Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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[Illustration: The sight they saw sent the boys off in peals of
laughter.]

              The River Motor Boat Boys on the Rio Grande

                       In Defense of the Rambler

                              Harry Gordon

                               AUTHOR OF
               "The River Motor Boat Boys on the Amazon"
              "The River Motor Boat Boys on the Columbia"
             "The River Motor Boat Boys on the Mississippi"
            "The River Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence"
                "The River Motor Boat Boys on the Ohio"
              "The River Motor Boat Boys on the Colorado"
                "The River Motor Boat Boys on the Yukon"

                           A. L. Burt Company
                                New York

                          Copyright, 1915, by
                           A. L. Burt Company

                        PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.

                                CONTENTS

      I. A Call for Help
     II. A Nest of Pirates
    III. Alex Takes a Long Chance
     IV. A Night on Shore
      V. A Friend in Need
     VI. Alex Gets a Square Meal
    VII. Stolen—A Motor Boat
   VIII. Alex Climbs a Tree
     IX. The Rambler Heard From
      X. A Bit of Dynamite
     XI. Alex Goes Fishing
    XII. A Queer Passenger
   XIII. On the Mexican Side
    XIV. A Serious Situation
     XV. Dead in the Forest
    XVI. Jule in Great Danger
   XVII. On Mexican Soil Again
  XVIII. A Slippery Customer
    XIX. Rube Tells a Story
     XX. Taken at Last
    XXI. A Night of Watching
   XXII. A Surprise for Clay
  XXIII. What Came of a Ramble on Shore
   XXIV. And the Last

              THE RIVER MOTOR BOAT BOYS ON THE RIO GRANDE

                               CHAPTER I

                            A CALL FOR HELP

“Listen, boys!”

There was silence for a moment, and then the cry was repeated—a long,
low, wailing call for help.

“It can’t be far away,” said the first speaker. “If the water wouldn’t
make such a racket, we might locate it exactly. There! Sounds like the
fellow was about all in.”

A large white bulldog of most disreputable appearance leaped to the
railing of the motor boat and stood looking into the waters of the Rio
Grande. In a moment the plea for assistance came again, sounding fainter
and farther away.

It was evident that the man, whoever it was, was going down with the
current. The dog glanced questioningly into the face of the nearest boy
as if asking for instructions, and then leaped into the river.

“What did you do that for?” demanded Alexander Smithwick, throwing off
his coat and shoes.

“What did I do?” demanded Julian Shafer, with a wink. “Captain Joe asked
permission to go to the rescue, and took it for granted that it would be
given. Intelligent dog, Captain Joe! What’s he up to now, I wonder?”

In a moment Alex, with one hand on the railing which enclosed the deck
of the motor boat, heard the rattle of anchor chains and knew that the
boat was drifting downstream.

The boys called to the dog, but without avail. Save for the rush of the
river, all was still. “Mighty strange!” Alex exclaimed.

Night had settled down on the Rio Grande, but the electric lights shone
far out on the stream, revealing nothing!

When the motor boat reached the point from which the cries had seemed,
to come the anchor was dropped again and the boys scanned both shore
lines eagerly, hoping, at least, to discover the white form of the
bulldog. It was not at all like Captain Joe to remain silent under such
conditions.

“What do you make of it?” asked Clayton Emmett, in a tone of alarm.
“Captain Joe never acted like this before.”

“There’s something gone wrong with the dog!” exclaimed Cornelius
Witters, who was rather inclined to look on the gloomy side of life. “He
may have been drowned.”

“Catch Captain Joe getting drowned!” cried Alex Smithwick and Julian
Shafer in a breath.

In a moment, however, Captain Joe was seen to leave a great mass of
rocks which stretched at least a third of the way across the stream and
strike out for the motor boat.

“Did you lose him, Captain Joe?” Alex asked, lowering a floating
platform as he spoke in order to give the dog access to the deck, at the
same time keeping out of reach of the torrent of river water deposited
on the deck by the dog.

“Where is the man you went after?” added Julian Shafer, also taking good
care to keep on the other side of the deck.

The dog was evidently doing his best to convey to the boys what
knowledge he possessed regarding the stranger who was, if still alive,
somewhere out in the night. For a time he met with scant success.

The boys listened intently, but there was only the rush of the river and
the wind sweeping down from the mountains.

“Drop downstream to that ledge of rocks,” advised Clayton Emmett. “If
the fellow is still alive, we’ll find him there.”

This proceeding apparently met with the hearty approval of the bulldog,
who was the first to gain the rocky beach. Without loss of time he set
off at a swift pace and soon brought up beside the prostrate figure of a
lad who could not have been over sixteen. Alex bent over the body with
his searchlight and made a hasty examination.

“Is he dead?” asked Cornelius Witters, known to his chums as “Case.” “He
certainly looks the part.”

Alex shook his head.

“Let’s get him to the motor boat,” he said, with a shudder of horror.
“Somewhere back in the dark ages, before the dawn of civilization, there
may have been a kid more badly beaten up, but I doubt it.”

“Well, I should say so!” Jule cut in. “Looks like he had been run
through a sausage mill! Where’s the fellow who did it?”

“Search me!” replied Alex. “The thing to do now, it strikes me, is to
get the poor fellow where he can receive the attention of a surgeon. I
wonder if one is to be found in this neck-o’-the-woods?”

“There are plenty of towns along the river,” Clayton Emmett suggested,
“and there must be a surgeon in some of them; but his injuries may not
be so serious as they appear to be at first glance. Perhaps it may be
well to get the stretcher,” he added, as the boys gathered in an awed
group about the silent figure.

Jule darted away to bring the stretcher, while the other boys made a
rough examination of the injured boy’s wounds. His head was one mass of
bruises, and his left leg seemed to be broken. He was still unconscious,
and the only wonder was that a person so battered and beaten should be
capable of uttering the cries which had brought the dog to his
assistance.

Presently Alex and Case, leaving Clay to watch beside the stranger,
climbed an almost perpendicular wall of rock and, with the aid of their
searchlights, looked down the narrow neck of land which connected with
the shore.

The searchlights illuminated the scene only faintly. The night was very
dark, and the rays of light traveled only a short distance before
becoming absorbed by the shadows which shut out the landscape.

“It’s darker than a stack of black cats!” said Alex, after a moment’s
inspection of the scene. “We may as well be on our way back.”

The boys started back in the direction of the boat, but came to a halt
at the sound of a low, whining cry which seemed to come from behind a
ridge of rocks off to the left.

“What’s coming off now?” Alex exclaimed, turning his searchlight in the
direction of the sound. “Hope it isn’t anything that will bite! Come out
of that, you rascal!”

But whatever it was it did not seem inclined to obey the command, so
Alex dashed off on an exploring trip.

“Come back, you mutton head!” shouted Case. “That may be a fake to lure
us into a trap!”

But Alex’s searchlight was by this time out of sight around a corner of
rock and Case followed on behind. After making his way, not without
difficulty, along a shelf of rock Case came to a pit-like depression,
and, looking down, caught a glimpse of his chum’s light.

The lad was bending over some object which was lying on the ground, and
appeared to be preparing to take it into his arms. Case was at his side
in short order.

“What have you got, Alex?” he asked. “Looks like a black cat! It takes
you to keep the menagerie from growing shy!”

As Alex lifted the object in his arms, however, Case saw that it was a
bear cub—certainly not more than a month old—a black bear cub who looked
into the faces of the lads with an appeal which was not to be resisted!
It softened Case’s heart in an instant.

“Now, what do you know about that!” Case exclaimed. “Wonder if his
mother is anywhere around?”

“She’d be very much in evidence by this time if she was,” replied Alex,
hugging the cub. “My!” he continued, as his hands came in contact with
the ribs of the cub, “I reckon a square meal wouldn’t come amiss right
now! Here, you little cannibal, quit eating my ear!”

“I’d like to know what Captain Joe will say about this,” laughed Case.
“He’ll want to make one bite of the cub!”

“Just let me catch him at it!” exclaimed Alex.

When, after rather a long, hard tramp, the boys, still carrying the baby
bear, came in view of the place where Clay had been left they saw at
once that something was amiss. Clay was nowhere in sight, and Captain
Joe, usually the most faithful of sentinels, was not to be seen. The
stranger still lay where he had been placed, gazing up into darkness
with swollen eyes!

It took only a minute for the lads to reach his side. He made an effort
to arise to a sitting position as they came running up, but fell weakly
back with a groan of agony.

“What’s up?” asked Case.

The lad turned his head in order to get a good view of his questioner
before making any reply whatever. Under the searchlights his face seemed
beaten to a pulp.

Then Alex remembered that the boy had not regained consciousness at the
time of their departure, and hastened to make the proper explanation.
The boy again attempted a sitting posture and again failed.

Case knelt by the side of the wounded boy.

“Do you wish to say something?” he asked.

“Ask him where Clay went,” suggested Alex, keeping the baby bear in his
arms.

“I don’t know,” replied the boy, answering the question asked by Alex.
“When I came to consciousness there was a white bulldog drawing me out
of the river.”

“And is that the last you remember?” questioned Case.

“Yes.”

“And so Captain Joe fished you out of the drink. Where did he go after
that?”

“I did not see him go anywhere. I fainted, I guess.”

Alex examined the boy’s clothing and found it wet.

“The lad is right about the river,” he declared. “The boy must have been
swept past our boat. It is a wonder none of us saw him.”

“Unless he drifted into the circle of light thrown out by the cabin
windows,” Case cut in, “we should not have seen him.”

“Captain Joe certainly did a good job in making the rescue,” Alex added.
“How long were you in the water, stranger?”

“When I drifted by the motor boat,” replied the boy, “I tried to catch
hold of a rope, but was too weak and dazed from the beating I had
received. If the dog hadn’t found me just as he did, I should have
floated on down the river and drowned.”

“Good old Captain Joe!” Alex exclaimed. “Somehow he is always to the
front!”

“There is a gang of robbers up the river about a mile,” said the lad,
evidently speaking in great pain. “If you came down the river in a boat,
you ought to be looking after her. They are bad men. The marks of their
treatment of me are still in sight,” he added, smiling faintly. “They
beat me because I refused to deliver my boat to them. Well, they have it
now, but they had to fight for it,” he added.

“Wonder we didn’t see them when we came down,” said Case, hastily
getting to his feet. “For all we know, they may be already in possession
of the _Rambler_!”

“The _Rambler_ is too nice a boat for that gang of toughs to ride in,”
declared the stranger. “You see,” he continued, “that I know all about
you boys. I am from Chicago myself!”

Anxious as the boys were to learn more about the lad so strangely met,
and to relieve his sufferings, they had other things of more importance,
at least to themselves, to look after.

Alex, still carrying the baby bear, was off like a shot and Case was not
far behind him. The Rio Grande was but a short distance away, but there
was a wall of rocks which must be passed before the river came into
view.

When at last the boys gained the top of the elevation and flashed their
lights down upon the wind-swept stream, the _Rambler_ was nowhere to be
seen!

“Just our luck!” grumbled Case.

Alex, still holding the baby bear, wrinkled his nose.

                               CHAPTER II

                           A NEST OF PIRATES

To those who have read the books of this series already published the
boys of the _Rambler_ will need no introduction. Their adventures on the
Amazon, the Columbia, the Colorado, the Mississippi, the St Lawrence,
the Ohio, and the Yukon will be readily recalled to mind.

Coming originally from the south branch of the Chicago river, they had
accumulated handsome fortunes during their journeys in quest of
adventure, but they still saw the world through boys’ eyes, and were not
satisfied to settle down to a humdrum life.

The _Rambler_, as will doubtless be remembered, was a very speedy boat,
fitted up with electric lights and all modern conveniences. She carried
an armor of chilled steel underneath as pretty a coat of paint as was
ever sent out of the port of Chicago.

This trip down the Rio Grande had long been planned, and now that it was
actually begun the lads were jubilant. They had been warned time and
again against the uprisings for which Mexico is noted, but, boy-like,
they had disregarded them.

The _Rambler_ had been shipped to Wason on the Denver & Rio Grande, and
the journey was on! This town lies some distance east from Silverton,
and is surrounded on the north, west and south by the mountains which
form a part of the great continental divide.

As Alex and Case stood now, on the bank of the Rio Grande, their hearts
were very heavy.

“If we only knew that Clay and Jule were safe,” Alex finally said, “we
could endure the loss of the _Rambler_. Where do you think they have
gone. Mister Teddy Bear, Junior?” he added whimsically, addressing the
cub. “I’ll bet you’d tell me if you could!”

But the cub nestled closer to the neck of the boy and not being in a
conversational mood said nothing at all!

“We may as well return to where the injured boy was left,” Case
suggested in a moment. “The boys will know where to find us, at least,
if we go there, which is more than can be said of any other locality.
Just our rotten luck to have Captain Joe find that boy when we haven’t
got a thing to give him that might add to his comfort!”

“Kick!” laughed Alex. “You’d kick on a mouthful of pie! Say, how would a
piece of apple pie go right about now? I’m hungry enough to eat one of
those pirates, boots and all!”

“You are likely to be a great deal hungrier before you come upon
anything to eat in this rotten hole!” grumbled Case, setting off for the
designated spot at a fast walk.

Alex, however, remained behind, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the
lights of the _Rambler_. It was very dark outside the small circle of
light thrown out by the searchlight, and the wind was blowing great
guns. It was as wild a night as ever blew over the Colorado hills.

As if to heighten the discomfort of the time, a cold rain began to fall
in great gusts, sweeping everything movable before it. Alex was soon wet
to the skin.

“How’s this for a storm, Mister Teddy Bear, Junior? said the boy,
addressing the cub. “There’s one thing been overlooked, though,” he
added, “and that’s a little thunder and lightning. There certainly ought
to be a batch of thunder and lightning with a peach of a storm like
this, don’t you think, Teddy?”

But Teddy did not have an opportunity to express his thoughts on the
subject, if he had any, for just at that instant there came a blinding
flash of lightning, followed immediately by a peal of thunder which
seemed to shake the solid earth.

“Whew, but that was a corker!” cried the boy. “Wonder if I’m all here?”

