The River Motor Boat Boys On The Mississippi Part 28

"He's telling us to get wise to the alfalfa!" Jule cut in. "Alex.

don't know how to translate so white men can understand."

"You'll both wash dishes for a month!" roared Clay, doubled over with laughter. "We make that a penalty for talking slang," he explained, turning to Gregg.

"But I don't understand yet," the other went on. "What is the matter with the boy? Has he turned himself into a billy goat?"

"He's suggesting that you mow the lawn!" Case explained. "He doesn't like the fire-escapes!"

Clay roared and pointed to the beards worn by the three, and then they understood and joined in the laugh until the swamp echoed back the sounds.

"You'll all have to wash dishes, I take it!" Gregg declared.

"That's about the way it usually turns out, when one starts talking slang," Clay explained. "We're all so full of it that it just bubbles out."

"It is fine that we have something to be jolly over," Gregg hastened to say, "for the prospects of getting out of here are not alluring."

"Wouldn't be no fun if everything went right!" Alex. insisted. "We have the most sport when we're lost, or stolen, or strayed away. Now, you watch me cook these ducks."

The boy got out a baking pan standing on three short legs. The bottom was double so as to prevent burning. Then he put two fat ducks inside, secured the cover, and removed what seemed to Gregg to be the whole top of the stove.

The short legs of the pan rested on the red-hot coals in the firebox, while the cover was always within reach. As soon as the ducks, which had previously been hastily parboiled, began to simmer and send forth appetizing odors, the boy watched them every minute, turning and basting until they were a beautiful golden brown.

In the meantime coffee had been made and the fish fried on the electric coil.

"I presume you'll want hot biscuits for supper, too?" asked Clay.

The visitors were too busy with the game to do more than shake their heads.

"We usually have three kinds of meat, fish, baked potatoes, pancakes, light bread, pie, honey, and three or four vegetables on the side,"

Alex. explained, with a wink at Mose, who sat in a corner next to the deck with Joe and Teddy watching the meat disappearing from a "drumstick" he was busily engaged on.

"An' possum pie!" the little negro boy added, licking his chops.

"Sure! I forgot the possum pie!" Alex. declared. "Excuse me!"

"Certainly!" laughed Gregg, "and we'll excuse you, too, for all future products of the imagination! The twenty course dinners at the La Salle haven't got anything on this little banquet! For my part, I don't care whether we ever get out of here, now, or not."

"Some day," Alex. observed, "I'll show you how to cook a steak a la brigand! After you eat one of them you'll go hungry for a week before you'll touch anything else!"

"You may lead me to one of them any time you see fit!" Eddie laughed.

The river was still roaring and foaming about the _Rambler_, caught in the narrow s.p.a.ce between the two cypress trees. Just where the boat lay the current turned away to the east, that is the current of the lagoon. The Mississippi was, of course, across the inundated spit of land which lay on the west sh.o.r.e of the river and on the east side of the bayou or lagoon.

Just as the boys finished their somewhat delayed supper the lights of a steamer showed up the stream. It pa.s.sed the mouth of the bayou and hugged the opposite sh.o.r.e of the Mississippi for a time, then headed for the west sh.o.r.e.

"That's strange!" Case exclaimed. "She sees our lights, but what is she coming over to this side for?"

The mystery became more of a mystery still when, reaching the west side, the steamer turned prow up stream and started to breast the flood, still carrying great ma.s.ses of wreckage down stream. She made her way up to the mouth of the bayou and stopped, her propellers going just fast enough to keep from dropping back.

"If I'm not mistaken," Gregg suggested, "that is a boat carrying officers on a hunt for the escaped convicts. Can't we get out of here before they reach us?"

"Why should we run away from them?" asked Clay, suspiciously.

"Because they will mistake us for convicts," replied Gregg. "An officer in a position to abuse his authority always does so. Many of the man-hunters along the river are little better than the men they hunt. Some of them are worse. This, of course, does not apply to the sheriffs and deputies of the counties touching the river, but to hired detectives and gunmen who come here to make a living hunting others."

"You must be sore on the police," Alex. exploded. "I've got a lot of friends on the Chicago police force. They're good fellows, at that!"

"All right!" Gregg a.s.sented. "There are a lot of good men there. But if you want to remain here and permit those ruffians to overrun your boat, insult you, and hold you prisoners until you can get to some town where identification is possible, you can do so. We can stand it if you can."

"There may be some sense in what he says," Clay urged, "and if we could get out of the trap we are in and make the propellers go, I'd be willing to go on down the river and let the officers have the whole country to themselves."

"Can't we follow this bayou current and get out on the river below them?" asked Jule.

Clay said no; Gregg and his chums said yes.

"The water has been cutting a channel for a long time," Gregg explained. "It needed only a slight push to send the remaining bank down. There are few obstructions in the new channel, as I figure it out, and I believe we would go through like a top once we got started.

And we'd better hurry, if we are going to do anything, for, of course, they have seen your lights. They wouldn't have stopped here if they hadn't."

"But the propellers!" urged Clay. "They're broken."

In a moment one of the men had his clothes off to the undersuit and was diving down at the stern of the _Rambler_. He remained under the water so long that the boys began to fear that he had met with some accident, or been attacked by a snake or an alligator. He came up smiling, however.

"Only clogged!" he cried. "You, Gregg and Eddie, get axes and chop the east tree down! The boat will then swing away from the other. You must make the cut down in the water, then we'll have to lift the prow over the stump."

The plan suggested proved successful, and the _Rambler_, under power, and trailing the mattresses, was soon feeling her way down the new channel. Then excitement was observed on the steamer, and she was headed about for the main stream again. It looked like a race was on!

CHAPTER XXII

THE SHERIFF KNOWS A LOT

It was still raining when the _Rambler_ headed into the Mississippi, and there was no glimmer of light in sight save that which came from the steamer, still puffing at the mouth of the bayou, and that which lighted the path of the motor boat. The wind had gone down, and the slow, soft rain dominated the night.

It was evident from the very start that the steamer was no match for the _Rambler_ when it came to a question of speed. As well might a delivery truck attempt to compete in swiftness with a perfect touring car.

Besides the power of speed, the _Rambler_ had another quality which enabled her to rapidly increase the distance between the two boats.

The river was still covered with wreckage, and the motor boat was a good dodger! She responded quickly to her helm, avoiding the driftwood ahead easily, while the steamer was slower in picking her way.

"Your boat is a peach!" Gregg exclaimed, enthusiastically, as the lights of the steamer dropped out of sight behind a bend in the river.

"Nothing would please me better than a long trip in her."

"Well," Clay replied, "why not? We are going to the Gulf, and are in no hurry to get there. We are shy sleeping bunks, but if you boys can put up with beds on the floor you are welcome to go along with us. I reckon you'll manage to supply your share of the provisions!"

"The prospect is an attractive one," Gregg replied, "but I think we'd better stop at Vicksburg and find employment of some kind. Later, we may go on down the river in a houseboat of our own. That depends on how lucky we are in getting good jobs."

"We shall be sorry to part with you," Case put in. "We have been together only a few hours, but a great deal has happened in that time!