“All but me going over backward?” laughed Bluff.

“Wait and see,” Will replied, as he led the way into the cabin; “I think Jerry was just going to snap you at the time the cat dropped; for you’re in the beginning just as big as life, with your hands thrown up, as you keel over backwards; and the cat sprawling on the deck, its back arched. Oh! you can’t squirm out of this game, Bluff! I tell you it’s the finest thing that ever came down the pike.”

The Outdoor Chums on a Houseboat — Part 86

“We must open all the windows, and air the cabin before we think of turning in,” remarked practical Frank, snuffing the rank kerosene odor in the atmosphere, caused by Will’s close confinement with his smoky dark-lantern.

The Outdoor Chums on a Houseboat — Part 86

All of them were delighted with the negatives that Will held up against a light, so that they could see. Being familiar with photographic work, they understood the lights and shadows; and could see that, considering the peculiar conditions under which Jerry had pressed the button time and again, the remarkable series of thrilling pictures were strongly featured. And through them all, saving possibly the first, Will took the leading part; after the wildcat, of course, which occupied the centre of the stage.

The Outdoor Chums on a Houseboat — Part 86

Once more they sat outside talking, while the cabin aired.

“Seems to me we’ve been having a lot of rain lately, for the good old summer time,” Bluff remarked.

“I should say so,” Jerry went on. “Why, we can see logs passing us every five minutes that we look out, after we tie up. And I reckon some of the tributaries of the Mississippi must be at the flood stage. Wouldn’t surprise me any to discover chicken coops floating past.”

“Don’t I wish we could, with the chickens perched on the ridge-pole!” chuckled Bluff. “Chicken is one of my weak points. I feel lost when I don’t get a feed of fowl once a week, anyway.”

“Frank, what was that you seemed to be staring at just when it got dusk?” Will asked. “I saw you looking, and then go to the end of the boat with your hand over your eyes to see better.”

“Oh! that was a passing boat,” Bluff spoke up; “I noticed the light in the cabin myself, but was too busy to bother.”

“I’ve more than half an idea we’ve seen that boat before,” remarked Frank, quietly.

“You don’t say!” exclaimed Bluff. “Now, I reckon you mean our friend, Ossie Fredericks; don’t you, Frank?”