W. Crispin Sheppard

“ In the hope of striking big game, they pushed on, sometimes being compelled to fairly force their way through dense masses of underbrush or interlacing branches. The chattering red squirrels and rabbits which occasionally darted for cover were unmolested.
Wild flowers grew on grassy banks, bright bits of moss gleamed in the sunlight, while cool and grateful shadows afforded relief from Old Sol's rays.
"I only wish we could see a wildcat or a wolf," said John Hackett, boastfully. "My little friend, would you run?" he asked, turning to Tom Clifton. ”

“ Bob Somers, Dave Brandon and Tom Clifton presently sprang upon the landing and made their way up to a narrow street fronting the river. It was lined with small warehouses, stores, and a few manufacturing establishments. The clash and rattle of machinery assailed their ears as they walked along, smoke from numerous chimneys obscured the air, while now and then the odor of tar and hemp was perceptible.
River boats, barges and sailing craft were drawn up at the wharves, and the street was crowded with drays and trucks. ”

“ Sam Randall pulled out his jack-knife and proceeded to sever the rope.
"We've had enough of this," he shouted, as his eyes flashed with indignation. "Why can't they let us alone?"
"Patience ceases to be a virtue," drawled Dave Brandon. "What a pity we haven't the faster boat."
Bob Somers kept perfectly cool, but he began to feel that his good nature was being taken for weakness, and that unless some decisive action was taken in the beginning, the Nimrods would give them no peace.
"You'll be walking the plank next!" cried Wingate, in a terrible voice, through his megaphone. ”

“ The poet laureate found himself raised to the rank of a hero, the praises showered upon him causing a blush to suffuse his features.
"Bully for you, Chubby!" said Bob Somers, grasping his hand, warmly. "Our trip would have come to a fine finish. Three more cheers for Dave Brandon," he called, with a will, and every one joined in.
"If it hadn't been for the 'Nimrod,' you would have lost your boat, anyway," declared Nat, who, through the entire proceeding, had acted in a restrained manner.
"It's a good thing that the 'Rambler' is a slow tub, fellows," put in John Hackett. ”

“ Thoroughly angry and alarmed, the boys dashed on. Kirk tripped over a trailing vine and fell headlong in a mass of underbrush. His torch landed amidst the twigs and set them ablaze, but the lad, though badly shaken up, was on his feet in an instant, stamped out the fire and dashed on.
Lights moving in a fantastic fashion and many shouts showed that the rest of the boys were following. Bob Somers reached the site of their first camp. The water lapped at his feet, while the flaring torch sent a circle of light over the bay. ”

“ Bob Somers was a sturdy, brown-haired lad of about sixteen, with pleasant blue eyes and a frank manner. His companions, Dick Travers and Tom Clifton, were lively, keen American boys, the latter being the younger and smaller.
"Boys," said Bob Somers, with mock gravity, as he mounted a bale of hay, "we have assembled here to form an organization, the object of which is to pass the vacation months in as pleasant a manner as possible. Hunting, fishing and camping out will form a part of our enjoyments, which I feel that we deserve, after a hard season of study." ”

“ What do you call such doings as them, anyway?" The frown deepened. "Who does this here new-fangled tub belong to?"
"To me, or, rather, the Rambler Club," answered Bob, proudly.
"I thought so, I thought so!" returned their visitor. "The way youth is pampered now, beats my comprehension. No son of mine would get any of it."
"Don't doubt that, 'Major,'" ventured Dick Travers, with a broad smile.
Zeke Tipson, or, as he was more generally called, the "Major," an appellation the source of which no one ever learned, lived in a tumble-down shack on the river's bank about a half mile distant. ”