But Alex had no time to consider this last conundrum, for just at that
minute the lights of the _Rambler_ made their appearance, coming up the
stream. Alex had no means of knowing, of course, whether she was manned
by friend or foe, so he switched off his electric and stood on the bank
waiting in the wind and rain.

Directly the motor boat came to a halt at the side of a little rocky
projection which extended into the stream for some distance, and the boy
was no longer in doubt as to the character of the crew.

A frowsy head appeared above the rail of the boat and a hoarse voice
demanded:

“Who’s there?”

It was clear that the _Rambler_ was in the possession of the pirates!
Alex stood mute, awaiting developments.

Presently the low murmur of voices was heard, seeming to come from the
shore, and Alex listened eagerly, but could not distinguish the voices.
At times he was almost certain that the speakers were Clay and Jule, but
the wind carried their voices downstream, and he could not be certain.
He listened intently, listening at the same time, too, for the sound of
advancing footsteps.

But the rush of the wind, the downpour of the rain effectually drowned
all other sounds save at rare intervals. The frowsy head, evidently
gaining courage, now spoke again.

“Whoever you are, come aboard!” the voice said.

There came a lull in the storm, and Alex was positive that the voices he
heard were those of Clay and Jule; still he could not afford to make a
mistake. So he waited.

The man on the deck of the _Rambler_ either left his position or got out
of sight behind the railing, for he was no longer to be seen. For a time
all was still, then a voice which appeared to come from the _Rambler_
rang out, causing Alex to almost drop the baby bear in his excitement.
He knew that voice!

During the long winter evenings in Chicago Jule had made a study of
ventriloquism, and had become such an adept that his voice could be
heard for a long distance. Although standing within ten feet of Alex,
the voice apparently came from the _Rambler_’s deck.

“What are you doing on my boat?” the voice demanded.

There was a great bustle aboard the motor boat, as if search was being
made for the speaker, followed by a fluttering of wings and a hoarse,
croaking voice:

“What’s coming off here?” were the words spoken.

“That’s Tommy!” said a voice at Alex’s side, and Clay made his
appearance in the faint light thrown from the cabin windows.

“Where have you been?” demanded Alex, speaking in a voice loud enough to
be heard above the rush of the storm. “Thought sure you had been carried
off by the robbers.”

“The pirates already had possession of the boat when I reached the
shore,” Jule explained, “and when Clay came we both followed on down the
river in the hope that something would happen to again put us in
possession. Say! Just listen to Tommy’s conversation! He thinks he is
the whole works! He has a horror of being awakened suddenly.”

“Tommy” was a great red and green parrot, who had evidently been sound
asleep during the short trip down the river. He was making up for lost
time now, however, making the boat ring with his screams.

Presently a man’s form shot out of the cabin as if fired out of a gun,
with the parrot astride of his shoulders! The red and green feathers of
the bird shone and glistened under the electric light, the long tail
trailed out behind like the tail of a comet, while the topknot was very
much in evidence, standing up straight and rigid.

The man thus attacked gave utterance to a string of oaths and
billingsgate which would have made a fishwife green with envy.

“The bloomin’ bird is clawin’ me eyes out!” he shouted, doing his best
to dislodge the bird. “Take ’im off, someone!”

By this time two other men were on deck, struggling with Tommy, who did
not seem at all inclined to release the excellent hold which he secured
in the hair of the robber. At last, however, he was dislodged, and
secreted himself behind a chest of drawers in the cabin.

“I’ll ’ave ’is bloody life!” shouted the fellow, starting away in
pursuit, but a chum blocked his entrance to the cabin.

“Have it out with the bird some other time,” he advised, with a broad
smile. “Just now we have other fish to fry. We came back to get a kid
what can operate this boat. There’s something wrong with the motors. We
got it up the river as far as this, and that’s about all, consarn the
luck!”

“Try him again with your Peter Pratt,” advised Clay, having reference to
the boy’s trick of throwing his voice. Whenever this faculty was
referred to by any of the lads it was invariably known as “Peter Pratt.”
“Let’s see what Peter Pratt can do for us in the way of getting
possession of the _Rambler_.”

Jule threw his voice across the rushing, water again, but no attention
whatever was paid to it.

“That’s strange!” said Alex.

“They evidently believe it to be the parrot!” said Jule.

“Of course you are right,” admitted Clay. “It is a wonder we didn’t
think of that before.”

The robbers now appeared to be holding a consultation as to the best
means of getting one of the boys on board the _Rambler_. The boys could
not catch a word, although the _Rambler_ lay only a few feet from the
shore.

The thunder and lightning were now almost continuous, and the robbers
sought shelter in the cabin.

“Now’s our opportunity,” exclaimed Jule.

“I must be pretty dense,” said Clay. “If there’s a chance here I must
have overlooked it.”

“What’s the matter with the stern deck?” ventured Jule. “I’ve known kids
to get on board boats in that way before now!”

“Not in the face of a current like that!” replied Clay. “A boy couldn’t
swim in that millrace any more than he could fly!”

“You just wait a second and I’ll show you!” replied Jule. “Anybody got a
rope or a strong cord?”

“Alex has,” responded Clay. “I saw him put one into his pocket! Produce
it, Alex!” he added, all excitement at the prospect of getting the best
of the pirates.

“Who’s going to make the attempt?” Jule asked.

Alex deposited the baby bear in Clay’s arms.

“Here,” he said, “you take charge of Teddy, Jr., and I’ll do the trick
myself. You fellows couldn’t make the riffle in a thousand years! This
is a man’s job!”

As Alex had kept the cub in a measure protected from the storm by his
coat, and as the cub had remained perfectly quiet during this
conversation, Clay was greatly surprised at being presented with a baby
bear. He made a quick examination of his charge and then burst into a
hearty laugh. Alex proceeded to unwind his fish line as if the
presentation of a cub was the most natural thing in the world.

Jule stepped to Clay’s side and gravely shook hands with the bear after
locating him in the darkness.

“Where did you get the cub?” he asked.

“Oh, I presume he picked it off a bush!” Clay cut in. “Alex has an
affinity for bears.”

“He’s making too much noise,” Jule asserted, as the cub set up a wail
which might have been heard on the _Rambler_. “Better let me take that
line, Alex, while you teach your baby manners.”

“Mind the nerve of him! Talking about a man’s job!” laughed Clay. “If I
had his good opinion of himself, I’d walk on the water out to the
_Rambler_.” “Yes, you would!” commented Alex, throwing off his outer
garments preparatory to entering the river. “If you don’t take good care
of that cub, I’ll set him on you when you come aboard.”

The boys now carried the fish line up the stream a short distance and
Alex entered the water. In order to gain the stem deck it would be
necessary to follow the motions of the swimmer until the stem was
reached and then release the line, trusting to the dexterity of the boy
in the water to make connection with the hull of the boat.

“Now, boys!” cried Alex, and the next he was feeling the draw of the
current.

The moment the lad was in the water the bulldog sprang in after him.
Jule tried in vain to coax him to return to the shore, but Captain Joe
was obstinate and paid no attention to the entreaties and threats of the
boy. The dog soon was abreast of the boy, swimming with his head well
down in the water.

In the meantime Jule was having about all he could do following Alex
with his eyes, for the light from the cabin windows was uncertain and
the great prow light had been extinguished.

“It’s a wonder that Tommy keeps so quiet,” said Clay, holding to the
bear cub with one hand and pulling at the line with the other. “He is
usually very much in evidence if awakened in the night.”

“Here’s hoping he has the good sense to remain quiet until Alex is on
board,” added Jule. “The parrot may have been killed, for all we know!
If he has, there’ll be doings when we get aboard!”

By this time the lights of the cabin were about opposite, and the boys
on shore slackened their pace in order to give Alex an opportunity to
gain the stem deck, which was, of course, downstream.

They saw very dimly indeed, for the rain was now falling in great
sheets, obscuring the light from the cabin windows, and making the stem
deck very slippery.

“Can you see where he is?” asked Clay.

“I can see that the line has slackened, and that is about all,” replied
the boy. “I wonder where Captain Joe is?” Jule added, tossing the fish
line to one side. “He ought to be getting into action pretty soon. There
he is now!”

The voice of the dog came faintly through the storm, and the screaming
of the parrot added to the din.

“I’d give a hundred dollars to know exactly how things stand!” shouted
Clay, dancing up and down in the excitement of the moment.

“That was a fool venture of Alex’s,” was Jule’s comment.

                        ALEX TAKES A LONG CHANCE

Case sat for a long time at the side of the injured boy, doing what he
could to relieve his suffering, but there was little he could do in the
absence of a surgeon. The boy was in great pain and conversed only at
long intervals.

“I presume the robbers have taken possession of the _Rambler_,” said
Case, crouching low to escape as much of the storm as possible, “and
they may have carried Jule and Clay off with her, but I don’t see what
is keeping Alex. He should have been here a long time ago.”

“They may have taken him, too,” said the sufferer. “In that case we may
stay here until we starve to death. If I could only walk, I’d soon get
out of this!”

“What’s your name, and how is it that you come to be here on the Great
Divide?” Case asked abruptly. “You’re a beauty, I must say!” he added
with a grin.

“My name is Paul Stegman, and I’m from Chicago, as I told you before,”
the boy explained. “I came up here in quest of adventure, and reckon I’m
getting enough of it. If I ever get back to civilization you just bet
your bottom dollar I’ll stay there!”

“Cheer up!” said Case, “the worst is yet to come!”

“I fail to see how it could be much worse,” said Paul. “My boat is gone
and, unless we can connect with the one you have, there are mountains to
climb before we get out of here.”

“It does look pretty dark,” Case admitted, “but we’ll find a way out.
Suppose I go down to the river and see what’s keeping Alex? The pirates
haven’t captured him, I hope!”

“It’s pretty dark. And pretty wet, too,” replied Paul, loath to lose
Case’s companionship for even a minute. “Perhaps he will come back after
he has failed to discover the boys.”

Case had his doubts about Alex returning as long as there was any
prospect of finding either the boys or the _Rambler_, but he kept his
thoughts to himself. It was very dark when the searchlight was for a
moment turned aside, and rain was falling in torrents. The wind, too,
was racing over the narrow point of land as if sent for by the Evil One.

It was a wild night for early May, and Case, sitting dejectedly at the
side of Paul Stegman, could feel the rain trickling down the back of his
neck in streams. It was cold too, and the teeth of both boys rattled
like castanets.

“No use trying to build a fire,” Case grumbled, “for what little wood
there is in sight is soaking wet. I guess the _Rambler_ made one trip
too many!”

There was silence for a minute and then a footfall was heard on the
rocky ridge which ran through the center of the peninsula.

“Alex at last!” shouted Case, springing to his feet. “Come forward, give
an account of yourself! Did you find any trace of the boys or the boat?”

But the man who appeared a moment later was not Alex. He stood for a
second looking down on the boys and started to join them, swinging a
pocket dark-lantern as he advanced. But Case was shy of strangers and
ordered the fellow back, at the same time switching off his searchlight.

“Oh, all right!” replied the stranger. “I thought you might be in some
sort o’ trouble and might need help.”

“We are in trouble, and do need help,” Case answered, “but we mean to
make sure first that you are just what you pretend to be.”

“I hain’t purtended to anything yet,” was the reply. “If you want my
pedigree, I reckon you’ll have to want. I came down here lookin’ for a
brindle steer what strayed away from the herd an’ saw your light,
likewise the light from that boat anchored out there in the river. But,
still, if you don’t want me to butt in, I’ll be joggin’ along.”

“Wait a minute,” Case exclaimed, starting to climb the ridge, “do you
say there’s a boat out there in the river?”

“Come up here and see for yourself; seein’ is believin’, as the cat said
to the mouse.”

Case clambered to the top of the ridge and looked out upon the river.
There were the dim lights of the _Rambler_, but the rest of the scene
could not be discerned.

“The boat’s there, all right!” the boy said jubilantly, hopping up and
down in his excitement. “The boys will soon be here now.”

Case looked into the stranger’s face with a question on his lips—a
question he might or might not answer.

“You didn’t come to this rocky place in quest of any brindle steer,” the
boy ventured. “Will you tell me what you did come for?”

“Perhaps I’ll do it if you’ll tell me what I want to know,” was the
reply, “and that is this: What were you doing with that wounded boy in
that nest of rocks?”

“You know the lad is wounded, then?”

“I don’t suppose you could hear much in this storm, but I’ve walked
twice around the spot where you sat,” was the reply.

“Well, you didn’t hear anything of any account,” was Case’s reply. “Up
to two hours ago I didn’t know there was such a kid living. According to
his story, he was set upon by robbers a short distance up the river and
beaten up proper.”

“So!” said the other.

“We, my three chums and myself, were lying up the river, anchored, when
Captain Joe—that’s the bulldog—leaped into the river and brought him
out, more dead than alive. The dog is on the _Rambler_ now. We boys
wouldn’t part with Captain Joe for his weight in gold.”

The man looked thoughtfully into the boy’s eyes.

“I guess,” he began, but was interrupted by voices coming from the
_Rambler_. The wind was now blowing a fierce gale and the words were
indistinguishable, but words were not needed.

The prow lights flared up, lighting the deck of the boat as thoroughly
as it was possible to do it in the dead of the night.

At the same instant the watchers caught sight of a man leaping over the
railing of the boat.

“There goes one of the pirates!” shouted Case. “I wonder how many of
them there are?”

“Perhaps he thinks it’s just as dry in the river as it is on board the
boat,” the other said with a chuckle, “and I for one think he’s about
right. Here comes another.”

When three had taken to the water there came a lull in the procession of
jumpers and Case observed: “Now we’ll soon be tucked up in our little
beds, that is as soon as we get Paul cared for.”

“Suppose the robbers return?” the stranger suggested.

“They’ll have to be pretty swift in their movements if they connect with
the _Rambler_,” Case answered. “We’ve got a boat that can go some, and
then some more!”

The two then descended the ridge and were soon standing where Paul had
been left. The boy was still in great pain from his broken leg.

“This boy shouldn’t lie here in the storm,” said the stranger. “He’ll
take the newmonnie.”

