CHAPTER XI
AN ELUSIVE BOB WHITE
"Hey," cried Jack grasping Arnold roughly by the shoulder, "Where is your prisoner? You're a pretty guard, you are."
Sheepishly Arnold glanced around, now thoroughly awake.
"Has he gone?" he asked in a wondering tone. "Where is he?"
"Yes, indeed, he went hours ago," asserted Frank. "He was lying here sleeping and a big side wheel boat pulled up with a band playing. They tied up to the Fortuna, fired a salute of twenty-one guns in honor of royalty and then the band filed through the cabin, one at a time, playing their instruments as hard as they could blow. The invalid got up and walked away with them and after another salute of twenty-one guns, the steamer pulled away upstream."
"They did not," protested Arnold stretching himself.
"Well, if they had, it wouldn't have affected you in the least," declared Jack. "We were all tired out and none of us heard him get away. Even Rowdy didn't say anything against it and when Rowdy keeps quiet things are pretty still. He's a light sleeper."
"How about it, Rowdy?" inquired Arnold caressing the bulldog. "You'll stick up for me, won't you, old pal?"