A MEETING AT MONTREAL
As Clay was being rowed back to the _Rambler_, one of the sailors
called his attention to three men standing on the shore of the river
not far away from the intersecting stream. They stood looking down at
the _Rambler_ for a short time, and then disappeared around the angle
of a bluff.
"Perhaps those men want to be taken off," suggested the sailor.
"They need their heads taken off," Clay observed. "I am certain from
what I overheard that one of the men was with the outlaws down the
stream. They left a timber raft here, as I believe, for the sole
purpose of attacking us in the night and trying to get our motor boat
away from us."
"I should imagine from the build of the boat," the other observed,
"that they would have to do some pretty fast traveling if they caught
the _Rambler_ now that she is free. She must be a speedy boat."
"She certainly is," Clay replied. "She's built like an ocean-going
tug."
After Clay landed on deck the boys held what they called a council of
war. They were not exactly looking for trouble, still they did not
like the idea of sailing off upstream and leaving the outlaws
unpunished.
"They bunted into us," Alex insisted, "and we ought to do something to
them. If they take their boat and row down after the timber raft, I'd
like to follow them in the _Rambler_ and tip them over."
The others felt in about the same way, but it was finally decided to
go on up the river to Montreal, remain there for a couple of days, and
so pass on to the great lakes.
"If we can keep Alex in the boat at Montreal, we'll be doing a good
job," Jule said. "He's been lost in about every city we've come to,
and I think he ought to be locked in the cabin just as soon as we
touch the pier. It isn't safe to turn him loose at night."
"All right," Alex agreed, "you may lock me up any old night when I
want to sleep. That will keep me from standing guard."
The boys anchored in a cove that night, well out of the wash of
passing steamers, and in the middle of the following afternoon, saw
the spires of Montreal. They gazed at the great mountainous bluff
which lies above and beyond the city with wondering eyes. There
battles had been lost and won. The flags of France and Great Britain
had in turn floated over the city from the heights they saw.
The boys decided that night to spend the whole of the following day in
the historic city. They came to anchor in a slip some distance from
the town itself, and, for a wonder, passed an undisturbed night.
Early the following morning Clay and Jule set out to view the sights,
it being understood that Alex and Case were to have their freedom in
the afternoon. At first the two boys kept to the river front,
examining the vessels they saw, and wondering if their fate would ever
lead them to all the countries the craft represented.
As they turned away from the water front, Jule lifted his face and
sniffed the air enjoyably.
"Do you know," he said, "this is the first place I've struck for
several days where the scent of the lost channel hasn't been in my
nostrils."
"You've got so you can smell the lost channel now, have you?" grinned
Clay. "That may be a good thing for our future use."
"I can't smell the channel," Jule replied, "but I can scent the danger
of it. Say, boy," he added, "We're going to have trouble when we go
back to dig up the Fontenelle charter."
"We came out for adventure, didn't we?" asked Clay.
"Oh, I'm not kicking," Jule exclaimed. "If I get mine, you'll get
yours, too. The only way to have any fun in this world is to go where
the fun is. You can't meet with adventures by staying in bed at home."
As the boys proceeded up the street, an officer in uniform standing on
the corner beckoned to them.
"Say, boys," he said, "do you know those two men just behind you?"
The boys turned and looked back.
There were many moving figures and faces in the street, but none which
attracted the especial attention of the lads. They looked inquiringly
at the policeman, who stood with a puzzled expression on his face.
"Which two men?" asked Jule.
"Why," replied the officer, "the two men who have followed you for the
last four blocks, stopping when you stopped and going on when you
advanced. I came up the street on the other side just behind you, and
couldn't help observing what was going on."
"Now," said Clay, turning to Jule, "what do you think about having
lost the scent of the lost channel?"
"I begin to smell it in the air right now," was the reply.
The policeman looked at the two boys inquiringly.
"What do you know about the lost channel?" he asked.
"Not a thing!" replied Jule. "There isn't any lost channel."
"Then I've been hearing a lot about nothing lately," smiled the
officer. "Somehow, the newspapers have been full of it lately."
"Did they say anything about that scrap we had on an island below
Quebec?" asked Case. "We haven't seen a paper lately."
"They said something about four boys being attacked, down the river,
and a great deal about a quest for a lost channel," replied the
policeman.
"And about a scrap in Quebec?" asked Jule.
"Sure," said the officer. "That made half a column. Are you boys from
the _Rambler_? If so, where is the boat?"
"We're from the _Rambler_ all right," Clay replied, "and it looks as
if some of our friends from down stream are still after us. Can you
describe the men you saw following us? What do they look like?"
"Just tough riverside characters," answered the officer. "That is how
I came to notice them closely. Such people are rarely seen as far up
in the city as this. They prefer the lower dives."
