CHAPTER XI
GEORGE GOES ALONG
“Well, what do you think of that?” exclaimed George, at length, with a disgusted look. “Doesn’t it beat all? Just as I thought I was going to have the jolliest kind of time, that poor Frenchy has to try to spoil the fun. I’m afraid he’ll do it, too.”
“But surely you told your uncle that you were coming on the house-boat?” put in Norman Redfern.
“I’ll explain in a second, Norm. Give your old dory a shove, Jack—that’s it. Whoa! This thing is most as bad as Bucephalus.”
In spite of his disturbed condition of mind and the dory’s apparent desire to move in every direction at once, George was landed safely on the “Gray Gull.”
From the distance came the faint toot of an automobile horn; the big red machine seemed to be fairly flying.
“Scorching—speed laws busted,” grinned Joe.
“Shake, Norman; I am real glad to see you,” said George. “No, Uncle Dan didn’t know I was coming on the ‘Gray Gull.’ Here’s the way it happened.”
And George, seating himself comfortably on the bench, related his story.
“And doesn’t it seem the queerest thing in the world that we should meet like this, Norman?” he commented. “And all on account of these chaps.”
The former tutor’s face had clouded over.
“Yes, it’s very strange,” he said, gravely. “And though I’m more than glad to see you, George, I should advise you to go back.”
“Go back?” echoed George, with a decided shake of his head. “I guess not. Do you think I’d let Pierre crow over me? No, sir—why, he deserves to be fired out, bag and baggage.”
“Certainly did act a bit snippy,” said Jack.
“Must be a fussy fellow,” added Joe. “‘I say to you, goose—pouf,’” and Joe laughed heartily.
“Well,” remarked George, reflectively,“there’s going to be a nice little row. I can feel it coming; but it isn’t my fault. Anyway, I’m tired of being looked after as though I were like a pound of butter on a hot summer day. I’m going to Albany on the ‘Gray Gull.’”
Norman argued the point; but George’s expression bespoke a determination which was not to be shaken, and the others sided with him. The former tutor was, therefore, forced to yield.
“By the way, Norman, what makes Pierre dislike you so much?” asked the rich boy, presently.
“Pierre heard me discussing the French, one evening, and not understanding English very well, he thought, quite mistakenly, that I had referred to la belle France in slighting terms,” answered Norman, with a smile. “He is excitable, and I couldn’t convince him of his error.”
“That’s Pierre, all over,” grunted George. “Say, how did you get along with Uncle Dan, yesterday?”
“Not at all; he explained that I need not call again.”
“It’s a downright shame.”
“I suppose you were surprised to see me here?”
“You bet I was.”
“The boys persuaded me to keep on; and it didn’t take much persuasion, either, for I want to see my old alma mater, near Albany.”
“I tell you, fellows, I feel like a bird out of a cage,” said George, stepping to the door. “Look at these duds—it’s roughing it with a vengeance, eh? Wait till Uncle Dan’s eyes rest on ’em. For goodness’ sake, Jack, get the old scow moving.”
“Just what I’m going to do; but the tide is against us, and we’ll never beat out your uncle’s auto.”
“Perhaps some constable will nab that chauffeur,” remarked Joe, hopefully.
“Autos are not much on swimming, are they?” suggested Tom Clifton. “And your uncle’s hasn’t any wings; so we needn’t worry. A little wireless conversation over the water won’t hurt.”
“When Uncle Dan gets his dander up, things are apt to hum,” said George, as hepicked up Confuse-us by the nape of the neck, and examined his pudgy little face. “He’ll get back from the city about three, and then——”
“Scorching, and ‘pouf,’ again,” grinned Joe.
“You’ve hit it,” said George, with a laugh. “But until trouble begins I’m going to enjoy myself.”
Not far from Ossining, which is situated on the eastern shore, the boys saw a narrow strip of land jutting out into the river.
“Curious, isn’t it?” said Redfern.
The boys decided that it was. But they voted down a proposition to cross the stream.
“I no run away from any trouble,” said Joe, with a remarkable French accent.
“Haverstraw’s the next town,” declared Jack Lyons.
“That’s where those barges loaded with bricks come from,” explained Norman Redfern. “No doubt you have often noticed them. The annual production of the town must be enormous.”
“Lots of boats around,” said Fred. “Wonder where they all come from.”
