Matt had already swerved the Hawk into an upstream course. The murky waters of the Mississippi lay no more than a hundred feet below, and the light, variable winds were helping rather than retarding the air ship.
Matt and Dick both cast downward looks over the guard rail, and what they saw caused them to straighten erect and stare at each other in amazement. For a moment or two, neither could speak.
Ahead of them drifting downstream with the current was a skiff. Although there were oars over the skiff's sides, trailing in the water, the boat was empty.
In the stern sheets, however, was the iron chest!
The boys had seen that particular iron chest so many times that they were perfectly familiar with its appearance.
During the interval that passed while the lads were staring at each other, before the mental eyes of all of them floated that smoke picture seen the evening before in Yamousa's hut.
"Der olt Nick has somet'ing to do mit dot," muttered Carl, drawing one hand over his puzzled eyes.
"It's the queerest find I ever heard of!" stuttered Dick. "From the way you described that first smoke picture to me, Matt, this event is fitting into it in a way that takes my breath."
"It—it might be a coincidence," mumbled Matt, hardly knowing what to believe, now that he was face to face with such a reality.
"Coincidence nothing!" averred Dick bluntly. "Yamousa has powers we never dreamed of. She may be a clairvoyant, or something like that."