"We had trouble with some men from a raft back here a little ways,"
Jule explained, "and these may be the fellows. Anyway, we're going to
look out for ourselves and thank you very much for having called our
attention to the incident. We'll be careful."
The policeman went down the street, swinging his club, and the boys
turned and faced each other with questions in their eyes.
"What's coming off here?" Jule asked.
"Seems to me like a game of tag," Clay replied. "From the moment we
left the deck of the _Sybil_, across the river from the egg-shaped
peninsula near St. Luce, we have been It. Some one has been after us
night and day. Now, what are we going to do about it?"
"I could tell you better if we knew whether the men referred to by the
officers are the enemies of the Fontenelles or just plain river
pirates seeking to seize the _Rambler_. What do you think?"
"So far as that is concerned," Clay replied, "it makes but little
difference. They all give us trouble, and I propose for once that we
run away from them. I'm more in love with the river than the men we're
likely to meet on it, so we'll get to the quiet spots."
"Do you mean that we ought to go back to the _Rambler_ right now and
cut Montreal off our visiting list?" asked Jule.
"In my judgment, that is what we ought to do."
Jule faced about instantly and started toward the river.
"Come on then!" he said. "I'm game for it!"
The boy had turned under the impulse of the moment without sensing
that he was on a crowded pavement in the heart of a big city. As he
swung about, he almost bumped noses with a pedestrian who, in company
with another, had been walking only a couple of yards behind him.
The man was clothed in the garb of a waterside character, but it was
very plain to the boy that the costume had been assumed for the
purpose of disguise. His complexion was smooth and clear, his eyes
keen and penetrating, and his whole manner and attitude proclaimed
education and native refinement. For an instant Jule and the man stood
looking each other squarely in the eyes.
"Step aside, lad, step aside," said the disguised man, in a voice far
from unpleasant. "Don't be blocking the way."
"Is this your street?" demanded Jule willing to continue the
conversation in order that he might have a more prolonged view of the
man opposite him. "If it is, you better take it with you when you go
on."
The man Jule was watching so closely seemed to understand that he was
under suspicion, and, seizing his companion by the arm, the two passed
on together, turning their heads now and then to watch the progress of
the boys down the street.
"Did you see that?" asked Jule as the boys stepped along.
"Did I see what?" asked Clay. "I heard a voice, that's all!"
"That was Sherlock Holmes in disguise. Did you catch on?"
"Not than I am aware of!" laughed Clay. "What about it?"
Jule explained what he had observed in the man against whom the
pressure of the crowd had brought him, and Clay agreed that the man he
had heard speak in a remarkably pleasant tone had not been following
them by accident.
"Those two men," he said, "are the fellows the policeman referred to."
"But why should men like those be following us?" asked Jule. "Why, he
looked like a banker, or a lawyer, or a preacher. And what did he have
that kind of a rig on for? It's mighty funny."
"You may search me," Clay answered. "The incident only confirms the
opinion expressed not long ago that we ought to get out of this city
immediately. Alex and Case can take their outing in some other town."
The boys walked swiftly down the street for a couple of blocks, turned
into a side thoroughfare, called a taxi, and were driven swiftly back
along a parallel street for two blocks.
There they dismissed the cab, at the corner of the main street, and
walked along looking for the two men they suspected of hostile
intentions.
In the middle of the first block they came upon them, walking slowly,
and peering to right and left, as if anxiously searching for some one.
"That settles it!" Clay said. "We'll go back to the _Rambler_ and
disappear. Once we get started, there isn't a boat on the river that
can catch us. We'll fool these fellows for once."
When the story of the morning had been told to Alex and Case, they
rather wanted to remain in the city, just "to get a line on the
fellows," as Alex explained, but they finally consented to an
immediate departure.
That night the _Rambler_ lay at anchor at the mouth of a small creek
on the south side of the St. Lawrence river. Just above them lay a
wooded island, occupied at this time by a colony of vacationists.
The _Rambler_ had fought her way through the canal, and now lay only a
short distance below the border of Lake St. Frances.
The boys built a roaring fire on shore and cooked supper there, but
made no arrangements for sleeping out of doors. The blaze brought
several people from a little settlement not far away, and the boys
rather enjoyed their company. After a time Clay whispered to Jule:
"Stick your nose up in the air, kid, and see if you can get a scent of
the lost channel in this crowd!"
"Nothing doing!" Jule answered with a grin.
"Now we'll see whether there is or not," Clay said.
He turned to an elderly gentleman who sat by his side and asked:
"I have heard that there is a lost channel on the American side just
this side of Lake Ontario. Is that true?"
"Yes," said the man with a smile, "and I have heard that there is a
lost channel down below Quebec, too. And I read in the newspaper that
you boys were in search of it. Is that so?"
Clay faced Jule with a smile on his face.
"Whatever we do," he said, "we can't escape the lost channel."