“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“Just keep on going.”
“But we can’t run without gasoline.”
“We’ll have to take in some sort of a cargo and trade along the river,” suggested Clay. “We may be able to get through in that way.”
“It will be fun!” exclaimed Alex.
“We might sell Captain Joe,” hinted Clay, with a laugh, “if we could find anyone to buy him.”
“I guess not!” exclaimed Alex, indignantly. “If it hadn’t been for Captain Joe we might all have been murdered in our beds!” No, sir; we’ll starve before we’ll sell Captain Joe!”
Clay chuckled, respecting the boy’s loyalty to the dog, and nothing more was said on the subject.
The remainder of the night passed without incident, except that the occasional exhaust of steam told the boys that the Señorita, or some other meddlesome craft, was lying in the darkness to the south. In the morning, however, there were no signs of the pursuing boat.
Shortly before noon the next day the Rambler passed out of the narrow bayou she had been following and speeded out on the Amazon, the river of their dreams! It is needless to say that the boys opened their eyes wide at sight of the famous stream, which is dotted with islands at that point, looking more like a lake than a river. It is so wide that the shores are only dimly seen from the center of the current.