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now.”

      They continued to chatter in this manner as the afternoon wore away. It had been decided that while there was a full moon that night they had better not attempt navigating the river after the sun had set. None of them knew what they might run up against; and besides, since war had come, possibly there would be strict rules enforced prohibiting such a thing during the night. None of them felt like taking chances.

      Buster, it seems, must have been thinking of some of his previous exploits in the times that were gone, for later on he was seen to be looking over some fishing tackle he produced from his pack.

      “Hey! what’s in the wind now, Buster?” sang out Josh upon discovering what the fat chum was doing.

      “Oh, nothing much,” replied the other easily, “only it struck me that there might be some kind of eatable fish in this same blue Danube, and I’m looking over my lines. To-night, if I can find any fat grubs or worms, I might set a line and see what happens. You know I’ve had more or less success about grabbing big fish out of fresh and salt water.”

      That seemed to make the others laugh, as though certain humorous memories were refreshed. Buster joined them, for he was a jolly fellow and could even enjoy a joke when it was on himself.

      “I mean to drop one of these lines over as we go along, so as to soak the snell of the hook, for if it’s too dry it might break,” Buster explained.

      “Well, here’s wishing that you meet with good luck,” said Josh, “because I’d enjoy a supper of fresh fish pretty good.”

      “Don’t make up your mouth for it, then,” warned George, “because you never can tell about such things. Fish are what some people would call notionate; they bite well one day and then given you the grand laugh the next one.”

      “About how far do you think we’ve come since leaving Budapest, Jack?” Buster asked, not deigning to continue the discussion with George.

      “I should think something like fifty to sixty miles,” was the reply.

      “Whew! as much as that?” whiffed George.

      “Well, this current must be all of four miles an hour, and the old boat when going with it ought to average ten. Counting for our stops and all that, we’ve certainly covered sixty miles if we have one.”

      “I agree with you, Jack,” said Josh; “George is only saying that to be contrary.”

      “Oh, I am, eh?” grinned George, who seemed to take especial delight in stirring Josh up.

      “It’s been a pretty good day for August, with the sun shining overhead most of the time, and not so very hot at that,” Buster continued. “There’s no sign of such a thing as a storm that I can see – great guns! what in the mischief can that queer-looking thing be over yonder? Do they have birds shaped like a fat cigar in the Danube country?”

      Of course, every one immediately twisted his head around to take a look, and all sorts of exclamations announced that they were about as much astonished as Buster.

      Low down toward the horizon they saw an object outlined against the sky that was undoubtedly moving, for they could notice that it passed a small cloud with considerable speed. Just as Buster had said, it looked very much in the distance like a fat cigar, and was of a neutral tint, not very easily distinguished against the heavens.

      “Why, that must be one of those German Zeppelins we’ve read so much about!” exclaimed Jack, after taking a second look.

      “A war dirigible, you mean, don’t you?” demanded Josh.

      “Nothing else,” he was told. “I’ve seen pictures of them often, but never thought I’d set eyes on one. Yes, it’s a Zeppelin, all right, and heading due south, too.”

      “What d’ye mean by saying that last?” asked Josh.

      “Well, you remember what that officer said about the Serbians and Austrians on the Danube down below, where it acts as a boundary line, being ready to fight at the drop of the hat? Perhaps they’re already having it hot and heavy. Perhaps the word has been flashed over the wires for one of the Zeppelins to come down and get busy there.”

      “What would they use it for, Jack?” questioned Buster, as all of them continued to watch the steady movement of the fast dirigible in the west.

      “I believe the main thing for Zeppelins to do is to carry explosives and drop bombs from a great height on forts and barracks occupied by the enemy forces. But they can be also used for scouting and bringing back information of value. That may be what they want this one down along the Danube for.”

      So fast was the dirigible going that in a quarter of an hour more it had passed beyond the range of their vision.

      “Looks like things are going to happen right along over in old Europe these days,” remarked Josh.

      “Yes, but we’ll know next to nothing about it all,” George went on to say; “for we can’t buy a paper, and even if we did none of us could read Magyar. This thing of knocking around in a foreign country may be all very good when there’s no war on, but there are times when you’d like to be able to buy an extra and learn all that’s happening.”

      “There’s a good landing by that tree yonder, Jack,” remarked Josh.

      “But we’re not quite ready to pull in yet a while,” the commodore announced.

      “What’s the hurry, Josh?” asked Buster, again working at his long and strong fish line.

      “Oh, I thought George wanted to get out and start right away back,” answered the other with a dry chuckle. “He’ll never be happy until he can have all the comforts of home, including the afternoon extra to read.”

      “Forget it!” snapped George. “I’ve always been able to take things as they came as well as the next one, and I reckon I can stand what you fellows do. Because I grumble a little once in a great while, that’s no sign I’m not having a good time. Some of my folks must have been sailors, I guess, and it runs in the blood. Don’t pay any attention when you hear me complain.”

      “We’ll try not to, George,” promised Josh blithely; “we’ll have to remember the source, and then forget it.”

      “There, now, I’ve got the silly old line untangled,” announced Buster; “and I’ll let the hook and sinker trail after us, just to make believe I’m fishing. It’ll do me a heap of good to feel the twirl as the hook goes around with the swivel – sort of revive old memories like.”

      He lay there by the broad stern of the boat amusing himself after his fashion. Josh could not resist the temptation to warn him.

      “Better look out for yourself, Buster,” he remarked seriously. “Some hungry fish might snap at your bare hook and get caught. If you were taken off your guard the next thing you knew you’d be overboard.”

      “It wouldn’t be the first time, either,” mentioned George.

      “Aw, no danger of that happening,” retorted Buster good-naturedly. “Even over here in Austria-Hungary the fish have their eye-teeth cut, and wouldn’t be so green as to bite at a bare hook. If I had anything to bait it with I’d watch my steps, you may be sure. But don’t worry yourself about me, either of you. I can take care of myself.”

      No more was said just then with reference to the subject, something else coming up to catch their attention.

      The afternoon was nearing its close, and Jack knew that before a great while they must be on the lookout for a place to haul up for the night. Whether they had better select a retired nook for their camp, as had been their habit when cruising down home rivers, or land near some farm, he had not yet decided. Of course, it would be unwise to stop over at any town, since they might have more or less trouble getting away again if the authorities chose to be exacting.

      “There goes a long train over there, heading south, too,” remarked Josh, pointing as he spoke.

      “Seems like nearly everything is going the same way we are, for a fact,” added George.

      “It

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