But, after all, their fears proved groundless. The townspeople had accepted them at their face value, and did not mean to bother the strangers again. No one came prowling around the boatshop during the balance of the night; and with the arrival of dawn the boys were all up, ready to cook breakfast and clear the shop so that the proprietor could get busy.

They had a simple meal, only coffee, boiled eggs and b.u.t.tered toast; but every one ate all he wished, so there was no complaints coming.

Then came the owner of the boatyard and shop, who was greatly surprised when he learned what had happened on the preceding night. He seemed indignant at first, but calmed down when he heard how the mob had changed from enemies into friends after finding that the boys were from America.

He told Jack that he could give a surmise as to what had prompted the attack. Strangely enough, it concerned that story of the four desperate young Serbians who, according to accounts, were said to have started for Vienna with the avowed intention of depriving Austria-Hungary of their beloved old emperor, just as some other wild spirits had murdered the heir apparent and his wife.

Apparently this story was believed by all who heard it. Those Serbians were getting very bold of late, and nothing seemed to be beyond them.

They were also earning the mortal hatred of the Hungarians, Jack could see.

When the a.s.sistant worker arrived the two of them began to overhaul the engine of the powerboat. George stood around every minute of the time and watched, as well as asked innumerable questions. The others, however, made him promise not to offer to render the least a.s.sistance.

They knew George's failings, and feared that if he once got to pottering with that engine it was surely doomed.

Apparently the man knew his business thoroughly. Jack, after seeing how he went at matters, felt sure the trouble would soon be located and remedied, when they might go on their way rejoicing.

It was about ten o'clock when the engine was started up and responded handsomely. Buster gave a whoop of delight, while Josh swung his hat above his head, and the others also smiled in satisfaction.

"Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high!" Josh announced, as he jumped up and chinned himself against a handy rafter of the low shed.

"We can all see that without your telling us, Josh," George chuckled.

Of course, every one was in a fine humor now. Their stop had not proven so serious after all, since they had only lost a few hours. As to the sum asked by the machinist, that did not bother them at all, since there was plenty more where that money came from.

As there was now nothing to delay them, they said good-by to their friend of the boatyard and were soon moving down the river again, delighted at their good fortune.

"Another odd experience, that's all," sang Josh, as they took their last look back at the town on the point before turning another bend that would hide it entirely from view.

"But at one time, I tell you, it promised to be pretty serious," Buster a.s.serted. "We've got one a.s.set, though, that never fails us."

"What's that?" asked George.

"The Stormways luck!" laughed the fat chum. "In fair weather and foul, and through storm and stress it can always be depended on to bridge over all difficulties and drag us out of every old mud-hole or swamp. If you look back to our past career you'll find that what I'm telling you is nothing but the honest truth. It's better to be born lucky than rich any day."

Jack only laughed at hearing this. He knew that luck alone is rather a flimsy foundation to pin confidence on, and that there is something more needed; but it was not for him to say as much. If his comrades believed it all a matter of accident, they were welcome to the delusion.

Somehow they enjoyed the sensation of freedom more than ever on this day. Perhaps that came from the unpleasant experience of the preceding night, when they found themselves in danger from the angry mob.

It was not long before Josh broke out in song and amused himself for a spell, entertaining his chums as well, for he had a pretty good voice.

When they were pa.s.sing through a hilly region, with rather abrupt walls on either sh.o.r.e, it was a peculiar experience that befell them.

"Somebody's mocking you, Josh!" cried Buster indignantly, when they all heard a voice distinctly repeat the last few words of the song Josh had finished.

Jack smiled to see the other three look hastily around, for he guessed the secret immediately.

"Try again, Josh, and see if he keeps it up," he went on to say, and when once more the same mocking call came back to them Josh began to grow quite "huffy."

"Think yourself smart, don't you?" he shouted, shaking his fist toward that point from whence it seemed the taunting voice hailed.

"Smart, don't you!" came immediately back at him.

Then Buster must have seen a great light, for he gave a loud laugh.

"Say, don't feel like hitting him, Josh, because it's only an _echo_!"

he gurgled.

"Don't you believe it!" snapped George. "No echo could ever repeat words as plain as that."

"Try it yourself and see, George," advised Jack, and, realizing that he was in a poor minority, George did give a shout, only to have it sent back with an abruptness and energy that startled him.

The doubter was apparently convinced, though he kept saying that he never would have believed it possible for an echo to repeat such things.

As they were speeding along with the current they quickly pa.s.sed beyond the magic range, and hence Buster received no answer when he shouted l.u.s.tily at the rocky hillside.

As they had lost so much time that morning, it was decided not to make any stop at noon. They could manage on some cold lunch, and wait until night came along to do their cooking.

They frequently saw other boats on the river. Many of these were clumsy affairs and evidently owned by farmers, who were in the habit of getting their produce to market in this way. Occasionally they pa.s.sed a small pleasure boat loaded with people, who, like most excursionists, waved their hands and handkerchiefs at the four comely lads aboard the chugging motorboat.

Seeing Jack, who had temporarily handed the wheel over to George, examining his little chart of the river, procured in Vienna, Josh came and dropped down beside him.

As usual, Josh bristled with interrogation points. He came of Yankee ancestry and never could pick up enough information to satisfy himself.

There was always a yearning to "know" whenever Josh came around, and he would go straight to the heart of the matter without any beating about the bush.

"Making pretty good time, eh, Jack?" he went on to say as a prelude.

"Splendid, Josh, and I'm thinking that overhauling is going to pay us fairly well in the end. It certainly has increased the speed capacity of the boat by a mile an hour, according to my reckoning."

"Bully for that!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the other; "and provided we keep this same pace up for five or six hours more, whereabouts do you think we might stop over night?"

Jack must have been doing a little figuring along those same lines himself, for as Josh leaned over he put the point of his lead pencil close to a cross he had made on the chart further along.

"Providing all goes well, that's about where we ought to fetch up on this day's run," he told Josh.

"Looks like we might get to the Serbian border then by another night, eh, Jack?"

"That's possible, unless we have another accident, or get held up some way or other. While we may figure as much as we please, it's never wise to count your chickens, Josh, before the eggs are hatched. There's always a big IF confronting us, because we're doing this thing under peculiar conditions, you know."

"By that I suppose you mean the plagued old war that had to break out just when we got well started on our way?" complained Josh.

From one subject he launched into another, until he had pumped Jack dry--at least the other laughingly told him so as he scrambled to his feet, after replacing his chart in his pocket, and went over to relieve George.

The long afternoon was wearing away, and so far everything seemed to be going on all right. Buster called attention to this fact every little while, as though it occupied a prominent place in his mind.

He even allowed himself to remember that he had promised to try and duplicate his fishing feat and supply the party with a change in breakfast food.

"Josh," he went on to say, "are you game to run another race this evening with the balance of our grubs? They've kept alive all right, and ought to be good for a mess of fine fish."

"I'm your meal ticket," cheerily announced the other. "Count me in the game if the chance opens up; and I hope we have as good luck as that other time. But say, there's a queer looking boat away down the river that I don't seem to be able to make head or tail of. Somebody take a look and tell me what you think."

At that there was a general craning of necks. Then Buster announced his opinion.