,” Jack declared as he jumped into the boat. “Sure your gas and spark are all right?”

“Yep, and so’s everything else except that she won’t go.”

“This is a make and break engine isn’t it?”

“Yep, but mostly break,” the lanky boy laughed.

Jack was busy removing a brass plate from the top of the engine which covered the timing gear. He then opened the pet cocks and slowly turned the fly wheel.

“She seems to explode all right, but wait a minute till I get this side plate off so I can see when the pistons are up. There, that’s better. Number one is hitting at just the right time but number two is a trifle too soon,” he declared after turning the engine over a few more times. “That timing arm has been bent a little. Guess we’ll have to take it off and straighten it.”

It took but a minute to take the piece out and with a strong pair of pliers Jack carefully bent the arm very slightly.

“There, now let’s see what she’ll do,” he said as soon as he had replaced the lever.

He gave the wheel a couple of turns and the engine began purring as though it had never had the slightest intention of stopping.

“Well, what do you know about that?” the lanky boy gasped.

“It’s no more than I expected,” the Cherub grinned. “Didn’t I tell you he could fix it if it could be fixed. He’s the original Mr. Fixit around these parts.”

Jack Golden laughed.

“I just happened to hit it right that’s all,” he declared modestly.

“Well, mebby so, but I wish I could happen to hit something like that once in a while. Usually the more I tinker with this old tub the worse she runs. But we’re awfully obliged.”

“You’re very welcome, I’m sure. Any time you get stuck again just call out, but I may not be so lucky next time.”

The two boys unfastened the boat and headed it down the lake after bidding Jack good-bye and again thanking him, and Jack walked slowly back toward the hotel. He had reached the porch steps when the front door opened and his brother Bob stepped out.

“Hello, there, sleepy head. Had your breakfast.”

“Breakfast nothing. But what you been doing?”

“Oh, Cherub’s engine balked again and I fixed it for him. Timing lever was bent.”

“Cherub has more trouble with that old two cylinder of his than Mrs. Murphy had with her pig,” Bob Golden laughed.

“I guess that’s about right. But if you’re ready at last we might as well start for the cottage.”

“Just as soon as I get a couple of pounds of sugar. I won’t be but a minute.”

He was back in but little more than the time stated and the two boys walked out to the end of the pier where their boat, The Sprite, was tied. While Jack was unfastening the rope Bob took from his pocket a brass cylinder about eight inches long which he slipped into place beneath one of the side seats.

“Let her go,” Jack cried from his place in the bow.

Bob touched a small lever and the boat began moving through the water. There was no sound save that of the water as it was thrown from the bows, for the Sprite was equipped with an electric motor instead of a gas engine. The brass cylinder which Bob had taken from his pocket was a powerful storage cell which the two boys had invented.

“I’m glad we don’t have an engine to tinker with half the time,” Bob said as the boat gained speed.

“Oh, it’s not so bad at that,” Jack laughed. “That is when you can get them to go.”

The two boys, Bob and Jack Golden had come up to the lake from their home in Skowhegan the night before intending to go at once to their cottage on the other side of the lake. But a heavy thunder storm, which continued far into the night, had caused them to change their plans and so they had spent the night at the little hotel in the grove.

“There’s the Jenkins boys in their new speed boat,” Jack said when they were a little more than half way across the lake.

“And she’s sure coming. Look at the way she throws the water. She must be making twenty-five.”

“Well, we’ll give her a wide berth. Fred ran into me once and while perhaps he didn’t exactly try to do it I never could believe that he tried very hard not to.”

“He can be pretty mean but I hardly think he’d do a thing like that on purpose.”

“Mebby not. Anyhow we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”

While they were talking the other boat had been coming rapidly toward them and now was only a short distance off.

“Out of the way with that old tub,” a voice called across the intervening space.

“Don’t answer him,” Bob cautioned.

He saw that they intended to cut across their bow so he turned back the switch and the Sprite immediately began to loose headway, and had nearly stopped by the time the other boat was about fifty feet off their port side and as far ahead of them.

