BIM BRINGS ABOUT A JOYFUL MEETING.
Even with Bim's aid, Billy Brackett failed to find the man who had
escaped him in Alton by running through the store and out of its back
door. The young engineer was convinced that he was one of those who
had stolen the raft, and it was certainly very trying to recover the
trail, as he had just done, only to lose it again immediately. So
loath was he to abandon the search that it was very nearly noon before
he did so, and retraced his steps to the river. As he approached the
place where the _Whatnot_ had been moored, he was surprised not to see
the boat, and turned towards a group of men, all of whom seemed to be
talking at once, to make inquiries. At that moment the group opened,
and from it Cap'n Cod, red-faced and anxious, came hastily stumping in
his direction.
"Where is the _Whatnot_?" asked Billy Brackett.
"That's what I want to know," replied the other, excitedly. "And where
have you been all this time? I have been here, and in a state of mind,
for more than an hour, not knowing what to do. Some of these men say
they saw three fellows go off with the boat soon after we left here,
and of course I thought they must be you, Winn, and Solon; but I
couldn't understand it at all. Now that you are here, I understand it
still less. Where is Winn?" Here the old man paused, quite out of
breath, but still questioning his companion with anxious eyes.
"I haven't seen anything of Winn since we all left the boat," replied
Billy Brackett, who could hardly comprehend the startling information
just given him. "Do you mean to say that the _Whatnot_ has been
stolen? Great Scott! I wonder if those fellows can have had a hand in
it?"
"What fellows?"
Then Billy Brackett told of his fleeting glimpse of Plater, and of his
consequent belief that the raft and all three of the "river-traders"
must be in that vicinity.
"There's a raft, with three men aboard it, who call themselves
'river-traders,' moored at the edge of that timber, just below the
city," volunteered one of the by-standers, who had overheard the young
man's remarks.
"Will you go with me and point it out?" asked Billy Brackett, eagerly.
"Yes, I don't mind, seeing that this weather makes a bit of slack
time," replied the man.
So requesting Cap'n Cod to wait there until his return, and promising
to be back as quickly as possible, the young engineer and his guide,
followed by several curiosity-seekers, started in search of the raft.
It is needless to say that they failed to find it, though another hour
elapsed before Billy Brackett returned. He was disappointed, but was
possessed of a theory.
"I believe Winn has found that raft," he said to Cap'n Cod, as they sat
together in the small hotel to which they had repaired for a
consultation and dinner. "But he probably discovered it just as those
fellows, alarmed at meeting me, were putting off for another run down
the river. Then he hurried back here, and not finding us, took the
responsibility of starting after them in the _Whatnot_, hoping in that
way to keep them in sight. It was a crazy performance, though just
such a one as that boy would undertake. He is a splendid fellow, with
the one conspicuous failing of believing that he knows what to do under
any circumstances just a little better than any one else. So he has
persuaded Solon that it is their duty to keep that raft in sight until
it is tied up again, and then he'll telegraph to us. It is more than
likely that the raft will stop at St. Louis, in which case they must be
nearly there by this time, and we ought to hear from Winn very soon.
That is my theory, and now I'll run up to the telegraph office and see
if a despatch has come."
There was no message for any one named Brackett, and so, after leaving
word to have anything that came for him sent to the hotel, the young
man hastened back. An up-river steamboat had just made fast to the
levee, and the two anxious men went down to see if her pilot had seen
anything of the _Whatnot_. As they approached they saw by her
splintered bows that she had been in a collision. Others had noticed
this also, and already a crowd of people was gathered about her
gang-plank to learn the news. Forcing a way through for himself and
Cap'n Cod, Billy Brackett boarded the boat, and went directly to the
Captain's room.
The Captain was inclined to be ugly and uncommunicative; but, with a
happy thought, Billy Brackett displayed the badge with which Sheriff
Riley had provided him. At sight of it the man at once expressed his
readiness to impart all the information they might require.
Yes, he had been in collision with a trading-scow, but there were no
lives lost, and the damage had already been satisfactorily settled. It
happened a couple of miles above St. Louis, and the fog was so thick
that she was not seen until they were right on her. She was crossing
the channel, and they struck her amidship, sinking her almost instantly.
Her name? Why, according to this paper, it was the _Whatnot_. Queer
sort of a name, and she looked to be a queer sort of craft.
At this Billy Brackett's face grew very pale, while poor Cap'n Cod sank
into a chair and groaned.
"No lives lost, you say? What then became of the people who were on
board that trading-scow?"
"There were only three," answered the Captain; "her owner, a Mr.
Caspar, a deck hand, and the cook, a black fellow. The first two saved
themselves by leaping aboard this boat just as she struck, and we
picked the nigger up in the skiff that we immediately lowered to look
for survivors."