“He’ll not remain here long now,” replied Case, with a smile at the
man’s pronunciation of “pneumonia,” “for we’ll get him to the _Rambler_
in short order. We must get him to a surgeon.”

“I thought you’d never come,” groaned Paul.

“It’s all right now,” Case assured the boy.

“Wait until the boys come with the stretcher, and we’ll have you where
you can receive the care of a doctor in three jerks of a lamb’s tail.”

Clay soon appeared with the stretcher and the injured lad was carefully
placed upon it. Then Clay turned to Case with a smile.

“Why don’t you introduce me?” he asked.

Case hesitated and the stranger came forward.

“I reckon we don’t either one know what to call the other,” he said with
a smile. “I’m Rube Stagg.”

“Glad to know you, Mr. Stagg,” said Clay with a laugh at the odd
appearance of the man.

He was at least six feet four inches tall, lean to emaciation, with
enormous hands and feet, and just about the reddest and longest head of
hair that the lads had ever seen. It came far down on his shoulders and
was so tossed about by the wind that it appeared to be in one great
snarl.

His eyes were blue and bright, his nose blunt stub, and his head was
adorned with a pair of enormous ears. His dress was of the sort usually
worn by ranchmen.

“I’ve got a ranch over here a short distance,” explained Mr. Stagg, “and
you are quite welcome to use it if you feel so disposed. That boy has
been exposed to the storm too long already.”

“We’ll have him under shelter directly,” was Case’s reply, “but we’re a
thousand times obliged to you, all the same.”

“Well,” Stagg replied, “if you won’t use my shack, perhaps you won’t
object to my carrying one end of the stretcher.”

“You are all right, Mr. Stagg,” said Clay, heartily. “We are a little
short-handed on account of leaving two boys at the boat.”

“What was the ruction at the boat?” Case asked.

Clay burst into a ringing laugh.

“That was the funniest thing I ever saw!” he said as they set the
stretcher down for a rest. “Alex, the little monkey, sneaked on board
the _Rambler_ when an especially hard shower came on, accompanied by
thunder and lightning. Captain Joe was with him, as usual, and when they
came to the window which looks out on the stern deck the parrot joined
the combination.”

“Great combination, that!” laughed Case. “A boy full of mischief, a
bulldog full of bites, and a parrot full of the old Nick! What happened
then? Did the pirates take to the river as soon as they saw what they
were up against?”

“No, they attempted to put up a fight,” replied Clay, “and what followed
was a jumble of legs, arms, parrot and bulldog. The parrot screamed and
the dog got in his work on the shins of the outlaws, who had laid their
weapons aside in order to dry their clothing and couldn’t get them
without coming in contact with the dog.”

“Must have been very funny,” said Case. “I should have enjoyed seeing
it.”

“I imagine the bandits thought the devil was after them for sure. How
that parrot did scream! The racket might have been heard a mile away
only for the wind and rain. How it did rain! And thunder and lightning!
Say but it was fierce!”

“And where was the baby bear all this time?” Case asked. “Of course you
knew that Alex adopted another bear?”

“Yes, I’m wise to the fact,” answered Clay. “Well, the cub was asleep
under my coat until the fireworks started, then he took a hand in the
game. It certainly was comical to see that little runt trying to eat a
full-sized robber.”

The boys now continued their progress to the _Rambler_, and soon saw the
cabin lights shining through the rain. As the lads neared the boat the
great prow light was switched on, making everything as light as day. The
rain was still falling in torrents, and the wind was blowing a
hurricane.

In fact, the boys were obliged to stand pretty close together in order
to make themselves heard at all.

“It’s a wonder the boys didn’t think of that prow light before,” was
Case’s comment as they laid the stretcher down on the shore.

“It was out of kilter when I left the boat,” said Clay. “What is
bothering me now is how to get this boy on board the boat. I don’t think
we can get the boat any nearer to the land.”

“We must manage it, in some way, before long, for the lad has been
exposed to the storm for a long time.”

“Why, of course we can get him over to the _Rambler_,” cut in Case. “You
have only to lift the stretcher into the rowboat, then lift it out again
when we reach the _Rambler_!”

“Never thought of that!” laughed Clay. “Two heads are better than one,
if one is a bit thick!”

“Anything to get me out of this storm!” groaned Paul. “I don’t think I
shall ever be warm again.”

While the boys were getting Paul on board the _Rambler_ Stagg appeared
to be very busy about the boy’s head. More than once he bent over the
lad, as if trying to recognize him, but the boy was too badly beaten up
for that.

At last he seemed to give it up, but there was still a look of inquiry
in his eyes, and Clay referred to it.

“He acts to me like he was looking for a friend,” he said.

“He does act rather strangely,” was Case’s comment. “Still, he may be
one of the curious kind.”

No more was said on the subject at that time, though Clay often wondered
if there could be any connection between the two, and also if Mr. Stagg
was exactly what he seemed.

                               CHAPTER IV

                            A NIGHT ON SHORE

The boys had a hard time getting on board the _Rambler_, but it was
accomplished at last, and the sufferer was soon in one of the bunks.
Then the boat was headed downstream.

Mr. Stagg was left standing on the river bank in the rain. The boys
invited him on board, but he explained that he was determined to “get
that pesky steer before he went home.”

“It’s a wild night to be hunting for cattle,” Clay suggested as the boat
was got under way, “but we all hope you’ll find it.”

“Say,” said Alex, as the boat started downstream, “do you believe the
story that man told?”

“Seems like an honest fellow,” was Jule’s reply, “but one can never
tell. To tell the truth, he looked to me more like an outlaw than any
fellow we caught on board.”

“Pretty fierce night to be hunting cattle,” commented Alex, and the
discussion was dropped.

“How far is it to the Hayes Junction?” asked Case. “We can’t get a
surgeon to set that broken leg until we get there, and perhaps not then.
I think I’ll study surgery, just to be ready for any emergency, when I
go to college,” added the boy.

“We’ve got quite a distance to travel before we reach Hayes, and I
suggest that we put in the time eating,” said Alex. “I wouldn’t want to
get a regular meal,” he continued, “just a large steak and French fried
potatoes, and bread and butter, and a couple of pies, and a couple of
dozen doughnuts. Just a light luncheon!”

“When the time comes for you to die,” Case observed, with a wink at
Jule, “you’ll die of starvation because of having swept the world slick
and clear of food.”

“Go ahead and get up your light luncheon,” Jule advised. “I think I
could take a little nourishment myself.”

“Oh, well, if you’re going to get up a simple luncheon like you suggest,
I don’t know but I’ll take a light snack myself,” said Case, his mouth
watering at the mention of pie.

“How’ll you have the steak cooked?” asked Alex.

“When it comes to cooking steak,” Jule cut in, “I’ve got the crowd up a
blind siding with fires banked.”

“That comes pretty near being slang,” Clay laughed, putting his head in
at the cabin door. “I can see someone washing the supper dishes right
now.”

While this conversation was going on Paul Stegman, worn out by pain and
exposure, was sleeping soundly. At first the boys talked in whispers,
but they soon saw that it was a useless precaution, as the roaring of
the storm drowned all lesser sounds.

Nothing more was heard of the robbers at that time. The boys believed
them to be tramps, and so put them out of their minds. How wrong they
were in this the future will show.

The sky cleared shortly, just as the town of Hayes came into view. There
was not much of the place—which was little better than a railroad
crossing.

Paul still slept soundly, and the boys decided to wait until he awoke
before looking over the town for a surgeon.

The steak and potatoes being done to a turn, the boys fell to with
appetites sharpened by the keen air.

“Pie,” declared Alex, “is Nature’s best gift to man! There is green
apple pie, dried apple pie, red apple pie, and pie-pie. Pie has all
other food on its back with its tongue out!”

“When you get to pie,” Jule cut in, “you’re always due for a eulogy. If
I had the appetite for pie that you have, I’d feed it to the bears! By
the way,” he exclaimed, bounding up from the table, “where is Teddy,
Junior? Why isn’t he out here getting filled up?”

The boy shot away like he had only a second more to live, but soon
returned with the announcement that the baby bear was lying on his belly
snoring “to beat the band!”

“Who’s got the job of washing the supper dishes?” asked Alex, rolling
back in his chair with the air of a millionaire. “Who talked the most
slang to-day?”

“Jule did,” declared Case.

“I should say not!” denied that lad. “If I could talk slang equal to
Alex, I’d give the slang dictionary cards and spades and then win out!
He’s got a tongue that whirls round and round like a puppy after his
tail. The idea of putting me in his class!”

“In order to settle this dispute amicably,” interrupted Clay, “I propose
that the boys both tackle the job. They have both been talking slang all
day.”

“All right!” consented Jule. “Only you don’t want to forget and leave
any pie on the plates.”

“If I had your mouth for pie——”

Alex began, but checked himself before completing the sentence—much to
Jule’s disappointment.

The boys had a merry time over the dishes, and then Clay and Case went
to bed, leaving Alex and Jule to watch the _Rambler_ during the
remainder of the night. In a short time all was still on board. The
storm which had driven so fiercely against the motor boat in the early
part of the night had now passed over, leaving a rim of moon in the
west.

Directly Alex passed out of the cabin and stood on the deck. Jule was
half asleep in the cabin.

For a time there was only the roaring of the river to break the silence.
The wind had died down to a gentle breeze, and there was the scent of
spring in the air.

Captain Joe came out on deck after a time and sniffed the air excitedly.
In a moment he was on the railing of the boat, looking over to the west
shore. Alex spoke to him, but for once his words received no attention.

“What is it, Joe?” asked the boy.

Captain Joe only wagged his stumpy tail.

“I’ll soon find out what’s doing here!” decided Alex. “How would you
like a run on shore, Captain Joe?” the boy went on. “It ain’t a very
swell night for a ramble, but I feel as if my legs wouldn’t be the worse
for a little stretching.”

Jule was below, in the cabin, and there could be no possible harm, the
boy thought, in leaving the watch to him. Therefore he took the rowboat
and started for the shore, accompanied by the dog, who seemed very
anxious to get to the land.

The moon was setting, but the stars were out, and the boy and the dog
had little difficulty in finding their way after gaining the shore. The
latter, however, after hastily sniffing the air for an instant, darted
away, leaving the boy alone.

“That’s a dirty Irish trick, Captain Joe,” said the lad, doing his best
to keep up with his four-footed rival. “I wonder what he sees in there,
anyway?”

The dog was now lost from sight in the underbrush which lined the shore,
and Alex could only whistle in an effort to secure his return. The
rustle of the dead foliage was the only sound for some time, then the
dog set up fierce barking.

This was very unusual for Captain Joe, who confined himself, as a rule,
to a series of warning growls, and Alex quickened his steps in order
that he might see what the dog was at.

All was still in the thicket penetrated by the lad, however, and it was
dark as a pocket, too. There was little hope of finding the dog in that
smother of shadows, so Alex reluctantly turned his steps toward the
boat.

“I’d like to know what’s got into Captain Joe,” thought the boy as he
made his way back to the _Rambler_. “He certainly is acting queerly, and
I don’t like the looks of it.”

In a few minutes he was back on the shore.

“It will be a good joke on the crazy pup to go away and leave him on the
shore,” thought the boy. “It will teach him better manners, anyway. Now
what’s that?”

“That” was a low whistle, evidently a signal. It came again in an
instant, louder and clearer.

Alex listened again for the dog, but heard nothing indicating his
presence. In a moment there was a rustling in the underbrush and then a
man’s voice asked:

“Are you there, Charley?”

There was no answer, and the question was repeated. Still there was no
answer. There was another movement in the bushes, and then a figure
showed dimly in the starlight.

Presently the man who had given the signal was joined by two other men.
They talked in low tones for a time, but gradually their voices grew
louder and Alex was able to hear what was being said.

“I don’t think they succeeded in getting the motor boat,” the first
speaker said.

“Wonder they wouldn’t show a signal,” commented another.

“It’s a sure thing they didn’t get the boat,” a third man said. “If they
had, you needn’t be guessing.”

“No, they would be holding a celebration now. Wonder why they failed?
The job seemed an easy one to me—just to take a boat away from four
boys.”

There was further talk that Alex could not hear, then the men passed out
of hearing.

“The _Rambler_ seems to be in good demand,” was the boy’s comment. “If
Captain Joe would show up now, I’d go on board and put the boys on their
guard. Somehow that dog always runs away at the wrong time! Perhaps I’d
better take another look for him. It doesn’t seem as if he could be very
far away. He needs a thumping!”

Alex made another trip through the underbrush, but no Captain Joe
rewarded his search. At last the boy abandoned the quest and started for
the _Rambler_.

“The boys will want to know what’s going on, and the dog can be found at
some other time,” he reasoned. “It would serve the beast good and right
to leave him in a place where he’d get hungry enough to devour his own
shadow!”

When Alex reached the spot where the boat had been left it was nowhere
to be seen. He got away from the locality in quick time.

The place was probably being watched. The men who had found the boat
would know very well that it couldn’t walk there.

The boy slipped back in the bushes, where he was protected from
observation by a rocky elevation, and waited. Presently there was the
murmur of hushed voices, and then a man’s form appeared, outlined
against the sky, which was now showing the first faint traces of
daylight.

“Wonder if the fellow who went ashore in the boat intends to make his
permanent home there?” said a voice. “He certainly stays long enough to
give one that impression.”

“He’s got to come back here after his boat, and we’ll be right here,
waiting for him,” said another voice. “The thing that puzzles me is why
the boys didn’t get the motor boat upstream.”

There was silence for a time, during which the three men waited for the
return of the boy, who was listening to most of their talk. Directly
Alex felt a cold nose thrust into the palm of his hand, he knew that
Captain Joe had returned.

“You’re a bad dog, going off like this!” exclaimed the boy. “What have
you to say for yourself?”

The dog stretched himself at Alex’s feet and offered no explanation. The
matter ended, as all such matters usually did, by the boy taking the
dog’s head into his lap and pulling his stubby ears.

Daylight was now coming on rapidly, and Alex realized that something
must be done. The least of his troubles concerned the manner of getting
back to the _Rambler_.