Suddenly Jack uttered a cry of surprise for, instead of keeping straight on her course, the speed boat made a turn and the next minute was coming directly for them.

“Back her quick,” he shouted.

Bob at once threw his boat into reverse but too late. The speed boat, still going at high speed, struck the Sprite directly amidships and the light boat went over like an egg shell. Fortunately it was a glancing blow and not a head on collision.

Jack was thrown clear and struck the water sprawling. His first thought was of Bob. Had he gotten clear? As he shook the water from his eyes he saw the Sprite, about ten feet away, settling rapidly and before he could reach her she was gone. But where was Bob? Not a thing was in sight where the boat had gone down. For an instant he trod water and gazed about him. Then, taking a long breath, he dove.

The water was very clear and he had no difficulty in seeing the Sprite as she lay in about twenty feet of water. Then, just as he reached the boat, he saw that for which he was searching. Bob lay just back of the stern and Jack could see that his foot was caught in the tiller rope. He was making no effort to free himself and the thought flashed through the boy’s mind that he must have been stunned.

In a frenzy of fear he tugged at the rope. Would it never yield? If he only had time to get his knife out but he did not dare attempt it. Already his lungs seemed nearly at the point of bursting. With a prayer in his heart he gave a final desperate pull and the foot was free. He had just strength enough left to give a kick against the bottom of the lake as he grabbed his brother in his arms. In spite of his weakness it was a good strong kick and they shot rapidly upward although, as Jack afterward said, it seemed about a week before his head popped out of the water. Eagerly the boy drank the life-giving air into his lungs all the while making a desperate effort to keep his brother’s head above water. He knew that Bob was still unconscious and the thought that he might be dead nearly overcame him. But, as he realized that their safety depended upon his not losing his head, he forced himself to keep calm. But it was hard work supporting that dead weight and he was tiring rapidly.

“We’ll have you in a minute,” he heard the voice as from a great distance but almost instantly he felt the weight taken from him and he was being dragged into a boat.

“Bob,” he gasped.

But Bob had already opened his eyes.

“I—I’m alright,” he said faintly. “Where’s Jack?”

“Right here, old man,” he whispered, the joy at knowing that his brother was alive doing much to restore his strength. It was some minutes, however before he got to his feet. He noticed that both Will and Fred Jenkins seemed very ill-at-ease and the latter was as pale as his tanned skin would permit.

“What was the idea?” he asked as he got slowly to his feet.

For a moment neither boy answered. Then Fred, after a glance at his brother, said:

“Tiller rope caught.”

“That’s the excuse you made the last time,” Jack said sternly. “Can’t you think of a better one?” Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned to Bob.

“Sure you’re all right, old man?”

“Head feels pretty wobbly, but I’m still worth a dozen dead men,” the boy smiled as he looked into his brother’s face.

“Shall we take you up to your cottage or back to the grove?” Will Jenkins asked.

“Cottage,” Jack replied shortly.

No other word was spoken until they reached the little pier in front of the Golden cottage, then Will Jenkins said:

“I don’t suppose it’s any use to say anything but what Fred said was the truth. We intended to cross your bow the tiller rope stuck and before we knew it the boat had struck. If you had backed a bit it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Why didn’t you go straight ahead instead of turning?” Bob asked.

“Why—er we were heading down for the grove and turned a bit too far.”

“I’ll say you did,” Jack said dryly.

“Well, we’re sorry.”

“So are we, but that doesn’t raise our boat.”

“I suppose not.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

For a moment Will and Fred whispered together.

“We think you were as much to blame as we were for not backing up when you saw us coming,” Will finally said.

“Can you beat it?” Jack whispered.

“All right. We’ll let it go at that,” Bob said as he turned toward the cottage closely followed by Jack.

Neither Will or Fred made any further statement, but at once started up their boat and, after making a broad turn, headed down the lake.

“Guess you saved my life for sure that time, son,” Bob said as he threw his arm about his brother’s neck.

