Deputy King stepped over to the deck rail and looked down at the rowboat
in which he had left the shore. It held five men, all dusky, uncouth
looking fellows, with greasy hair and black, suspicious eyes. One of the
men had left the shore with the deputy, two had been picked up in the
river on the way out, and two more had been taken in when the rowboat
came closer to the _Rambler_.
These last two were the ones who had been working the motor boat toward
the shore by diving and lifting the anchor and putting it over. As the
craft always swung over to the new anchorage, she had gained the shore
by just the distance the anchor had been moved.
It was known afterward that the men had been sent out to board the motor
boat and bring her in, but that they feared armed opposition from
concealed occupants, and so resorted to the slower but safer, if
laborious, method described. When King looked down upon the boat all
five occupants were actively engaged in getting under way, four handling
oars and the fifth at the helm. They were already a couple of yards from
the motor boat.
“Here!” cried King. “Come back with that boat! What are you doing? That
firing doesn’t mean anything to you! Come back!”
The five men laughed insolently, and one of them made significant and
insulting gestures with a thumb at his nose! The boat shot swiftly
toward the shore, leaving King fuming on the deck of the _Rambler_.
“Nothing stays put in the vicinity of the _Rambler_!” laughed Clay. “I
reckon those are Mexicans, and that they are frightened at the firing.”
“They are Mexicans, sure enough!” King replied. “But they are not
running away from the shooting. They are going to it!”
“Not going to fight for the fun of it?” asked Case.
“They are deserting me and going back to their friends,” King said.
“They now hope to capture the boy without my help, and so get all of the
reward, as well as running off with the good money I paid them to assist
me! I presume they think the men over in the mountain spur have found
the boy and are shooting at him. Why, he’s so small they’d have to use a
telescope to see him at that distance! Anyway, I’m done for, with this
desertion, and may as well take passage with you to Yuma.”
“You’re welcome to go with us,” Clay answered, “but we’re not going on
until we find Alex. And if he gets tangled up with the Greasers on shore
we’re going after him. We won’t go on without him!”
“Of course not,” agreed the deputy. “Well, I’ll remain here as long as
you do. I may still stand a chance of getting that reward. Suppose you
put more pancakes and honey on the table back of the electric stove!” he
added with a sly wink. “He may come on board right away, then!”
“Pancakes will also bring Alex on board,” laughed Clay. “He’s got the
appetite when it comes to pancakes and honey! Never saw a kid eat so
many cakes as Alex can stow away! He’s almost as empty as Teddy Bear.”
“That the cub yonder?” asked King, pointing to the prow, where Teddy and
Captain Joe lay asleep in the sunshine, apparently beyond all the cares
and worries of a wicked world. “Clever dog, that!”
Captain Joe, as if conscious that he was under observation, arose,
stretched himself, and walked over to the rail, where he stood sniffing
at the air. Then, with his nose pointing straight toward the shore, he
uttered a series of excited growls.
“He knows that Alex is there,” Case cried. “Go and get him, Captain
Joe!” he added, and the next instant the dog was in the water.
“You’ve done a nice thing now!” Clay exclaimed, gazing angrily at Case.
“The dog will be shot before he gets within a rod of the shore.”
“I never thought of that!” Case replied, regretfully.
The boys tried to call the dog back to the boat, but he swam on, paying
no attention whatever to their threats and promises! Clay turned to the
rail where the little rowboat had been tied, thinking to follow him in
that, but it was gone! Before setting out for the shore, the Mexicans
who had deserted King had cut it loose, and it could now be seen a long
distance down the river, bobbing about on the twisting currents.
“I’m going after him anyway!” Clay shouted, rushing to the silent
motors.
It was Deputy King who checked his ill-advised determination.
“You can’t get anywhere near the shore with the motor boat,” he said.
“It is so shallow a few yards from here that the rowboat just barely
floats. Will the dog go straight to Alex as you call him?”
“He will if he is not interfered with,” answered Clay, moodily.
