“Anyway,” admitted the mountaineer, “he seems to understand what you say to him.”
“Oh, come on!” urged Alex. “Let’s don’t waste any more time standing here. There’s something wrong on board the Rambler, or Captain Joe wouldn’t be here.”
“The Rambler,” Case insisted, “is a long way upstream.”
“I guess Captain Joe knows where it is,” Alex replied. “You fellows come right along. I’m going to follow the dog.”
The boys used their searchlights freely now, and made considerable noise making their way through the thickets. After walking steadily for fifteen or twenty minutes, the bulldog darted on ahead and left them to make their way without his guidance.
Even while the three were discussing the disappearance of the dog, they heard him barking not far away, and then a voice they knew came to their ears. The dog’s bark took on a note of welcome.
“Hello, Alex! Hello, Case!” they heard Clay call. “Why don’t you come on out to the river?” “We’re moving as fast as we can,” Case called back. “This jungle is harder to work through than a Saturday night crowd on South Clark street. How did you come to be on shore?” he added.
By this time, the two boys and the mountaineer had gained the spot where Clay stood.
“What’s doing on the Rambler?” Case asked after the mountaineer had been presented to Clay.
“We have met the enemy and we are theirs!” said Clay dolefully.