CHAPTER I

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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was

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[Illustration: The wave caught the _Rambler_ broadside, and

in an instant she was beached high and dry on the bar.]

THE SIX RIVER MOTOR BOAT

BOYS ON THE ST. LAWRENCE

OR

THE LOST CHANNEL

By HARRY GORDON

Author of

"The River Motor Boat Boys on the Mississippi"

"The River Motor Boat Boys on the Colorado"

"The River Motor Boat Boys on the Amazon"

"The River Motor Boat Boys on the Columbia"

"The River Motor Boat Boys on the Ohio"

A. L. BURT COMPANY

NEW YORK

Copyright, 1913

By A. L. Burt Company

THE SIX RIVER MOTOR BOYS ON THE ST. LAWRENCE

CONTENTS

I--A Mysterious Visitor

II--A Treacherous Guest

III--Arrested for Piracy

IV--Concerning a Lost Channel

V--Teddy Gives an Exhibition

VI--Captain Joe Takes a Prisoner

VII--Case Has His Doubts

VIII--The Discovery of Max

IX--A Busy Night in Quebec

X--The Menagerie in Action

XI--The Crew Takes a Tumble

XII--Rivermen With a Thirst

XIII--A Meeting at Montreal

XIV--An Old Friend Appears

XV--Through the Famous Rapids

XVI--A Call from Wreckers

XVII--Captain Joe's Night Visit

XVIII--It Is Now Clay's Turn

XIX--A Splash of Water

XX--Lifting a Sunken Launch

XXI--Down in the Whirlpool

XXII--What the Eddy Brought Up

XXIII--The Lost Charter Is Found

THE SIX RIVER MOTOR BOYS ON THE ST. LAWRENCE.

CHAPTER I

A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR

It was dark on the St. Lawrence River at nine o'clock that August

night. There would be a moon later, but the clouds drifting in from

the bay might or might not hold the landscape in darkness until

morning. The tide was running in, and with it came a faint fog from

the distant coast of Newfoundland.

Only one light showed on the dark surface of the river in the vicinity

of St. Luce, and this came from the deck of a motor boat, anchored

well out from the landing on the south side of the stream, fifty miles

or more from Point des Montes, which is where the St. Lawrence widens

out to the north to form the upper part of the bay of the same name.

The light on the motor boat came from an electric lamp set at the

prow, six feet above the deck. It showed as trim and powerful a craft

as ever pushed her nose into those waters.

Those who have followed the adventures of the Six River Motor Boat

Boys will not need to be told here of the strength, speed and perfect

equipment of the _Rambler_. The motors were suitable for a sea-going

tug, and the boat had all the conveniences known to modern

shipbuilders. She had carried her present crew in safety up the Amazon

to its source, down the Columbia from its headwaters, through the

Colorado to the Grand Canyon, and down the Mississippi from its source

to the Gulf of Mexico.

All these trips had been crowded with adventure, but both the boys and

the boat had proved equal to every emergency. At the conclusion of the

Mississippi journey, the boys of the Six River Motor Boat Club had

decided to explore the St. Lawrence river from the Gulf to Lake

Ontario.

The _Rambler_ had been shipped by rail to a point on the coast of New

Brunswick, and the remainder of the journey to St. Luce had been made

by water along the treacherous coasts of New Brunswick and Quebec. A

fresh supply of gasoline had been taken on just before night fell, and

on the approach of daylight the boys would be on their way up the

stream.

Although it was early August, the night was decidedly cold, and

Clayton Emmett, Alex Smithwick, Julian Shafer, and Cornelius Witters,

the four boys who had embarked on the trip, were sitting snugly around

a coal fire in the cabin. They were sturdy, healthy, merry-hearted

lads of about sixteen, all from Chicago, and all without family ties

of any kind so far as they knew. They had been reared in the streets

of the big city, and had become possessed of the _Rambler_ by a series

of adventures which the readers of the previous volumes of this series

will readily recall.

The night grew darker as it grew older, and a strong wind came up from

the bay, bobbing the _Rambler_ about drunkenly. Clayton Emmett--always

just "Clay" to his chums--arose from his chair after a particularly

fierce blast from the wind and approached the cabin door.

"Don't open that door!" shouted Alex Smithwick. "We'll be sent

smashing through the back wall if you do. This night makes me think of

a smiling summer day in Chicago harbor,--it's so different!"

"Company!" Clay answered, excitedly, "We're going to have company.

Listen!"

"Yes," laughed Jule Shafer, "I've got a flashlight of any one rowing

out to us to-night. The river is too rough for a rowboat."

"Now you look here, Captain Joe," Clay went on, "don't you go start

anything!"

This last remark was made to a white bulldog of sinister aspect which

had arisen from a rug in a corner of the cabin and now stood at Clay's

side, growling threateningly. Joe wagged a stumpy tail in

acknowledgment of the advice, but dashed out, snarling, as Clay opened

the door and gained the deck.

"All right; go to it!" Alex laughed, as the door closed behind the

two. "Stick out on deck a spell and the wind will do the rest."

Case Witters--he was never anything but "Case" to his friends--went to

the door and looked out through the blurred glass, wiping the inside

of the panel with his sleeve in order to get a clearer view.

"What's coming off?" demanded Jule.

"I hope we'll be able to get away on one trip without some one butting

in," suggested Case.

"Say, now, look at Teddy," cried Jule, springing to his feet.

"Teddy" was a quarter-grown grizzly bear. He had been captured on the

Columbia river, and had been a great pet of the boys ever since. He

now rose from the rug which he had occupied in company with Captain

Joe, the white bulldog, and shambled over to the door, against which

he lifted a pair of capable paws in an effort to get a view of the

deck.