“Then we’ll watch the dog,” King went on. “Do you know, kids, that I
have a hunch that this Don Durand, the thief, is with Alex? I believe
they left the _Rambler_ together. I don’t know why, or when, or how they
first came together, but that’s the hunch, and I can’t get it out of my
mind.”
The Mexicans who had deserted the deputy were now landing on a low,
sandy stretch of beach, back of which ran a natural levee of sand,
perhaps six feet in height. Beyond that, and only a few hundred paces
from the water’s edge, a spur of the foothills ran out to the east.
The Mexicans saw the dog swimming toward them and deployed on the beach
to capture or kill him. This was, perhaps, the very best move they could
have made in the interest of the boys, for Captain Joe sensed danger and
turned south, swimming swiftly down with the current.
The Mexicans bred a dozen shots at him and then turned their attention
to a commotion in progress between the sand levee and the mountain spur.
The men who had fired from the foothills were advancing across the
level, and the men who had been left on shore by King were lined up to
meet them. Those on the _Rambler_ could not see what was going on, but,
presently a crowd of Mexicans came out on the beach, as if to keep watch
of the _Rambler_.
“I’d like to know what the mischief is going on there,” exclaimed Case,
as Captain Joe, already far down stream, crept out of the water and
trotted out of sight, after looking back over his shoulder to see that
no guns were pointed at him.
“I think I can tell you what’s going on,” King suggested. “The men I
left there have come to terms with the native Indians, who are always
ready for a fight or a race! It looks bad for us!”
“I don’t understand,” Clay ventured. They have nothing against us.”
“Yes they have,” King went on. “You have a fine motor boat, and the
Mexican Indian always has something against a fellow who has something
he wants himself. What you ought to do now is to run upstream at full
speed, so as to head off any canoe blockade which may be forming.”
“And leave Alex here?” demanded Case. “I should say not!”
“Then drop down to where the dog left the water,” advised King. “You
see,” he explained, “I’m still believing that Don Durand is with Alex,
and I’m taking chances on the dog finding the boy.”
“He will if Alex is there,” Clay observed, confidently. “I only hope the
kid is there,” he added, turning on power and dropping down stream.
There was a little sand island—one of the kind which lift above the
water one day and sink down the next—just below where Captain Joe had
taken to the shore, and here Case left the _Rambler_, resolved to make
his way to shore along a spit of sand which almost joined the beach with
the island.
Both Clay and the deputy objected strongly to his going, but he promised
to keep close to the boat and to take no needless risks. The boy bent
low as he crossed the strip of beach, desiring to keep out of sight of
those above if possible.
“I wish I had gone with him,” King said, as Case disappeared over the
sand hillocks. “He may come across the boys, but find himself unable to
bring Don Durand back with him.”
“Does the boy know that the search for him is on here?” asked Clay.
“Oh, he knows, generally, that officers are in pursuit of him,” was the
reply. “He is hiding in all kinds of out-of-the-way places. Without
doubt he slept on your aft deck last night, and breakfasted off pancakes
and honey!” the deputy added, with a provoking grin. “And you never knew
he was there! He must have been hungry.”
“Then I’m glad he got the pancakes!” insisted Clay. “He was welcome to
them, and might have had a softer bed last night, if he had only made
his presence on the _Rambler_ known to us. How long ago was it that he
took this money?”
“Oh, somewhere near a month ago,” was the reply. “He has given the
officers a great chase, if he is a mite of a fellow.”
The _Rambler_ lay off the sand island, and close to it, for the water
was deep on one side, for an hour before any movement was seen on shore.
The Mexicans above had evidently taken shelter from the scorching sun,
believing that they would be able to intercept the boat if she started
up stream, for no one was in sight on shore opposite the old anchorage.
It was very hot on deck, and King and Clay sought the cabin, resolved to
there await some signal from Case.
Presently Captain Joe’s head showed above the natural levee, and then
the body of the white bulldog lifted over the elevation, shot swiftly to
the water line and swam off to the _Rambler_, Clay and the deputy
watching to see that he was not followed from the shore.
