Chapter 8 THE DISCOVERY OF MAX

Case hastened to put the Rambler under motion, and, with Fontenelle and Howard still on board, headed her into the current. At a signal from Fontenelle, the launch Cartier drew up her anchor and followed.

To Captain Joe's vicious barking was now added the surly voice of the bear cub, so the boys knew that the animals were not far away. In fact, as they paused to investigate the ugly nose of the bulldog was pushed through the curtain of shrubbery at the edge of the stream, and Teddy leaped snarling into the water.

Fontenelle greeted the approach of the animals to the boat with shouts of laughter. Even in their haste to reach the boat, the animals could not avoid snapping and striking at each other, playfully. No more shots were heard, but presently a great tramping in the undergrowth came at the point where Joe and Teddy had made their appearance, indicating human presence there. All on board the Rambler anxiously awaited the appearance of those who were struggling in the jungle.

"Would the menagerie run away and leave the boys in captivity?" asked Fontenelle, as the bulldog and the bear cub were assisted, streaming, to the deck. "They seem to have had a long run."

"Indeed, they would not," replied Case. "If Clay and the others were tied up in the woods, Captain Joe and Teddy would be there with them. No, it is my opinion that it is Alex making all that racket in the brush. He's a noisy little chap, and particularly troublesome when hungry."

The next moment proved Case's reasoning to be correct, for the undergrowth parted again and the three boys appeared on the bank.

"Ship ahoy!" Alex shouted, wrinkling his freckled nose. "Do you want to take on passengers?"

"I hope," Case called back, "that you fellows haven't gone and lost the rowboat. And where is the two-foot fish you were going to bring for breakfast? I don't see it anywhere."

"Well," Jule called out, as the Rambler edged toward the bank, "if we have lost a boat, you seem to have found one."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Case.

Jule pointed, and Case went to the gunwale of the Rambler and looked down upon the fragile canoe in which Max had paddled up the river.

"I didn't know that we were towing it," he said, "but its presence here accounts for Max getting away without being seen or heard. He never stopped to get his boat, and may be swimming under water yet, for all I know. I hope he's clear down at the bottom."

"No danger of one of those wharf rats getting drowned," Fontenelle laughed. "I have seen them remain under water for what seemed to me to be five minutes, and Max is some riverside boy."

"Shoot the canoe over," cried Clay, "and we'll come aboard."

"Where's your boat?" demanded Case.

"Well, you see," explained Clay, "when we missed the Rambler, we started for the St. Lawrence by the water route, but when ruffians on the bank began shooting, we tied up the boat and took to the thicket."

Case released the line and sent the light canoe spinning over the surface of the river. Clay caught the rope deftly and one by one the boys paddled over to the motor boat. Alex threw himself down on the deck and gazed imploringly up at Case.

"I expected," he said whimsically, "that you'd welcome me on the bank of the river with a pie!"

"The next time you get us into trouble," Case laughed, "I'll meet you on the bank of the river with a club."

The three boys were presented to Fontenelle and Howard and then preparations for breakfast were begun.

"Alex got taken prisoner up in the woods," Jule grinned. "We cut him loose and tied up the cook. We were thinking of getting breakfast there, but we preferred fish and pancakes to lead and gunpowder, so we made a run for the boat."

"Is the cook tied up yet?" asked Case.

"I reckon they cut him loose in about ten minutes," Alex replied, "for they seemed to be about three steps behind us all the way to the river, but they didn't catch us."

"Do you think we would better go back after the rowboat?" Case asked, as the boys sat down to a breakfast of bacon, eggs, pancakes, beans and hot coffee. "We ought not to loose it."

"Look here," Jule said. "We've been sowing rowboats over the world for a year or two. We lost two on the Amazon, one on the Columbia, two on the Colorado and had three smashed on the Mississippi. Now, I think we'd better go back and get this boat."

"All right," Alex grinned. "You go on back and get it."

"Well, don't you ever think I can't," Jule replied. "I can sneak up there and swipe that boat from under their noses. But you needn't think I'm going to set out as long as there is anything here to eat."

While the boys took breakfast, the situation as explained to Case by Fontenelle was described to them, and after a time Case beckoned Clay away to a corner of the cabin and asked him a question over which he had been puzzling ever since the arrival of Fontenelle.

"Now you understand the situation," Case said, "and I want you to answer this question right off the handle. I've decided it half a dozen ways, but I have been fortunate enough so far to keep my mouth shut."

"What is the question?" asked Clay.

"Wait," Case said. "I'll make a little explanation first. These Fontenelle people have only the legend of the lost channel and the loss of the charter and the family jewels in this section. They haven't a single clew which tells them to look in any special spot first.

"So far as I can make out, young Fontenelle and his friends come down here every summer, in answer to the demands of the elder Fontenelle, for a sort of a vacation. So far as I can make out, they have never honestly searched for the lost channel. In fact, the young man has doubts of its existence. Now, what I want to know is this."

"Why didn't you say so before?" asked Clay with a smile. "I know what your question is. You want to know if we ought to show Fontenelle the map which was brought to the Rambler so mysteriously."

"Aw, of course, you could guess it after I had stated the case fully," Case declared. "But you haven't told me what you think about it. Ought we to give Fontenelle the map?"

"Well," Clay answered, cautiously, "the map doesn't belong to us. It wasn't intended for us. It was handed to us by a man who evidently believed that he was turning it over to Fontenelle."

"Yes," Case said, "it does look as if the map belongs to Fontenelle, but look here! He doesn't believe in this search. It is my idea that he doesn't even care whether he secures the lost property or not. He won't consider the matter seriously if we give it to him. He'll just laugh and poke it away among a lot of old papers and that will be the end of it."

"You are undoubtedly right," Clay answered.

