Part 26 (1/2)

”Was that your fire we saw?” asked Case, drawing closer to the gunwale.

”We had a fire before the flood pounced down upon us,” was the reply.

”What shall we do?” asked Clay, facing the others. ”If they are on the square we can't leave them here. They would starve!”

”They may be pirates!” suggested Jule.

”I don't believe it,” Case declared. ”They don't look the part.

Besides, if they had designs on the boat, they could have picked us off in the darkness, and we'd never have known where the bullets came from. They're all right!”

”One of you come aboard,” Clay instructed, ”and we'll see what you look like.”

In plain view of the boys the man who had done the talking handed his gun to a companion and struck out for the boat, walking on logs part of the way, wading part of the way, and swimming when he could do neither. In a moment he was on deck.

”The three of us,” he explained, ”were out of work at Chicago. We had a little cash, and decided to come down here and spend the winter where we wouldn't have room-rent or restaurant bills to pay. We thought we could cut and market enough fish-poles out of the brake swamps to pay our way back in the spring.”

”That wasn't a bad idea!” Jule declared.

”We were getting along all right,” the other went on, ”until the river thieves began troubling us. They stole our food, and at last began stealing our poles. We were getting ready to go out when the flood smashed our shanty boat into smithereens. Now we are up against it, unless you take us with you. And,” he added, with a quick glance around, ”you'd better take us on board, for the thieves are back there in the swamp, with their envious eyes fixed on this boat. They are mostly negroes, and escaped convicts.”

”You ought to know that we've got to be careful,” Clay said, as the man was about to leave the boat. ”We don't know anything about you, except what you have told us, but we're going to take a chance on you.

Tell your friends to come on board.”

In five minutes the three were in the cabin, trying on some of Clay's clothes, for their own were not only wet but they oozed black muck.

When they were dressed again they pa.s.sed their revolvers over to Clay, with the statement that they wouldn't need them unless the river pirates took a hand in the game that night.

”Have the ruffians been here long?” asked Clay.

”About a month ago,” was the reply, ”a lot of negroes broke away from a convict camp off to the west somewhere. They came into this swamp and built a camp on a knoll, which must, by the way, be under water now. They are murderers, housebreakers and sneak thieves of the most desperate kind. We tried to make friends with them, but it was of no use. They think their camp is unknown, and so object to our getting out and telling where it is. I half believe they will try to keep you from getting out for the same reason.”

”If it is all the same to you boys,” another of the visitors said, ”we'd like something to eat. We were half starved when we came on board. I think I can catch a fish or shoot a duck, so our supper won't cost you anything only the bother of having us around. What do you say? Do we eat?”

”I should say so!” cried Alex., sticking his head out of the cabin, ”and when you are out after game get enough for me a little lunch. I haven't had anything to eat since dark!”

”Is that rowboat at the side all right?” asked the visitor, pointing to the boat which had been found up the river. ”If it is, I'll get a little ways from the motor boat, in the shadows, and see what I can do getting ducks.”

”The boat is all right,” Alex. answered, ”and I'll go with you. I'm beginning to feel the lack of adventure. I get awfully tired of this monotony sometimes!”

They all laughed at the idea of there being any monotony in the situation, there in the swamp, with the river roaring around them and the watchful thieves in the thicket, and Alex. seemed quite annoyed at the thought that they regarded his remark as a joke.

”Perhaps something will happen before you get back,” Clay grinned.

”The boat may smash,” said Jule, cheerfully. ”It has been banged about quite a lot since we got it. Or you may find some of the robbers.

There's no knowing what streak of good luck you may get into!”

”I'm not looking for any good luck of that kind!” the visitor said, as he drew the rowboat around and clambered into it. ”I've had all the cheerful incidents of that character I care to have. When I get back to Chicago, I'm going to get a room next to the Desplaines street police station and go to bed at seven o'clock every night.”

”What's your name?” asked Alex., abruptly as he pushed off from the _Rambler_.

”Gregg Holder,” was the reply. ”I'm just Gregg to all my friends, but I'm Bully Gregg on South Halstead street. The others are Eddie Butler and Hank Quinn.”