There came a lull in the storm, and Alex was positive that the voices he heard were those of Clay and Jule; still he could not afford to make a mistake. So he waited.
The man on the deck of the Rambler either left his position or got out of sight behind the railing, for he was no longer to be seen. For a time all was still, then a voice which appeared to come from the Rambler rang out, causing Alex to almost drop the baby bear in his excitement. He knew that voice!
During the long winter evenings in Chicago Jule had made a study of ventriloquism, and had become such an adept that his voice could be heard for a long distance. Although standing within ten feet of Alex, the voice apparently came from the Rambler’s deck.
“What are you doing on my boat?” the voice demanded.
There was a great bustle aboard the motor boat, as if search was being made for the speaker, followed by a fluttering of wings and a hoarse, croaking voice:
“What’s coming off here?” were the words spoken.
“That’s Tommy!” said a voice at Alex’s side, and Clay made his appearance in the faint light thrown from the cabin windows.
“Where have you been?” demanded Alex, speaking in a voice loud enough to be heard above the rush of the storm. “Thought sure you had been carried off by the robbers.”
“The pirates already had possession of the boat when I reached the shore,” Jule explained, “and when Clay came we both followed on down the river in the hope that something would happen to again put us in possession. Say! Just listen to Tommy’s conversation! He thinks he is the whole works! He has a horror of being awakened suddenly.”
“Tommy” was a great red and green parrot, who had evidently been sound asleep during the short trip down the river. He was making up for lost time now, however, making the boat ring with his screams.