Captain Joe began to scurry on ahead, doubtless smelling the odor of supper from the cabin, but Case hastened to order him back. At the same time the boy shut off his searchlight and reloaded his automatic.
“It may be just as well to come up to the Rambler quietly,” he advised. “After all, we don’t know what is going on there. And I’m going to see about that fish, too, unless there are loud cries for help from the Rambler! I had a hard time catching that bird, and I’m not going to lose a fish supper if I can help it. It may be done just right at this minute. Who knows?”
“If we break our necks falling over these rocks, and drown in some of these pools, and brain ourselves on a fallen log, and kill ourselves in several other ways,” Alex grunted, “we won’t want any fish for supper. This traveling in a desolate land in the night without a light is just about the fiercest proposition I ever came across.”
Indeed it was slow work, and hard work, following the rugged, broken river line, but the lads pressed sturdily forward, notwithstanding the complaints of Alex and they soon came to a point from which the lights of the Rambler cabin struck out on their uneven pathway. The deck of the motor boat was deserted, and there was no one in view in the cabin, so far as the lads could see, through the two small windows on the shore side.
Directly, however, they made out a figure moving about in the cabin, evidently stooping low in search of something. Then the great prow lamp was turned on and the deck, the bulk of the cabin, and the swift-running river for many yards about were illuminated.
“There!” whispered Alex. “Didn’t I tell you he was safe and sound? You’ve got to go some to get Clay into a mess he can’t get out of.”
As the boy spoke Clay appeared on deck with another rocket in his hand. Case was about to call out to him not to waste it, but Alex motioned for him to wait.
“Let’s see about the fish first,” he proposed, “and go on board with a meal that will make him lick his chops like a hungry cat. Cooked fish and bear steak will make him take notice, eh?”
“If you keep on talking slang,” Case reproved, “you’ll have to wash dishes all the rest of the trip. I’m not going to warn you again!”
“I’d wash a bushel of dishes if only I might empty them first!” exclaimed the boy, pressing one hand to the waistband of his torn trousers. “There never was a boy so empty as I am right now!”