So far as that went, he could easily swim that short distance. But the
lad had no intention of going back to the boat to be laughed at.

Presently the cabin door opened and Jule made his appearance, looking as
if he had had a pretty sound sleep.

The watching men crouched out of sight in the bushes, and Jule stepped
to the railing of the _Rambler_ and looked into the river. The sun would
be in sight in half an hour and it would be a bright day.

Jule stood looking over the water for a minute and then turned and
entered the cabin. Directly Clay and Case came out and the three stood
at the rail talking.

“I think I know what they are saying,” said Alex with a smile. “They are
holding a squaw man’s convention on me. It was a rotten thing to do to
go and lose that boat. Perhaps I shall be lucky enough to get it back. I
wish those men wouldn’t watch this spot so closely. I half believe they
suspect something.”

Alex did not know that there were two parties watching the movements on
board the _Rambler_, each party consisting of three men. One was up the
river perhaps eighty rods, while the other lay on the bank of the stream
only a short distance from the spot where Alex was hidden.

Directly Captain Joe arose and moved over toward the clump of bushes
where the three men lay. The chances are that he knew of their presence,
and was willing to overlook it in the interest of harmony, but one of
the three launched a rock at his head as he came up.

This was an insult by no means to be overlooked. In less time than it
takes to tell the story, Joe had him by the throat.

All three boys on board the _Rambler_, seeing the dog struggling with
superior numbers, were over the rail in an instant, striking out for the
spot where the combat was in progress.

At that instant the three men who had been up the river, hearing the
sounds of a conflict below, emerged from the shelter of the trees and
started toward the scene of action.

Clay afterward declared that he thought Jule was left in charge of the
boat, while Jule declared that Case was the responsible one. At any
rate, while the boys were umpiring the fight between the dog and the man
the three men plunged into the stream and made off with the _Rambler_.
The boys saw their loss too late. The boat was already headed
downstream.

                               CHAPTER V

                            A FRIEND IN NEED

Released from the jaws of the dog in a slightly damaged condition, the
man who had been attacked started on a run for the spot where the
rowboat had been concealed. Blood was streaming down his neck and throat
as a result of the attentions of Captain Joe, and the fellow shook his
fist wrathfully as he ran.

The next instant he was followed by the two other men, who made many
threats as to what they would do to the dog if they ever came upon him
again. Captain Joe looked as if he wanted to finish the job he had
begun, but was restrained by Clay.

The three men were not followed by the boys, for they were too much
interested in watching the men on the _Rambler_.

For once the boys were unarmed. They had leaped into the river on the
spur of the moment, only half dressed, and were absolutely defenseless.
They now looked at each other with faces from which every vestige of
color had fled.

In the meantime the three men were making their way to the spot where
the rowboat had been hidden in the thicket. Almost before they could
sense what was being done, they had pushed the boat into the water and
were away in the wake of the _Rambler_.

“There goes our Rio Grande trip!” exclaimed Alex sorrowfully. “What can
we do now?”

“Just our luck!” was Case’s comment.

Jule said not a word, evidently thinking that no words could do justice
to the occasion.

Clay remained silent for a moment, and then a smile flickered over his
face as he observed:

“Well, our next stunt will be to get the boat back. No game is played
out until the cards are all on the table.”

“Oh, you’ll get it back, all right! In a pig’s wrist.”

Case was almost ready to cry with anger and vexation.

“We never should have left the boat alone,” he declared.

“Well, it can’t be helped now,” Clay suggested. “Who has any ideas to
offer?”

“I would suggest that we take turns kicking each other,” said Alex,
wrinkling his nose. “We all deserve the boot good and plenty! Who’ll be
the one to begin the ceremony?”

“Cut that,” remarked Clay, cheerfully. “We have no one to blame but
ourselves. The first thing to do is to get into a decent suit of
clothes. I presume such things can be bought here.”

“Yes, but we are on the wrong side of the river,” complained Case. “I
would advise suicide!”

Three of the boys greeted this remark with roars of laughter, but Case
was not to be coaxed out of his pessimistic mood.

“It’s all right for you boys to think you’ll get the _Rambler_ back
again, but I just know you won’t!” he contended. “We’ll be lucky if we
catch a ride back to Chicago. Anybody in the crowd got any money? I
thought not,” he added as the boys all shook their heads. “Then how’re
you going to get any clothes or anything?”

“Say,” cried Alex, in a moment, “do you know that we never got Paul
Stegman off the boat?”

“I wonder if the new proprietors will get his leg set?” Case suggested.
“You bet they won’t! Pirates don’t go around doing Red Cross stunts. Not
much they don’t.”

“If I had your disposition,” ventured Jule, with a grin to take the
sting out of the remark, “I’d take it down to the river and drown it.
It’s a wonder it doesn’t keep you awake nights.”

“Come, boys, we’ve got to get a move on if we ever get anywhere,”
suggested Clay. “I move that we begin operations with a morning bath.
Bathing suits are barred.”

The _Rambler_ was now out of sight around a bend in the river, and there
was no sense in longer delaying the moment of departure, so Alex plunged
into the stream and was soon making his way to the other side. He was
closely followed by the dog, who seemed to regret his share in the
incident which had cost the boys the _Rambler_.

The boys were soon assembled on the opposite shore, and it became
necessary to decide upon some course of action. It was now broad
daylight, and the people of the town were already astir.

“It amounts to just this,” Clay declared. “There isn’t a cent in the
crowd, and we are all hungry and in need of wearing apparel. There isn’t
even a watch or a piece of jewelry in sight. Now what’s the answer?
Shall we spend the time loafing about Hayes until our money gets here,
or shall we make a touch and get into action at once?”

“For Heaven’s sake,” insisted Alex, “let’s do something that will bring
us something to eat. My internal machinery is about run down.”

“I’ve been anticipating this,” explained Clay, “and am in a measure
prepared for it.”

Alex’s face brightened instantly at the thought of something to eat.
Clay turned to Case with a smile.

“Give me a slice of that cold shoulder you’ve been turning on every
suggestion made this morning,” he said.

Alex shouted and Jule joined in the demonstration until early risers who
were passing paused to inspect the party.

“Never again!” said Case, joining in the laughter. “From now on I’ll be
the first one to roar at a desperate situation. What an ass a fellow is
to be always growling!”

“That’s what we all think,” said Alex.

No more was said on the subject, and for a time Case really did better.

“We are attracting considerable attention here,” Jule remarked, glancing
about at the little crowd which had already assembled. “Perhaps we would
better select some less conspicuous place for our deliberations.”

“Is there anything to eat there?” Alex asked, with a wrinkle in his nose
which made his face look very comical. “My stomach feels like the
Mammoth Cave.”

Before the boys could put their plan into execution and seek a more
secluded place in which to find a way out of their trouble Alex caught
Clay by the arm and pointed up the street.

“Do you see anyone you know up there?” he demanded. “That man looks like
something to eat. But how did he make the distance in the storm?”

The boys looked in the direction indicated by the pointing finger and
saw Rube Stagg making for them with a broad grin on his homely face.

“Say,” said Alex, advancing to meet him, “if you’re down here looking
for brindle steers, it falls to me to tell you that there’s hot a thing
stirring.”

Rube walked up to the boys and immediately doubled up with laughter at
the figure they cut. All were sopping wet, and Clay, Case and Jule were
only half dressed.

“They got your boat, did they?” he asked, after he had his laugh out.
“And where are the injured lad and the baby bear?”

“Gone down the river with the boat,” was the reply.

“Too bad, too bad!” mused Rube. “I see,” he added, whimsically, “that
you saved the bulldog.”

As if in recognition of the mention, Captain Joe advanced to Rube’s side
and laid a wet nose in his hand.

The dog seemed to know that something was amiss, but could not tell what
it was. The _Rambler_ was not in sight, and he could not understand
that.

“Look here, man,” Alex remarked, with a prodigious grin, “have you got
any mazuma? I refer to coin of the realm, skads, you know.”

“The men who robbed you of your boat also got your money, did they?” and
Rube went into another paroxysm of laughter.

“I don’t see anything funny about the situation,” frowned Case. “Here we
are, half naked in the street, with Paul Stegman, who may be dying for
want of medical attention, away on the river, no one knows where. I call
it rotten!”

“I ask your pardon, young feller,” came the quick answer, “but there’s
no harm in a laugh where no harm is intended. Now, what was it this
freckle-faced kid said about money?”

“Oh, yes, money! I didn’t know as there was any left in the world. Have
you really got some?”

And the boy regarded Rube with a stare of disbelief.

“I had good luck selling my oxen, and therefore am moderately well
hooked up. How much do you want, son?”

By way of showing that he was both willing and able to supply all their
present needs, Rube extracted a wad of bank notes from his pocket that
would have, in the language of Alex, “choked a cow.”

“Whoop-ee!” shouted that young man. “Lead me to the fodder! Lead me to
it!”

“First,” began Clay, “tell us whether we can send a message from this
place. We’ve got to catch the _Rambler_, you know.”

The man took a ponderous silver watch from his pocket and consulted it
before replying.

“The telegraph office will open in exactly forty minutes,” he said,
snapping it shut. “Do we eat first? You see,” he continued, “I was
broken of my rest last night, and it always makes me hungry to lie
awake.”

“There’s a place down the street that looks like something to eat,” and
Alex shot ahead to investigate.

Several men who had been following the little party now came forward.

“Say, stranger,” a man who appeared to be the leader said, “if you’ll
step aside and answer a few questions, I’ll take it as a favor on your
part. A bank was robbed of $100,000 by a man answering your
description—red head and all. The robbery was pulled off Monday night.”

                               CHAPTER VI

                        ALEX GETS A SQUARE MEAL

“And you think I turned the trick?” asked Rube.

“I don’t think anything about it,” was the answer, in an unpleasant tone
of voice. “I just asked you to step aside for a minute so I could find
out. If you get gay, I’ll have to put the irons on you—just for luck.”

“See here, stranger, if you ever get irons on me, you’ll have to put up
a fight for it,” Rube remarked with a scowl. “And,” he continued, “I may
as well tell you right now that I’m not here to answer any fool
questions.”

Both men drew revolvers at the same instant, and would have used them
had Clay not stepped in between them.

“There goes my beefsteak,” Alex whispered to Jule. “Our good thing will
be in the village lockup in about half a second.”

“Just our luck!” declared Case.

“Gentlemen,” began Clay, but he was stopped by a man who came pushing
his way through the crowd impetuously.

“None of that, gentlemen,” he drawled. “If I want any shooting done,
I’ll do it myself. What seems to be the trouble?”

“I don’t see where you get cards in this game,” sneered a bystander.

“I can tell you where this man was last night,” put in Alex, who was
resolved not to lose his steak. “He was up the river about thirty miles
helping four boys load a wounded boy on a motor boat.”

“What of that?” demanded the spokesman of the party. “Last night wasn’t
Monday night.”

“That’s so,” said Alex, looking very much ashamed, “it was Tuesday
night. Pardon me.”

“Where’s the wounded boy and the motor boat?” inquired a man who stood
in the crowd.

“Yes, where be they?” asked another. “I fail to see any motor boat, or
boat of any kind, with them. In fact, I know that they came swimming up
to the landing like a lot of dock rats. I’m in favor of locking the
whole bunch up.”

“Do it, Mr. Officer,” urged several men in the crowd.

The constable stepped forward as if to make the arrest, but the man who
had spoken against any shooting, offering to do it himself, if any was
done, stepped in front of him.

He was an alert looking fellow, with a businesslike air which seemed to
proclaim that he would be as good as his word.

“You heard what I said about doing the shooting myself if any was
started,” he said, with a drawl. “I’m from Missouri and you’ve got to
show me.”

“What kind of a bluff is this, anyway?” demanded the constable, but he
put up his weapon, as if he had decided not to call the bluff at that
time.

“I’m looking for that steak,” suggested Alex, wrinkling his nose. “When
does it come?”

“I’m Buck Eldred,” announced the man with a businesslike air, “and I
know this man,” pointing to the giant of a man, with a smile on a
clean-cut face, “just as well as if I had helped wheel the dirt to make
him. Anybody in the crowd that knows Buck Eldred?”

No one seemed to know Buck Eldred, and the chances for a battle seemed
very good. At that moment, however, an interruption took place which put
an entirely different face on the incident.

A posse of officers came in from the East with the man who had robbed
the bank in custody.

Instantly there was a friendly sentiment, and the men who had denounced
the boys in savage terms could not do enough for them.

To all such offers, however, the boys turned deaf ears.

“We might have had a load of beefsteak by now,” said Alex, “that a dog
couldn’t bite through. Just wait until I get to the table and watch my
motions.”

“You’ll be there directly,” said Rube, with a chuckle. “I feel as if I
could enjoy a snack myself.”

The tavern sought by the men seemed to be the best in the town, but that
was not saying much. However, it was neat and clean, and the steaks were
soon sizzling over the coals.

“Will you tell me how you got down the river so soon?” Clay asked as
soon as the first edge was off the appetites. “We leave the Point, get
here in time to have our boat stolen, and then we run across you. How
did you make it? We haven’t been here over two hours, and you show up
like a Christmas present—all the more welcome because unexpected.”

“Now, son, just remember this: It ain’t all the questions that are asked
that are answered. What you don’t find out you can’t repeat. And there
you are.”

“I didn’t mean to be inquisitive,” answered Clay, with a flush of
vexation. “It is none of my business how you got here, so long as you
are here.”

“Now don’t misunderstand me,” continued Rube, in an apologetic tone,
which seemed to be something new for him. “There’s reasons for keeping
my mouth closed tighter’n a drum. Enough that I got here in time to help
you out with a little cash, which you may return at any time most
convenient.”

“Thank you for the loan,” replied Clay. “I hope to return it almost
immediately—just as soon, in fact, as we hear from Chicago.”

No more was said on the subject at that time. The boys were busy plying
their knives and forks, and, the meal over, there was the visit to the
telegraph office and then the search for the _Rambler_ was begun.

To tell the truth, the fate of Paul Stegman troubled the lads not a
little. They had no idea what disposition the robbers would make of him.
They might toss him overboard, and they might leave him to die of his
wounds. It would be just as the mood seized them.