“Thank God I had the strength to do it. I tell you it was nip and tuck for a minute,” and he told Bob how he had found him. “But what happened to you?”

“Search me. I remember seeing that boat bearing down on us and thinking that she might hit us and then something hit me on the head and, and that was all.”

“Guess you must have banged your head against the stern of the boat as she went over.”

“More than likely.”

The boys lost no more time in getting off their wet clothes.

“Let’s put on our bathing togs and then after we rest up a bit we’ll take the row boat and see if we can find her,” Bob suggested.

“Think you’re equal to it to-day?”

“Sure. I’m all right except for a slight headache and that’s going away fast.”

“Think they meant to do it?” Jack asked a little later as they lay in a hammock on the porch.

“I’d hate to think so.”

“I too, but that excuse about the tiller rope catching is worn a bit threadbare.”

“Yes, I don’t believe a word of that. I rather think that they intended to see how near they could come to us without hitting and shaved it too close.”

“They shaved it close all right. Suppose we can make them pay for our boat?”

“I doubt it. You see their word will be as good as ours and I don’t think anyone else saw it. No, I guess we’ll have to just take our medicine and let it go at that. We’ve done it before.”

“I’ll say we have, but, believe me, once more will be too many.”

“Well, we’ll hope it won’t happen again.”

“It better hadn’t.”

For an hour the two boys talked about the accident and wondered how badly their boat was injured.

“Wait till I get the water glass and a buoy to mark the place and I’ll be with you,” Jack said as he swung himself out of the hammock.

“Must have been about here don’t you think,” he asked a little later as he rested on his oars.

“I should say so. I happen to remember that we were right out from that clump of cedars before they hit us but I’m rather hazy as to how far out.”

“You take the glass and I’ll row around.”

The water glass was simply a wooden box about two feet long and four inches square, one end being closed water tight with a piece of glass. By putting the glassed end in the water and looking down through the other the bottom of the lake could be easily seen.

It is extremely difficult to locate an exact point on a body of water and it was all of an hour before Bob announced that he had it. They anchored the boat at once.

“I’ll go down and see how she looks,” Jack said as he stood up in the boat.

He disappeared beneath the surface making hardly a ripple. Bob waited until he began to get anxious.

“Thought you’d decided to take up a permanent residence down there,” he said as Jack’s head finally popped above the surface.

“Not yet,” Jack laughed as he climbed over the side of the row boat.

“How’d you find her?”

“Outside of a little paint rubbed off where she was hit I don’t believe she’s hurt a bit.”

“That’s good news.”

“But do you suppose we can get her up?”

“We ought to be able to. She’s not very heavy you know.”

“Not so heavy as she would be if she had a gas engine in her.”

They anchored the buoy with a heavy rock which they had brought with them and then started back for the cottage.

“Let’s get something to eat and then we’ll call a meeting of the committee on ways and means,” Bob suggested as he tied the boat up to the wharf.

“I’m voting yes on both counts,” Jack laughed as he followed his brother up the path to the cottage.

A little less than an hour later, the dishes having been washed and put away, Bob called the meeting to order on the porch and announced that the chair was open to suggestions.

“Suppose the chair makes one,” Jack retorted.

“Well, I’ve been thinking of a way that might work and then again it might not. It’s merely a question of gravity. Archimedes’ Principle, you know.”

“Never mind Archi. and his principle. Just explain what you’ve got in mind.”

“All right. As you said awhile ago that boat is pretty light for one of its size and I believe that if we take a couple or perhaps three of those barrels that are under our pier and fasten them to her she’d come up. What do you think?”

“I guess she’d come up all right but how are you going to get the barrels down to her? It seems to me that part is going to be where the difficulty will lie.”

“I’d thought of that of course.”

“I’m glad of that. I thought perhaps you had an idea that they’d go down on your personal invitation.”

“Hardly. Remember Archimed—”

But that was as far he got.

“All right. I won’t forget him. But how are you going to get ’em down? They’re pretty buoyant you know.”

