The River Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence

It was dark on the St. Lawrence River at nine o'clock that August night. There would be a moon later, but the clouds drifting in from the bay might or might not hold the landscape in darkness until morning. The tide was running in, and with it came a faint fog from the distant coast of Newfoundland.

Only one light showed on the dark surface of the river in the vicinity of St. Luce, and this came from the deck of a motor boat, anchored well out from the landing on the south side of the stream, fifty miles or more from Point des Montes, which is where the St. Lawrence widens out to the north to form the upper part of the bay of the same name.

The light on the motor boat came from an electric lamp set at the prow, six feet above the deck. It showed as trim and powerful a craft as ever pushed her nose into those waters.

Those who have followed the adventures of the Six River Motor Boat Boys will not need to be told here of the strength, speed and perfect equipment of the Rambler. The motors were suitable for a sea-going tug, and the boat had all the conveniences known to modern shipbuilders. She had carried her present crew in safety up the Amazon to its source, down the Columbia from its headwaters, through the Colorado to the Grand Canyon, and down the Mississippi from its source to the Gulf of Mexico.

All these trips had been crowded with adventure, but both the boys and the boat had proved equal to every emergency. At the conclusion of the Mississippi journey, the boys of the Six River Motor Boat Club had decided to explore the St. Lawrence river from the Gulf to Lake Ontario.

The Rambler had been shipped by rail to a point on the coast of New Brunswick, and the remainder of the journey to St. Luce had been made by water along the treacherous coasts of New Brunswick and Quebec. A fresh supply of gasoline had been taken on just before night fell, and on the approach of daylight the boys would be on their way up the stream.

Although it was early August, the night was decidedly cold, and Clayton Emmett, Alex Smithwick, Julian Shafer, and Cornelius Witters, the four boys who had embarked on the trip, were sitting snugly around a coal fire in the cabin. They were sturdy, healthy, merry-hearted lads of about sixteen, all from Chicago, and all without family ties of any kind so far as they knew. They had been reared in the streets of the big city, and had become possessed of the Rambler by a series of adventures which the readers of the previous volumes of this series will readily recall.

The night grew darker as it grew older, and a strong wind came up from the bay, bobbing the Rambler about drunkenly. Clayton Emmett-always just "Clay" to his chums-arose from his chair after a particularly fierce blast from the wind and approached the cabin door.

"Don't open that door!" shouted Alex Smithwick. "We'll be sent smashing through the back wall if you do. This night makes me think of a smiling summer day in Chicago harbor,-it's so different!"

"Company!" Clay answered, excitedly, "We're going to have company. Listen!"

"Yes," laughed Jule Shafer, "I've got a flashlight of any one rowing out to us to-night. The river is too rough for a rowboat."

"Now you look here, Captain Joe," Clay went on, "don't you go start anything!"

This last remark was made to a white bulldog of sinister aspect which had arisen from a rug in a corner of the cabin and now stood at Clay's side, growling threateningly. Joe wagged a stumpy tail in acknowledgment of the advice, but dashed out, snarling, as Clay opened the door and gained the deck.

"All right; go to it!" Alex laughed, as the door closed behind the two. "Stick out on deck a spell and the wind will do the rest."

Case Witters-he was never anything but "Case" to his friends-went to the door and looked out through the blurred glass, wiping the inside of the panel with his sleeve in order to get a clearer view.

"What's coming off?" demanded Jule.

"I hope we'll be able to get away on one trip without some one butting in," suggested Case.

"Say, now, look at Teddy," cried Jule, springing to his feet.

"Teddy" was a quarter-grown grizzly bear. He had been captured on the Columbia river, and had been a great pet of the boys ever since. He now rose from the rug which he had occupied in company with Captain Joe, the white bulldog, and shambled over to the door, against which he lifted a pair of capable paws in an effort to get a view of the deck.

"Rubberneck!" called Alex, digging the cub in the ribs.

"You know what you'll come to if you talk slang!" Jule grinned. "You'll have to wash dishes for a week. We all agreed to that, you know," he added as Alex wrinkled a freckled nose and pointed to the bear cub still trying to look out.

