The boys were not sleepy and the moonlight was fine, so they sat on the deck until midnight, waiting for the others to return. They had not returned at one o’clock, and the watchers were becoming anxious when a call from the shore came to their ears. In a moment the call was repeated, shriller than before, and then there followed a splash in the river and a shot.
The boys saw a figure swimming toward the Rambler and got out their guns.
“Doesn’t look very formidable!” Clay observed, as the figure came nearer. “It looks like Mose! Now, what the mischief is the little coon up to, I’d like to know?”
“It is Mose, all right,” Jule assented, “and there’s some one on shore shooting at him. He may have been up to some of his pranks on shore.”
Directly the shooting on the shore ceased, and then Mose came on faster, not being obliged to swim under water half the time. He crawled, chilly and dripping, on deck and rolled his eyes at Clay.
“Dey done got um!” he exclaimed.
“What about it?” demanded Jule. “Who’s got them?”
After much questioning it was learned that Mose had left the Rambler in time to overtake Case and Alex., that he had followed them into the city, and had seen them talking with Chet Vinton, the mysterious boy who seemed to turn up in the oddest places and to disappear in the strangest manner.
The boys had talked with Chet for a long time, the little negro said, and had not gone to the theatre at all. Instead, they had gone into a disreputable part of the city with the boy, and had there met two men believed by the negro to be thieves.
At last, at a late hour, the boy declared, still with much hesitation, Case and Alex. had attempted to leave the little cottage where they were sitting and had been forcibly detained. Chet, Mose said, had been the first one to oppose their departure. Then he, Mose, had dashed away to warn those on the boat and had been followed by some of the men he had been watching.