A SERIOUS SITUATION
It was six o'clock when Case awoke that morning. He was dressing when he
discovered that the boat was not running.
He listened but could hear neither voices nor footsteps on the deck. The
other boys were still sleeping soundly, and he did not awaken them.
Thede, the surgeon, was stirring, and the boy asked him:
"What's the matter with the boat?"
"I hadn't noticed anything the matter with her," was the surgeon's
reply.
"She has stopped," explained Case.
"Then we'd better see what's up," responded Thede.
The two finished dressing and went out on deck. Then they saw what was
wrong. The _Rambler_, with no one to guide her, had kept on a straight
course until she had reached a bend in the river, and had then tried to
climb out on the bank.
How the boys slept through all that followed was a mystery.
The chain which connected the motor with the rudder was broken and the
boat had stopped when the power went astray. There were numerous other
things the matter with the boat--enough to keep her in the repairer's
hands for a full day.
Case stood looking at the broken rudder for some minutes before he made
the discovery that the surgeon and himself were the only persons on the
deck.
Then he whistled for the dog, but no Captain Joe came at his call. He
took a seat on the railing of the boat with a look on his face which
told as plainly as words could have done how disgusted he was. He was
not at a loss to account for the condition in which he found things.
"The boys have left the boat, taking the dog with them," he said. "But
what I want to know is why they didn't come back."
"They left the _Rambler_ when she was in motion," said Thede, "and there
is a mystery about it which can be explained only by the boys
themselves. You can see for yourself that the rudder was never broken
except by accident--by collision with the bank."
"It seems that way to me," answered Case. "Now the question is, what has
become of them?"
"And that is a question that I give up," answered the surgeon. "You see,
we don't know where to look," he continued. "We slept soundly all night,
and the boys may have left the _Rambler_ as early as midnight, for all
we know."
That was a serious time for what remained of the _Rambler_ crew. The
uncertainty of the situation was baffling.
Clay and Paul were soon awake, and the former walked out on deck to
discuss the best means for finding the truants.
"If we only knew what time they left the boat," Clay said, "we could
start in on the search with more confidence in the ultimate result. But
that is just what we don't know," he added, with a discouraged look on
his pale face.
"If I knew that the young scamps were safe and sound," Clay continued,
"I should be in favor of leaving them alone for a couple of days. We've
got to draw the line somewhere, and I think it should be drawn at the
desertion of a boat in midstream."
"I'm in favor of that," Case said, eagerly, "but perhaps we should learn
what excuse they have for their strange conduct before deciding what
course to pursue."
"The first thing to do is to find them," said the surgeon.
"Correct!" said both Clay and Case in a breath. "The first thing is to
find them."
The _Rambler_ was beached on the American side of the river, and very
soon a delegation of loafers and waterside characters gathered around.
Suggestions were offered in plenty, but none were to the point.
The loungers were principally Mexicans, black-eyed and swarthy of skin.
They were clad in nondescript garments of all sorts, and they gazed
longingly at the trim little motor boat.
They talked fair English and were profuse in their offers of assistance,
but their covert glances at the _Rambler_ were not to be mistaken. Their
eyes lit up with greed whenever they fell upon it.
"Where can we secure boats in which to cross to the other side of the
river?" asked Case, reluctant to use the rowboat belonging to the
_Rambler_, and realizing that the boys would be without the means of
transportation if they had crossed to the opposite side.
If they had landed on the American side, a searching party would be
effective.
The man questioned pointed to a rude rowboat lying on the bank of the
river not far away.
"Will that serve your purpose?" he asked.
"Will it float?" asked Case, in doubt as to the buoyancy of the craft.
"Like a bird in the air," answered the fellow. "But the motor boat? Do
you leave it? It will be perfectly safe. We are all honest men, Senor."
"Oh, of course," answered Case, noting with disgust the greedy glance
the fellow cast toward the motor boat. "No one doubts that you are all
honest men. However, we have to leave two men on the spot, and they may
as well guard the boat."
The fellow gave a quick glance at Clay, who was still on deck, as if
estimating the amount of resistance he could offer in case the boat
should be taken, and smiled.
"Oh, yes, Senor, we are all honest men," the man continued, with a leer.
"You may leave the motor boat here with the assurance that you will find
it upon your return."
"How much for the use of the boat?" asked Thede.
"A trifle," said the other. "Perhaps twenty dollars."