"You say the owner was a Mr. Caspar?"
"Yes, here is the name signed to this paper. You see, though we were
in no way to blame, they might have sued for heavy damages and bothered
us considerably. So when her owner offered to compromise and waive all
claims for three hundred dollars, I thought it was the cheapest way out
of the scrape, and took him up. I had this paper prepared by a lawyer
who is on board, and witnessed before a notary, so that it is all
square and ship-shape. See, here is Mr. Caspar's signature."
Sure enough, there at the bottom of the paper exhibited by the Captain
was the name "Winn Caspar," written clearly and boldly. It certainly
looked like Winn's signature.
Billy Brackett was staggered. What could it all mean? Something was
evidently wrong; but what it was he could not determine.
"Where is this Mr. Caspar now?" he asked.
"Went ashore the moment we touched here," was the reply. "Said he must
hurry back to St. Louis. Took his man with him."
"Was he a young fellow; a mere boy, in fact?"
"Oh, bless you, no! He was past middle-age. Small, thin man, with a
smooth face; and the other was a big man with a beard."
"And what became of the cook, the negro, whom you rescued?"
"He's down below somewhere, getting dry. I told the mate to look after
him."
"But where is my niece Sabella? The little girl that was on board the
_Whatnot_," asked Cap'n Cod, with a pitiful quaver in his voice.
"Little girl?" repeated the steamboat Captain, in surprise. "There
wasn't any girl on board. This is the first mention I have heard of
any such person, and Mr. Caspar would surely have spoken of her if she
had existed. What are you men driving at, anyway?"
With a forced calmness, and ignoring this question, Billy Brackett
asked if they might see the rescued negro.
"Certainly, I've no objections. Only you'll have to be spry about it,
for I'm going to pull out of here inside of a couple of minutes. I
only stopped to land Mr. Caspar."
They found Solon just getting into his dried clothing, and the faithful
fellow's face lighted as he saw them. There was, however, a
reproachful tone in his voice as he exclaimed, "T'ank de Lawd, yo' is
safe, Marse Cap'n, an' Marse Brack. Ole Solon feelin' mighty bad when
yo' ain't comin' to see him, an' Marse Winn too. But dese yeah folk
ain't tellin' me nuffin of Missy Sabel. She gettin' saved same as de
res' of us, ain't she? Say de good word, Marse Cap'n, an' don't tell
de ole man dat honey lamb done got drownded. Don't tell him dat ar?"
There was no time for explanations then, so they hurried Solon ashore
and up to the hotel. There his replies to their questions, and his
questions in turn, only served to deepen the mystery in which the fate
of the _Whatnot's_ passengers had become involved. He could not be
persuaded that they had not been on board at the time of the accident.
Sabella had been talking to him of what her "Uncle Billy" had just told
her only a few minutes before it occurred. He was also positive that
Winn had been on board the ill-fated craft. He was certain that Reward
died at his post of duty, though of Don Blossom's fate he knew nothing.
How he himself had escaped he could not explain, for he remembered
nothing after the shock of the collision.
"It is evident," said Billy Brackett, at length, "that we must get to
St. Louis as quickly as possible, and strive to unravel this mystery
there."
Cap'n Cod agreed that this seemed the best thing to be done, and as
there was a train about to leave for the South, they hurried to the
station.
As Bim was forced to ride in the baggage-car, and his master declined
to leave him, both Cap'n Cod and Solon rode there as well. All three
spent the hour's run to East St. Louis in discussing the strange
occurrences of the day, and trying to discover some ground for belief
that either Winn or Sabella, or both, might still be alive. In this
effort they met with so little success that, by the time they reached
their destination, they had wellnigh abandoned all hope of ever again
seeing either the boy or girl who were so dearly loved.
Poor Cap'n Cod was broken-hearted, while Billy Brackett resolutely
refused to think of the sad telegram he must send back to Caspar's Mill.
If it had not been that Bim compelled them to ride in the baggage-car,
they might have discovered the two "river-traders," Grimshaw and
Plater, who were also on the train. Bim did discover them on the
platform at East St. Louis, and he was in the act of springing towards
Mr. Plater, when the old negro Clod stumbled over his chain and into
Solon's arms.
In his joyful excitement at this wonderful meeting with the brother
whom he had never expected to see again, Clod allowed a slip of paper
to fall unheeded to the ground, and Billy Brackett picked it up. He
glanced carelessly at it, and then his shout of amazement as he saw
written on it the name "Winn Caspar" startled not only his companions,
but every one on the station platform.
Two minutes later four excited men, accompanied by a white bull-dog
straining at his chain and barking as joyfully as though he understood
the whole situation, were hurrying with all speed in the direction of
Clod's cabin on the river-bank.