“ Bubbling over with enthusiasm, he then called a meeting of the club, and laid the plan before them.
"Just the thing!" exclaimed Sam Randall, who had dreamed about the matter all night. "A great idea, eh, Chubby?"
"If there isn't any hard work to do," said Dave, smiling. "Can't help it, boys. I want to loaf this summer."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dave," said Bob, with mock severity.
"I would be, if my system didn't need rest," laughed Brandon. "What's the matter with you, Dick Travers, and Tom Clifton? What are you so solemn about?" ”

“ In his haste, the lad slipped, falling directly over the sleeping form of the poet laureate. Dave awoke with an exclamation. At the same instant, a wild, unearthly screech aroused every member of the club.
In the bright moonlight, a long, powerful-looking animal, with ears thrown back and tail slowly swinging from side to side, was seen crouching as if ready to spring.
The sight of the shadowy figures, however, sent it slinking back a few feet, where, with another scream, it paused.
"A wildcat!" whispered Bob Somers ”

“ Ted began to read.
"'Your boat has been stole by an honest man what works for a living and needs it worse than a lot of kids.'"
"I was right!" cried John Hackett, loudly; "I was right! We've been done, like the biggest lot of chumps you ever heard of."
"Steals the 'Nimrod,' and calls us a lot of kids," exclaimed Nat Wingate. "That's just a little more than the limit."
"Maybe the fellows at Kingswood won't laugh at us," said Ted Pollock. ”

“ There was three fellers I know'd once, and—"
"Oh, look, here comes Nat Wingate!" exclaimed Tom Clifton, suddenly. "I believe he has been following us."
Nat, dressed with his usual care, approached jauntily across the clearing, and nodded to the boys. Then turning, he said: "Hello, 'Major,' how do you find yourself?"
"None the better for looking at you," growled Zeke, a strange light coming into his eyes.
But it is doubtful if Nat heard his remark, for he stopped short and gave a whistle of astonishment, as he took in the graceful lines of the motor boat. ”

“ It was a beautiful day, and the bay was dotted with many kinds of craft.
"Somers, does your ultimatum still hold good?" asked Nat.
"We don't want you to keep on Clair Bay unless you feel like it," returned Bob.
"Then come back to the place where Hacky lammed the pussy cat."
"What's the use of that?" spoke up Dick. "I think we could have more fun by keeping on the bay."
"So do I," added Ted Pollock.
"Wish I could go on the trip," ventured Douglass, wistfully; "it must be fine."
"There's one thing we have to do," interrupted John Hackett; "that is, get some grub. ”

“ The Pirate of the Bounding Deep did not seem to appreciate the humor of the situation.
"What do you mean by running in front of us?"
"Why didn't you stop?"
"How long is it since you owned this river?" demanded Dick Travers.
"Children should be seen and not heard," returned Nat, witheringly.
"Then stop talking, and keep your boat out of other people's way."
"See here, Dick Travers, I won't stand any impudence," stormed Nat. "You fellows don't know how to run a boat. ”

“ Then the gloom again swallowed up the steamer, while Nat, through the megaphone, sent a long string of compliments after it.
"Great Cæsar, I was scared—that's a fact," admitted Tom Clifton.
"A little more, and they would have plunked us," remarked Ted Pollock, with a great sigh of relief. "Going ashore, now, Nat?"
"Not before the boat reaches it," returned Wingate, who, judging from his actions, seemed to have profited but little by the recent experience. "Let her out a bit, Hacky. Legs feel weak, Somers? I'll bet they do—never saw such a scared crowd in my life." ”

“ A sharp detonation came from the motor, followed by a steady and rapid succession.
The effect was immediate. With a gentle, rocking motion, the "Rambler" began to glide forward, while the water at its stern was churned into foam and the ripples lapped against its sides.
"Hurrah!" cried Bob, enthusiastically. "This is what I call great!"
"Nothing could be finer," chimed in Dick. "See how far we have come already."
When the boys looked around, they were surprised to see what a distance separated them from the wharf.
Bob, at the wheel, managed it skilfully. ”

