“Did they say anything about that scrap we had on an island below Quebec?” asked Case. “We haven’t seen a paper lately.”
“They said something about four boys being attacked, down the river, and a great deal about a quest for a lost channel,” replied the policeman.
“And about a scrap in Quebec?” asked Jule.
“Sure,” said the officer. “That made half a column. Are you boys from the Rambler? If so, where is the boat?”
“We’re from the Rambler all right,” Clay replied, “and it looks as if some of our friends from down stream are still after us. Can you describe the men you saw following us? What do they look like?”
“Just tough riverside characters,” answered the officer. “That is how I came to notice them closely. Such people are rarely seen as far up in the city as this. They prefer the lower dives.”
“We had trouble with some men from a raft back here a little ways,” Jule explained, “and these may be the fellows. Anyway, we’re going to look out for ourselves and thank you very much for having called our attention to the incident. We’ll be careful.”
The policeman went down the street, swinging his club, and the boys turned and faced each other with questions in their eyes.
“What’s coming off here?” Jule asked.
“Seems to me like a game of tag,” Clay replied. “From the moment we left the deck of the Sybil, across the river from the egg-shaped peninsula near St. Luce, we have been It. Some one has been after us night and day. Now, what are we going to do about it?”