As the Ramblers drew near the island, a picturesque2 and lively sight met their gaze. Merry-go-rounds, switchback railways, buildings decorated with gilt3 and splashes of bright color were scattered4 around, while a Babel of noise attested5 to the merriment that was going on. Groups of people moved to and fro, many crowding to the edge of the water as the "Rambler" moved slowly by.
"I didn't know there was anything like this around here," said Bob. "Hello, the island is divided by channels."
A rather wide waterway opened out before them.
"Shall we go through?" he asked.
"Of course," replied Sam, quickly.
Accordingly, the motor boat was turned into the winding6 reach of water. At intervals7, picturesque little rustic8 bridges crossed the stream.
They soon learned, from the numerous questions and remarks, that the Nimrods could not be far off. One stout9 man, with a very red face and choleric10 manner, at the risk of breaking the rail, leaned far over, and emphasizing his remarks by vigorous shakes of a large cane11, roared:
"You young rascals13! You irresponsible set of young Indians! you'll be arrested before—"
The rest of the sentence was lost, as the "Rambler" passed on.
"He must have seen the Trailers," chuckled14 Bob; "and their monkey-shines set his nerves on edge."
At the next bridge, upon which quite a crowd was congregated15, the boys heard enough to convince them that the Trailers had been enjoying a high lark16, dashing about at full speed, with their usual recklessness.
"Big park, this," drawled Dave. "Just look at all the shows. I'll bet a fellow could have some fun in there."
"I see a picture of a fat man and a thin lady," said Dick; "ten cents, I guess, to see 'em both. I say, if you're not careful, Dave Brandon, your phiz will be painted like that some day."
"Just so," laughed Dave; "that's what I have been training for. It's the easiest way to make a living I know of."
During this time, numerous boats, some shaped like Venetian gondolas17, were passing and repassing, their occupants being careful to give the "Rambler" a wide berth18.
"Funny how the scene has changed," observed Brandon, languidly; "only the other night a wildcat tried to interview us, and now look at all this crowd."
"Twenty miles makes a big difference in this part of the country," said Sam Randall.
"So far, we have had some pretty lively times," put in Bob. "Perhaps nothing will happen for the rest of the trip."
He reduced speed as they were approaching a bend. Loud laughter and voices reached their ears.
"The Trailers again," sniffed19 Sam Randall.
"Having lots of fun, eh?" observed Bob. "This is a pretty risky20 place to do any cutting-up in. It's a wonder they haven't sunk five or six boats already."
Almost immediately the point was rounded. Just ahead, the "Nimrod" rested motionless, facing a small canoe. The occupant of the latter, a light-haired young fellow, seemed to be considerably21 annoyed.
"If you had bumped into me," he was shouting, "I would have had you taken up."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Nat. "It would have been worse than a pumpkin22 falling on a frog. Christopher!" he cried, in wondering accents, as the "Rambler" approached. "So you got the old tub fixed23 up. I didn't expect to see you again for—"
"A week," chimed in Hackett. "Have a blacksmith at the next corner hammer the old thing in shape, eh? Look out there, Jack24, in the duck boat. Give 'em plenty of room. They have everybody on the bounding deep afraid of their lives. Navigation all tied up."
"Be careful," admonished25 the young man, darting26 an angry glance at Hackett; "my father will—"
"Your pa can't scare us, Jacky. Hurry up there, Somers, get that old floating log out of the way."
"Going to stay in town?" inquired Bob.
"No, can't. Pa's going to get after us. Give the spinning-wheel a turn, Kirk—full speed. Don't block up the channel, Jack."
Having uttered these words, Nat Wingate raised the megaphone to his lips and uttered a long, loud screech27. Standing28 erect29, he put all the force of his lungs into it, and just at that moment, the motor boat began to glide30 ahead.
Instantly it was seen that the reckless boy had made a miscalculation. A sudden lurch31 caused him to clutch the steering-wheel for support, and it was given a sharp turn in the wrong direction.
"My stars—Christopher!" screamed Nat. "Stop! Shut down the engine!"
Kirk, who had failed to notice the incident, obeyed, but not with his usual degree of promptness. The bow of the "Nimrod" was seen to swing around and bump squarely against the frail32 canoe.
