After the departure of Alex and Case, Clay and Jule continued their
efforts to get the motor into working order. In the meantime, however,
they kept a sharp lookout for the approach of some boat which might
possibly supply them with what they needed.
However, they had little hope of relief from any river craft.
“There must be some towns along the river, below the bend,” Jule
insisted. “The boys will find some sort of place where motor supplies
are sold.”
“If they do,” Clay answered, “I hope they’ll bring a whole pocketful of
spark plugs.”
“And I hope they’ll bring back a dozen squirrels, and six rabbits, and a
coon, and a ’possum!” Jule laughed. “Here we’ve been on this river all
the way down from Pittsburg, and haven’t had any wild game yet! I’ve
eaten fish until I believe there are fins growing on my toes.”
“There’s a large motor boat coming down,” Clay said, pointing up stream.
“Perhaps we can get what we want by going aboard.”
“Looks like a pretty decent sort of a craft,” Jule suggested.
“It looks to me like a store-boat, anyhow,” Clay went on.
“Then we’ll give ’em a hail!”
The call from the _Rambler_ was answered immediately, and a large-sized
motor boat turned in toward the Kentucky shore. The name “Hawk” was
discernible on the prow as she came slowly on.
“What idiot named a sailing vessel after a bird?” asked Jule.
“She may be a bird, at that,” decided Clay. “She looks as if she could
go some, anyway.”
“Hello, the boat!” now came from the _Hawk_.
“Have you got motor supplies?” Clay called back.
“What kind of supplies?”
“Spark plugs,” was the answer.
“Come on board and we’ll fit you out.”
“That’s the talk!” Jule shouted.
“Where are you bound for?” called out a man on the deck of the _Hawk_.
“Just down the river,” Clay answered.
The man who had been speaking from the freight deck of the _Hawk_ now
turned away and conversed for a moment with two men who had been
listening to the conversation. As the fellow talked, he pointed with his
thumb over his shoulder, significantly, at the _Rambler_.
“I don’t like the looks of this!” Clay declared.
“Then let’s cut it out,” replied Jule.
“We can’t very well cut it out!” Clay exclaimed. “They probably know
we’re tied up here with a disabled motor. If they are the kind of people
we fear they are, they’ll come and get us anyway. I wish Alex and Case
were here.”
“Shall we stay here and shoot if they attempt to board us?” asked Jule,
the light of battle flaming in his usually merry eyes.
Clay thought hard for a moment and then turned back to the cabin for his
automatic, which he took good care to keep out of sight.
“Are you coming aboard?” the man shouted from the _Hawk_.
“We haven’t any boat,” Clay replied. “Our friends have gone hunting on
shore.”
“We’ll fix that all right,” was called back, and in a moment a rowboat
rounded the stern of the _Hawk_ and made its way rapidly to the
_Rambler_. The boys watched the appearance of the boat with premonitions
of danger. The two rowers looked like veritable river pirates.
“Pile in!” shouted one of the men gruffly as he held on to the
anchor-chain of the motor boat. “Hustle yourselves in here, and I’ll
have you over to the _Hawk_ in a minute.”
Motioning to Jule to remain where he was, Clay dropped into the rowboat
and told the man to pull away.
“Isn’t your friend coming?” one of the rowers asked.
“We can’t leave the boat alone,” was the reply. “Why, we’ll be right
here alongside,” urged the other.
As he spoke he lifted a hairy, repulsive face toward the _Rambler_ and
shouted:
“Come on, lad, the captain is fixing up a treat for you boys!”
“I’ve got to stay on board,” Jule answered.
“Oh, come along,” ordered the other, almost angrily.
“Pull away,” Clay advised, “we never leave the boat alone, night or day.
It isn’t safe to do so on the Ohio.”
“Perhaps that isn’t a bad notion, either,” one of the rowers replied,
with a sullen smile. “Perhaps the captain will send some one on board to
keep him company.”
Clay saw by the significant and sneering looks passing between the two
men that they considered him a prisoner already. So much of a prisoner,
in fact, that they did not consider it necessary to attempt to conceal
their contempt and their triumph.
Had the _Rambler_ been in fit condition he would have leaped out of the
boat and speeded away. It seemed to him now, however, that the
common-sense course would be to find out exactly what kind of a boat the
_Hawk_ was before taking any steps having the appearance of alarm.
“All right!” the boy answered in response to the rower’s offer to send
some one on board to keep Jule company, “the boy may become lonesome
after a time, although I shall be gone only a very few moments.”
“There’s a mighty jolly crowd on board our boat,” the rower went on.
“There’s many a man gets aboard for an hour’s ride and never gets off
for a hundred miles.”
“I don’t doubt it!” Clay said with a laugh.