There was no news of the _Rambler_ at first. The boys were becoming
discouraged when a telegram from a point thirty miles down the river
gave them courage.

A boat answering the description of the _Rambler_ was anchored off the
mouth of a small creek which ran into the Rio Grande just below the
Mexican line.

“Of course it’s the _Rambler_!” shouted Case. “No other boat looks like
the _Rambler_. Wonder what’s been going on since we left the boat? Seems
like a week.”

“How are we going to get to her?” inquired Jule. “Thirty miles is a long
distance—when you have to swim.”

“And the robbers may be up and away long before we are anywhere near
them,” Alex cut in. “Is there a boat of any kind that we might borrow,
beg or steal in the town?”

“There ought to be,” Clay contributed hopefully. “This is a river town,
and there ought to be plenty of boats in sight.”

“Can we get one that will speed up?” asked Case.

“That’s to be found out,” said Clay.

“I hope we find Paul Stegman all right,” Case said, rather dubiously.
“It would be just like the robbers to pitch him overboard. Their time of
reckoning will come.”

A search of the town revealed nothing available in the boat line. There
were rowboats and skiffs in plenty, but not a thing in the line of a
motor boat.

“We’ve just got to get down to the Mexican line, and get there in jig
time,” declared Alex. “The baby bear needs my care.”

“That’s poetry,” Jule announced. “Baby bear needs my care. It scans,
too. First thing you know, Alex, you’ll be selling your verses at the
rate of a dollar a yard.”

Alex grinned, but made no reply.

“I wonder where Rube and Buck Eldred took themselves off to?” asked Case
in a moment. “They seem to have mysteriously disappeared.”

“Here they come now!” cried Jule.

The two men came from the direction of the river, only higher up than
the boys had penetrated. They now approached the lads with their faces
wreathed in smiles.

“Got a boat, boys?” Buck asked.

“Not so you could notice it,” Alex answered.

“See here, kids,” Buck went on, “Rube here has been telling me something
of your story, and we’ve decided to make common cause against the
pirates. How will that suit you?”

“Fine!” cried Alex.

The other boys were equally frank in their pleasure at the announcement,
and Buck went on.

“Now, we’ve got a little motor boat down the river which——”

The man got no farther than that.

The boys set up such a hubbub that it was impossible to hear a thing.
They ended by giving three cheers and a tiger for Rube and Buck.

“This is great!” exclaimed Clay.

“Great is no name for it!” Alex declared. “Say, fellows, in order to
celebrate this event properly, we ought to have another beefsteak. This
good news makes me hungry.”

“I’d like to see something that wouldn’t make you want to eat. You
certainly have a whale of an appetite,” was Clay’s comment.

“I know what I’d like right now,” Alex went on, regardless of the
laughter of Buck and Rube, “and that is a ’possum pie. I can see myself
on board the _Rambler_, feasting on one right now.”

“That’s all right, but you’re not on board the _Rambler_ yet,” Case
complained. “We’re a long ways from it, worse luck!”

“That reminds me that I haven’t had anything to eat in about two hours,”
said Rube, with a grin, “and that it is about time we met at the festive
board.”

“But how are you going to get a meal cooked in the middle of the
forenoon?” asked Buck. “It strikes me that the cooks will be busy at
this time. Better wait until noon.”

“Not much,” laughed Alex, with a prodigious wrinkling of his nose. “Not
when I’ve got a man back of me that stands six feet and a half in his
stocking feet!”

“Go to it,” said Clay, with a grin. “If this thing keeps on you’ll swell
up and burst.”

“I guess I’ll take a chance on bursting myself,” announced Jule. “Two
bust-ups won’t make any more noise than one, and no more mess, either.”
The three started away toward the tavern, while the others set out to
walk to the motor boat, which was some distance away.

“Tell you what I think,” Buck observed, as they passed a clothing store
where about everything was sold from handkerchiefs to threshing
machines, “you boys have been walking the street undressed about long
enough. I’ll buy you good suits if you’ll come inside. You won’t make
any hit with the natives by going around in that rig.”

Clay looked down at his scanty apparel and laughed. The suit did look
inappropriate for use on the street.

“All right,” said the boy. “If you want to take chances on losing your
investment, go ahead.”

“How do you know that you’ll ever get the money back?” asked Case.
“Perhaps we only borrowed the _Rambler_ and turned it over to the owners
here.”

“You didn’t borrow the faces you have, did you?” answered Buck, with a
smile. “If you ever set out to be robbers, you’ve got to get new faces.”

“You may be mistaken in regard to the faces,” replied Clay. “You can
never tell by the looks of a porcupine how far he can throw his quills.
What is that man looking at?”

He certainly was as evil-faced a fellow as one could come upon in a
day’s walk.

                              CHAPTER VII

                          STOLEN—A MOTOR BOAT

“I’ve seen that face before, unless I am much mistaken,” was the reply.
“It must be Mad Rowell, a person who just thinks he’s the toughest man
that ever came down the pike.”

The boys were in the store by this time with a meager supply of clothing
in front of them. Mad Rowell was evidently looking for trouble. He kept
his evil eyes fixed upon the party in an effort to stare them out of
countenance.

“This looks like a mix-up with the fellow,” whispered Case. “I wish I
had my gun with me.”

“No need of a gun, son,” was the reply. “You wouldn’t get a chance to
use it if you had it,” with a quick motion toward a breast pocket.

“Hands up!”

The command was given in the usual tone, but Mad Rowell obeyed
instantly. His hand, already bringing a weapon from his pocket, dropped
to his side, the weapon clattering to the floor.

By this time the store was in confusion. Customers were getting out of
range in any way they could.

They were hiding under counters, and rushing to the door in a panic
which threatened to depopulate the place of business.

“Leave the gun where it is,” came the voice of Buck.

His tone was low and musical, but there was a glitter in his smiling
eyes which commanded obedience.

The fellow stood sullenly awaiting the next move.

“I ought to fill you full of lead,” went on the voice, “but I can’t find
it in my heart to shoot such a low-down coyote as you. Got another gun
on you?”

The man shook his head.

“I’ll find that out for myself, I reckon. Cattle like you ain’t to be
trusted.”

When the search had progressed as far as the pistol pocket a wicked
looking knife was discovered.

“You cur!” said Buck. “I make you a present of your life, and this is
the way I’m paid.”

The blow which followed the remark had nothing to break its force. Mad
Rowell was lifted clear of the floor by the force of it, whirled around
a couple of times, and fell unconscious to the top of a heap of green
wood.

Then Buck turned to the counter and proceeded with his bargaining as if
nothing had occurred. Gradually the customers returned to the store, but
not until Buck and the boys had made their purchases and left the store
was there any comment whatever.

Then opinions, both for and against the unknown man who had dealt with
the man known as Mad Rowell so summarily were heard.

“Served him good and right,” said the storekeeper, lifting the fallen
tough in his arms and throwing him out of doors. “The fellow has run
this town too long already.”

And that was the general sentiment, though Rowell had his friends too.

Clay and Case, clothed in new suits, proceeded on their way to where the
motor boat had been secreted.

“Tell you what,” Buck suggested, “I think some of us had better remain
on the spot, in case prowlers should take a fancy to the _Esmeralda_.
Nice name, eh? Named for an old sweetheart.”

“Who’ll be the one to stay?” asked Clay, looking keenly at his chum.
“You know the money was ordered in my name from Chicago, and no one else
can receipt.”

“That puts it up to me, I take it,” Case replied. “Have you any idea
when the other boys will be along?”

“When Alex gets full to the neck,” replied Clay. “If you want to see an
eating contest that is a corker, just get Alex and Jule pitted against
each other.”

Alex seemed to be a long time getting “full to the neck,” and Buck and
Clay finally left for the town, leaving Case to watch the boat.

When they reached the tavern there seemed to be nothing unusual going
on. There were no people standing about, and everything appeared normal
and in place.

“Now, I wonder where the boys and Rube are?” Clay said. “They ought to
be here, making a noise!”

The two found no one in the front of the house, so they made bold to
invade the kitchen. Before they reached that apartment, however, they
heard Alex’s voice. They stopped and listened.

“And you take a fat ’possum and fix it up for the pan,” he was saying,
“and when you’ve done that, take strips of fat pork and lay them
lengthwise through the dressing. Oh, yes, about the dressing! I didn’t
tell you how to fix that, did I?”

Clay was so full of laugh that he exploded right there.

“Tell the cook about the sweet potatoes!” he reared, half choking with
laughter. “Perhaps you’ll make a pretty good cook of him before we have
to leave the town.”

Alex opened the kitchen door and looked out.

“Oh, you!” he said with a broad grin.

Then he caught sight of the new suit worn by Clay and looked toward Jule
with a wrinkling of the nose.

“Don’t you wish you’d been present when they were passing ’em around?”
he said. “Now go away and let me continue my lesson to the cook. He got
up a peach of a steak for us, and I’m giving him a few instructions to
guide him in future years. Go away, now, and leave us alone. Skedaddle!”

The cook was black as the ace of spades, and was evidently a native of
the South. He stood by the cook stove with a broad grin on his face. If
he knew a lot about roasting ’possums that Alex had never heard of, he
said not a word about it!

Rube sat in the corner of the room holding his sides.

“You sure take the whole bakery!” was his comment.

“Perhaps you don’t think I can cook a ’possum?” Alex announced. “Well,
just you bring on your ’possum, and I’ll show you that I can! The idea!”

This was greeted with a burst of laughter.

“All right!” declared Alex, “just you bring on your ’possum! I’ll show
you a thing about cooking the bird!”

“There isn’t a ’possum within a thousand miles!” roared Buck.

“Now, don’t yo’ make too sho’ o’ dat!” grinned the cook. “Yo’ sho’ got
to show me!”

The cook went to a woodshed just outside the door and produced about the
fattest ’possum ever seen.

Immediately there was commotion in that little kitchen.

Alex bounced up and down like a rubber ball, while Jule showed his
excitement by rolling over and over on the floor.

“The cook called your bluff!” shouted Buck.

“Think that was a bluff?” asked Alex.

The lad took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

“I’m going to make good right now!” he explained.

The cook looked nervous about turning the ’possum over to Alex. He
finally made up his mind that the boy couldn’t make much of a failure of
the cookery with him there looking on, so he permitted him to go ahead.
Buck looked dubious and Rube only laughed.

“Now you fellows get out of the kitchen!” ordered Alex. “How do you
think I can cook this ’possum with you standing around? When the meal is
ready to serve, I’ll tell you.”

“You don’t think of eating again, do you?” asked Clay.

“Do you think I’m going to miss that ’possum? Not much, I ain’t! No,
sir, that ’possum’s going to be cooked, and cooked right! Then it’ll be
eaten right!”

The two boys left the kitchen, accompanied by Buck and Rube, leaving
Alex and the cook to do business with the ’possum.

After leaving the tavern Clay and Jule went to the railroad station,
hoping to find a money order there. They were doubly disappointed. Not
only was there no money for them, but that was not a money-order office.

“Now what?” asked Jule as they turned away from the little station
house. “This seems to be one of our lucky trips. Anything else likely to
happen?”

“Tell you what I’d do if I was in your place,” advised Rube. “I’d let
the consarned money go and borrow enough to see me through to El Paso.
That’s the way I look at it.”

“That’s what you’d better do,” said Buck.

“Guess we’ll be obliged to,” Clay said in a disgusted tone.

“Why didn’t the clerk tell us that it wasn’t a money-order office at
first?” demanded Jule.

“Perhaps he didn’t know,” laughed Buck. “There’s sometimes a heap o’
ignorance connected with these way stations.”

“I should say so!” agreed Jule.

“Now who shall we borrow of?” asked Clay.

By way of an answer Rube took the roll of bank notes from his pocket and
began stripping them off.

“How much did you say you wanted?” he asked. “Better take enough for
emergencies while you have the chance. I may be broke flat as a flounder
by to-morrow.”

“This will give us a chance to get away at once,” said Clay, placing the
money in his pocket. “If Alex was here, we could be on our way
immediately.”

Jule broke into a laugh at the idea of prying Alex away from that
’possum.

“You’ll not do it,” he announced, “as long as there is a bone left. Alex
is some feeder.”

“There’s no hurry,” Buck said, looking at his watch. “The men who stole
the boat will lie in hiding all day and go on at night. They will be on
the lookout for officers, and will do a lot of skulking. They may even
abandon the boat for a time, but they will come back to it.”

“And they may put up a fight,” Jule argued. “For one, I’d like nothing
better than taking a shot at them.”

“They won’t do much in the fighting line,” Buck contended. “It all
depends on how many of us there are. There seems to be four of them and
they won’t stand for more than that in the attacking party. You see,” he
added, “there’s the Colorado penitentiary in sight, and they’ll make a
desperate run to keep out of it.”

“But they may fight,” suggested Clay.

“Oh, of course,” answered Buck, “but we’ll be on the spot, ready and
waiting for them.”

It seemed to the waiting boys that there never was such a long day.
Alex, of course, had his ’possum to attend to.

When served at dinner the ’possum was declared to be the best ever. Rich
and juicy, and done to a turn, it left nothing to be desired.

The cook declared on his word of honor he had not even made a suggestion
regarding the cooking of the dainty.

“Ah sure don’t need to,” he insisted, “for dat lad he know all there is
to know ’bout cookin’ ’possum! ’Deed he do!”

This endorsement was music to Alex’s ears, and he tried hard to accept
it modestly. His three chums knew, of course, his skill in the culinary
line, but there were Rube and Buck who had to be shown.

Case had been relieved of his watch at the boat in order that he might
join the boys at dinner, and immediately after the meal was served
started away to resume his guardianship, accompanied by Jule.

Alex and Clay remained with Rube and Buck, who had provisions to buy.
They did not know how long the chase might be, and were determined to be
prepared for it.

After making their purchases they set out for the motor boat, but were
met halfway by Case and Jule with the statement that the boat had been
stolen while the ’possum was being discussed.

                              CHAPTER VIII

                           ALEX CLIMBS A TREE

The boys looked into faces which had lost the ruddy tinge of health. For
a second not a word was spoken.

