STUCK IN THE MUD
Noon found our friends at the town of Benton--a place of some importance
in the cotton trade. Without delay Dick sought out the man who had
had to do with the telegrams.
"I can't tell you much more than what I put in the message," said
the man. "I saw the houseboat out yonder and headed in that direction.
I was watching her when a fog came up and hid her from view."
"I think I can follow her," put in Harold Bird. "Anyway, we can try."
"Did those fellows steal the houseboat?" questioned the Benton man.
"They did."
"Then I hope you catch them."
Our friends did not stop to get dinner, but took their lunch on board
of the _Venus_. The river at Benton was broad and deep and consequently
Harold Bird turned on full speed, sending the launch forward with
such a rush that the water often came in a shower of spray over the bow.
"I may be mistaken, but I have an idea that those rascals headed for
Lake Sico," said the young Southerner. "Gasper Pold used to hang
around that lake, and most likely there are men there who would aid
him in disposing of whatever is on the _Dora_ of value."
"Where is Lake Sico?" asked Sam.
"About fifteen miles from here. It is a very broad and shallow sheet
of water, and is reached by a narrow and tortuous bayou all of four
miles long. One end of the lake is a perfect wilderness of bushes
and brake--an ideal hiding-place for the houseboat."
"Then perhaps we had better explore the lake," said Tom.
"There is only one objection," answered Dick. "If the houseboat is
not there, we'll be losing a lot of valuable time."
"Is the entrance to the bayou very narrow?" asked Tom. "For if it
is, the houseboat would be apt to strike the mud shore and leave marks."
"Yes, it is narrow, and we'll look for marks by all means," answered
the young Southerner.
As they were moving with the stream it did not take the launch long
to reach the bayou that connected the lake with the Mississippi. But
close to the bayou entrance the swirling waters had cast up a ridge
or bar of mud and on this the launch slid and stuck fast.
"Hullo, we're stuck!" cried Tom.
"And we are up out of the water too," came from his younger brother.
"Can't we back?" asked Fred.
"I'll try it," returned Harold Bird.
The screw of the launch was reversible and he made the change in
power. The water was churned up into a muddy foam, but that was all.
The _Venus_ did not budge an inch.
"One of the joys of a life 'on der rollings deeps'!" grumbled Tom,
imitating Hans. "Songbird, can't you compose an ode in honor of the
occasion?"
"Certainly I can," said Songbird promptly, and started:
"As firm as a rock, our launch now rests
Upon her bed of mud,
As safe as a ship on a golden sea--"
"Or a clothespin in a tub!" finished Tom. "Songbird, give us something
better, or none at all."
"Say, vot has a clothesbin in a dub to do mit being stuck here
alretty?" questioned Hans, innocently.
"Why, Hansy, old boy, that's easy," cried Tom. "A clothespin is for
sticking something fast, and we are stuck fast. Now, can't you see
the joke, as the blind astronomer said to the deaf musician?"
"Yah, dot's so, but ve ain't stuck on no clothes-pins," answered
Hans, soberly. "Ve vos stuck on der Mississippies Rifer, ain't it."
"Score one for Hans," came, with a laugh, from Sam. "Hans, what do
you think we ought to do?"
"Dake a rope py der shore und bull der poat loose."
"That's the talk," said Songbird. "Hans can carry the rope ashore.
The water is only a foot deep."
"And the mud is about sixteen feet deep," put in Dick, quickly. "Don't
try it, unless you want to sink out of sight."
For several minutes all sat still in the launch, viewing the situation
with considerable dismay.
"This is something I didn't bargain for," said Fred. "But we may as
well make the best of it."
"Let us try to shove her off," suggested Dick.
On board the launch were three poles of good size, each fixed so that
a small, square board could be fastened to one end. Dick took one of
these poles and Tom and Sam seized the others.
"Now, Hans, Fred, and Songbird, get in the stern," said Dick.
"That's the talk, and I'll try to back her at the same time!" cried
Harold Bird. "All ready?"
In a minute they were ready to try the experiment and the power was
turned on. As the screw churned the water and mud once more, the
three Rovers pushed on the poles with all their might.
"Hurrah! she's moving!" cried Fred.
He was right, the _Venus_ was slowly but surely leaving the bank of
mud. Suddenly she gave a twist and then ran backwards rapidly, and
then the power was shut off again.
