CHAPTER VII.—THE TRAINING OF TEDDY.
“You confounded idiot!” shouted Mike, catching his companion by the arm. “Do you want to bring that police boat over here inside of two minutes? If you do, just fire that gun.”
“Look what he did!” almost panted Gid, in a heat of rage. “He turned on the light, and they’ll be over here as soon as they get done with the Hawk.”
“Can’t be helped now!” declared Mike.
During this short conversation Jule stood regarding the men intently, his face pale but his eyes flashing with the spirit of defiance which was in his heart. Mike regarded him whimsically.
“Will you turn out the light?” he asked. “Or shall I smash it?”
“Turn it out yourself!” ordered Gid, “if you know where the switch is.”
“I don’t know where the switch is,” Mike replied.
“Then coax the boy to turn it out,” sneered Gid. “He seems to be a special friend of yours.”
“Turn it out kid,” advised Mike.
Jule, realizing that the light must already have accomplished the purpose intended, turned the switch and the Rambler was again in darkness. He realized that the light would be extinguished whether he turned the switch or not, for the lamp could be easily broken.
“Now, boy,” Gid thundered in Jule’s ear, “you get into that cabin and stay there. If any of these sneaking Government officials come on board, you’re sick! Do you understand that? You’re sick abed! And we’re your good, kind protectors! Understand that? If you ain’t good and sick while they’re here, you’ll be ailing in earnest as soon as they go away.”
“All right,” Jule answered, “I’ll go into the cabin now and lie down. But, look here,” he continued, “I’d like to have you gentlemen make me a promise. Will you?”
“What is it?” asked Mike, not unkindly.
It was very dark now, and they could not see each other’s faces, especially as the glare of the light during its brief presence had in a manner dazzled their eyes. Perhaps this was just as well, for Gid would not have liked the look on Mike’s face as he spoke to the boy. It was all sympathy and feeling.
“Well,” Jule said, with a low chuckle, “when you’re hanged for murder or piracy, I’d like to have you invite me to the festival.”
Gid uttered a snarl of rage and struck at the boy but Mike only laughed as Jule dodged the blow, only indistinctly seen, and, entering the cabin, closed the door behind him.
“They forget,” he thought to himself, “that there are lights in the cabin which, when turned, will reveal the presence of the Rambler. Anyway,” he added, “I believe the Government officers saw the searchlight. I don’t see how they could have missed seeing it.”
Teddy, the quarter-grown grizzly bear, now rubbed a soft muzzle against the boy’s hand, as if in sympathy, and nestled close to his side.
“Teddy,” Jule said, “you and I have been captured by pirates. Captain Joe has gone off to find Alex, and we’re here in the possession of a couple of Desperate Desmonds. We want to get away. Now what would you suggest?”
In the darkness the boy knew that Teddy was sitting up on his hind feet suggesting a boxing match.
“That’s the thing, Teddy,” Jule said, speaking into the bear’s ear, as if in belief that the cub understood every word he said. “That’s just the thing! You suggest a fight, and that’s just what it’s got to be.”
The boy and the bear sat together in the cabin for a long time. Through the window on the starboard side the boy could see the lights of the Government boat and the lights of the Hawk.
There seemed to be some commotion on board the pirate boat, and the boy at one time thought he detected the sound of a pistol shot.
“After they get done with those river robbers,” Jule thought, “they will probably be over here to see why the Rambler’s light died out so quickly. Now, what shall I do when they come?”
The boy failed to reach any conclusion regarding future actions. The correct course seemed to be to be guided entirely by circumstances. If the officers came aboard he must find some way of notifying them of the true condition of affairs. If they did not come aboard, he must, again, attract their attention.
After half an hour or more the Government boat turned toward the Rambler and directly the boy heard a call.
“Hello, the boat!”
“Come aboard!” Mike’s voice answered.
“Send a boat!” ordered the officer.
“We’re stranded on a bar,” Mike returned. “Can’t you-help us off?”
The boy could hear the rattle of a boat against the hull of the Government steamer, and then the creaking of oars. Just then the cabin door opened and Gid made his appearance, his bulky form clearly shown in the light from the steamer which came through the cabin window.
“Now, boy,” Gid said, “the Government officers are coming on board. Buckle down on the bunk and keep your mouth closed.”
The fellow enforced his command with a revolver, and Jule hastened to do as ordered.
“If Mr. Gold-Lace comes into the cabin,” Gid went on, “I’ll be setting here peaceful like with the lights turned on. You’ll be over there in the bunk sound asleep. If you make a move or open your lips, I’ll shoot you full of holes. See?” he added, thrusting one hand into his right pocket and pushing the muzzle of a revolver out against the cloth, “I can do some pretty good shooting from a pocket.”
Jule started to speak, but Gid lifted a heavy hand for silence.
“Mr. Gold-Lace is coming on board,” he said, “now mind what I’ve been telling you.”
Jule lay still under the blanket he had drawn over his shoulders and chuckled softly to himself.
“Teddy,” he laughed, “Teddy will be taking that fellow by the leg in a minute and then there’ll be doings! Just wait till that officer gets on board,” the boy’s busy brain went on, “and I’ll get that pirate into a boxing match with the bear.”
It was true that Gid had not observed the bear, for Jule had motioned him into a dark corner as soon as the pirate’s hulking figure had shown in the doorway.
Presently Gid arose to his feet and looked out of the glass panel in the cabin door.
“There’s two coming aboard,” he said turning toward the boy.