Then Clay laughed. This seemed to set the pace for the men, for they all
laughed in unison.

Then Case grew sober.

“I had a grumble at the end of my tongue,” he said, “but Clay’s laugh
made me forget it. What’s the next move?”

“Find the boat,” contributed Buck. “As we don’t know which way they
went, we’ll split the party, and go in both directions. They can’t be
very far away.”

“They went upstream,” said Alex. “I had a seat at the table from which
the river was in sight, and I’m positive that no motor boat passed in
the other direction.”

“Still, one might have gone downstream when you were otherwise engaged,”
replied Buck. “I’ve noticed that boys have a habit of overlooking many
things when the ’possum is cooked just right.”

Alex grinned but made no comment.

“This is some of Mad Rowell’s work,” said Rube, as the party passed on
upstream.

“You bet it is,” Case added. “Twice I thought I saw him in the
underbrush, but finally decided that it was my imagination working
overtime. I wish now that I had investigated.”

“If Mad Rowell knows how to operate a motor boat,” said Buck, “the
chances are against us. That boat can go some!”

The party advanced up the stream half a mile or more without seeing
anything in the shape of a motor boat.

“Hopeless case, I reckon,” suggested Rube. “It strikes me that we are
only wasting time. We should have gone directly to the village and used
the wire.

The man had hardly ceased speaking when an exclamation from Jule
attracted the attention of all in the party.

“There she is!”

It was indeed true. The _Esmeralda_ lay rocking in the river some
distance farther upstream. Mad Rowell was nowhere in view from where the
party stood. The boat was, however, on the opposite bank of the river.

Buck appeared lost in a brown study for a moment, and then he said,
speaking in his usual drawl:

“This may be an ambush.”

“If they ever got one of us into the river, they could fill him so full
of lead that he’d sink of his own weight,” Clay went on. “The thing to
do now is for all to take to the water at once. They can’t kill all of
us!”

“They might do even that,” put in Rube, “but it seems that we have to
risk it. I wish I had my two hands on the man who is responsible for
this!”

“Well, what’s the decision?” asked Case.

“Yes,” answered Alex, “who’s ready for a cold bath?”

“If there’s anything I just love to do,” laughed Jule, “it is to go
swimming. This water is fine!”

“Suppose we all strip?” suggested Case, who did not care to get his new
suit wet.

“Then we’ll have to leave someone on this side to watch the clothes,”
said Jule. “That will be a good job for me.”

“In a pig’s wrist,” Case said. “We’ll draw lots to see who stays
behind.”

Fate decided in favor of Alex, much to the disgust of that young man,
who was really anxious to try conclusions with the men who had stolen
the boat. He tried his best to get a substitute, but did not succeed,
and so was obliged to sit idly on the bank of the stream while the
others took to the water.

“Come on in. The water’s fine!” taunted Jule.

Notwithstanding the optimism of Jule, the water was wretchedly cold. At
that time, however, the people in the stream were too much occupied with
other matters to pay any attention to the temperature of the water.

They spread out in the shape of a fan and made for the opposite shore
with no thought of the chill of the water. When at last their feet
struck the shelving shore, they kept the old formation.

To their great surprise there was no one in or about the boat. They
advanced cautiously, not knowing when they might be attacked.

They did not see the evil face of Mad Rowell peering out upon them from
a clump of underbrush. As a matter of fact, the man had been caught off
his guard.

He had gone back down the river looking for an old crony to keep him
company in the journey he proposed to take. He had returned to the
_Esmeralda_ just a minute too late.

This accounted for the boat being in such good condition. If Rowell had
abandoned it, it is a sure thing that he would have broken the motor and
done other damage which would have made its use impossible, for a time
at least.

If Rowell had been possessed of a revolver, the chances are that he
would have taken a shot at Buck, but, it will be remembered, his weapon
had been taken from him at the store.

So, weaponless as he was, the tough was obliged to see the _Esmeralda_
taken away by its owner. He resolved, however, to “get even” at the
first opportunity.

“Now, what do you know about this?” demanded Clay, looking over the boat
critically. “The motor is in fine form, and I can’t see a thing the
matter anywhere.”

Rube pointed to the place where the rowboat had been kept.

“The skiff is not here,” he remarked, “and it looks like they had gone
away in it.”

By this time all the boys were shivering, so they made a hasty departure
for the other shore. When only a few yards away they observed Captain
Joe acting in a suspicious manner, and turned on more electricity.

“What’s that fool dog up to?” asked Case.

There was quite a commotion on shore, and the boys did not wait to see
that the _Esmeralda_ was anchored, but sprang into the river and swam
ashore. When they reached solid ground neither Alex nor the dog was in
sight. And neither were the clothes!

“Well, of all the——”

Clay stopped right there. All he could say did not half express the
situation.

A few articles of clothing were scattered about, but they did not
represent the five suits which had been left there only a short time
before. In fact, a good share of the clothes had disappeared.

The shivering lads gathered on the river bank and pondered over the new
turn of affairs until joined by Rube and Buck.

“Where’s your boy who was watching the clothes?” asked Buck. “I don’t
seem to see him anywhere about!”

“And where’s your dog?” demanded Rube.

“Blessed if I know what’s been going on here!” exclaimed Case, his teeth
rattling as with the ague.

“Oh, this is a bad dream,” declared Jule. “Turn over and get off your
back! You’ll be dreaming of pie in a minute!”

“I wish I had any old thing to put on,” grumbled Case.

“You know what Eve did when she found herself naked?” remarked Jule.
“She made an apron of fig leaves.”

“Bring on your fig leaves!” ordered Clay. “Here, waiter, one order of
fig leaves.”

“Something must be done at once,” declared Rube. “I’m that cold that
life in an ice house would be a pleasant recreation!”

A movement was now heard in the underbrush which lined the shore of the
stream, and Captain Joe made his appearance.

The dog was greeted with exclamations of disgust.

“Come here, you mongrel cur!” shouted Case, at the same time making a
rush for the canine. “What did you do with our clothes?”

Captain Joe wagged his quarter of a tail and said in his best dog talk
that he would show them later.

“Where’s Alex?” asked Case, talking to the dog as if he had the gift of
speech.

Captain Joe climbed up on his questioner, much to the latter’s
annoyance, he being nearly naked, and made further demonstrations which
said in plain dog talk that he knew what was being said, but considered
it beneath his dignity to make reply.

“You’re a naughty dog, and you shan’t have a bit of supper,” threatened
Case.

Captain Joe got down from his elevated position and walked with great
dignity toward the fringe of trees which grew along the east shore of
the stream.

“He wants us to follow him,” Clay declared, “but how are we going to do
it? The wild men of Borneo have us beaten to a frazzle when it comes to
clothes.”

“It seems as if we might get one good suit out of this mess,” Clay said.
“Who’ll be the man to try?”

“It seems to me that we all ought to be getting a move on,” said Jule.
“For all we know, Alex may be having all kinds of trouble. We appear to
be children of fortune this trip! Everything comes our way—in a horn!”

It was finally agreed that Jule should remain at the _Esmeralda_, and
that the others should follow the dog, who was still hanging around, in
the hope that some of the boys might follow him.

When they reached the fringe of trees which stood along the shore of the
river, Clay paused and doubled up with laughter.

Alex was in sight—up a tree.

There was a bear at the foot of the tree—a bear that evidently thought
he had a cinch on the boy—a Colorado mountain bear, small but fierce.
And Alex was playing a mouth organ with all the energy he possessed for
the benefit of the bear!

The boys laughed until their sides ached before attempting any
interference. Only for the fact that the wind was blowing from the east,
while the place where the clothes had been deposited was to the west of
that point, the noise of Alex’s shouting for assistance and the music of
the organ might have been heard from the first.

The bear moved away sullenly, taking an extra swipe at a pair of Buck’s
trousers as he did so. He had evidently scented the clothing during a
temporary absence of Alex and began work on them.

“What you doing up that tree?” Clay called out, as he approached the
spot, from which Alex was now descending. “We left you guarding the
clothes.”

“He had to entertain the bear, didn’t he?” put in Case. “Bears just love
music.”

“Where was your automatic?” asked Rube, breaking into another fit of
laughter at the general appearance of the party.

Buck had succeeded in finding a vest and a pair of drawers, Rube was
dressed in an undershirt and a pair of trousers, Clay wore a ruined
sweater and a pair of trousers, while Case sported about in a coat and
trousers and a soft felt hat.

“The bear made new business for the merchant,” laughed Clay. “How’s your
money holding out, Rube? Big contract you took when you set out to
supply this bunch with clothes!”

“Don’t you worry about the money,” Rube answered. “I’ve got a roll that
would choke a cow yet.”

The man suddenly clapped his hand to his side with an anxious look and
brought it away empty.

“Well, I’ll be—”

He never completed the sentence, but dashed off in the direction of the
place where the clothes had been.

Alex had remained silent under all the chaffing to which he had been
subjected. Now, however, with an exclamation of dismay he started away
after Rube.

“What’s coming off?” asked Buck.

“Blessed if I know,” answered Clay.

“I’ll bet that Rube has lost his money!”

It was Clay who made the remark, and it served to set both boys and Buck
in motion.

“This a fine trip, I don’t think!” grumbled Case, as they ran for the
spot where the clothing had been left.

When the party gained the spot they had so recently left, neither Jule
nor the _Esmeralda_ was in sight!

“Where’s the boat, and where’s Jule?” demanded Buck. “We appear to be
having the time of our lives!”

“Well,” said Clay, “the boat got away, not being anchored, and Jule set
out to catch it. The time of our lives, well, I should say so! Did you
find the roll. Rube?”

Rube, who was down on the ground turning over everything in sight,
looked up with a comical grin on his face.

“Say,” he said, with a chuckle, “if we don’t find that roll, we’ve got
someone to lay it to. Eh? We can charge it to the bear!”

“You may charge our present plight to me!” Alex said. “If I hadn’t laid
my automatic aside for a minute, I might have killed the bear, and all
these complications never would have happened.”

“It was to be!” observed Clay.

“You bet it was!” Case added.

“You just say that to make me feel better,” Alex replied, almost in
tears. “I’m a blunderer, anyhow.”

“We wouldn’t know what to do without you!” responded Case, tapping the
boy on the shoulder. “Now, brace up. Things have got to change for the
better before long!”

At that instant they saw Jule walking dejectedly up the river.

“I don’t see any boat with him,” Case commented.

                               CHAPTER IX

                         THE RAMBLER HEARD FROM

“He’s got the motor boat in his pocket—perhaps!” Clay said, dejectedly.
“We’ll have to walk back to Chicago, I take it! Well, we may as well
laugh as cry, so here goes for the merry side of things. It might be
worse, you know!”

“I fail to see how it could be much worse,” Case observed. “We are shy
clothes and everything! Right now we look like a lot of monkeys dancing
about in the forest!”

Jule was by this time within hailing distance, and Buck called out to
him, asking where the boat was. For answer the boy pointed down the
river.

“I knew it!” said Case, with a shiver.

“How did it happen?” asked Buck.

“It drifted away,” replied Jule, when he came within speaking distance,
“but some men down the river caught it. It will be up here in a few
minutes.” “Whoop-ee!” shouted Case.

“I’ve got a picture of our walk back to Chicago!” Clay exclaimed,
dancing about in his ruined sweater and trousers. “Not yet—not for your
Uncle Zeke!”

“Why didn’t you get into the boat and ride up?” asked Buck.

“There was no place to land,” was the reply. “There comes the boat now,
with three men aboard of her.”

“I give it up,” declared Rube, rising to his feet. “At the present time
if cows were selling for a cent apiece, the whole party couldn’t buy a
piece of cheese an inch in size!”

“Don’t you be too sure about that!”

And Jule took the missing roll from a pocket in his shirt and presented
it to the owner. The moment of blank amazement over, the boys placed the
roll of money on the ground, and, joining hands, circled around it until
they were all out of breath.

“I found it on the ground where the bear left it,” said the boy in
explanation. “Wasn’t he a good, kind bear to leave anything at all?” he
added, whimsically.

“How do you know there was any bear?” demanded Case. “The fix the
clothes were in might have been the work of mischievous boys, for all
you knew.”

“Not much,” Jule replied. “Boys wouldn’t have a nest in that hollow
tree, would they? And boys wouldn’t be sliding down, and raking the bark
off the tree, would they?”

“Then you knew just what we were to meet?” demanded Clay.

“I thought Alex had been caught without his automatic, and that the bear
had chased him away,” answered Jule.

“That’s exactly what happened,” said Alex. “The bear came out of the
tree and I had to run for it. When I got to the tree I found the bear
close to my heels. I think he would have got me only for the mouth
organ. How I did long for my automatic!”

“Why didn’t you run while the bear was attending to the clothing?” asked
Rube, who was so glad to get his money back that his face wore a chronic
and perpetual grin.

“To tell the truth,” replied Alex, with a sly smile, “I wasn’t here when
the brute showed up! I was away on a little trip of my own. Now you have
the whole story.”

“Well,” said Rube, “as we have to make another trip to the village, and
it’s getting along toward the middle of the afternoon, perhaps we’d
better be deciding who’s to go. We can’t all go in the rigs we have on,
that’s a sure thing. The bear didn’t leave us too many clothes—not
enough to hurt any.”

“I’ve got an idea!” suggested Alex. “It will save us a trip to town and,
at the same time, expedite matters. What’s the matter with my going to
the burg and buying for us all?”

“Well, if you’ll promise not to follow off any bears; that’s the
ticket!” said Buck.

“The bears are likely to follow Alex off!” laughed Case.

The motor boat now dropped anchor in front of where the boys were
standing, and the party was subjected to no end of “roasting” because of
their disreputable appearance.

“Looks like the Garden of Eden!” roared the man who seemed to be in
charge. “Where are your clothes?” he went on. “If I was the proprietor
of that layout, I’d be looking around for a rag man!”

“The bear caught sight of our clothes first,” Clay answered. “Got time
to take one of the boys back to the store?” he asked. “As you see, we
are in need of clothes.”

“I should say so!” replied the other.