Taken altogether by surprise, the light-haired young man lost his balance and tipped over sideways. A great splash followed, as he plunged33 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.
The young man did not reply to the Ramblers' proffers34 of assistance, but swam after his canoe and began pushing it toward the shore.
"Whew, isn't he mad, though? I don't blame him a bit either," whispered Tom Clifton.
"The Trailers may get into trouble for this," said Sam Randall. "Let's stay here until we see what mister towhead does."
A few moments later, the involuntary bather stood on a landing, surrounded by a crowd of sympathetic spectators.
"I tell you, this gang is a regular pack of outlaws," the Ramblers heard him say, as he began to wring35 out his dripping clothes.
"Going to have 'em took up?" inquired some one.
"Well, I guess so. If the whole crowd isn't up before Squire36 Peterson this very night, I'm badly mistaken."
"It would serve them just right," observed Sam Randall.
"But we don't care to be mixed up in any scrap37," added Bob. "Start the motor, Dave, and let us get ahead."
"Yes, they might want us to see the squire, too," laughed Brandon. "Don't pay any attention to them," he added, as shouts came from the shore.
The "Rambler" slowly wended its way through the channel until the amusement park was passed, after which full power was switched on and the islands rapidly passed.
When the Ramblers emerged into the main river they saw the "Nimrod" far ahead.
"The Trailers are certainly getting out of the way," observed Bob, with a laugh.
The boys now saw that they were in the midst of an industrial community. From high chimneys columns of smoke poured forth38, while clumsy barges39, stacked high with lumber41, seemed to indicate the flourishing condition of that industry. Evidences of business activity were on all sides.
The continuation of Wolf River which connected Lake Minnewago and Clair Bay proved to be a much wider stream than the other branch.
"Aren't there rapids near here, Bob?" questioned Dave.
"About five miles further on. We have to go through a canal."
"But it's getting pretty late," objected Tom Clifton; "don't you think it would be better to tie up for the night?"
"Of course not, sonny; we can sleep on board the 'Rambler' for once," returned Bob.
"Yes, we don't want to do the same thing all the time," said Sam Randall, and Dave, likewise, heartily42 endorsed43 the idea.
Numerous craft, of many descriptions, were seen. A wheezing44, puffing45 steam tug46, drawing a line of heavily laden47 barges, passed close by, while an old-fashioned side wheeler, which Dave laughingly declared must have belonged to "the vintage of 1860," sent a rippling48 line of swells49 to rock the "Rambler" from stem to stern.
There were so many picturesque features connected with this part of the river that they were almost sorry when the canal was reached. Already, the ruddy glow had left the clouds and a few far-off lights began to twinkle.
Bob turned the "Rambler" into the artificial waterway without stopping. The boat was soon gliding50 along at the base of a steep hill, with about a quarter of a mile separating them from the river.
At length a roaring sound, which they knew to be the rapids, reached their ears, and soon after the canal lock loomed51 ahead of them.
"We'll have to wait here some time, I'll bet," observed Bob. "Look at those clumsy tubs ahead of us."
"Rub up against some of 'em, and there'll be a job for a painter," declared Dick.
"To say nothing of a boat builder, if we get crowded between two of them," added Sam. "Try to get in with that little steamer," he advised, indicating one manned by two men.
"Oh ho, but this waiting is tiresome," drawled Dave; "hope we won't be here all night. If I only had a duck's leg to help keep down my appetite."
"You wouldn't have it without a good scrap, I can tell you that," laughed Sam. "Ah, our turn next. Look lively, Bob."
The gates of the lock slowly opened. A barge40 entered first, then the small steamer mentioned, and a number of other boats, not, however, without some confusion and a great deal of unnecessary shouting.
When the gates closed upon them, the Ramblers lay back to enjoy the sensation as the boat slowly sank to the lower level. In due course, they passed slowly out between stone walls which towered a dozen or more feet above them.
"Might as well get out the oil-stove, and get things going," spoke52 up Bob; "and light a couple of lanterns, somebody. We don't want to do any Nat Wingating on this trip."
"No, because the other boat might be the stronger,&q............