"Why don't you let him out?" he asked. "If the wind blows his hide off, we'll make a rug of it. What is Clay doing?"

Case did not reply to the question. Instead, he opened the door, swinging it back with a bang, and both boy and bear ran out on deck. The first thing Teddy did was to sit up on his hind legs and box at the wind, which rumpled his fur and brought moisture to his little round eyes. Boxing was one of the accomplishments taught him by the boys, and he took great pride in it.

Alex closed the door and, with Jule at his side, stood looking out on deck. Clay, Case and the two pets stood at the prow, gazing down on the river.

Directly the top of a worn fur cap made its appearance above the gunwale of the boat, followed almost immediately by the head and shoulders of a man. Then Alex and Jule both rushed out of the cabin.

"He must be a peach, whoever he is, to come off to us in a canoe over that rough water to-night!" Alex cried. "I want to see that boat of his."

The boat in which the stranger had put off was rocking viciously in the stream, and it was some seconds before he could secure a footing which promised a successful leap for the deck. When at last he came over the rail, the boys saw a heavily-built man with thin whiskers growing out of a dark face. His eyes were keen and black, and the hair hanging low down on his wide shoulders, was black, too, and straight.

Holding his boat line in one hand, in order that the craft might not drift away, he searched with the other hand in the interior pockets of a rough Jersey jacket for a second, and then brought forth a sealed package which he handed to Clay. As the boy took the package, the man who had delivered it sprang, without speaking a word, to the railing, hung for a moment with his feet in the air above the bobbing canoe, dropped, and was almost instantly lost in the darkness.

Leaning over the railing of the boat, wide-eyed and amazed, the four boys stood for a moment trying to pierce the line of darkness beyond the round circle of the prow light. Nothing was to be seen. The boat had come and gone in the darkness. The packet in Clay's hands was the only evidence that it had ever existed. Alex was the first to speak.

"What do you know about that?" he shouted.

"They must have fine mail facilities on the St. Lawrence!" commented Case.

"That was only a ghost!" Jule asserted, with a wink at Alex. "That letter will go sailing up in the air in a minute."

Clay opened the packet so strangely delivered and unfolded a crude map of a country enclosed between two rivers. These rivers, after running close together for a long distance, spread apart, like the two arms of a pair of tongs, at their mouths, making an egg-shaped peninsula which extended far into the main river. Back from the river shore, on this rude drawing, a narrow creek cut through the territory between the two rivers, making the peninsula an island.

Below this rude drawing of the rivers and the peninsula was another of an old-fashioned safe resting high up in a niche in a rocky wall. The face of the wall was cross-hatched, to show that it was in the shadows.

Below the drawing of the safe, were these words:

"At last! Follow instructions. Success is certain. Map enclosed. Point straight to the north."

The boys gathered closely around Clay, standing under the brilliant prow light, and examined the paper, passing it from one to another with questioning glances.

"I guess," Alex said, "that we are drawing somebody else's cards."

"Well," Case suggested, "that's a queer kind of a hand to come out of the night."

"Perhaps," Jule observed, "they present travelers on the St. Lawrence with these little souvenirs just to excite interest."

"Point straight to the north," repeated Clay. "I wonder what that means."

"I'd like to know what any of it means," Alex asserted. "It looks to me like some one was butting in."

"Well," Case remarked, "we have started out on every trip with a mystery to unravel, and here we go again, loaded up with another."

"You bet we have!" laughed Alex. "We harvested gold on the Amazon, caught murderers on the Columbia, found a secret treasure in the Grand Canyon, and chased pirates on the Mississippi, but this is the only real Captain Kidd mystery we have struck yet."

"What shall we do with it?" asked Clay, rattling the paper.

"Throw it in the river and be on our way," proposed Case.

"Suppose," Alex grinned, "there should be a barrel of money in that safe they've made a drawing of. If there is, we want to get it."

"I think we'd better be going on, just the same," Case said. "I'm for dumping this map thing into the river and forgetting all about it."