“ Bob was too much disgusted to parley with them further. He turned away, and started the engine at half speed.
The "Rambler," however, acted, as Sam put it, "like a drunken man." At the mercy of every conflicting current, she wabbled, then slowly began to swing around until the prow was headed for the opposite shore.
"Get out the oars, boys," said Bob. "We'll have to rig up a temporary rudder."
"Perhaps we had better let them tow us ashore," ventured Tom Clifton, who was disposed to be more timid than his companions.
"Not on your life," said Bob, firmly. "We'll manage it." ”

“ Fireflies flitted about, from a pond came the hoarse croaking of frogs, while all around, the insects kept up a continual noise.
"Poor old Dave will certainly be worried," observed Bob.
"Well, his legs aren't almost walked off," grumbled Kirk Talbot.
"It's so dark a fellow can't see," chimed in Ted Pollock. "Wish the old moon would hurry up."
"Let's take a rest, and wait for the lazy thing to appear," suggested Nat. "Those vines have scratched me all up." ”

“ When Dave took his departure, he could not help wondering at Nat's cheerful demeanor, and mentally concluded that he must possess a much better disposition than the Ramblers had given him credit for.
On meeting his friends at their appointed rendezvous, he was surprised to find among them the dignified Professor Hopkins, glancing over the rims of his spectacles in his usual awe-inspiring manner.
"Well, David," he said, "you have kept us waiting just a fraction over five minutes." Then he added: "Mr. Somers kindly asked me to take a trip on the motor boat. That accounts for my presence here." ”

“ As was usually the case, the five boys, with their guns, attracted considerable attention, but to this they paid no heed.
"The 'Lake Michigan' is a mighty fine boat," observed the poet laureate, as they strode through the saloon.
"Must have cost a sight of money to build; it's a regular palace," commented Dick Travers.
Up on the main deck, the boys provided themselves with camp chairs, and, taking a position near the stern, watched the ever-changing scene below with interest.
Another blast of the whistle, and finally the "Lake Michigan" swung slowly out from the wharf. ”

“ The unexpected explosion that followed made the boys fairly jump in alarm, while "Hatchet" turned white.
"Great Cæsar!" cried Bob. "Shoot at a grasshopper, Hackett?"
"Hacky knows he can't hit anything more than three feet away," grinned Nat.
"I thought a gun's trigger was meant to be pulled by hand," said Dick, with a wink at Tom Clifton.
"Cut it out," growled John; "you fellows needn't think you're smart."
"Guns and hunting knives! Don't get in front of him," laughed Kirk. ”

“ He introduced himself as Douglass Brown.
"I can tell you that the whole crowd acted in a most outrageous manner," he declared; "I have witnesses to prove it. Really, it was frightfully mortifying."
"Boys will be boys," observed Mr. Wingate, pleasantly. "Ah, here they come now."
The Nimrods, looking none the worse for their experience, trooped into the room. Backed by Mr. Wingate, they seemed to feel entirely easy in mind.
"Hello, Somers, hello!" said Nat, with a grin.
"My nephew," began Mr. Wingate, pompously; "this gentleman whom you unintentionally upset is Mr. Douglass Brown." ”

“ Why they are nothing but boys, the poor dears."
"Maybe—but sich boys."
"He nearly dislocated that boy's shoulder," spoke up Nat Wingate, pointing to John as he edged slowly away.
"The idea—Steven Burr a-laying of violent hands on a boy—the idea, I say."
"Eh—what?" stammered the big man.
John Hackett, who was still lying on the grass for the purpose of effect, seized the opportunity to slowly and painfully arise.
"I may be a boy," he shouted, almost beside himself with anger, "but anybody who dares to touch me has got to fight. Come on, you great big overgrown farmer!" ”