The story was soon told, and the men were off for the town in a hurry.
For once, Alex did the job of buying the clothes as it should have been
done, and was soon on his way back to the boys.

As he understood the motor thoroughly, it was not necessary for the
boatmen to return with him. They left him with many expressions of good
will, and many admonitions to give all members of the bear family a wide
berth in future.

It was fortunate that the provisions purchased by Buck and Rube were
intact, they having been hidden in a separate place.

The clothes fitted all the boys very well indeed, but Rube, owing to
what Alex called “his length of beam,” was forced to don a suit about a
foot too large for him and a foot too short.

“These clothes are all right, only they don’t fit!” said Rube, looking
down at his protruding legs. “They fit me too quick the long way, and
they are about the size of an elephant the short way.”

“You shouldn’t notice it!” volunteered Alex. “If this thing keeps on,
you’ll be short in your bank account.”

“How much is there left in that roll?” asked Clay.

“Now, don’t you worry about the roll wasting away,” replied Rube, “for
there’s more where that came from.”

“Glad to know it—we may want to make another touch!” was Alex’s reply.
“We’re pretty deep in that roll now, if anybody should ask you,” he
added, with a wink at Jule.

“Now, see here,” Rube responded, “don’t you ever think I take any chance
whatever in losing this money. You boys haven’t said a word to me about
how you are hooked up! We’ve been too busy for that. But don’t you ever
suspect that I don’t know. You haven’t mentioned any names, except Clay,
Alex, Case and Jule, but I read all about you and the _Rambler_ in a
Chicago newspaper, and the minute you referred to the _Rambler_ I had
you located.”

“It seems that we are getting notorious,” suggested Clay. “We can’t make
a move that some newspaper don’t record.”

“Lucky for you that it is so,” Rube continued.

“Why is it lucky for us?” demanded Jule, interrupting.

“Well,” Rube went on, “when you picked up Paul Stegman last night in the
rain, and began talking about the _Rambler_ and Captain Joe, I had you
sized up. So when Buck came down the river in his motor boat, I got
aboard, thinking you kids might need a little lookin’ after. Now you’ve
got the whole story.”

“And so, without knowing it, we had a bodyguard from the time we rescued
Paul from the river?” Case interrupted. “It was mighty good of you
both.”

“I wonder how Paul is faring?” Clay suggested.

“Oh, the boat thieves probably threw him overboard,” Case declared. “I’d
like to wring their necks!”

“Now,” Rube said, “I’ve got a hunch that you boys are able to look out
for yourselves, so I’ll ride as far as the _Rambler_ and quit you there.
I have a little work to do for myself. If you are as level-headed in
future as you have shown yourselves to be in the past, you won’t need
any watching.”

“How do you know we’ll catch the _Rambler_?” asked Jule.

“I’m just supposing a case,” replied Rube with a grin.

“You just bet we’ll catch her!” Alex contributed. “And when we get her
next time, we’ll keep her. This chasing after boats all the time ain’t
what it’s cracked up to be.”

It was late in the afternoon when the _Esmeralda_ got under way, just as
Clay had planned. A close watch was kept on both shores as the boat
proceeded downstream.

Naturally, the _Rambler_ would take the easiest course, which was
downstream, but for this very reason the boys decided to search every
foot of water until they came to it. As soon as it was dark enough, the
thieves might seek to baffle pursuit by heading up the river.

At last darkness settled down on the water. Had the night been made to
order it could not have served the purpose of the boys better. If the
_Rambler_ had crept into some hiding place along the stream her lights
would show them where she lay.

In case her lights were not burning and her motors were not running it
would be a difficult thing to locate the boat, and for this reason the
_Esmeralda_ was kept slowed down.

From the first Clay had not believed the story told by Rube. He might be
interested in a ranch, and Clay did not doubt that he was, but that was
not the reason for his appearance on the scene just at that time. The
boy did not care to make himself disliked by prying too openly into the
affairs of the others, yet he was positive that there was a hidden
motive back of the one reason given.

Clay talked the matter over with the other boys, but could not reach a
satisfactory conclusion.

“Perhaps he’s an officer,” suggested Jule.

“In that case,” replied Clay, “he would be apt to know some of the other
officers.”

“From first to last,” answered Jule, “we haven’t met a single man who
has shown any authority. I guess he’s just helping out for the fun he’s
getting out of it.”

“And Buck? What about him?” asked Case.

“Give it up, boys,” cried Alex. “You’re all tangled up now, and the more
you guess the more you’ll get tangled.”

The _Esmeralda_ slipped downstream with no lights in sight. Whenever
they came to a long stretch of river the motor was set in motion, but
ordinarily it remained silent.

Of course the boys were unable to pick out the localities for speeding,
they being strangers to that section of country, but here Buck and Rube
proved very capable guides.

They knew the upper Rio Grande as the schoolboy knows his primer. In
fact, knowing the stream so well, it was remarkable that they had never
before landed at Hayes. But Hayes is a small place, and, besides, they
had never had occasion to visit the burg.

At ten o’clock a slow rain began falling, and, the boat at the time
being just around a point of land from a creek, Buck, who was in charge,
shut off the power and permitted the craft to drift.

“Do you see anything that looks like a light?”

It was Rube who asked the question.

At that instant, almost before the words were off his lips, came a low
whistle of warning.

“There they are!” said Case.

“Keep still,” admonished Clay.

The boat drifted on, past the mouth of the creek, and let an anchor drop
silently into the water.

“I don’t know what we’ve struck, but we know that wasn’t no coyote’s
call,” declared Case.

“It had a human sound,” interrupted Jule.

“Listen!” warned Buck. “We’ll hear it again in a moment. I thought I
heard it then.”

“That was only rain,” explained Alex. “The first one might have been
that, too.”

At that instant, before another word could be spoken, a great light
flashed out, followed by a shrill scream.

                               CHAPTER X

                           A BIT OF DYNAMITE

“That’s Tommy!” whispered Jule.

“But the light? Who turned that on?” Alex whispered in reply to the
suggestion.

“It doesn’t seem to be the thing to do—showing a light just at this
time,” Clay commented.

“Well, what’s the next move?” asked Case. “Shall we board the boat? Or
shall we wait for the next move of the robbers?”

“Give him some Peter Pratt,” suggested Clay. Rube and Buck, who had
remained silent during this conversation, nearly jumped out of the motor
boat when Jule opened up with:

“What are you doing in my boat? Get out, and get out quick, or I’ll
knock your block off!”

“Who was that talking?” asked Rube.

The boys snickered.

“Sounds like he meant business, whoever it is!” suggested Buck. “Say,
but he gave me a start!”

“You’ve got a heap of nerve, taking my boat without my consent! I think
you’ve got a trimming coming!”

“Who’s doing all this talking?” demanded Rube. “It ain’t his boat,
nohow.”

Before anyone could reply, a figure, strongly outlined against the light
of the _Rambler_, rushed to the deck and crouched down behind the
railing, from which position only his head could be seen, his body being
concealed by the framework of the railing.

“What’s coming off here?” Jule’s voice went on. “If you don’t get away
from that railing, I’ll shoot, and shoot to kill!”

Whoever the man was who had sought shelter behind the railing, he was
game. He never moved, only the watchers could see the gleaming barrel of
an automatic.

“Now if Tommy would only lip in,” Clay suggested, “we would have quite a
menagerie. I wonder if that fellow we see is the only man aboard the
_Rambler_?”

There was a fringe of bushes along the shore, and, clearly outlined
against the light of the prow lamp, a figure could now be seen making
his way through the shrubbery in the direction of the boat.

The watchers being in the shadows were not visible from the position
occupied by the prowler.

“He’ll be aboard the boat in a minute if something ain’t done to stop
him,” remarked Rube, “and then there’ll be a mix-up that will be worth
the price of admission.”

The two men had evidently been completely deceived by the talk put up by
Jule. They really believed that another claimant for the _Rambler_ had
put in his appearance.

“That talk you heard was made by Jule,” explained Case. “He thinks
nothing of being two or three people at a time!”

“Not that talk in which the intruder was ordered off the boat, under
penalty of having his block knocked off?” Buck answered.

Jule laughed softly.

“That’s the size of it,” he explained. “Made the fellow get a move on,
eh?” he added.

“How do you do it?” asked Rube.

The question was never answered, for Tommy called for the attention of
the entire company.

“Get off the boat!” he croaked. “Eat ’em alive! He eats ’em alive! Out
of the way!”

“What’s that?” demanded Buck. “Sounds like the devil has come to town!”

The watchers could hear the man on the deck swearing under his breath,
and could see the man prowling in the bushes advancing toward the
_Rambler_.

“Now’s the time to get the _Rambler_ back,” whispered Case. “I am
positive there is only the person in sight on board.”

“But where have the others gone?” asked Buck. “There were six on board.”

“There is a man in the shrubbery,” said Rube. “Well,” Case said, getting
to his feet, “who’s going to make the first break?”

“Look here,” Alex put in, “what’s the matter with the rear deck? I can
get to that in a jiffy.”

“Seems to me that you have all the fun,” Jule expostulated. “Why don’t
you give someone else a chance?”

But Captain Joe settled the matter of priority in his own way. He had
been roaming about the deck of the _Esmeralda_ like a lost spirit ever
since the conversation had opened.

He evidently knew that he belonged on board the _Rambler_, and was
peeved at the idea of being kept out of his rights. At any rate he
sprang into the river and struck out for the shore.

In a moment all was confusion on board the _Esmeralda_. Knowing that the
dog would be recognized as the canine which had made the attack on the
robber at the bank of the river higher up, the boys all sprang to their
feet and started pellmell for the railing of the boat. It was Rube who
stopped them.

“Now see here, boys,” he expostulated, “you’ll only get cold lead in
your systems if you make the attempt to board the _Rambler_ now. The
robber will see the dog coming and, doubtless, shoot at him. The dog
will give him about one shot, then there’ll be a mix-up.

“The chances are about even the way I’ve got it figured out, but I’m
betting on the dog. He has the speed and——”

Rube got no farther. The dog had by this time reached the boat and
mounted to the deck, clearing the railing at one leap, aided by
driftwood which gave him footing.

The attack was so sudden that the robber fired only one shot and that
one an ineffectual one, and then the dog was upon him.

“Come on, boys!” shouted Alex.

“And the grit,” continued Rube, picking up the sentence, “and I’m
bettin’ on the dog!”

There was no time to reach the _Rambler_ by boat, so the boys plunged
into the river and started to swim. But the man in the bushes had to be
reckoned with.

No sooner were the boys in the river than he opened fire. In a moment,
however, he turned his attention to the _Esmeralda_, which had been left
unguarded.

Before the boys in the water saw what he was up to, he was climbing over
the prow of the boat. Then it was too late, and, leaving his chum to his
fate, the man in the boat started the motor and was soon around a bend
in the river.

Buck gave a regretful look at the _Esmeralda_ as she disappeared from
sight, but kept on toward the _Rambler_. His regret was that someone had
not been left on the boat, but that was now a past issue. The
_Esmeralda_ was gone, and would undoubtedly be annexed by the pirates
who had captured the _Rambler_.

In the meantime, Captain Joe was having the time of his life with the
robber, who happened to be the identical fellow the dog had sampled up
the river. It being necessary to leave someone on board the boat, the
fellow’s mates had chosen him as the one to remain, he being still
suffering from the wounds made by the dog.

Alex was the first one to mount the deck of the _Rambler_, and the sight
he saw sent him off in peals of laughter, in which he was soon joined by
the other members of the party.

Tommy, the parrot, having been long parted from the dog, was standing
erect on his back, talking all the words he knew, which were not a few.
Teddy, the baby bear, was curled up a few feet away, sound asleep.

Alex’s first act on gaining the deck was to lift the robber’s revolver
from the place where it had been thrown in the struggle and place it in
a secure position on the prow.

Next he gave his attention to the robber, who by this time was hurling
all kinds of oaths and imprecations at Captain Joe, who, by the way,
paid not the slightest attention to what was being said.

The dog had taken the robber by the back of the neck, so his throat was
in good working order, and he filled the atmosphere of the rainy night
with such a collection of oaths as one seldom hears.

“Swear away if it makes you feel any better!” laughed Alex. “You
certainly are a peach at it.”

“Call the dog off!” roared the prostrate man. “Wait till I get hold of
him!”

“All right!” replied Alex. “I’ll wait as long as you like, but in the
meantime you’ll be eaten up!”

“For the love of Mike, call him off!” cried the prostrate man. “He’s
killing me!”

“That’s just the fate you deserve!” commented Buck. “One of your chums
stole my boat.”

“And the whole crew will be on top of us if we don’t get a move on!”
declared Case. “Let the man up, and let’s get out of this.”

The fallen man was assisted to his feet, and Alex rushed to the cabin to
see what had become of Paul Stegman. Much to his surprise he found him
there, alive and thriving.

“Hello, Paul!” the boy shouted. “You don’t appear to be much the worse
for your association with the robbers!”

“Do you know what one of them did for me?” asked Paul. “Bet you never
can guess!”

Alex gave a number of guesses and then gave it up.

“He set my leg!”

“What’s that?”

“Sure thing!”

Alex sat weakly down. This was too much to believe.

“Yes, sir! He set my broken leg!”

“He must have been a surgeon, wanting practice!” Alex said, with a
wrinkling of the nose. “I’ve heard of such people before now.”

“No, sir,” insisted Paul, with a shrug of the shoulders, “he wasn’t any
such thing. He was a regular surgeon, duly qualified, and all that. Yes,
sir, he was a regular practitioner.”

“This thing is too good to keep!” exclaimed Alex, ducking out of the
cabin door. “I’ll have to spread the glad tidings!”

When the boy got to the deck he found it in confusion. Captain Joe was
occupying the center of the stage, with Tommy a close second. The parrot
was talking and the dog was barking.

In the distance the _Esmeralda_ was shoving her nose through the rain.
The thieves, it seemed, were not satisfied to let the _Rambler_ go in
that way.

Her cabin lights were ablaze, and her deck was crowded with people. Her
appearance at that point effectually blocked the entrance to the creek.