"Aw," Alex cut in, "that would be throwing away all the fun. I want to go to this 'North,' wherever it is. There may be something funny doing there."

Captain Joe, who had been sitting at the prow, watching the boys with an intelligent interest, now passed back to the cabin, leaped upon the low roof, and bounded to the after deck. The boys heard him growling threateningly for a moment, and then he came back.

Teddy, the cub, arose from the place where he had been lying, sniffed at the gunwale of the boat for an instant, and walked into the cabin.

"What's the matter with our menagerie to-night," demanded Alex. "There seems to be something in the air."

"What do you see, Captain Joe?" asked Clay. "If it's a man, and he's got a letter, you go get it. Some other fellow may be wanting us to go South, or East, or West."

As Clay ceased speaking, the splash of a paddle came faintly from the darkness to the West.

"Here comes R. F. D. postman number two," shouted Alex.

As the boys listened, the splashings of the paddle came louder for a moment, then ceased entirely.

"Hello, the boat!" Alex cried. "Have you got a letter for us?"

No answer came back. There was now a break in the clouds, and the moon shone sharply down upon the swirling river, but only for an instant.

"There he comes!" cried Jule.

But the moonlight was gone, and the sound of the paddle was gone, and just at the edge of the circle of light which came from the prow, an Indian canoe glided, phantom-like, down the stream and disappeared.

"Do you suppose that is the fellow Captain Joe caught prowling around the stem of the boat?" asked Jule as the canoe disappeared down the river.

Captain Joe answered the question by trotting up to the prow and snarling at the disappearing canoe.

"Now, what do you think he wanted here, anyway?" asked Alex.

"Possibly he just dropped down to see if we were ready to start north," Case observed with a yawn.

"It looks to me," Alex said, "that we have struck a storm center of some kind, and I'm going to bed and think it over.

"I'm glad you're going to bed," Clay laughed, "for you get lost whenever we leave you on watch."

"But I always find myself!" answered Alex, with a provoking grin.

It was finally arranged that Case should stand guard that night, and the others prepared for sleep. The bunks were let down in the cabin, the prow light was switched off, and directly all was dark, save when the moon broke out from a bank of wandering clouds.

Sitting well wrapped at the door of the cabin, shortly before midnight, Clay once more heard the sweep of a paddle or an oar. He arose and went to the prow.

Off to the right, on a point of land below St. Luce, a column of flame was beckoning in the gale from the gulf. Only the flame was to be seen. There was neither habitation nor human figure in sight under its light. While the boy watched, a signal shot came from the east.

Then an answering light came from the north, and a ship's boat, four-oared and sturdy, passed for an instant under the light of the moon and was lost in the darkness.

The rowboat had passed so close to the Rambler that the watching boy could have seen the faces of the occupants if they had not been turned away. For a moment he had feared that it was the intention of the rowers to board the Rambler, but they had passed on apparently without noticing the boat at all.

After following the boat with his eyes for an instant, he switched on the prow light and turned to the cabin to awaken his chums. Here was a new feature of the night which must be considered.

As he turned toward the cabin, a white package lying upon the deck caught his eye. It had not been there a moment before, so the boy naturally concluded that it had been thrown from the row boat. He lifted it and, going back under the prow light, opened the envelope and read.

"Don't interfere with what doesn't concern you. Go on about your business, if you have any. Life is sweet to the young. Do you understand? Be warned. Others have tried and lost."

The puzzled boy dashed into the cabin with the paper in his hand.

"Look here, fellows!" he shouted, pulling away at the first sleeping figure he came upon, "R. F. D. postman number two has arrived. Here's the letter he brought."

He read the message aloud to the three wondering boys, sitting wide-eyed on their bunks, and handed the paper to Clay.

"What about it?" he asked.

"I reckon," Alex observed with a grin, "that we're going to be arrested for opening some one else's mail."

"Don't you ever think this letter wasn't intended for us," Jule declared.

"And now," Case said, "I suppose we'll have to give up following the orders given in the first letter. We're ordered off the premises. See?"

"Not for mine," Alex cried. "You can't win me on any sawed-off mystery! I want to know what this means."