“ Wingate examined our boat so that he could get a better one," said Bob, earnestly.
"But it scarcely seems possible that he would make Nat such a handsome present," declared Dave.
"And Wingate was always protesting about his uncle's stinginess, too," put in Tom. Then he added: "Are you going to let them pass us?"
"By the look of things, it can't be helped," responded Bob, grimly.
Just then the sound of Nat's familiar voice reached their ears. He was standing at the bow, holding a huge megaphone, while one of his chums frantically waved a gaudily colored flag. ”

“ Bob Somers hastily fired at its retreating form.
"Christopher, but that was a narrow escape!" exclaimed Tom Clifton, with a shudder. "We might have been chewed all to pieces."
"The scent of that duck must have brought the ugly beast skulking around," said Bob.
"Do you think it will come back?"
"If it does, we'll give it a warmer welcome than it ever got before."
"A wildcat is a pretty ugly creature outside of a cage," observed Dick Travers. "I didn't know that they let out such awful yells." ”

“ A great splash followed, as he plunged into the water, while the canoe turned over and floated bottom upward.
Screams and shouts came from the hundreds who had witnessed the incident. It looked as if the act had been done on purpose.
Nat and his companions only waited long enough to see that the victim of their recklessness was able to swim.
"Don't let anything more happen to him, Bob Somers," yelled Nat; "but look out for his pa. Full speed, Kirk, or we may not be a mile away before the cops get here."
The motor of the "Nimrod" began to work furiously, and it drew rapidly ahead. ”

“ A blast from a fog-horn sounded far ahead.
"Better turn in shore," suggested Dick.
"Who's doing this, Travers?" demanded Nat. "Never saw such scared cats, eh, Hacky?"
Pulling out his megaphone, the leader of the Nimrods continued: "Each fellow take a whoop through this. Here goes number one!"
An astonishingly discordant series of blasts rolled over the water. "Sounds like a wildcat getting hit by John Hackett," laughed Nat. "Here, Somers, let's see what kind of a yell you have. Pass it along. I'll take that wheel. ”

“ A lot of lively youngsters ought to have a fine time together. In my boyhood days we never dreamed of the privileges that the youth of the twentieth century would enjoy. Motor boats, motor cycles, and a lot of other things. You are living in a great era, boys, and should appreciate it."
"It's too bad about Nat," ventured Tom Clifton.
"'All's well that ends well.' I hope that we shall dine together this evening."
Mr. Parsons Wingate smiled affably, and looked from one to the other. Then he added: "I mean, of course, that the Ramblers and Nimrods, alike, are to be my guests. ”

“ The sound of voices reached their ears.
"The Trailers, as I live!" exclaimed Sam Randall. "Just listen to them."
There was no need of this advice. The Nimrods possessed lusty voices, and began using them to their fullest capacity. The result, while not harmonious, proved effective.
"Here come the mighty Nimrod boys
And pirates of the deep,
And every one will make a noise
To drive away your sleep."
"That sounds like more trouble," said Bob, with a laugh.
"Pirates of the Bounding Deep," shrieked John Hackett. ”

“ Somers deplored the unfortunate result of Nat Wingate's hasty temper, and laughed when the boys told him about his threat to form a rival organization for the purpose of following and annoying them.
"I hardly think that his uncle would humor him to the extent of supplying a motor boat," he remarked, dryly. "It is scarcely worth while to pay any attention to his foolish language. And now let us take the 'Rambler' on a little trial trip."
"Hurrah! Come on, boys," shouted Bob. It is certain that each boy felt a thrill of delight when he stepped on board. ”

“ The plan was unanimously endorsed.
"We can put ashore at night, pitch a tent, and live like regular nimrods," said Bob, gleefully. "Imagine sitting around a blazing camp-fire, and talking over our experiences."
"Or taking a noonday siesta in the shade of some fine old tree," suggested Dave, humorously.
"Yes—at long intervals," returned Sam Randall. "There's no doubt about our having a grand time. And won't Nat Wingate be sorry to miss all the fun?"
That evening, on his way home, Sam encountered Nat sitting on the steps of the post-office, and was immediately met with a volley of questions. ”