"Rubberneck!" called Alex, digging the cub in the ribs.

"You know what you'll come to if you talk slang!" Jule grinned.

"You'll have to wash dishes for a week. We all agreed to that, you

know," he added as Alex wrinkled a freckled nose and pointed to the

bear cub still trying to look out.

"Why don't you let him out?" he asked. "If the wind blows his hide

off, we'll make a rug of it. What is Clay doing?"

Case did not reply to the question. Instead, he opened the door,

swinging it back with a bang, and both boy and bear ran out on deck.

The first thing Teddy did was to sit up on his hind legs and box at

the wind, which rumpled his fur and brought moisture to his little

round eyes. Boxing was one of the accomplishments taught him by the

boys, and he took great pride in it.

Alex closed the door and, with Jule at his side, stood looking out on

deck. Clay, Case and the two pets stood at the prow, gazing down on

the river.

Directly the top of a worn fur cap made its appearance above the

gunwale of the boat, followed almost immediately by the head and

shoulders of a man. Then Alex and Jule both rushed out of the cabin.

"He must be a peach, whoever he is, to come off to us in a canoe over

that rough water to-night!" Alex cried. "I want to see that boat of

his."

The boat in which the stranger had put off was rocking viciously in

the stream, and it was some seconds before he could secure a footing

which promised a successful leap for the deck. When at last he came

over the rail, the boys saw a heavily-built man with thin whiskers

growing out of a dark face. His eyes were keen and black, and the hair

hanging low down on his wide shoulders, was black, too, and straight.

Holding his boat line in one hand, in order that the craft might not

drift away, he searched with the other hand in the interior pockets of

a rough Jersey jacket for a second, and then brought forth a sealed

package which he handed to Clay. As the boy took the package, the man

who had delivered it sprang, without speaking a word, to the railing,

hung for a moment with his feet in the air above the bobbing canoe,

dropped, and was almost instantly lost in the darkness.

Leaning over the railing of the boat, wide-eyed and amazed, the four

boys stood for a moment trying to pierce the line of darkness beyond

the round circle of the prow light. Nothing was to be seen. The boat

had come and gone in the darkness. The packet in Clay's hands was the

only evidence that it had ever existed. Alex was the first to speak.

"What do you know about that?" he shouted.

"They must have fine mail facilities on the St. Lawrence!" commented

Case.

"That was only a ghost!" Jule asserted, with a wink at Alex. "That

letter will go sailing up in the air in a minute."

Clay opened the packet so strangely delivered and unfolded a crude map

of a country enclosed between two rivers. These rivers, after running

close together for a long distance, spread apart, like the two arms of

a pair of tongs, at their mouths, making an egg-shaped peninsula which

extended far into the main river. Back from the river shore, on this

rude drawing, a narrow creek cut through the territory between the two

rivers, making the peninsula an island.

Below this rude drawing of the rivers and the peninsula was another of

an old-fashioned safe resting high up in a niche in a rocky wall. The

face of the wall was cross-hatched, to show that it was in the

shadows.

Below the drawing of the safe, were these words:

"At last! Follow instructions. Success is certain. Map enclosed. Point

straight to the north."

The boys gathered closely around Clay, standing under the brilliant

prow light, and examined the paper, passing it from one to another

with questioning glances.

"I guess," Alex said, "that we are drawing somebody else's cards."

"Well," Case suggested, "that's a queer kind of a hand to come out of

the night."

"Perhaps," Jule observed, "they present travelers on the St. Lawrence

with these little souvenirs just to excite interest."

"Point straight to the north," repeated Clay. "I wonder what that

means."

"I'd like to know what any of it means," Alex asserted. "It looks to

me like some one was butting in."

"Well," Case remarked, "we have started out on every trip with a

mystery to unravel, and here we go again, loaded up with another."

"You bet we have!" laughed Alex. "We harvested gold on the Amazon,

caught murderers on the Columbia, found a secret treasure in the Grand

Canyon, and chased pirates on the Mississippi, but this is the only

real Captain Kidd mystery we have struck yet."

"What shall we do with it?" asked Clay, rattling the paper.

"Throw it in the river and be on our way," proposed Case.

"Suppose," Alex grinned, "there should be a barrel of money in that

safe they've made a drawing of. If there is, we want to get it."

"I think we'd better be going on, just the same," Case said. "I'm for

dumping this map thing into the river and forgetting all about it."

"Aw," Alex cut in, "that would be throwing away all the fun. I want to

go to this 'North,' wherever it is. There may be something funny doing

there."

Captain Joe, who had been sitting at the prow, watching the boys with

an intelligent interest, now passed back to the cabin, leaped upon the

low roof, and bounded to the after deck. The boys heard him growling

threateningly for a moment, and then he came back.

Teddy, the cub, arose from the place where he had been lying, sniffed

at the gunwale of the boat for an instant, and walked into the cabin.

"What's the matter with our menagerie to-night," demanded Alex. "There

seems to be something in the air."

"What do you see, Captain Joe?" asked Clay. "If it's a man, and he's

got a letter, you go get it. Some other fellow may be wanting us to go

South, or East, or West."

As Clay ceased speaking, the splash of a paddle came faintly from the

darkness to the West.

"Here comes R. F. D. postman number two," shouted Alex.

As the boys listened, the splashings of the paddle came louder for a

moment, then ceased entirely.

"Hello, the boat!" Alex cried. "Have you got a letter for us?"

No answer came back. There was now a break in the clouds, and the moon

shone sharply down upon the swirling river, but only for an instant.

"There he comes!" cried Jule.

But the moonlight was gone, and the sound of the paddle was gone, and

just at the edge of the circle of light which came from the prow, an

Indian canoe glided, phantom-like, down the stream and disappeared.

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