"There's somebody calling from the shore, and waving his hand!" Will
said, as he poked his head in at the cabin door several days later, and
speaking to Frank, who was writing at the table, as the afternoon
dragged along.
They had made fair progress during this time, and managed to pass the
mouth of the Des Moines river, so that with Keokuk behind them they were
now looking across to the shores of the State of Missouri, which was
encouraging, at least.
Frank hurried outside upon hearing what his comrade said. More than a
few times before this they had been hailed from the bank; but it was
always some fun-loving boy, or a tramp who wanted them to take him
aboard, so that they paid little attention to the calls.
"Looks like there's something familiar about that fellow!" Bluff was
saying, as the others joined him at the sweep.
"And as sure as you live, he called out Frank's name just then!"
ejaculated Jerry.
"Tell you what, boys, it's that Luther Snow again, as plain as the nose
on my face!" cried Bluff.
Frank had discovered this strange fact for himself; and once more the
old feeling of suspicion flashed into his mind. Who was this Luther
Snow; and why should he come upon them again, when they thought he had
gone for good?
The day was well spent, and even then Jerry and Bluff had been trying to
select a landing spot.
"Shall we pull in, Frank?" asked the former; "seems like a good camping
place just this side of that point; and the water's deep, too, I
reckon."
"And the old man seems to want to see us mighty bad," Bluff added.
"He's limping like he'd been hurt," added the sympathetic Will.
Frank hardly knew what to do. If the other were really in deep trouble
they would never forgive themselves if they deserted him; because just
here the locality seemed lonely, with not a house in sight.
"All right, set her in to the shore," he said, making up his mind
without any unnecessary mental discussion; for he believed that four
stout and healthy lads ought to be equal to one decrepit old man, no
matter how cunning he might prove; and after all they did not know a
single thing against the truth of the sad story Luther Snow had told
them.
They had tied up, and were busily engaged in the various tasks that had
been apportioned to each as his daily program, when Luther came along.
Just as Will had remarked, he was limping badly, and looked most
wretched. Frank thought that if this was put on instead of being real,
then old Luther deserved credit for his extraordinary ability as an
actor.
He seemed greatly overjoyed at meeting them again, and between groans
went around shaking hands with each one.
"How do you happen to be here, Mr. Snow, and looking so miserable?"
Frank asked, after the old man had been made comfortable by Will and
Bluff; while Jerry actually hastened his preparations for supper,
because he saw that the wretched carpenter was weak from fasting.
"I went just as far as my money would carry me, and then the captain of
the packet put me off at a little wood landing above," came the reply.
"Then I started to walk down to the next town, hoping to get some sort
of work there; but I was weak from hunger; and I managed to slip, and
sprain my ankle, so I was about ready to give it all up, and die right
there, when I discovered your boat. It was like the coming of an angel
to me, my friends, for you have been so kind to a wretched old man."
Will secretly dabbed at his eyes; and even Bluff winked several times,
as if he felt keenly for a desolate old man, left alone in the world,
and suffering. Only Frank, usually one of the first to lend a helping
hand to anyone in distress, did not speak up, and assure Luther that he
could still count on them to help him. Frank was watching him when he
had the chance, trying to read the other; for he still hardly knew what
to believe.
During the progress of the supper, which they had aboard the _Pot Luck_,
Luther was very quiet. He even seemed sick, in truth, and Frank knew he
would not have the heart to put him ashore. If they carried an old and
weak man some distance on his journey, that could hardly interfere with
the directions given by the owner of the houseboat; who, Will had
admitted, was something of a queer character himself, and hardly to be
taken seriously.
And so, after a consultation among themselves out on the deck, while
Luther dozed in his chair in the cabin, the boys decided to give him a
lift part of the way down to New Orleans. When they grew tired of having
him along, they could make up a purse perhaps, and gather sufficient
funds to buy him a railroad ticket, say from Memphis to his intended
destination.
When they came in later he looked up eagerly, as though he must have
guessed that they had been talking over what should be done about him.
And so Frank considered it good policy to let him know the decision they
had reached.