"Free at last!" cried Tom. "Now what's the next move?"
"We must find the proper channel into the bayou," answered the owner
of the launch.
Dick and Tom went to the front with their poles and the power was
turned to a slow speed forward. The Rovers felt their way in the
water with the poles, calling to turn to the right or the left, as
the case required. By this means they soon left the treacherous mud
bars behind and reached a point where forward progress was more certain.
"Now then, let us look around and see if we can find any traces of
the _Dora_," said Dick.
"The houseboat couldn't have come over that spot--she would have been
stuck sure," said Fred.
"Years ago Solly Jackson used to be a riverman," said Harold Bird.
"He would probably know exactly how to get the houseboat into the
bayou. Gasper Pold couldn't run the craft himself, so he had to take
in a fellow like Solly."
As the gasoline launch entered the bayou all kept their eyes on the
alert, and presently Songbird set up a shout:
"Look over yonder--there are some sort of marks on the bank!"
He was right, and they turned the launch in the direction indicated,
advancing slowly. There was a sharp cut in the mud and also several
pole holes which looked to be rather fresh. A few feet further on
they came to a piece of a pole painted blue.
"That settles it," exclaimed Dick. "They certainly brought the
houseboat in here. Our poles were painted blue, and that is a piece
of one."
"The very one I cracked in the storm," added Sam.
"I can explain it," said Harold Bird. "They got the houseboat around
the mud bars, but the force of the current, combined with the current
in the bayou, swung the craft up against this bank. Then they had to
pole the houseboat off."
"But how did they go on, against the current from the lake?" asked
Songbird.
"Pulled and poled the houseboat. Just wait and see if I am not right."
They waited, and soon reached a point where one bank of the bayou
was fairly firm. Here they could see footprints and the "shaving" of
a rope as it had passed over the edge of the bank.
"We are on the right track," said Dick. "Now, all we have to do is
to locate the houseboat and corner the rascals who stole her."
"All!" cried Fred. "I should say that was enough!"
"Especially if they offer to fight," added Sam.
"It is a pity we can't come on them unawares," said Tom. "But that
is impossible, for you can't run the launch without making a noise."
"Maybe you don't besser git out dem bistols alretty," came from Hans.
"Of da ton't gif ub ve plow der heads off, ain't it!"
"Yes, we may as well get out the firearms," said Dick. "The sight of
the pistols may have a good effect. Perhaps the rascals will give up
without fighting."
The pistols were gotten out, and all of the youths saw to it that
they were in perfect condition for immediate use. As he looked at
the weapons Harold Bird shuddered.
"I suppose you hate the sight of them,--after what happened to your
father," said Dick, in a low tone.
"I do. I sincerely trust there is no bloodshed," answered the young
Southerner.
It was nightfall by the time the launch was clear of the bayou. In
front of them lay the calm waters of Lake Sico--a shallow expanse,
with mud flats at one side and a wilderness of trees, bushes, and
wild canebrake at the other. They shut off the power and listened.
Not a sound broke the stillness.
"Talk about solitude," was Tom's comment. "Here is where you can chop
it out with an ax!"
"It's enough to make one shiver," added Fred.
Just then the dog Harold Bird had brought along set up a mournful howl.
"Even the dog doesn't like it," said Songbird. "Let us go on--I'd
rather hear the puff-puff of the gasoline motor than listen to such
stillness."
"I thought a poet craved solitude," said Dick. "This ought to fill
you with inspiration."
"I think it will fill us with chills and fever," said Fred. "Ugh,
how damp it is, now the sun is going down."
"There is a mist creeping up," said Harold Bird. "Too bad! I was in
hope it would remain clear."
Soon the darkness of night settled over the lake. The mist continued
to roll over them until they were completely enveloped and could no
longer see where they were going.
"It can't be helped," said the owner of the launch. "We'll have to
wait until daylight. If I light the acetylene gas lamp it will simply
put those rascals on guard."
"Vot is ve going to do--sthay on der poat all night?" asked Hans.
"We can either do that or go ashore--just as you wish."
"Let us move towards shore," said Dick. "It will be more pleasant
under some overhanging trees or bushes."
This was agreed to, and they steered for the bank of the lake, which
was not far away. None of them dreamed of what that night was to
bring forth.