“No,” was the reply, “I’ll get a good bath, anyhow, and I may find the fish, though it’s dollars to apples that I don’t!”
The boy took up his searchlight and crossed over to the Esmeralda, which lay between the Rambler and the Mexican shore. Thede had a hearty laugh at the idea of the lad venturing out in the rain.
“You’ve got the fish notion as badly as Rube and Buck have the counterfeiters’ hunch,” he said. “When they get where they are, they won’t be there.”
“All right!” was the reply. “If I can’t get the fish, I’ll get a good bath! Say, Clay is over there on the Rambler, starving to death! Can’t you get him over here and fill him up?”
“Sure!” was the ready response. “I can stuff him like we do raccoons!”
“I guess that will hold him for a while!” laughed Case.
With that he left the boat, and the last seen of him was the round hole made in the night by his searchlight.
Clay and Paul were left alone on the Rambler. Clay told Paul what he had heard of the plans of the four adventurers, closing with the statement that they would succeed only in getting soaked to the skin.
They had a frisky time with Captain Joe, the cub, and the parrot, putting the latter through all his tricks, and the cub also coming in for a share of the frolic. The dog soon grew weary of the game, and took refuge out in the rain.
“What’s the matter with Captain Joe?” asked Paul. “He doesn’t appear to be in his usual spirits! Perhaps he’s sulking because he was not invited to the counterfeiter hunt!”