"Now," Case went on, "we've had enough trouble with these outlaws to arouse my fighting blood. Besides, I'd like to have a look at that lost channel. Lost channels appeal to me, you know! I'd give a lot to find it. Why not keep the map and go on with the search?"

"But the other fellows would be searching, too, and the whole event would deteriorate into a big summer outing," Clay insisted.

"All right, then," Case suggested. "Suppose we go on up the river to Quebec, and Montreal, and the Thousand Islands, and then come back after these fellows have gone home, and find that channel."

"That listens pretty good to me," Clay answered. "I am willing to go on at once if it is a sure thing that we come back, but I don't want to sneak away from these fellows after they have started the fight."

"That shows courage, all right enough," Case added, "but I'd rather hunt for this lost channel with these toughs on the wharf at Quebec, and," he added, more seriously, "that's where I think they'll be by the time we get back here. They won't stay here long after Fontenelle goes away."

"Very well," Clay replied, "if Jule and Alex are willing, we'll be on our way this afternoon."

This understanding having been reached, the two boys went back to their guests, while Jule went ashore in the canoe.

"Now, watch the little rat," Alex laughed. "He'll tie that boat up and blunder through the briers, when he might paddle up the stream close to the bank without taking any chances."

But Jule did nothing of the kind. He kept on up the stream in the canoe. Presently he rounded a bend and disappeared from sight.

In a short time Fontenelle and his friend left the Rambler with the understanding that the two crews were to meet in the evening if the boys did not sail away in the afternoon. As a matter of fact, as the reader already knows, the boys had decided to leave before the parting took place, but they did not care to be urged to remain and join in the summer vacation picnic which was sure to follow.

They had started out for a trip covering the whole length of the St. Lawrence river from the Gulf to Lake Ontario, and were determined to cover the course before shipping their boat back to Chicago.

In less than an hour Jule was back with the rowboat, having seen nothing of the outlaws.

"They probably thought the whole Canadian navy was coming after them," Alex said, pointing from the Rambler to the Cartier and back again. "Looks like we were coming out in force."

In the middle of the afternoon the boys notified Fontenelle of their intention to proceed on their journey, and the Rambler passed on up the St. Lawrence.

It was a golden day in summer, the waters sparkled and danced in the sunlight, and the shipping passing to and fro on the river made a pleasant picture of marine life. The boys enjoyed the situation thoroughly.

"I have always had a longing to visit Quebec," Clay said as the boat headed for a little cove to avoid the wash of a giant steamer, "and I propose that we spend two or three days there looking over things."

"That suits me," Alex cut in. "When we get there, I'll go down on the docks and find that boy Max. And when I find him, there'll be one wharf rat less on the docks."

"You better keep away from the docks," warned Case. "You'd get lost on South Clark street between any two blocks you could name."

"Well, I always find myself again," Alex declared.

"Yes, you do," Case jeered. "The last time you got lost, it took two boys and a bear and a bulldog to find you. And I don't think you are worth the trouble at that!"

The boys immediately had a friendly struggle on the deck, in which Teddy and Captain Joe promptly mixed.

That night the boys arranged for another campfire on the north bank of the St. Lawrence. They put up their hammocks, anchored the boat close inshore, and prepared for a long sleep.

"If there isn't any lost channels or charters from French kings or strayed family jewels hiding about here," Jule commented, "we'll certainly enjoy ourselves in this camp."

Nothing came to disturb them during the night. They watched the procession of craft of all descriptions on the river until nine o'clock, then went to sleep with a danger signal swinging from the prow of the Rambler. They were early astir in the morning and on their way upstream.

There was no need of haste, yet the boys seemed to enjoy themselves most when the boat was in motion, so they plowed slowly up the river until night, enjoying the wild scenery and stopping now and then at a little settlement. That was the first of many days of uninterrupted pleasure on the most extensive water system of the North American continent.

On the second night, they made another camp with only Captain Joe and Teddy standing guard. Alex was out after fish early in the morning, and at six o'clock he served one of his long-wished for fish a la Indian breakfasts.

Just before nightfall, they came within sight of Quebec and moored at a pier a short distance down the river.

"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.

"There is something in it," Case asserted. "Men don't draw maps entirely on imagination."

"Then why don't the men who drew the map go and tell Fontenelle all about it?"

"He tried to tell him all about it when he delivered the map to us, but as you know, the map reached the wrong hands."

The boys walked the streets, comparing them unfavorably with those of Chicago, until nearly ten o'clock and then turned to go to the boat. When they came to the river front again, Alex stopped suddenly and caught Case by the arm.

"Look there," he whispered, "What do you know about that?"

"About what?" asked Case, puzzled.

"Don't you see him down there at the head of the pier?" asked Alex, nodding his head in that direction.

"I guess you're the boy that's got loose packing in his head to-night," laughed Case. "What do you see?"

"What do I see?" repeated Alex. "That's Max, the wharf rat, the cable cutter, the motor destroyer. Shall we go and get him?"

"Go and get him?" repeated Case. "He'd have a flock of wharf rats around us in about two minutes."

"Well," Alex insisted, "we'd better stay here and see where he goes, anyway. If we can locate the fellow now, we can go after him any time."

"Then I guess we can go after him any time," Case chuckled, "because he's heading for that eating house with the tin fish sign in front of it."

"Then here we go for the tin fish," Alex declared, and in five minutes, they were seated at a little table in an alcove separated only by a heavy cloth curtain from the main room of a third-rate French restaurant.

When a waiter appeared they gave their orders and sat watching the main room through the folds of the curtain.

"There!" Alex finally said in a whisper. "He's coming in."

"Yes," grunted Case, "and he's got a dozen wharf rats with him. I guess they've got us in as neat a trap as one boy ever set for another!"