“Let ’em swim,” chuckled Alex. “A bath will be good for what ails them!”
“Alex.,” remarked Clay, panting with the heavy work at the oars, “you deserve a Carnegie medal!”
“Sure!” chuckled the other. “I’m the Johnny-on-the-Spot when it comes to prescribing healthful stunts for the working classes! Where is that boat going?” he added as the Rambler disappeared around a distant bend in the stream.
“This is what comes of running off in the night without telling the boys what we were up to!” panted Jule. “This is some boat, when it comes to weight.”
In ten minutes the lights of the Rambler were in sight again, the rowboat having passed around the bend. Then Clay took out a searchlight and began making signals to those on board. Directly an answering signal came from the boat, and then the lights halted, turned, and came up stream.
“You’re a nice lot of watchmen!” Case called out, as the two boats came close together. “We thought you had caught a floater boat and drifted down stream.”
“This,” grinned Alex., “is the only old and original relief expedition. We have with us to-night a brand snatched from the coons!”
“Hand down a knife!” called Clay. “This lad is capable of climbing on board by his own self! And swing around a little so as not to tip us over!”
With no little difficulty the boys were landed on the deck of the Rambler. Case regarded the visitor with a quizzical smile as he bent over him.
“Did you take a dive at Cairo,” he asked, “and come up at Memphis?”