Quincy Allen - The Outdoor Chums on a Houseboat - or, The Rivals of the Mississippi

“Somebody pinch me,” said Bluff, as they sat down facing each other in the double seat; “because I just can’t believe it’s so, all these fine times ahead of us, with a houseboat all our own for weeks, and we living on the fat of the land as we go, taking toll of game and fish by the way.”

“Huh!” grunted Jerry, “much game you’ll get, with the law on nearly everything that flies; and Frank here a regular stickler for obeying what the law says. But say, we take our guns along, I certainly hope, boys?”

“That’s a settled thing,” Frank replied. “We might need them in lots of ways; and while Uncle Felix may have a stock of firearms aboard his boat, we would be foolish to take any chances.”

“Hear! hear! that makes me happy!” Bluff exclaimed.

“Now he’s just thinking about that pump-gun he owns, and what havoc he can make if ever he sees a flock of ducks on a sand bar!” chuckled Will; for the gun had never been a favorite with either himself or Jerry, who declared it was unsportsmanlike to be able to send a volley into a bevy of quail, from a repeating shotgun, though with a rifle the case was different.

And, throughout all that long journey, from the college to their home town, the four chums talked of hardly anything else but the pleasure they anticipated when once they were launched on the mighty Mississippi, bound for the distant Southern metropolis, known as the Crescent City.

“Well, hold me, somebody, I’m going to faint!”

It was Jerry who made this remark; and he did actually pretend to fall over against Will, who happened to be standing next to him at the time.

The four chums were in St. Paul, and had just been shown the interior of the houseboat, on board of which they expected to make the voyage down the river, over the many hundreds of miles separating them from New Orleans.

Even Frank was smiling as though surprised; while Bluff stared around in wonder. Will was chuckling to himself, as though he had known about it all along, and wished to spring a surprise on his mates by keeping still. That was what his smiles meant, Frank now knew, at the time the others were speculating as to what the houseboat of a wealthy old bachelor might be like.

“Talk to me about a dilapidated old craft, this sure takes the cake!” ventured the plain-spoken Bluff, presently, when he could catch his breath. “Why, say, I’ve seen some shantyboats that could give this one a handicap, and still win out. Do you mean to say, Will Milton, your Uncle Felix is afraid of somebody running away with this old tub? That must be his little joke on us.”

“Oh! nobody ever said there was anything palatial about uncle’s houseboat,” Will hastened to declare; “you fellows made up that fairy story to please yourselves. If you knew my uncle, you’d never think of him wasting his money on a floating palace. Fact is, boys, I do know all about this same craft; and if you sit down I’ll tell you how he came to get hold of her in the first place.”

“Might as well take a little rest, because I do feel sort of weak after such a shock,” declared Jerry.

“Well, now,” remarked the man who had accompanied them aboard the boat, and who had unlocked the door very carefully, as though the cabin contained some wild animal he was afraid might escape, this being the boat builder, Mr. Whittaker; “I’d like to hear that myself. You see, all I know is that Mr. Milton left this boat in my charge, and I was to keep constant watch over it, for which he agreed to pay in full. I’ve looked it over from stem to stern, and I declare if I was ever able to make up my mind what there was about the old thing to cause him to be so anxious. So tell us about it, my boy, if you please.”

“Why, it’s just this way,” Will went on to say; “Uncle was knocking around down South some years ago, when he got in a tight scrape, and might have lost his life only for the fortunate coming of the man who owned this houseboat. I guess at that time it was called a shantyboat, Bluff, for a fact. Well, it seems that my uncle, who does lots of queer things, I’m told, thought so much of the boat that he bought her from the man, who was a traveling bee-keeper, and who said he had purchased the craft from a clock peddler, who used to drop down from town to town finding odd jobs to do. Now you’ve got the history of the gallant craft.”

“And what did he want her for; just to keep on account of having his life saved by her coming at the right time?” demanded Jerry.

“Oh!” said Will, readily enough; “he used her several seasons as a houseboat; and after drifting as far down the river as he cared to go, he’d have her towed up again. Few shantyboats ever come back again, you know. Once they get South, they’re sold, and broken up for firewood. But I rather think Uncle Felix must have had some pleasant days and nights aboard this same boat, and that’s why he values her, in one way.”

Bluff broke out into laughter, doubling up like a hinge.

“It makes me weep, boys, to think of the adjectives we’ve wasted on the old tub. I reckon among the lot we’ve called her everything that stood for a grand outfit. Why, I’ve often shut my eyes, and tried to picture the finest thing that ever was built. And now to see this old boat gives me a fit. Where do you suppose the silk-covered eiderdown quilts are stowed away; eh? And the mahogany trimmings; with the gas range Jerry was speaking about? Oh! my, here’s a little old wood-burning stove, with one lid cracked. And well, here’s luck, boys, just four bunks, arranged on the two sides of the cabin, one for each.”

Frank had not allowed himself to indulge in any of the high-flown anticipations that had captured his two chums. That queer little smile on Will’s face had warned him against such a course. And so now he was in a position to look at things from a sensible point.

“Hold on, fellows,” he remarked, quietly; “if you’ve had to take a tumble, whose fault is it but your own? Will never gave you to understand that this was going to be a voyage in a floating palace; you just chose to picture all that sort of stuff for yourselves. And after all, when you take an inventory of things here, it isn’t so bad a handout.”

“Good for you, Frank,” said Will, as if pleased.

“Just forget all that nonsense you imagined about sailing down in a gilt-edged houseboat, boys, and look the thing squarely in the face. The boat is still in good condition, and as staunch as anything. There’s plenty of room for getting around, and for storing our stuff, bedclothes and eatables. Will you tell me what more the Outdoor Chums need in order to have a jolly good time?”

Bluff and Jerry looked at each other. The former scratched his head, and then the disappointed expression vanished from his face.

“I guess you’re about right there, Frank,” he admitted; “we’ve been through all sorts of times, and we never yet asked for more than just ordinary comforts. Leave the millionaire boats for the sons of rich men, who are so soft and pampered that they just can’t rough it any. We’ve shown we could stand a lot; and anyhow, we can have a heap of fun aboard this old she-bang, once we cut loose from St. Paul.”

“But what strikes me in the funny bone is this,” declared Jerry. “If it looked queer to us why a fellow named Marcus Stackpole would want to sneak aboard a palatial craft to steal something, or get away with the boat itself, now what under the sun could anybody in their right senses expect to find on this tub worth taking; tell me that, will you?”

And all of the others only shook their heads in the negative, as though the conundrum were too much for them.

“Ask me something easy,” remarked Bluff; “like the number of stars in the Milky Way, and I might give a guess; but I’m stumped when you want me to say why anybody would spend good hard-earned dollars to have this old boat guarded for months in Mr. Whittaker’s yard here; and then warn us to be careful how we let any strangers travel with us.”