The boys had headed the _Rambler_ for Para, which is some distance south
of the mouth of the Amazon, for two reasons. The first was that supplies
could be purchased there cheaper than at the towns in the interior of
Brazil, as the city is the principal commercial port of that country.
They had put in a good supply of gasoline at New Orleans, but there was
not near enough in the tanks to attempt the navigation of the long
stretch of water ahead of them. Besides, their supply of provisions was
running short.
There are several cities of good size along the Amazon and her
tributaries, but excessive freight rates would make purchases there too
expensive for the lessening supply of ready money. Trading vessels from
all parts of the world make a highway of the Amazon, cargoes being put
off and taken on more than two thousand miles from the Atlantic coast.
In fact, navigation of the river and its branches ends only at the
gorges of the eastern Andes.
Para is a modern city in many ways, and boasts a population of something
over a quarter of a million. It is sixty-five miles from the coast, on a
river of the same name, three thousand from New York, and three thousand
from Buenos Aires. The river there is something like twenty feet in
depth, but so sloping are the shores that most of the loading and
unloading is done with the aid of lighters.
The second reason for the decision to enter the Amazon by way of Para
was that the great waterway of South America is treacherous. In the
language of the native Brazilian Indians, Amazon means “boat destroyer.”
There are monster tidal waves at the mouth, and the wash from above so
reduces the depth that vessels are frequently stranded on bars of sand.
In addition to these difficulties, there are numerous islands in the
river, which is fully fifty miles in width at a distance of a hundred
miles from the coast, and it requires the service of an experienced
pilot to keep the direct course.
The route to the foothills of the Andes is considerably longer by way of
Para, but the boys were in no hurry to bring their pleasant excursion to
a close, and the above reasons were considered sufficient for the choice
they made. Besides, there would be an opportunity to view the lower
Amazon on the way down.
When the lights of Para came into view that night, the boys decided to
anchor a short distance above the city and remain there through the
following day, purchasing the needed supplies. Then, on the second
morning, they could proceed westward, passing through the estuaries and
streams which connect the Para river with the Amazon, and so on to the
mountains. The point of junction with the Amazon is to the west of
Marajo island, a body of land larger than some of the New England
states.
The _Rambler_, therefore, came to anchor in a slip well to the west of
the city, and, after partaking of supper, the boys set out to see the
sights of the first foreign town they had ever set eyes on—that is, the
first foreign town of importance which they had seen at close range.
Case was left on board, and when the shore party returned he sat on the
prow of the boat, watchful and alert.
“What did you see in the city?” he asked, as the boys began letting down
the bunks.
“Same old story,” yawned Jule. “Nothing but houses! I can find just as
queer places in Chicago as I saw there.”
“Good old Chicago!” exclaimed Alex, a flood of memories brought up by
the mention of the name.
“Homesick?” asked Case, with a provoking smile.
“Not a bit of it! I guess I can like a city, and think of her, and the
good times I’ve had there without wanting to go straight back to her!
This is good enough for me right now.”
“Did you try your Spanish on anyone?” laughed Case, presently. “If you
did, you probably had to take to our heels in order to keep out of
jail,” he continued.
Case and Alex had indulged in many a good-natured squabble over the
pronunciation of certain Spanish words, and each had predicted all kinds
of trouble for the other when the time to use the language came.
“Sure I talked Spanish,” replied Alex, a whimsical smile spreading over
his face. “I delivered an oration in the city hall! Didn’t I, Frank?”
Frank Porter and Alex had become fast friends. They bunked together and
planned mischief together. In fact, Clay and Case were having rather a
busy time with Alex, Jule, and Frank. Jule’s health was improving so
fast, and he was so full of animal spirits because of his new lease of
life, that he kept things moving pretty lively, while Frank and Alex
were always engaged in some mischief, not necessarily vicious mischief,
but just fantastic enough to keep the company stirred up most of the
time.
Frank promptly backed Alex up in the ridiculous assertion that he had
made, and was as promptly chased off the deck by Case, who growled at
the pranks of the boys one minute and joined in with them the next. It
was close on to midnight when Case moved over to where Clay sat and
began a whispered conversation with him.
“Did you see anyone you knew in Para, that is, anyone besides your own
party?” he asked.
“That is a strange question,” Clay responded. “Of course I did not. Why
do you ask?”
“One more question,” Case went on. “Have you seen anything since you
came here with a familiar look to it?”
“Of course not. We are a long way from anything I know the look of,
except what came with us.”
“Look around you now,” advised Case, “and see if there isn’t something
familiar in view.”
“In the boat, you mean?”
“No, in the river.”
“There’s the water!” laughed Clay. “That looks familiar.”
“And the ships?”
There was a moon nearly at the full, and a soft light lay over the river
and the sleeping city beyond. Clay arose and looked over the scene and
then thoughtfully seated himself again. Case regarded him expectantly,
but waited for him to speak.
“I know what you mean,” Clay said. “What about it?”
“That’s what I don’t know.”
“When did you first see it?”
“Of course you mean that smoky little steamer with yellow and green on
her stack? That is what I am referring to.”
“Yes,” Clay answered. “That is the only familiar thing in sight, so far
as I can see.”
“You remember where you saw her last?”
“Yes; in the South Branch. She lay near us the day before we left on
this trip.”
