Alex, still carrying the baby bear, was off like a shot and Case was not far behind him. The Rio Grande was but a short distance away, but there was a wall of rocks which must be passed before the river came into view.
When at last the boys gained the top of the elevation and flashed their lights down upon the wind-swept stream, the Rambler was nowhere to be seen!
“Just our luck!” grumbled Case.
Alex, still holding the baby bear, wrinkled his nose.
CHAPTER II
A NEST OF PIRATES
To those who have read the books of this series already published the boys of the Rambler will need no introduction. Their adventures on the Amazon, the Columbia, the Colorado, the Mississippi, the St Lawrence, the Ohio, and the Yukon will be readily recalled to mind.
Coming originally from the south branch of the Chicago river, they had accumulated handsome fortunes during their journeys in quest of adventure, but they still saw the world through boys’ eyes, and were not satisfied to settle down to a humdrum life.
The Rambler, as will doubtless be remembered, was a very speedy boat, fitted up with electric lights and all modern conveniences. She carried an armor of chilled steel underneath as pretty a coat of paint as was ever sent out of the port of Chicago.
This trip down the Rio Grande had long been planned, and now that it was actually begun the lads were jubilant. They had been warned time and again against the uprisings for which Mexico is noted, but, boy-like, they had disregarded them.