After a time the boys switched off the prow light, turned on the small lamp in the cabin, and sat down to consider seriously the events of the night. While they talked, the clouds drifted away, and the whole surface of the river was flooded with moonlight. The flame on the south bank was seen no more. It had evidently been built as a beacon for the men in the ship's boat.

After a time, Captain Joe, who had been sitting in the middle of the deliberative circle in the cabin, raced out to the deck. The boys heard him growling, heard a conciliatory human voice, and then a quick fall.

When the boys switched on the prow light and gained the deck, they found Captain Joe standing guard over a slender youth who had evidently fallen to the deck to escape being tumbled down by the dog. They gathered about waiting for him to speak-waiting for some explanation of his sudden appearance on the motor boat. Captain Joe seemed proud of his capture, and remained with threatening teeth within an inch of the boy's throat.

"Say, you!" shouted Alex. "Did you come by parcel post? We've been getting letters all right, but no such packages as this."

"Looks to me like he must have come in a parachute," Jule suggested. "Where's your boat, kid?" he added.

The visitor smiled brightly and sprang alertly to his feet. He looked from face to face for a moment, smiling at each in turn, and then pointed to a light canoe bumping against the hull of the Rambler.

He was a lad of, perhaps, eighteen, slender, lithe, dark. His clothing was rough and not too clean. His manner was intended to be ingratiating, but was only insincere.

"What about you?" demanded Alex. "Do you think this is a passenger boat?"

"A long time ago," replied the visitor, speaking excellent English, "I read of the Rambler and her boy crew in the Quebec newspapers. When I saw the boat here to-night, I ran away from my employer and came out to you. I want to go with you wherever you are going."

"You've got your nerve!" Alex cried.

"Oh, let him alone," Case interposed. "We've had a stranger with us on every trip, so why not take him along?"

Alex took the speaker by the arm and walked with him back to the cabin.

"Say," he said then, "this fellow may be all right, but I don't like the looks of his map."

"You'll wash dishes a week for that," Case announced. "You're getting so you talk too much slang. Anyway, you shouldn't say 'map'-that's common. Say you don't like his dial."

"Oh, I guess I'll have plenty of help washing dishes," Alex grunted. "But what are we going to do with this boy?" he added.

Clay now joined the two boys in the cabin and asked the same question.

"It is my idea," he said, "that the appearance of this lad is in some way connected with the other events of the night."

"What did you find out about him?" asked Clay.

"He says his name is Max Michel, and that he lives at St. Luce," was the reply.

"Well," Clay decided, "we can't send him away to-night, so we'll give him a bunk and settle the matter to-morrow."

"I just believe," Alex interposed, "that this boy Max could tell us something about those two boats if he wanted to."

"I notice," Case put in, "that he's paying a good deal of attention to what is going on in the cabin just now. He may be all right, but he doesn't look good to me."

Clay beckoned to Jule, and the two boys entered the cabin together, closely followed by Captain Joe, who seemed determined to keep close watch on the strange visitor.

"How long ago did you leave St. Luce?" asked Clay of the boy.

"An hour ago," was the answer. "I rowed up the river near the shore where the current is not so strong and then drifted down to the motor boat. I called out to you before I landed, but I guess you did not hear."

Alex, standing at the boy's back and looking over his head, wrinkled a freckled nose at Clay and said by his expression that he did not believe what the boy was saying.

"Did you see a light on the point below St. Luce not long ago?" continued Clay.

The boy shook his head.

"There are often lights there at night," he said. "Wreckers and fishermen build them for signals. But I saw none there to-night."

"What about the four-oared boat that left St. Luce not long ago?" Clay asked. "Do you know the men who were in it?"

"I didn't see any such boat," was the reply.

"Well, crawl into a bunk here," Clay finally said, "and we'll tell you in the morning what we are going to do."

The boy did as instructed, and was, apparently, soon sound asleep. Then the boys went out to the deck again and sat in the brilliant moonlight watching the settlement on the right bank.

There is a railway station at St. Luce, and while they watched and talked, the shrill challenge of a locomotive came to their ears, followed by the low rumbling of a heavy train.