“I know but if we hang enough stones to them they’ll have to go down sooner or later. Oh, I know it’s going to be some job, and if you can think of a better way I’ll be glad to adopt it,” he hastened to add as he noticed the look of doubt on Jack’s face.

“It isn’t that, but have you any idea how much weight it will take to sink one of those barrels?”

“Around three hundred pounds I should judge.”

“That would be six hundred for the two and nine hundred if we have to use three.”

“Yes, and six thousand if we have to use twenty.” Bob laughed. “Your arithmetic is all right. But honestly, Jack, it isn’t going to be such an awful job as you seem to think. We can easily take three hundred pounds of stone and one of the barrels in the boat at a time and that means only two or at the most three trips. If we start in early in the morning I believe we can have the boat here at the wharf by noon. What do you say?”

“I say yes of course. I only wanted to be sure that you know what you were doing.”

CHAPTER II.
JACK INVESTIGATES A PRINCIPLE.

“Now my idea is to take short pieces of rope and to tie as large a rock as we can handle to each of them. Then we can hang them over the barrel until she begins to sink.”

“But won’t they slip off?” Jack asked.

“Not if we put a nail through the rope.”

It was nearly six o’clock the morning after the accident. The boys had already had breakfast and had gotten two of the barrels out from under the floating pier.

“How are you going to hitch the barrels to the boat after you get them down there?” Jack asked.

“A very important question, son. I thought we could find some kind of a hook which we could fasten to the barrel and then we got them down all we’d have to do would be to slip one under the top of the bow and the other the same way at the stern.”

“No good,” Jack shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Son, I’m surprised at your ignorance. You’d better go dig up Archi. and ask him about his principle.

“But I don’t see why—”

“Of course you don’t and that’s the reason I’m so surprised.”

“Well, when you get ready perhaps you will enlighten me.”

“Certainly. But first let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“When you stick your finger in the water and pull it out does it leave a hole?”

“Well that’s a question that would admit of considerable argument from a theoretical point of view but I think we can safely agree that the hole, if there was a hole, would not remain for an indefinite period of time.”

“Whew, that never touched me. Did you mean that it wouldn’t leave a hole?”

“I guess that was the main idea.”

“All right then. Now that that is settled perhaps you will tell me how you intend to bail the water out of the Sprite while she is still under water. As you have planned it she will still be a foot or more below the surface after the barrels have brought her up.”

“Well, I am dumb for a fact. Honestly, Jack, I hadn’t thought of that. It’s a case of being up and down at the same time. Well, that means that we will either have to fasten them lower down or else tow the whole shooting match into shore after we get her up. What do you say?”

“Well, of course if we could get the barrels under the boat that would solve the problem but I don’t see how we could do it. No, I guess the best bet is to tow her in.”

“I think so myself. Now suppose you be looking for some stones while I run down to the boat house and see what I can do about a couple of hooks.”

“And don’t forget to bring up the rope.”

Bob was back in the course of half an hour having found two hooks which went with a hoisting tackle and found that Jack had collected a sufficiently large number of rocks most of them being about all he wanted to lift.

“Now we’ll get them aboard and be off,” he said.

Thanks to the buoy they had no trouble in finding the place where the Sprite lay and after an hour’s hard work they had the pleasure of seeing the barrel disappear beneath the surface, directly over the bow of the boat.

“Now we’ll get the other one,” Bob said as he started to row back up the lake.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Jack declared. “If only that barrel landed on the bow.”

“It won’t be hard to lift it if it didn’t,” Bob assured him. “You see we put on just barely enough rocks to sink it so it’ll be light in the water.”

By nine o’clock the other barrel was down at the stern.

“Let’s hook the one on the bow first,” Bob proposed as he stood ready for the dive.

“Right. Got your knife?”

“Sure thing.”

“Then come on.”

They struck the water together and swam swiftly for the bottom. To their great satisfaction they found that the first barrel had settled in exactly the right place on the bow and they had no trouble in slipping the hook into a ring. Then, with their knives they cut the ropes which held the rocks.