Tommy was doing his best to scold the intruder away, while Captain Joe
was exerting himself to get away from Clay, who had him by the scruff of
the neck.

“Giving a party?” asked Alex.

“Yes,” Buck replied, “and it’s likely to be a necktie party before it’s
over. The _Esmeralda_ looks right pert with all those people on board! I
suppose we’ll have to wade in blood to get out of this hole they’ve got
us into!”

“The _Esmeralda_ is stopping,” said Case. “I wonder what’s next on their
program?”

A hail now came from the boat.

“Hello!” the voice said.

“Hello yourself!” came the reply.

“What you doing with that boat?”

The answer was a baying of the dog and another scream from the parrot.
The hailing party consulted together for a second and then called out:

“Guess you’ll have to submit to capture, boys.”

“You don’t see anything green, do you?” was Alex’s answer. “If you want
us why don’t you come and take us?”

“We can do that, too, but we thought we’d give you a chance for your
lives.”

“Never mind the chance,” Jule called back. “If you have nothing more to
offer, perhaps you’ll get out of the way. We’re going to want the space
you occupy in about a minute. We’ve got business down the river.”

“All right!” the robber answered. “Have it your own way, but you must
not expect any favors from us if you keep up your impudent talk. We’ve
had about enough of that already.”

“Go as far as you like,” was Jule’s reply.

“It beats the Old Scratch that we have to get into the clutches of river
pirates wherever we go,” said Case. “One would suppose that some one of
the rivers visited would be free of them.”

“Now,” said Clay, “suppose we give them a little fireworks. It will be
just the thing for their systems, don’t you think?”

“Sure!” exclaimed Alex.

The boy ran into the cabin and returned almost immediately with several
sticks of dynamite in his arms.

Buck and Rube did not wait for the stuff to be placed on the deck. They
began climbing over the railing.

“Just you wait a second,” Rube began, “until I get out of this boat! I’m
not ready, yet, to lead a procession to the cemetery! I prefer to live a
spell longer.”

Again a hail came from the _Esmeralda_.

“We’ll give you five minutes to decide!”

“That’s about four minutes too much!” shouted Clay. “If you object to
being blown to Kingdom Come, just lie still when we are passing through
the opening.”

“Make ’em give up the _Esmeralda_!” said Buck.

                               CHAPTER XI

                           ALEX GOES FISHING

“Never thought of that!” Clay declared.

“Give ’em five minutes to vacate!”

It was Rube who made the suggestion. By this time both Buck and Rube had
climbed back into the boat, and had gathered around the dynamite, though
taking good care to keep near the boat’s rail, so they could leap
overboard in case anything went off prematurely.

“I don’t like that stuff, nohow!” Rube declared, backing away, as Clay
prepared to throw a stick. “Why don’t you give ’em a chance to leave the
boat?” he added.

“I thought I’d give them a taste of the stuff first,” was the reply.
“Not enough to hurt—just a little boat-rocker!”

“The five minutes are about up!” came a voice from the _Esmeralda_.
“What is your decision?”

“Here it is!” shouted Clay.

He threw the dynamite as he spoke against a log that lay in the stream
just under the bow of the _Esmeralda_.

The boat rocked viciously for some time. Clay waited for the motion to
cease and threw again, coming a little nearer the hull of the
_Esmeralda_ this time.

“How do you like it?” Case queried.

The only reply was a shower of bullets, which bounded from the armor of
the _Rambler_ like so many grains of rice.

An effort was now made to back the boat out of the reach of Clay’s arm,
but, the craft, having been run into the creek prow first, this could
not be done without the person who attempted it coming within the range
of the boy’s steady aim.

“If you try that,” warned Case, “the boat will be blown up! We have
dynamite enough on hand to do the business.”

“The best way out of this scrape,” put in Alex, “is for you to stop
shooting and also get out of the boat! If you don’t, the craft will be
destroyed. Do you get that?”

“The first man who tries to get to the anchor-chain will regret it,”
Clay put in. “That will be the signal for the blowing up of the
_Esmeralda_.”

“The best thing you can do is to quickstep off the boat!” Buck
suggested. “The lads have you too dead to skin.”

“And no shooting after you get ashore, mind,” added Rube.

Had there been a man in the crew with the nerve of either one of the
boys, or of Rube or Buck, there would have been “doings,” but all feared
the sticks of dynamite in Clay’s hands.

While the outlaws consulted together, not knowing what course to pursue,
one of their number fired a shot at Clay.

The boy staggered and would have fallen had not Alex sprang forward and
caught him. Blood was pouring in a stream from a wound in his arm, and
he sat down behind the railing to catch his breath.

“Close call, that!” he said, with a faint smile.

Buck seized the dynamite, which had fallen to the deck, and hurled it
across the water in the direction of the _Esmeralda_.

It struck the bow of the boat and shattered it to splinters. The next
instant marked an exit from the boat.

The robbers fell over each other getting out. In a minute all were out,
and the _Esmeralda_ lay rocking in the river.

“Turn the motors on—quick!”

Clay was on his feet, with the blood still pouring from the bullet hole
in his arm, making suggestions for the guidance of the others. It was
well that he was quick to speak.

Before the motors could be brought to use, a storm of bullets was flying
at the _Rambler_.

“Turn off the lights,” said Clay.

Then he fainted from loss of blood and the pain of the wound.

The command was obeyed, the _Esmeralda_ was taken in tow, and the
_Rambler_ moved slowly into the stream.

As the _Rambler_ drew up to the _Esmeralda_ and passed her, Buck sprang
aboard over the wrecked prow and switched off the lights. All was now in
darkness, but the robbers continued to fire as long as the boats were in
sight.

Half a mile down the river the lights were switched on again, and Clay’s
wound examined. The boy was still unconscious, an artery having been
severed.

While the examination was going on a hail was heard from the east shore,
and the motor boat checked her speed.

“What’s wanted?” asked Buck.

“Want to come aboard,” was the reply.

“Are you alone?” was the next question. “Stand out where I can see you.”

The stranger moved to a position where the rays of light fell full upon
him, revealing a slender man of twenty-five or under. He was neatly
dressed in black, and wore a slouch hat.

“Why do you want to come on board?” Buck demanded.

“To get out of the rain,” was the answer. “My shoes are wet through, and
I’m chilled to the bone.”

“Shall we take him aboard?” Buck asked.

“Sure thing!” said Rube, who was the only other person on the deck, the
three boys being in attendance on Clay. “I reckon we can handle one man!
Besides, the fellow really looks civilized. Anyhow, we’ll give him a
chance to tell his story.”

“All right!” Buck shouted back. “We’ll give you a chance to dry out, but
you’ll have to swim for it.”

“I fail to see how I could get any wetter than I am now!” answered the
stranger, plunging into the river and striking out for the boat. “In
fact, I think the river water an improvement over rain water.”

The stranger climbed up on deck and shook himself.

“When I had the honor to associate with the crew of the _Rambler_
before,” the man began, but Buck seized him by the shoulder and ran him
into the cabin.

“You look to me,” he declared, “like the man who recently did a job of
surgery. ’Cause why? There ain’t been no other people on board the boat,
except you and the river pirates and the boys.”

Paul struggled into a sitting posture and almost shouted out his
recognition of the stranger.

“Just in time to save a life!” he said. “Clay must have bled to death in
another hour!”

Without speaking a word, the surgeon stripped off his coat and set to
work on the wounded boy. The men gathered about the lad held their
breath while awaiting the surgeon’s verdict.

“A bad wound,” he finally said.

“Is it fatal?” asked Alex in a whisper.

“Not necessarily so,” was the answer. “If I only had a tourniquet,” he
added, “the job would be an easy one, but the boy has lost considerable
blood, and——”

Alex interrupted the surgeon by shouting that there was such an
instrument in the medicine box, and dashing off to fetch it.

“I guess I’m getting dippy,” the boy said, as he laid the instrument
down. “I knew that the tourniquet was in the medicine box. I’m sure
getting balmy in the crumpet.”

This was slang of the worst kind, but the boys were too excited to
remark it. The surgeon took the instrument and put it in position,
remarking as he did so that the boy had already lost enough blood to run
a mill.

“Can you bring him through now?” Jule asked eagerly.

“It is simply a question of good care,” was the reply.

The surgeon worked over the lad for a long time before he returned to
consciousness. When at last he opened his eyes there was a smile in
them.

He was still very faint, but he was very nervy.

“Where did you come from?” he asked the surgeon in a whisper.

The surgeon laughed.

“I came out of the rain!” was the reply.

“That’s Theodore Rand, formerly of the pirate craft _Rambler_,” said
Paul. “He’s the quickest man at a broken leg I ever saw! I’m going to
have him promoted. He’s going to be Chief Surgeon in the army before he
dies!”

“Were you really aboard the _Rambler_ before?” asked Case.

“Of course he was,” interrupted Paul. “Didn’t he set my broken leg?
That’s some surgeon!”

“But I don’t see how you got away from the pirates,” Jule exclaimed.
“They don’t let go when they get hold of a man like you. They cling to
him like a puppy to a root!”

“Well,” said Theodore, known forever thereafter as “Thede,” “you see,
the outlaws had need of my services. They had a man shot through the
lungs, and I came along in my skiff just in time to be too late. They
rewarded me by stealing my instruments and putting me off the boat just
below the spot I set this boy’s leg.”

“Then you must have had a long walk in the rain,” Case remarked. “And
you must be good and hungry.”

“I could eat a rhinoceros right now!” said the surgeon. “I have been
waiting for an invitation to eat.”

Alex sprang to his feet.

“That makes me think that I haven’t had a square meal since I left the
_Rambler_!” he exclaimed. “Now, if the river thieves haven’t cleaned out
the refrigerator, I’ll get you a supper that’ll make you sit up and take
notice!”

It was pretty poor picking in the refrigerator, but there was plenty of
tinned goods, and the boys managed to get a very satisfying meal. Alex
washed the dishes under protest!

“Where do you want to get off?” asked Case, as the _Rambler_, still with
the _Esmeralda_ in tow, headed toward the Gulf of Mexico.

“I’m going to any old point in the South,” was the answer. “You see,”
explained the doctor, “I didn’t do very well at the town I set up my
office in, so I took my instruments and started to walk to the next
place.

“I was having rather a pleasant time of it when hailed from the
_Rambler_. It seems that there had been a row on board, and that one of
the gang had received a bullet through the lungs.

“Of course I did what I could for the man; but that was not much. He
died just before I was put off the boat.”

“And was buried on the river bank,” explained Paul. “That must have been
about dark.”

“It seems longer ago than that,” laughed the surgeon. “Anyway, it
appears to me that I’ve been walking in the rain ever since the Deluge!
Now I haven’t got any more tools to work with than a rabbit! And the
scamps took what little money I had with me, too!”

“That is easily fixed,” said Rube, producing his roll. “Just have one of
the boys go good for it, and tell me how much you want!”

“I’ll go good for $10,” declared Case. “The doctor has certainly earned
that much.”

Rube peeled off a bank note and passed it over to the surgeon, who took
it hesitatingly.

“But this is a $20,” he explained.

“That’s all right,” Rube announced. “You may pay me the other $10 when
you get on your feet.” The surgeon expressed his thanks, and Rube put
away his roll and asked Case to slow down so he could board the
_Esmeralda_.

“You see, Buck,” he explained, “we’ve got to be getting a move on if we
get the _Esmeralda_ in shape again.”

“Tell you what,” Alex proposed, “suppose we have a fish breakfast. I
just know there’s bullheads in this river.”

“Bullheads in the Rio Grande!” scoffed Jule.

“Just you wait!” replied the boy.

So Alex and Jule went over the _Rambler_’s side after fish.

                              CHAPTER XII

                           A QUEER PASSENGER

There was a faint flush of dawn in the east when the rowboat left the
_Rambler_’s side and struck out into the river. The motor boat had been
slowed down to the pace of the other, and the surgeon and Case watched
the boys from the deck.

As the prow light was still burning, their view of the scene was
exceptionally good. The rain had ceased, and the morning stars were
shining. The day promised to be a fine one.

Clay was asleep when the rowboat was launched, so the two boys had
nothing to worry over. They had every confidence in the surgeon, and
believed in the ultimate recovery of their chum.

“It is a trifle light to fish for bullheads, but the burning of the prow
light will make the fish think we have a torch especially for their
benefit, so they may bite after all!”

It was Jule who emitted this bit of wisdom about fish thinking, and Alex
laughed him to scorn.

“Fish can’t think,” he laughed. “They haven’t the machinery for thought
in their make-up.”

“Much you know about fish!” Jule answered. “I’ve seen fish that would
come to the surface when their master whistled! And there is a fish at
Lincoln Park which——”

There is no knowing how much longer the fish story would have continued
if just at that instant Alex had not seen his bobber, making little
circles in the river.

“You’ve got a bite, Alex,” Case shouted from the deck of the _Rambler_.
“Look out or he’ll pull you under!”

“Never you mind about his pulling me under!” Alex answered. “This is a
pet fish, and he knows his business! When he gets done playing with the
hook, he’ll come to the surface and give himself up, like a good little
fish!”

But the fish did not come to the surface and give himself up as he was
scheduled to do! Alex leaned too far over the edge of the boat and went
down to meet the fish!

Jule doubled up with laughter, and Case gave advice from the deck of the
_Rambler_.

“Dive under the fish and bring him to the surface when you are on your
way up!” he shouted. “You don’t often get a chance to embrace a live
fish!”

Alex paid no attention to this advice, but kept his hold on the line. He
took time, however, to wrinkle a freckled nose at his tormentor. He
seized the rowboat by the prow, and drew himself up.

“I always take a bath in the morning,” he said, “it’s good for the
health.”

“Do you always employ a fish to pull you in?” asked Jule. “I should
think you’d run shy of fish!” “See! He never got off the hook!”
exclaimed Alex. “Didn’t I explain to you that this was a pet fish? I’ll
have him giving a song and dance in a second.”

“I hope the song and dance will be given in the frying pan!” contributed
Case, speaking from the deck of the _Rambler_. “I’m hungry enough to eat
stones out of the river.”

“Just you wait a second and I’ll have this one simmering in the frying