Motor Boat Boys Mississippi Cruise | Page 2

the morning to beat him out in an argument," grinned George, who could look back to numerous occasions when he had confessed himself a poor second under such conditions.
"Say, look at the big bundle Jack's carrying, would you?" exclaimed Nick, taking a sudden new interest in matters, and getting to his feet; for he had been lazily stretched out, watching his comrade work at the engine of the speed boat, which was like a big cigar in shape, somewhat near twenty-seven feet in length, by only four and a half beam.
"I honestly believe that's the bully old silver cup Jack's bringing over to let us see," declared George, also aroused, so that his black eyes flashed.
"And it's going to be our silver cup some day before long; because, just as you say, this fine little beauty can cut circles around both the other motor boats," and the fat boy patted the varnished frame of the Wireless as he spoke.
"Sure thing," replied George, with a grin; "but don't discourage the rest by rubbing it in that we've got such a soft snap."
Two other fellows bustled into the big boathouse, where several launches were resting on the floor on either side of the basin, at the further end of which the water door was situated.
Jack Stormways was an active lad of about seventeen. His figure was as straight as that of an Indian, and his face one in which a steady purpose seemed to abide. Usually of a sunny, cheerful disposition, he knew how to arouse all dormant faculties in the members of a baseball or football team of which he might chance to be captain.
Nearly everybody liked Jack Stormways; and even such enemies as he naturally made during his career in school admitted that they admired his clean methods of doing things.
His companion, Jimmie Brannagan, was a short-bodied Irish lad, with red hair and a freckled face; but possessing a sturdy frame, as well as a ready wit.
"Open it up, and let us have a peep, Jack!" exclaimed George, as the newcomer placed his package on a bench near by.
"No use asking such sharp chaps as you to guess," observed the other, laughingly, as he started to follow instructions by unwinding the many papers that covered the mysterious bulky object. "You see everything, know everything. Well, what d'ye think of that for a beauty, George and Buster?"
Poor Nick had about as many names as a prince of the royal blood. His companions seemed to think that every title signifying something bouncing should be applied to him at odd times. And so he answered to anything that came along.
"My gracious! but ain't she a corker, though?" Nick now gasped, as his eyes seemed to be trying to pop out of his head with admiration.
"Finest ever," observed George, a little envy in his black eyes; for there were certain weak spots in his disposition that he had to fight continually, sometimes winning out, and again giving in to the temptation.
It was certainly a handsome specimen of the Winona silversmith's cunning, standing almost a foot and a half high, and being decorated with a magnificent mimic representation of a little motor boat resting under a live oak tree that overhung the water of a bayou; and which, of course, represented Dixieland, as could be easily seen from the long streamers of Spanish moss dangling from the limbs.
Both boys handled the trophy with eager hands.
"Say, that's worth going after," said Nick, finally. "And I'd like to wager that when Herb and Josh show it to their folks they'll easily get permission to join us in the long dash to New Orleans."
"And what great times we've already had, laying out the program," remarked Jack. "That was worth something, alone. The journey's divided up in about two hundred mile divisions. No boat can leave a division point until every contestant is there to make an even start. Only the time consumed between actual stations to be counted in the final summing up."
"And that other provision about the running time being exactly between eight in the morning and four in the afternoon is a mighty wise thing," remarked George.
"Yes," said Nick, "but what worries the crew of the Wireless is what they're going to do with all the time on their hands. We've planned to take a gun along, so we can do some shooting as we wait; and then the fishing ought to be worth while. If necessary, I'll go overboard, and try those new White Wings I bought. I'm going to have a whole lot of fun with those contraptions; besides learn how to swim like a duck."
"Oh! bother those old junk things; will we ever hear the last of the wonderful stunts Pudding expects to do with 'em'?" groaned George.
"Sure I saw him sthandin' in