“Are you going to put me on the reception committee?” asked Jule, with a snicker.
“I don’t see that you’ve got anything to laugh at!” Gid declared.
“Oh, what’s the odds?” Jule demanded. “The Rambler is a mascot, and always was. You can’t do anything to her.”
“I’ll do something to you!” declared Gid, “if you don’t keep that mouth closed.”
“You don’t dare!” returned Jule. “If you touch me I’ll yell like a loon, and then the officers will come running in here, and that’ll be your finish. You’d better go out on deck.”
Gid did go out on deck, arriving just in time to greet two Government officers as they stepped on board the Rambler. This formality over, the fellow backed up against the cabin door and stood facing the light now burning at the prow. The cabin door was open, and the boy could hear nearly every word that was spoken on deck, the wind having in a measure died out.
“What’s your boat?” he heard an officer ask.
“Rambler, Chicago,” was the reply.
“Whither bound?”
“New Orleans,” was the quick answer.
“Who have you on board?” was the next question.
Jule saw Mike point with a hairy fist toward the cabin.
“Only a kid,” he said, “back there in the cabin shaking his bones to pieces with the ague.”
“How long have you been on this bar?” asked the official.
“We struck it just before dark,” answered Mike, who really was doing a very good job in the way of convincing the officer that everything was all right and straight on board the Rambler.
“There are a good many motor boats doing illicit business up and down the river,” suggested the official.
“I know it,” replied Mike. “We’re afraid some of them will come along while we are tied up on this bar.”
“How did it happen?”
“Lost a spark plug,” was the reply. “At first we limped along in fairly good shape, and then the others had to go bad with us. Honest,” he continued, “I don’t think we’ll ever get off this sand bar unless you give us a line.”
“I’ll gladly do that,” said the officer, “and I’ll do more. I’ll send over half a dozen spark plugs.”
“That’s kind of you,” Mike suggested. “We’ll be glad to pay for them. It is a great accommodation to us.”
Jule snickered in his bunk, for he had recently heard the two men talking about being absolutely penniless. Observing that Gid was not watching him very closely, the latter’s attention being directed to the two men standing forward, the boy beckoned to Teddy, who came shambling up to the side of the bunk and laid a soft paw against the boy’s cheek.
“Now, Teddy,” Jule said, “we’re going to play a trick on those men out there. Do you think you can do a boxing stunt to-night?”
Teddy sat up on his haunches at mention of the word “boxing” and admitted in perfectly good bear talk that he could.
“You just wait, Teddy,” Jule went on, “until that police boat draws the Rambler off this bar and supplies her with spark plugs, and we’ll give a show that will beat any four-ring circus that ever traveled out of Chicago. It’ll be something worth buying a ticket to.”
After some further conversation the Government officers returned to their steamer. A cable was carried to the motor boat and in a minute she was floating in free water.
“Now,” called an officer from the stern of the steamer, “bend on that manilla hawser to your spare anchor and throw it out.”
Mike obeyed instructions to the letter, and the Rambler was soon swinging easily with her grip on the bottom of the river.
“You’ve got a favor coming from us now,” Mike shouted, “if the time ever comes when we can render you one! Shall I come aboard for the spark plugs?”
“We haven’t got any rowboat,” Gid reminded his companion.
In the end the steamer dropped down and the spark plugs were tossed aboard, being caught deftly by the Irishman.
“Now,” said Mike with a grin, “we’ll fix up these motors and get down toward New Orleans at a right smart gait.”
“Why didn’t you ask the officer about the Hawk?” demanded Gid.
“Oh, that old captain lied himself clear, all right,” Mike answered. “Don’t you see that the Hawk lies there with her lights all going and the Government steamer is going on up the river?”
Gid turned to Jule with something like a smile on his sullen face.
Jule was standing by the closed cabin door with the bear fully instructed and trained, brushing against the inside of it.
“Well, boy,” Gid said, “you did remarkably well during the visit of the officers, so we’re going to let you get us something to eat. While we fix the motors, you cook up some supper and we’ll soon be sailing down the river as happy and contented as three peas in a pod. I presume you’ve got plenty of provisions on board.”
“You bet we have!” answered Jule happily. “I’ll get you a supper that’ll make your mouth water.”
The boy knew that while preparing the meal he would be tolerably free from the surveillance of the two men. This would give him an opportunity to bring a couple of revolvers from the cupboard where they were kept, and also to confer with Teddy as to the course to be pursued.
“Now, Teddy,” the boy said, as he went into the cabin and shut the door, “I don’t know what to do to these men. Sometimes I think I’ll drug their coffee, and sometimes I think I’ll give them a scare that will make their heads look like the top of a snow-capped mountain.”
The bear turned his head thoughtfully to one side and expressed the rather selfish opinion that he thought a boxing match would be about the best thing under the circumstances. The bear had had boxing matches with river pirates before that night, and he knew pretty well what to do when the boys set him going on strangers.
“If I drug their coffee,” Jule went on, “they’ll go to sleep and we’ll have them on our hands. If I give them a scare, they’ll jump into the river and that’ll be the last of them.”
Looking out of the window the boy now saw the Government steamer disappearing rapidly upstream. He also saw the Hawk turning her prow in the direction of the Rambler. Mike and Gid stood by the port gunwale talking earnestly in low tones.
“I guess there’s trouble brewing that I wasn’t counting on,” the boy said dejectedly. “Teddy and I can’t fight the whole bunch.”