Part 9 (1/2)

”He was a fine dog and was once the pet of my father,” he said. ”Some day I may place a monument over his grave.”

They left the vicinity and continued on their trip around the lake, scanning every indentation of the sh.o.r.e for a possible glimpse of the _Dora_. There were many winding places, so it was noon before the task was half completed.

”This is growing to be a longer hunt than I antic.i.p.ated,” remarked Fred. ”I thought finding the houseboat would be dead easy.”'

Lunch was had, and once again they went on the search, this time at a point where a bayou joined Lake Sico to a smaller lake. Here they had to move with care, for the bayou was filled with the hidden roots of trees long since thrown down by storms.

”Of ve ton't look out ve peen caught in dem dree roots,” observed Hans, looking down into the water. ”Say, ton't da look like vater snakes?”

”They certainly do, and they are almost as dangerous--for the launch.”

Soon came a grinding tinder the boat and the screw came to a standstill.

A tree root had caught fast, and further progress was out of the question until the screw could be cleared.

”I'll go over and do the job!” cried Tom. ”I know how.” And the others being willing he divested himself of most of his clothing, leaped overboard, and was soon at work. It was no light task, as he had to cut the root in several places with a jackknife.

”We had better land and look around,” said Harold Bird. ”I'd hate to get the screw caught again and break it, for then we'd certainly be in a pickle.”

”Could the houseboat get through here?” questioned Fred.

”Yes, they could pole her through, with hard work,” answered d.i.c.k.

They turned the gasoline launch to sh.o.r.e and tied fast. Then all began to leap out.

”This won't do,” cried d.i.c.k. ”Somebody ought to remain on the launch.”

”I would like to go with you and look for the houseboat,” answered Harold Bird. ”I think the launch will be safe where she is.”

”If you want me to stay I'll do it, if Songbird will stay with me,”

said Fred.

”I'll stay,” said Songbird, promptly.

So it was arranged, and leaving the two in charge of the gasoline launch, all the others of the party set off on their search for the missing houseboat.

Walking along the sh.o.r.e of the small lake was decidedly treacherous, and more than once one or another would slip down in the mud and slime.

”h.e.l.lup!” cried Hans, who had dragged behind, and looking back they saw the German lad in a bog hole up to his knees. ”h.e.l.lup, oder I vos trowned alretty!”

”Can't you crawl out?” questioned d.i.c.k, running back.

”No, der mud vos like glue!” gasped Hans.

Tom came back also, and between them they managed to pull Hans from the sticky ooze, which was plastered over his trousers and shoes.

The German lad gazed at himself ruefully.

”Now, ain't dot a nice mess?” he observed. ”Vosn't I a beach!”