The prow light was out, and the cabin light was out, and the cabin was dark now, because when the boys had sought their bunks, a heavy curtain had been drawn across the glass panel of the door. From where the boys sat, therefore, they could see nothing of the interior of the cabin.

Five minutes after the door closed on the stranger, he left his bunk and moved toward the rear of the cabin. Against the back wall, stood a square wooden table, and upon this table stood an electric coil used for cooking. Above the table, was a small window opening on the after deck.

The catch which held the sash in place was on the inside and was easily released. The boy opened it, drew the swinging sash in, passed through the opening, and sprang down to the deck.

Reaching the deck, the visitor, as though familiar with the situation, ran his hand carefully about his feet feeling for a closed hatch. He found it at last and, lifting it, peered into the space set aside for the electric batteries and the extra gasoline tanks.

Reaching far under the planking, he found what he sought-the wire connecting the electric batteries with the motors. Listening for a moment to make sure that his motions were not being observed, he drew a pair of wire clippers from a pocket and cut the supply wire. Only for the fact that the lights on the boat were all out, this villainous act would at once have been discovered. As it was, the boys remained at the prow believing the visitor was still asleep in his bunk.

This act of vandalism accomplished, the boy dropped softly over the stern into his canoe, still trailing in the rear of the motor boat. Once in the canoe, he laid the paddle within easy reach and propelled the boat along the hull of the Rambler, toward the prow with his hands. Once or twice discovery seemed to the boy to be certain, for Captain Joe came to the gunwale of the boat and sniffed suspiciously over the rail.

Once, Clay left his place at the prow and looked over into the stream, but the moon was in the south and a heavy shadow lay over the water on the north side, so the dark object slipping like a snake to do an act of mischief reached the prow unseen.

At that moment the boys left the prow and moved toward the cabin door. In another instant they would have entered and noted the absence of their guest, but Alex paused and pointed to lights moving in the village of St. Luce.

"There's something going on over there," he said "and I believe it has something to do with what we've been bumping against. There's the letter from the canoe, and the warning from the boat, and the boy dropping out of the darkness on deck, and the signal lights, and now the stir in the village. Some one who wishes us ill is running the scenes to-night, all right."

While the boys stood watching the lights of St. Luce, Max caught the manila cable which held the motor boat and drew his canoe up to it. Cutting the cable, strand by strand, so as to cause no jar or sudden lurching of the boat, he left it slashed nearly through and, leaving the strain of the current to do the rest, worked back through the shadow and struck out up stream.

Standing in the door of the cabin, the boys felt the boat sway violently under their feet, then they knew from the shifting lights in the village that they were drifting swiftly down with the current. Clay sprang to the motors, but they refused to turn.

Case hastened to the prow and lifted the end of the cable. There was no doubt that it had been cut. Clay made a quick examination of the motors and saw that the electrical connection had been broken. Then Jule called out in alarm that they were drifting directly upon a rocky island.

The Rambler, drifting broadside to the current, threatened to strike full upon a rocky promontory projecting from the island which lay in the course of the boat. In vain Case tugged at the tiller ropes. There was no steerage way, and the boat was beyond control.

"It looks like the last of the Rambler!" Case cried as the boat drifted down. "The rock ahead will cut her in two if we strike it."

But there was a current crossing the rocky point from north to south, and the boat, catching it, was drawn away, so that in time, she came, stern first, to the curve of a little channel into which the waters drew. For a moment, the prow swung out, and the possibility of a continuation of the vagrant journey was imminent.

However, before the sweep of water turned the prow fairly around, Alex was over the gunwale, clinging with all his might to the broken cable. Clay and Jule were at his side in a moment and, half swimming, half stumbling, quite up to their chins in the cold water, they held the boat until the current swept it farther over on the sandy beach that bordered the cove.

"There you are!" shouted Alex, wading, dripping, from the river. "The next time I take a trip on the Rambler, I'm going to wear a diving suit. I'm dead tired of getting wet."

"You're lucky not to be at the bottom of the river!" Clay announced.