“Well,” Case went on, “you asked me when I first saw her—here, I presume
you mean—and I’ll tell you that she came puffing in just after you boys
left for the shore. You were still in sight, on a pier, when she
anchored, and they got out a boat and rowed over after you.”
“Whew!” whistled Clay, in astonishment.
“That’s why I asked you if you saw anybody in Para that you had ever
seen before.”
“Did you recognize any of the people who went ashore in the boat as
persons you had seen before—in Chicago or elsewhere?”
“Yes; there was a man, a youngish man with a scar on his cheek, his left
cheek, almost under the ear, with little black, piggy eyes, and a tiny
black mustache, with the ends turned up. He seemed to be giving orders
to the others. Ever see him before?”
Clay remembered that morning in Chicago, when he had secured the reward
for restoring the diamonds. This was the man who had run after the car
which Jule and himself had taken at the corner of Madison and Dearborn
streets. He stated the incident, briefly, to his companion.
“Why, I saw that same man on the steamer in the South Branch,” Case
exclaimed. “That is why I noted his appearance so carefully here. He
wore a greenish suit in Chicago.”
“He had such a suit on when I saw him that morning,” Clay said.
“Well,” Case mused, directly, “he’s come after us?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We might have delivered the stones to the wrong party.”
“Nonsense!” cried Clay. “The advertisement would have brought the owner
and an officer to the place where they were to be returned and the
reward given out. A crook wouldn’t advertise in that open way. This
fellow is not on any legitimate business, if his errand here is
concerned with us.”
“But why should he follow us?” persisted Case. “That is just what I
don’t know,” puzzled Clay. “We have nothing he could rob us of, except
the boat, and that doesn’t belong to us. We haven’t done anything
anybody could take offense at, or consider hostile.”
“Well, he’s here,” Case concluded, “and it is up to us to keep a sharp
eye on him. There! He’s returning to the steamer now.”
As the boy spoke a boat put out from a pier on the south shore and
proceeded swiftly toward the steamer with the yellow and green stack. It
was not light enough out on the river to enable the boys to recognize
any of the faces in the craft, but Case put his hand on Clay’s arm,
warning him to remain silent until the rowers came under the prow light
of the steamer.
“That’s the man!” he said presently, as a light from the deck of the
steamer struck fairly in the faces of those in the boat.
“Yes; that is the man!”
“I hope we aren’t going to have our whole trip spoiled by anyone
sneaking after us like this and making trouble!” Case wailed.
“We’ll have to meet whatever comes,” Clay reminded the other. “And now,”
he continued, “we’ll set a watch on deck for the night. In the morning
we’ll take on our supplies as early as possible and get under way. We’ll
soon find out whether this fellow is following us, or whether his
appearance here is merely a coincidence.”
“I’ll watch to-night,” Case volunteered, but Clay had other views. The
conversation with Case had brought back to his mind something Frank
Porter had said on the night of his first appearance at the _Rambler_’s
pier. There certainly was mystery connected with the boy’s sudden
appearance, with his watching about in the storm for a view of the
_Rambler_ and her crew, with his anxiety to get back to the country he
had left with the boys as companions.
So he explained to Case that he was not at all sleepy, but might be on
the next night, and so persuaded the boy to go off to his bunk, with the
understanding that he (Case) should watch next if it was thought best to
station a guard. As soon as Case was asleep, Clay went to the cabin and
quietly awoke Frank Porter.
“Come out on deck,” he instructed the boy, “I want to talk with you.”
In five minutes the lad was out on the prow, standing by Clay’s side,
his face white, his figure looking weak and irresolute.
“I know what you’re going to say,” the boy began, without waiting for
Clay to open the conversation. “I have been wanting to see you alone
ever since that boat,” pointing to the steamer, “anchored near the
_Rambler_.”
“You recognize her?” asked Clay.
“The Senorita? Oh, yes, I saw her dropping anchor here just as we
reached the dock to-night, on our way into the city.”
“And you saw the boat pulling for the shore?” “Yes; don’t you remember I
loitered behind the others, and that Alex came back for me?”
“Yes; well, you saw a man in that boat you knew?”
“Yes, sir; a man I know and fear.”
“Have you anything more to say?” asked Clay, wishing to give the boy the
chance to tell whatever story he might have to tell in his own way.
“Yes,” was the quick reply. “I’ll be short and quick with it, too. I
want you to put me ashore here and go on without me.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Everything.”
“You haven’t the least idea that we’ll do a thing like that, have you?”
asked Clay, pitying the dejected boy from the bottom of his heart.
“I thought you might be willing to do so.”
“But why?”
“Because you will all get into serious trouble if you don’t. That man—I
can’t tell you why—followed me from Peru to Chicago. He persecuted me in
Chicago. You saw the plight I was in when I came to you on that rainy
night! I was hungry and cold and afraid. You boys fed and warmed me and
took me into your lives. So I’m not going to let you do anything more
for me if it will make trouble for you.”
“But if we leave you here,” Clay urged, “this man of whom you are in
fear will have you at his mercy, won’t he?”
“I presume so, but he won’t set any traps for you.”
“Can’t you tell me why he is following you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then,” Clay declared, “you go back to your bunk. You’re going to remain
with us, and if trouble comes we’ll fight it out together.”
“But you don’t know,” began the other, but Clay hustled him away!
Then he sat for a long time in deep thought on the dark deck.