“Now, what do you think that means?” Clay asked, as Captain Joe gave the
deck a liberal sprinkling and took his place in front of the boy,
regarding him with watchful and anxious eyes. “He wants something.”
“He wants us to go ashore with him,” King interpreted. “He’s found the
boys, and they are in trouble. Now, what about leaving the boat?”
“We might as well make the Mexicans a present of it,” Clay answered.
“That’s true!” King replied. “Well, you can do more with the boys and
the dog than I can, so you would better go with him. I’ll do the best I
can to defend the _Rambler_, if an attack is made.”
Clay was uncertain as to the correct course to pursue. While he did not
doubt the honesty of the deputy sheriff, he realized that he was out in
quest of a fugitive for whose arrest a large sum of money was offered.
The boy understood that the officer would adopt almost any selfish plan
that promised success to his official undertaking.
He believed that he would even requisition the _Rambler_ and sail away
with it if he should by chance find, or get, the fugitive on board
during the absence of the owners. There would be need of his sailing
away instantly, too, for the Mexicans were reckless and vicious, and out
after the same reward!
Just how King might get Durand on board during his absence he had not
the slightest idea. In fact, he considered such a thing as utterly
impossible, and yet he found himself actually considering such a
possibility in reaching out for reasons why he ought not to leave the
_Rambler_ in the sole charge of this stranger.
Clay knew that there was always a chance that Durand, pursued by the
Mexicans, might make for the motor boat, not knowing the conditions
existing on board. Still, it was so remote a chance that he smiled as he
considered it. But something had to be done.
Captain Joe’s return, his attitude, told of trouble ashore. If all had
been well with the boys, one or all of them would have accompanied the
dog to the motor boat. Clay decided to take the one chance there was of
losing the _Rambler_—the only chance there was if King was what he
professed to be. The boys demanded his whole attention.
“There’s only one thing I want to say to you,” King said, as Clay
lowered himself over the rail. “If you find this Durand boy with the
others, just bring him along with you, and say nothing about my being on
board. If you get him here, you shall share the reward.”
Clay made no promise. He was more than disgusted at the course events
were taking. Instead of sailing, care-free, up the river, as had been
planned, his chums were in some trouble of which he knew nothing on
shore, and he was leaving the _Rambler_ in the charge of an entire
stranger.
Besides, on their very first day on the Colorado, they had become
entangled in the meshes of a crime committed in Chicago more than a
month before, and the boy had had enough of crime on his previous river
trips!
Just now, his chief aim was to get entirely away from civilization. He
wanted to get his friends together once more, get rid of King and all
that he represented, and proceed to the wonderful sights to be found on
the river. He wanted to lose sight of everything save the original
purpose of the trip. He had had enough of mixing with others’ affairs!
He gained the shore without getting more than his feet wet and crossed
the tide-washed stretch of sand to the natural levee. Looking back, he
saw King tinkering with the motors, and was seriously inclined to return
to the _Rambler_. But Captain Joe was urging him on with all the
arguments known to a white bulldog, so he crossed the string of sandy
barrier and set out for the spur which ran down from the foothills.
There was no one in sight, either up or down the river, and his idea was
that the Mexicans had deserted the position opposite the old anchorage.
Either that, or they were in hiding ahead, waiting to seize him.
Finally Captain Joe deserted him, wandered off unobserved into one of
the wrinkles in the hills. He could not understand this at all, for the
dog should have continued to lead the way to the source of trouble he
had returned to the _Rambler_ to report.
For a moment Clay considered the advisability of returning at once to
the motor boat. The sun shone out of the sky like a blazing ball of
fire, and the sands were hot and blinding. As far as he could see, up
and down the river, there were no evidences of human life in sight save
only the _Rambler_, lying on a stream which seemed to Clay to have a
right to boil with the heat which surrounded it.
But Clay hated a quitter as much as he hated a coward, and so kept on
toward the glaring foothills which lifted straight away to the west.
Then voices to right and left told him that he had been trapped!