Alex examined the boy’s clothing and found it wet.
“The lad is right about the river,” he declared. “The boy must have been swept past our boat. It is a wonder none of us saw him.”
“Unless he drifted into the circle of light thrown out by the cabin windows,” Case cut in, “we should not have seen him.”
“Captain Joe certainly did a good job in making the rescue,” Alex added. “How long were you in the water, stranger?”
“When I drifted by the motor boat,” replied the boy, “I tried to catch hold of a rope, but was too weak and dazed from the beating I had received. If the dog hadn’t found me just as he did, I should have floated on down the river and drowned.”
“Good old Captain Joe!” Alex exclaimed. “Somehow he is always to the front!”
“There is a gang of robbers up the river about a mile,” said the lad, evidently speaking in great pain. “If you came down the river in a boat, you ought to be looking after her. They are bad men. The marks of their treatment of me are still in sight,” he added, smiling faintly. “They beat me because I refused to deliver my boat to them. Well, they have it now, but they had to fight for it,” he added.
“Wonder we didn’t see them when we came down,” said Case, hastily getting to his feet. “For all we know, they may be already in possession of the Rambler!”
“The Rambler is too nice a boat for that gang of toughs to ride in,” declared the stranger. “You see,” he continued, “that I know all about you boys. I am from Chicago myself!”
Anxious as the boys were to learn more about the lad so strangely met, and to relieve his sufferings, they had other things of more importance, at least to themselves, to look after.