“Now,” laughed Case, “if any treasure seekers or outlaws or river pirates appear to us during the night, we’ll call the police. We’ve had trouble enough for one trip.”
“I’m going to sleep ten hours every night until we get to the Thousand Islands,” declared Jule. “I’m hungry and sleepy most of the time.”
“And we’ll come back down the rapids, won’t we?” asked Alex.
“You bet we will,” replied Clay. “We’ll come down like a shot.”
“We’ll need to,” Jule suggested, “because we’ll lose time in the canal going up.”
There was no open campfire or swinging hammocks for the boys that night. The city of Quebec twinkled its myriad lights from plateau and cliff, and the boys were not sure of whom they might meet during the dark hours. They cooked their supper early in order to make an evening trip in the lower part of the city.
“I wonder,” Case said, as, leaving Jule and Clay on board, he started away with Alex, “what the man who delivered the map to us is thinking about concerning his mistake now. He might have been paid to deliver that document to Fontenelle, and the error may make him trouble.”
“And I was just thinking,” Alex put in, “what the fellows who delivered the warning to us are thinking concerning themselves. They wasted a lot of ammunition and lost a good many hours’ sleep on our account.”
“Perhaps we’ll find out all about it when we go back to find the lost channel,” Case suggested. “Do you know,” he added, “I’m looking forward to that lost channel stunt with a good deal of enthusiasm.”
“Do you really think there’s a lost channel there?” asked Alex.