It was the work of only a moment to land the unwilling boy on the
freight deck of the _Hawk_. He was at once surrounded by a group of men
who seemed to represent all grades of society. There was the
well-dressed man wearing diamonds and the man who was garbed like a
river rat!
The captain was a hatchet-faced man with rat eyes and a perfect bill of
a nose. His manner was offensive as he approached Clay familiarly and
laid a hand on his shoulder.
“So you’re going down the river on a little trip of your own, eh?” he
asked. “Nice boat you’ve got.”
“Yes,” Clay answered, “it’s not expensive, but it’s pretty well rigged
out. She’s a bit fast, too, when in good shape.”
“Looks like she could go some,” agreed the captain.
“What are you trading in?” asked a handsomely-dressed man who looked
enough like the captain to be his brother.
“Oh,” Clay replied, “we’re just out for amusement; taking our vacation
on the river.”
“That’s a good bluff, too,” the other sneered. “People don’t trail along
the Ohio just for the fun of the thing.”
“If you’ve got whiskey aboard,” another called out, “you want to keep
off our beat. We’re doing a little in that line ourselves.”
By this time Clay was thoroughly frightened. He saw that he was in the
hands of a desperate and reckless gang of river thieves. While
pretending to be a store-boat, the _Hawk_ was merely a floating
receptacle for stolen goods, with gambling as an assistant money-maker.
“You said,” the boy began in a moment, trying his best to conceal what
he really felt, “that you could fit me out with spark plugs if I came on
board.”
“Sure, we can!” answered the captain, with a sty wink at another. We can
fit you out with anything on this little old boat.”
“All right,” Clay answered, “if you’ll get me the plugs, I’ll pay for
them and go back to the _Rambler_.”
“No hurry!” laughed the captain. “No hurry at all. Still,” he continued,
“if you’re anxious to get back, I’ll send one of the boys into the
storeroom to look for the spark plug while you come up for a little
social visit in the cabin.”
“No need of that,” smiled Clay, “I may as well remain on the lower deck.
It probably won’t take long to find what I need.
The captain took the boy by the arm in a manner evidently intended to be
friendly.
“Oh, come on!” he said. “We’ve got a slick little boat here, and I want
you to look her over.”
“You bet we have!” cried another, “and we don’t let guests leave us
without giving them something of a treat.”
Clay’s inclination was to deal the insulting captain a blow in the face,
plunge into the river, and make for the _Rambler_. He knew very well,
however, that such a course would instantly bring about hostilities;
whereas, if he pretended to be unaware of their purpose, assistance in
some form might come to him.
“Yes, come along!” urged the captain. “I’ll send a couple of boys over
to bring your chum, and we’ll have a jolly night of it.”
It was useless for Clay to falter or draw back, so he stepped along as
if grateful for the invitation. His hope was that Jule would understand
the situation of affairs on board the _Hawk_ and stand guard on deck
with a good supply of automatic revolvers.
“Where’d you say you came from?” asked the captain as they ascended the
stairway to the cabin. “Chicago,” was the short reply.
“Nice town, Chicago,” the captain went on with a leer. “I used to live
in Chicago. I know every foot of the North Branch. Goose Island used to
be my favorite resort.”
Clay was thinking that if the captain had ever resided in Chicago he
must have left it at the request of the police, but did not say so.
Reaching the cabin, the captain led Clay to a long, narrow stateroom
looking out on the Kentucky shore. He took pains, however, to seat the
boy so that he could not look out on the _Rambler_.
Before seating himself the captain proceeded to a cupboard hanging on
the wall and took out two bottles and a siphon. One of the bottles
contained whiskey; the other wine.
“It strikes me,” the captain said, “that this moonshine whiskey is a
little bit too strong for boys, so I’ll give you a glass of wine. That’s
prime wine, too. I bought it in Pittsburg and paid a big price for it.
If you were to buy that wine, kiddo, you’d pay about two bits a glass
for it. It’s the right kind of stuff.”
“Then I wouldn’t buy it!” Clay answered with a smile. “The fact is,” he
continued, “we haven’t got any money to waste on drink, and don’t care
for it, anyway.”
The captain went to a faucet with a glass and brought back two goblets
of water. Just before he turned away from the faucet Clay was certain
that he saw him dropping something into one of the glasses.
“Well,” the captain said, sitting down at the table and pushing one of
the glasses over toward Clay, “I don’t urge any boy to drink anything
intoxicating, but it would take a lot of this wine to creep up to a
man’s head. Perhaps a glass of water will be just as good for you.”
Clay suspected that if he drank the water he would soon become
unconscious. The captain of the _Hawk_ was playing a quick game. He had
not been aboard the vessel more than five minutes, and yet here he was
in the captain’s cabin, being urged to partake of a drugged drink!
He arose with the glass in his hand, walked to the open window and
looked out. The glass dropped with a crash. The act was involuntary for
Clay saw the _Rambler_ whirling away down the stream.