"We're going to carry you part way down the river, Mr. Snow," he
remarked; "and when we put you ashore, perhaps at Memphis, we'll try and
scare up enough money in the bunch to see you through by railroad to New
Orleans. That's the best we can do; and even then we're stretching the
orders of the party who owns the boat, and who was mighty particular
that we harbor no strangers aboard on the trip, for some reason or
other, which we do not understand."
Frank thought he caught a peculiar twinkle of the shrewd eyes, as he
said this; but immediately Luther Snow showed evidence of considerable
feeling as he insisted on shaking hands with each one of the chums in
order.
"You are a noble lot of boys," he said, his voice trembling with real
emotion; "and it was a lucky day for me when I met with you. I'll never
forget you; never!"
And so the _Pot Luck_ received another addition to the passenger list.
Luther Snow seemed disposed to take his share of the work, and at times
insisted on being allowed to do certain tasks.
"Don't make me feel so much ashamed of being a trespasser on your
bounty, lads," he would remark, as he forced Jerry to let him cook a
meal a few days after he joined them.
And to the astonishment of the boys he gave them a fine spread, changing
their menu in a way that was pleasing. Jerry himself was the first to
declare that it was splendid, for there was not a bit of jealousy in his
disposition.
Luther seemed pleased to think that he could make himself useful in some
way; because he realized that the boys would much rather be alone by
themselves on this voyage down the great river.
They had passed the mouth of the Missouri, and the addition of so much
water caused the widening of the Mississippi, so that the opposite shore
seemed a great distance away.
Nothing out of the way had happened all this time, though weeks had now
passed since the four chums first started on their Southern journey. The
moon had waxed and waned, and there was again a young crescent in the
western sky when the sun had sunk behind the far distant Missouri shore.
Frank had not made much progress toward solving the puzzle of Luther
Snow. The other boys believed in him fully; and so Frank kept his
suspicions to himself. He fancied that Luther knew he was watching him,
from many signs; but try as he might he could not catch the other off
his guard, if it were really so that the old man was playing a part.
It had been settled among the boys at the start that under no conditions
were they at any time to leave their passenger alone aboard the
houseboat; and Jerry even insisted that as much as possible, someone be
in the cabin when he was. For, of course, Jerry still believed that
there must be a wonderful treasure aboard the _Pot Luck_, hidden under
some loose board, or in a cranny that as yet he had not been able to
find, though he would never give up looking.
And when the boy was amusing himself in sounding the walls, and dipping
into all the little nooks he could find, Frank saw that the old man's
eyes would follow him, as though he might be secretly amused. But never
once did Luther Snow ask the reason of this search on Jerry's part.
Perhaps he understood, from various allusions passing between the boys,
that Jerry was in search of a secret hiding place; but as it was none of
his business he had the good sense to keep still.
They were now drawing close to Cairo, situated at the junction of the
Ohio with the Mississippi. And their stock of provisions being rather
low, the houseboat was tied up at the lower end of the city, while Frank
and Bluff went ashore to make purchases, and have them sent down.
Having done this duty, and been assured that the stuff would be
delivered at once, the boys went on to the post office, and to do
several other little errands. Thus they arrived in the vicinity of the
place where the boat had been left several hours before, and with
evening only a short time off.
"What does all that yelling mean, do you suppose, Frank?" Bluff asked,
stopping to listen.
"Well, we heard that the roustabouts and stevedores were on a strike
here, you remember," his companion replied; "and so, perhaps they're
having a little fun with some of the strike-breakers, who, they say,
have been brought across from Missouri to take their places."
"Whew! that means a fight, with stones flying, and some broken heads,"
Bluff remarked. "I've always wanted to see what a riot looked like."
"You come right along with me," observed Frank, as he hooked his arm in
that of his impulsive chum. "It's not our funeral, yet; but it might be,
if you thought to stand around when a riot is going on. Here they come
now, and we'll have to run for the boat yet. They seem to be chasing
some men, too!"
"Say, Frank, look at that boy running with the crowd!" cried Bluff,
excitedly. "There, he's down now, and I guess a stone must have hit him,
No, he's on his feet again, and making this way as fast as he can
sprint, with the mob howling after him. Doesn't he remind you of Ossie
Fredericks; but, of course, it couldn't be him! Yes, as sure as I'm
talking, I do believe it is; and he's going to get his medicine from
that crazy crowd of longshoremen, if something don't happen to save
him!"