“Did you notice whether she lifted any?” Bob asked as he was climbing into the boat. “I didn’t have time to see.”

“I did. She came up a foot or two.”

“Good. Then she’ll come up when we get the other one hooked on.”

“I guess so. But we’re going to have a harder time with that other one.”

“How come?”

“I noticed going down that it was two or three feet behind the stern, that means that we’ll have to lift it on.”

“Well, I guess we can do it.”

They waited until they were thoroughly rested and then again dove for the bottom. As Jack had said the second barrel was resting behind the stern. But, as Bob said, it was not hard to lift in the water and they had little trouble in getting it onto the stern before having to come up for air.

“I told you we could do it,” Bob panted as he stretched out on the bottom of the boat.

“There’s no ring at the stern to hook into,” Jack reminded him.

“That’s so.”

“Suppose we can hook into the tiller post?”

“Don’t see why not?”

But it was harder than they thought as they had considerable trouble in making the hook reach and they were obliged to come to the surface without cutting the ropes.

“One more whack at it and she’ll come up,” Bob declared after he had regained his breath.

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps nothing. She’s got to.”

“Well, here’s hoping.”

“I’ll go down and cut the ropes. There’s only two of them,” Bob said as soon as he was rested.

“Now watch her come up,” he said a moment later as his head bobbed above the water.

But to their great disappointment nothing appeared. They waited several minutes, expecting to see the barrels emerge but no barrels came.

“Guess Archi. has fallen down on this job,” Jack said after some five minutes had clasped.

“Looks like it.”

“What’s next then?”

“Have to get another barrel, I guess.”

“I’m going down and have a look first,” and Jack disappeared over the side of the boat.

Bob waited until he was beginning to be anxious before Jack reappeared.

“Rudder’s caught between two rocks,” he said as soon as he could speak. “That’s what’s holding her. She must have gone down kinder sideways and then righted a bit. Anyhow the rudder is pinched so that I couldn’t budge it.”

“Are the rocks big?”

“Too big to move, I’m afraid, but we’ll try it together.”

But their united strength was not enough to accomplish the task. The rudder of the Sprite had settled neatly into a crevice between two rocks and was there held fast and, although they pulled with all their might, they were unable to budge it.

“We might do it if we had a crowbar,” Jack suggested as they lay panting.

“I believe we could and there’s one at the boat house.”

“Then we’d better go get it.”

They rested a few minutes and then rowed back to the cottage and got the bar.

Back again Bob tied a strong cord to the bar and fastened the other end to the row boat.

“Afraid that bar’d be too heavy to bring up,” he explained.

Then he jumped in holding the bar in his hands and trusting to its weight to carry him to the bottom. Jack followed and soon they had the end in the crevice and were tugging with all their strength.

To their great satisfaction they felt the big rock give a trifle and after another mighty pull on the bar the rudder slipped out and the boat began to rise. They had hardly gotten into the row boat when first one barrel and then the other came above the surface.

“Hurrah for Archi.,” Jack shouted.

Bob grinned as he panted for breath.

“Science is a wonderful thing,” Jack declared.

“You said it, son.”

The deck of the Sprite was some two feet beneath the surface as she floated supported by the two barrels.

“We’d sure have some job bailing her out as she is,” Jack laughed.

“And it’s going to be some work to tow her in shore. It’s nearly half a mile and she sure’ll pull hard.”

He was correct in his estimate of the work still ahead of them and it took them all of two hours to tow the Sprite to the sandy beach directly opposite, and about a mile below the cottage.

“I’m hungry,” Jack declared as the boat finally scraped on the bottom.

“Ditto.”

“Then let’s leave her here and go up to the cottage and get dinner.”

“My sentiment exactly.”

They preferred walking in place of rowing, Bob declaring that his arms felt as though they were nearly pulled out of their sockets. They made a hasty meal as they were both anxious to get back to the boat and in a little over an hour they were at work again. It was not difficult to pull the boat up on the gently sloping beach until it was far enough out of water to be bailed out.