The rowboat, which lay upon the roof of the cabin, was now brought down, a cable was taken out of the store room, and the Rambler firmly secured to a great rock which towered above the slope of the cove.

The boys stood for a moment looking over the surface of the river, still bathed in moonlight, then Alex rushed into the cabin and brought out a field glass.

"What I want to know just now, is who cut that cable," he said.

"That's easy," Jule replied. "It was the innocent little boy who had read all about the Rambler in the Quebec newspaper."

Alex swept the river with the glass for a time and then passed it to Clay.

"There he goes," he said, "away up the river, heading for St. Luce! That's the boy who disconnected the electricity and cut the cable. That's the boy who we will even up with when we catch him, too."

"And you're the boy who'll wash dishes for a week for talking slang!" Jule taunted.

"I'd wash dishes for a month if I could get hold of that rat," answered Alex, angrily. "He came near wrecking the Rambler!"

"Well," Clay said, "we may as well be getting the motors into shape. We can't stay on this island long."

"If we do, there's no knowing what will happen," Jule suggested. "We've had two letters and a runaway to-night and the next thing is likely to be a stick of dynamite."

"Say, suppose we repair the electric apparatus and get away from this vicinity right now," suggested Case, "I don't like the looks of things."

"Now, look here," Alex cut in, "I'm ready to get out of this section, but do you mind what the first letter said about going north? Now that means something. If the first letter hadn't told us to go north, and the men who threw the second letter hadn't believed that we were obeying instructions, we wouldn't have been interfered with. Now, there's a friendly force here, and a hostile force. The friendly people may be mistaken in our identity, but that doesn't alter the fact that the hostile element is out to do us a mischief.

"I'd like to find out what it is the friendly force expects us to do. If we can learn that, we'll know why the hostile force is opposing us. And so, it looks to me that instead of running away, we would better find out what is wanted of us. How does that strike you, fellows? Isn't that deduction worthy of Sherlock Holmes?"

"All right," Clay declared, "I'm willing to investigate, but we mustn't spend all our time looking into one mystery, for if we have the same luck we had on other trips, we are likely to come across several more before we go back to Chicago."

"I'd like to know," Case said, as they brought up an extra anchor and a new cable, "why we were dumped on this island."

"To get us out of the way, probably," Jule commented. "They undoubtedly expected to steal or wreck the Rambler."

"But the Rambler," Alex laughed, "has the luck of the Irish, so she's still able to travel."

The island upon which the boat had been cast, lay only a short distance from the south shore of the river. In fact, at low water, when the tide was out, it might have been possible to pass to the mainland on dry ground.

Its location was not more than two miles below the little landing at St. Luce. In fact, as the boys afterwards decided, it must have been from this island that the signal flame had burned early in the evening.

Working busily on the repairs, the boys did not notice the arrival upon the island of two roughly dressed fellows, who landed from a small boat and who took great pains to keep rocky elevations between themselves and the cove where the boat lay.

"I wonder," Jule asked, sitting down on the prow after a struggle with the new cable, "whether the stories I have read about wreckers along the St. Lawrence are true."

While the boys discussed the possibility of wreckers working along the stream, one of the two men clambered to an elevation which was in turn hidden from the cove by a higher one and waved a red and blue handkerchief toward the shore.

The tide was now running out, and the channel between the island and the mainland swirled like a mill-race. This, however, did not prevent the launching of a boat from the shore, the same being manned by four men. They edged along the shore and then, passing boldly into the current, landed on the island at a point east of the cove. There they secreted their boat and moved on toward the place where the boys, all unconscious of their presence, were repairing the damages wrought by their treacherous guest.

It was Captain Joe who gave the first intimation of the presence of others on the island. He sprang from the boat, paddled through the shallow water between the hull and the shore, and set out for the elevation where the man who had signaled had been standing.

The boys heard a cry of pain, a shout of anger and a pistol shot, and then Captain Joe came running back to where the Rambler lay.

"What was it you said about wreckers?" Case asked with a startled look. "No beast or bird fired that shot!"

"I was only wondering," Jule answered, "whether there are really wreckers at work along the river. That's the answer!"

