It fell out that on one of those fair August days there came out fromBridgeboro a picnic party of people who were forced to take theirnature by the day, and following in the wake of these, as the peanutmanfollows the circus, there came that trusty rear-guard of all suchfestive migrations,--Slats Corbett, the "Two aces" (Jim and JakieMattenburg), two of the three O'Connor boys (the other one had mumps),and, yea, even Sweet Caporal himself.
The petrified mud of Bridgeboro was upon their clothes, the dust of itwas in the corners of their unwashed eyes. They wore no badges but ifthey had these should have shown a leaden goat superimposed upon atomato can, with a tobacco-label ribbon, so suggestive were they ofstreet corners and vacant lots and ash heaps.
It was a singular freak of fate that the destiny of the carefullynurturedConnover Bennett should have been involved with this gallantcrew.
The picnic was conducted according to the time-honored formula of suchfestivities. There were lemonade and cold coffee in milk bottles; therewere sandwiches in shoe boxes; there were hard-boiled eggs withaccompanying salt in little twists of brown paper; there were olivesand hat-pins to extract them with, and there were camel's hair shawlsto "spread on the damp ground."
The rear-guard did not participate in the sumptuous feast. "A life onthe ocean wave" was what they sought, and their investigations of thewooded neighborhood had not gone very far when they made discovery ofan object which of all things is dear to the heart of a city boy, andthat was a boat.
It was pulled up along the river bank near the picnic grounds, and as amatter of fact, belonged to the scouts. It was used by them in crossingthe river to make a short-cut to and from Salmon River Village, insteadof following the shore to a point opposite the town where there was abridge.
"Findings is keepings" is the first law of the hoodlum code, and thoughthe O'Connor boys hung back (partly because they had no right to theboat and more because they were afraid of the water), Sweet Caporal,who balked at nothing save a policeman, led the rest of his intrepidband to the boat and presently they were flopping clumsily about inmidstream, much to the amusement of the O'Connor boys and several ofthe picnickers who clustered at the shore.
There are few sights more ridiculous than the ignorant handling of aboat. Sweet Caporal wielded an oar, Slats Corbett wrestled with anotherone, Jakie Mattenburg gallantly manned the helm, invariably pulling thetiller-lines the wrong way, while Jim Mattenburg, with a broken anddetached thwart, did his best to counteract every effort of hiscompanions. Amid these conflicting activities the boat made no progressand the ineffectual splashing and the contradictory orders which wereshouted by the several members of the gallant crew were greeted withderisive hoots from the shore.
Several times an oar slipped its lock and went splashing into thewater; once Sweet Caporal himself was capsized by the catching of theunwieldy oar in its lock and tumbled ingloriously backward into thebottom of the boat.
"Pull on the left one!" shouted Jim.
"Nah, pull on de odder one!" cried Slats.
"Both pull together," sagely suggested someone on the shore, but thatwas quite impossible.
"Hold de rudder in de middle', yer gump!" shouted Sweet Caporal.
"If yer want de boat to go to de right, pull on de left rope," shoutedJim.
"No, de right one," corrected Sweet Caporal.
So Jakie Mattenburg took a chance with the right rope and whatever goodeffect that might have had was immediately counteracted by his brotherwho paddled frantically on the left side with his broken thwart untilhe lost it in the water.
This loss might have helped matters some if Jakie had not unshipped therudder altogether, and hauled it aboard like a rebellious fish, by thelong tiller-lines.
"Both sit on de same seat," commanded Sweet Caporal, and Slats andSlats Corbett took his place alongside him, while the boat rockedperilously.
"Now, both pull together!" called one of the laughing watchers.
So they pulled together with such a frantic stroke that one of the oarlockswas lifted from its socket and dropped into the water. The suddendislodgment of the oar precipitated Slats against one of the Mattenburgboys who thereupon announced that he would man the oar instead. Whilehe was taking his place Sweet Caporal continued to pull frantically,the oar sliding back in its lock and the boat going around in a circle.
"Put dat rudder on," commanded Sweet Caporal.
"Can't find no place it fits inter," said Jakie, reaching under thewater at the stern.
"Well, paddle wid it, den," said Slats.
So Jakie, grasping the rudder by its neck, proceeded to paddle with itoff one side until the cross-bar broke and the lines got into ahopeless tangle with his arms.
"What did I tell yer?" shouted Slats.
"Now-one-two-three," encouraged someone on shore.
Sweet Caporal, holding his oar about two feet from its end so as tolose all its leverage, pulled furiously, the blade only catching thewater occasionally, Jim Mattenburg, with no oar-lock at all, improvisedone hand into a lock and hauled frantically with the other one, whileJakie Mattenburg bailed the boat, which was now pretty loggy with itsweight of water.
"Talk about your Yale Crew!" called one of the watchers.
"The new marine merry-go-round!" shouted another.
"Now-one-two--"
The sharp crack of a rifle was heard from the woods on the oppositeshore from the picnickers; one of the Mattenburg boys was conscious ofa quick, short whizzing sound, and then Charlie, the youngest of theO'Connor boys, who was standing close to the shore, slapped his righthand quickly to his left arm, looked about bewildered, then turnedsuddenly pale and staggered into the arms of one of the picnic party.
"Look--look," he said, releasing his hand and affrightedly pointing toa little trickle of blood on his arm. "I'm--I'm shot--look--"
CHAPTER XVI
CONNOVER BREAKS LOOSE