"It is not worth it," replied Case, in a tone of disgust. "I will pay
you five, though that is more than the old tub is worth."
The boat was indeed a "tub." The sides were broken and it leaked badly.
The owner, however, insisted on the price named and would not consider a
smaller sum.
At last, tired of the seemingly endless bickering, and anxious to be
away, Case consented to the terms and the rowboat was brought to the
side of the _Rambler_.
Case took Clay into the cabin of the _Rambler_ and warned him to be on
his guard.
"We may be away three or four hours," he said, "and you must, under no
circumstances, leave the boat for a minute. My opinion of these men is
not a favorable one. I think they want the motor boat. Don't shoot
unless you have to, but shoot to kill if that should be necessary. A
shot fired in defense of property is lawful."
"All right," Clay replied. "I hate like the dickens to have you go, but
I suppose there is no help for it. Hurry back and we'll repair the
_Rambler_ and get out of this rotten hole so quick that it will set the
heads of the natives swimming."
"Right you are," responded Case, and with an additional word of warning
the leaky boat was pushed into the river.
After the departure of Case and the surgeon the boys sought the cabin of
the _Rambler_. They had no idea how long the boat would be gone, so they
decided to make themselves as comfortable as circumstances permitted.
The half-breeds gathered in a group on the bank of the Rio Grande and
consulted together for a long time. The conversation was still in
Mexican, and of course the boys, being ignorant of the language, could
not understand a word of it.
As a matter of fact, the tongue spoken was a mixture of Mexican Indian
and Spanish, an especially hard combination.
"I wish I had the use of my arm for about five minutes," Clay moaned,
"I'd make a scattering up there on the river bank."
"And if I had the use of my leg for the same length of time, there'd be
doings," observed Paul.
"Well, we are poor old cripples," Clay went on, "and can't help
ourselves. One thing we can do, though, we can shoot the tar out of
anyone who attacks us. That's one consolation."
There was silence for a time, each boy being occupied with his own
thoughts. Clay was first to speak.
"What is your notion about the disappearance of Alex and
Jule--mysterious, eh?"
"Decidedly so," was the reply.
"Still," Clay continued, "the fact that Captain Joe went with them gives
the affair the appearance of an excursion to the shore. If they left the
boat, clothed as they were, intending to be absent only a few minutes,
the boat, being under steerway, might be too swift for them and get
beyond their reach before they realized what was going on. Anyway, it is
a bad mix-up, and I wish we were safely out of it. Now, what's that?"
"That" was a movement of the mob on shore. They were headed for the
river bank and looked dangerous.
"Here's where the automatics come into play," Paul suggested. "I can
shoot, if I can't walk."
But right here a new factor entered the case. "Tommy," the parrot,
opening the conversation.
"Seven men on a dead man's chest! Ho! Ho! Ho! And a bottle of rum!"
The parrot, wandering from perch to table, from locker to window ledge,
lifted up his voice in an uncanny jumble of words until the cabin rang
again.
The voice was hoarse yet shrill, and the Mexicans paused in wonder and
amazement. They, of course, were unaware of the existence of the parrot,
and the voice came to them as a distinct shock.
They paused and retreated a few steps and listened. The voice of the
bird went on, hoarser and lifted higher than before.
"Ho, ho, and a bottle of rum!"
The Mexicans turned and fled, almost falling over each other in their
eagerness to put as much space as possible between themselves and
whatever it was that was making the talk.
At what seemed a safe distance they paused and gathered in a group for
the comparing of impressions regarding the voice which all had heard.
Some declared it to be the devil, and some said that there was a man who
had not been seen concealed in the cabin.
While the arguments were going on the boys were not idle. The revolvers
and guns were placed where they could easily be reached, and ammunition
belts were buckled on.
The river pirates had not disturbed the arms while they were in
possession of the _Rambler_, so the weapons, which they intended to
appropriate later on, had not been molested.
"They seem to be losing their courage!" Paul exclaimed. "It is a good
thing! If they come an inch nearer, they'll receive the contents of this
automatic."
"They will soon be here," Clay reasoned. "When they discover that it is
only a bird they are running away from, they will rush the boat. You
will have to shoot fast then!"
"All right!" was Paul's reply. "I'll shoot fast, and shoot to kill. I
think they are getting ready to charge the boat right now! Shall we go
to the deck and get behind the bullet-proof railing?"