“The great volume of traffic on the Hudson is largely due to the Erie Canal,” explained Norman. “Running from Albany to Lake Erie, it connects the East and West. Wheat, lumber, grain and many other products are brought here, while from New York merchandise is sent to many distributing points. The Hudson is really an arm of the sea, with the tide running as far as Albany.”
“There’s an old lumber boat out there, now,” said George.
“Yes! Perhaps its cargo came all the way from the forests of Wisconsin. Isn’t it a picturesque sight, with those dingy gray sails?”
“Looks great,” admitted Jack. “Funny life—guess the captain’s an old, wrinkled chap with a voice like a fog-horn.”
“Most of ’em are,” said Joe. “But look at that dandy steam yacht. Isn’t she just scooting along?”
“I’ve been on her several times,” put in George, with his eye to the telescope. “Belongs to a Wall street broker, a friend of Uncle Dan’s. But there’s lots more fun on a house-boat.”
“You can bet; I wouldn’t change,” said Bob.
The famous Highlands of the Hudson, consisting of numerous ranges of hills, many over a thousand feet high and a few of considerably greater altitude, were now assuming definite shape; Haverstraw Bay, a continuation of the Tappan Sea, was coming to an end.
George almost forgot his troubles. Sitting at his ease on the “promenade” deck, or taking his turn at the tiller, he told the others that he had never enjoyed himself more.
Haverstraw, with its kilns and factories, its smoke, and the odd-shaped, precipitous mountain which looks down upon it, was soon passed.
The Highlands were now close at hand. Above their lofty summits floated a succession of hazy clouds, which sent fleeting shadows to dim the fresh green of the tree-covered slopes. And how steep and rugged they were; with here and there bold, rocky forms flashing into view between the vegetation.
While the “Gray Gull” slowly chugged its way toward the narrow stretch of river a sense of smallness came over the boys.
“Looks as if the river ended,” cried Jack, suddenly.
“Certainly does, skipper,” said Dave. “We seem to be headed straight for the rocks.”
“Follow the water, and you’ll be all right,” laughed Joe.
“We’re coming to what is known as the ‘Horse Race,’” explained Norman, “and, as the tide is in our favor, we ought to make good progress. Isn’t it magnificent, boys?”
“It’s all right, twice!” cried Jack, enthusiastically. “Simply great.”
The transition from the very broad expanse of river to the narrowness of the gorge was novel and interesting. Here and there the steep slopes jutted out into the stream, and Jack kept far enough from shore to hold a straight course.
They soon found that the Horse Race was well named. The water surged and swirled along as if angry that the clumsy house-boat should invade its domain. A fresh breeze helped to agitate the surface, and the blue waves sometimes rose high enough to splash on deck.
“Could anything be finer?” asked George, enthusiastically.
“I don’t see how,” responded Norman.
“I thought the Palisades were pretty high,” said Jack, “but they are not much compared with these.”
“Now we are going to be tossed about a bit—here comes an excursion steamer,” remarked Fred.
A huge white boat, standing out clearly against the dark background, rapidly approached, the smoke from its funnels floating backward in a long, bluish streak. Jack got his clumsy craft as far out of the way as possible, and the “Gray Gull” rode out the huge swells with many a lurch and wobble.
“Hooray!” cried Joe. “Never even touched the bottom.”
George took his hand off the support which had enabled him to remain erect, and said, “Guess I needn’t bother about Uncle Dan just now.”
“An automobile along here ought to make a hit,” said Aleck.
“You bet; and an awful splash when the pieces struck the water.”
Joe Preston laughed loudly at his own words, and the others, except Fred Winter, rewarded him by an appreciative smile.
“So, at the present moment,” went on George, with a sigh of satisfaction, “there is nothing to bother us. What are you doing with those pieces of board, Norman—going to make a rest for the telescope?”
“Yes—so that we can study the stars.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Fred Winter. “Joe, here, needs special instruction in most everything; and a bit of astronomy may help.”
“And while you are about it,” giggled Joe, “add a course on bookworms and diplomacy.”
“And on the awful fate that overtakes young chaps who are always going to do, but never start,” retaliated Fred.
“So that we shall have a little floating college, all to ourselves, and with rather unusual branches,” chimed in Norman, with a smile.