This was slow work, but it was finally accomplished and once more the Sprite floated as proudly as ever on the surface. A careful examination disclosed that Jack had been right. Except for a little paint rubbed off the side the hull was uninjured.

“Do you suppose the water has injured the motor?” Jack asked.

“Don’t see why it should. But we’ll have to overhaul it and get it thoroughly dried, before we can be sure.”

“Well, let’s get those barrels aboard and tow her up to the cottage.”

It took them the rest of the afternoon to clean and dry the motor but they were well rewarded for their work when they found that it ran as smoothly as ever.

“Now a little paint and she’ll be as good as new,” Bob declared after they had taken a short run down the lake to make sure that all was right. “But we’ll let that go till to-morrow. Suppose you see if you can get a mess of perch while I mix a batch of biscuit.”

“How’d you guess it?” Jack laughed as he ran up to the cottage for his rod.

Catching fish was, as Jack often said, the best thing he did, and by the time Bob had his biscuits in the oven he had six big perch sizzling in the frying pan.

“These are pretty near as good as trout,” he declared a little later as he reached for his third.

“To say nothing of the biscuits,” Bob grinned.

“They’re always the best ever. Melt in your mouth,” Jack assured him. “I think this is my sixth.”

“Well, we won’t starve so long as you can catch fish and I can bake biscuits.”

“I’ll say we won’t.”

“I do hope that nothing will happen to disturb the rest of the vacation,” Bob said as they were washing the dishes.

“Had enough excitement, eh?”

“Enough for one summer.”

“It sure was pretty strenuous catching those liquor smugglers.”

“You said it. I saw by the paper the other day that they got five years at hard labor.”

“And that’s none too much according to my way of thinking.”

Just then the telephone rang.

“I’ll answer it,” Bob said.

“This you, Bob?”

It was his father’s voice which came over the wire.

“Yes.”

“Well a telegram has just come for you from Rex Dale. It says, ‘Meet me Skowhegan, 10.30 to-morrow.’”

“That’s funny. I thought he was going to sail for Europe in a few days. That’s what he said in his last letter.”

“I know, but something must have changed his plans. Everything all right up there?”

“It is now but we had a bit of a mess yesterday.” And he told his father about the accident.

“Good boy,” Mr. Golden almost shouted as Bob told him how Jack had saved his life. “I often wonder what will happen to you boys next.”

“It’s all right so long as we land on our feet,” Bob laughed.

“If only you always do,” Mr. Golden sighed. “Really, Bob, I sometimes think I’d better put you two in a glass case and set a watch over you. Then I’d know that you were safe.”

“Who was it?” Jack asked as his brother joined him down on the wharf where he had gone to replace the barrels.

“It was Father. A telegram just came from Rex saying to meet him to-morrow at 10.30.”

“Wonder what’s up. I thought he was going abroad.”

“So did I but it seems that we were wrong.”

“Well, I’ll be mighty glad to see him again.”

“You bet.”

Rex Dale, the son of a prominent business man of Philadelphia, was a few years older than Bob. The boys had met him while at The Fortress, a military college which they both attended, under circumstances already related in a previous volume, and a strong friendship existed between them.

“Must be something mighty important,” Jack declared as they returned to the cottage, “to make him give up that trip.”

“Mebby he’s only postponed it.”

“Mebby, but I reckon we won’t know till to-morrow.”

CHAPTER III.
THE LEGEND OF THE UMSASKIS.

The boys were at the station the next morning when the train from Boston pulled in.

“There he is,” Jack shouted as he caught sight of his friend as he stood bag in hand on the car platform.

Another moment and the three were shaking hands heartily together.

“It’s a treat for sore eyes to see you again,” Jack declared.

“And I’m mighty glad to see you.”

“Well, let’s get over to the house and you can tell us all about it,” Bob said.

Their car was waiting at the station platform and it was only a few minutes’ ride to their home, so in less than twenty minutes from the time the train had pulled in they were sitting on the porch listening to Rex’s story.