"Well," Clay said, "we'll get on the boat to talk it over! In the meantime, we'll be putting space between the Rambler and this island. If ever a wrecker's beacon told where to lure a boat to be plundered, that flame we saw on the island told our sneaking guest when to cut the Rambler loose!"

The boys hastened on board and Clay ran to the motors. At that instant, four men made their appearance on the ledge above the cove, beckoning with their hands and calling out to the boys that they had something of importance to say to them.

"They look to me like triple-plated thieves," Alex commented, "and I wouldn't be caught on an island with them for a farm."

Captain Joe seemed to approve of this decision, for he stood with his feet braced, growling furiously at the beckoning men.

"Boat ahoy!" one of the men cried. "We have a message for you."

"All right," Case answered, "you may send it by wireless."

"But it is important!" came from the man.

During this brief conversation, the motors were slowly drawing the Rambler out of the sandy cove, the electric connection having been made, and the men were rapidly approaching the shore. The boat moved slowly, for the keel was dragging slightly in the sand, and the wreckers, if such they were, stood at the water's edge before the craft was more than a dozen yards away.

Directly, all appearance of friendship ceased, and the men stood threatening the boys with automatic guns.

"Run back!" one of the men cried, "or we'll pick you off like pigeons!"

The boys had already taken their automatic revolvers from the cabin, and now, instead of obeying the command of the outlaws, they dropped down behind the gunwale and sent forth a volley not intended to injure, but only to frighten.

Apparently undismayed by the shots, the outlaws passed boldly down the shore line seeking to keep pace with the motor boat as she drew out of the cove. Every moment the motors were gaining speed. In another minute, the Rambler would be entirely beyond the reach of the outlaws.

Apparently hopeless of coercing the boys into a return, the outlaws now began shooting. Bullets pinged against the gunwale and imbedded themselves in the walls of the cabin but did no damage.

A tinge of color was now showing in the east. Birds were astir in the moving currents of the air, and lights flashed dimly forth from the distant houses of St. Luce. Against the ruddy glow of the sky, a river steamer lifted its column of smoke. Observing the approach of the vessel, the outlaws redoubled their efforts to frighten the boys into instant submission.

However, the Rambler was gaining speed, and the incident would have been closed in a moment if the connection made between the batteries and the motors had not become disarranged. In the haste of making the repairs, the work had not been properly done.

The propeller ceased its revolutions and the boat dropped back toward the cove. Evidently guessing what had taken place on board, the outlaws gathered at the point where it seemed certain that she would become beached.

Understanding what would take place if the motor boat dropped back, the boys fired volley after volley in order to attract the attention of those on the steamer. There came a jangling of bells from the advancing craft, and she slowed down and headed for the point. The outlaws fired a parting volley and disappeared among the rocks.

The steamer continued on her course toward the little island, but paused a few yards away and the boys saw a rowboat dropped to the river. The Rambler continued to drift toward the beach she had so recently left and the rowboat headed for that point.

Fearful that the boat would again come within reach of the outlaws, Clay and Case now rushed to the prow, and threw the supply anchor over just in time to prevent a collision between a nest of rocks and the stern of the boat.

The outlaws were now out of sight, and the boys felt secure in the protection of the steamer, but directly the situation was changed, for a show of arms was seen on board the rowboat, and the boys were suddenly ordered to throw up their hands.

"You fellows are nicely rigged out-fine motor boat, and all that," one of the men in the boat shouted, "but the days of river pirates on the St. Lawrence are over. You are all under arrest."

"Gee whiz!" shouted Alex. "Is this what you call a pinch?"

"It is what we call a clean-up," replied one of the men in the boat, rowing up to the Rambler. "We've been watching for you fellows, and now we've got you."

"And what are you going to do with us?" asked Clay restraining his anger and indignation with difficulty.

"We're going to take you up to Quebec and put you on trial for piracy!"

"That'll be fine!" Jule commented.

The boys tried to smile and make light of the situation as the four men from the steamer boarded the Rambler, but they all understood that it was a very serious proposition that they were facing.