The swift tide carried the “Gray Gull” ahead at a lively pace, and the views seemed to grow more and more picturesque. Nature seemed to have combined the wild and grand with the delicate and poetic; dark, frowning crags above; and sylvan dells below. Here,the banks steep and rugged, with the shadowed river rushing swiftly by; there, gentle, sloping stretches, whose sunlit groves seemed to extend a cheerful welcome. At another place, the hills on the right opened out, giving them a glimpse of the far distance, with deep blue mountain forms.
And on this late summer day, with the white clouds floating overhead and a tender, dreamy effect enveloping the entire landscape, the boys felt like breaking forth into song. And they did; and the result, while not especially harmonious, proved that their hearts were as light as the glancing beams which traveled across the hills and valleys.
“Fellows,” said Bob Somers, at length, “I move that to-night we do the Nimrod act; camping out will be good for a change.”
“Agreed!” answered Jack. “Plenty of good places around. It will be great; build a fire and cook our grub like you Rambler chaps used to do.”
“And afterward, we can take a look at the stars,” said Fred, with his usual solemnity.
Miles and miles were traversed, and still the Highlands continued.
“I say, my jolly tars,” remarked Jack, suddenly, “we’re coming to West Point. It’s on that hill to the left.”
“Such a place as this is enough to make a fellow feel like becoming a soldier,” said Aleck. “Those lads must have a dandy time.”
“The discipline is very strict,” said Norman, “and they have to study hard. But our future generals have probably as fine a military academy, and one as well situated as any in the world.”
At this point, the river takes a bend to the west; then, a short distance further up, the general northerly direction of the channel is resumed.
The “Gray Gull” slowly rounded the base of West Point, the boys, in ease and comfort, enjoying the changing scenes. As the course of the house-boat was again changed, a magnificent view opened out before them. A placid reach, considerably wider than the one they had just traversed, stretched far off toward the horizon. A mountain rose on either hand, while beyond these the vista melted into the bluish haze of distance.
“Perfectly stunning,” cried Dave, enthusiastically.
“Storm King Mountain to the west; the other is known as Break Neck Hill,” explained Redfern.
“And it looks it,” said Jack. “Whew! Did you ever see such a pile of slippery-looking rock?”
“It’s about twice as high as the Palisades,” went on Redfern, unconsciously assuming the air of a tutor, “and got its name from the many accidents which have happened on its steep, rocky sides. Imagine the dangerous places which might be encountered by any one climbing it.”
“But why should any one wish to?” asked George.
Redfern laughed.
“Some people have a strange desire to conquer the seemingly impossible,” he said, dryly, “and, now and then, one pays the penalty.”
The boys surveyed the vast pile with interest. Stern and forbidding, it seemed to frown menacingly upon the quiet water below. Steep declivities, patches of barrenrocks and precipices make this mountain strangely different from the verdured heights close at hand.
Civilization has encroached upon the wild grandeur of the scene. A railroad skirts the base of the hill; and now a train rattles along, the sharp blasts of its whistle being flung in a series of echoes from hill to hill.
Storm King Mountain is a great rounded pile, its base rising abruptly from the river.
The wonder and delight of the boys increased.
“This is one of the most celebrated places on the Hudson,” declared Norman Redfern. “I once heard Colonel Ellison say that it reminded him of Lake Como, in Italy.”
“Doesn’t it seem shut in by the mountains?” said George. “And only a little further down it was miles across.”
Finally, the stream widened out, though not like the Tappan Sea; the country became less hilly, and looking back, they could see the Highlands to the right and left, in a long, unbroken line, their summits illuminated by a delicate, rosy glow.
Another hour’s journey, and Bob, whoseeyes were constantly roving about, exclaimed, “Hello, look at those two motor boats tied up by the shore!”
“The ‘Reindeer’ and ‘Dart,’” read Aleck, after a moment’s survey through the telescope.
“That’s a swell place for camping out,” put in Joe, pointing ahead. “Lots of trees to hide the boat from any one on the road, if there is one. George’s uncle would never think of looking for us here.”
“You’re right, Joe,” agreed Jack, “and—what’s the matter, Norman?”
The former tutor had just lowered the telescope.
“I’ve made quite a discovery, boys,” he answered, with a smile. “One of those motor boats belongs to the school which I attended, and the other to the rival institution I told you about.”
“Gee whiz! That’s interesting,” cried Jack. “We might meet some of those chaps, and have a jolly good time together. Here’s where we camp for the night.”