The search continued for some moments, and the men reluctantly went ashore.

“Honest!” Alex. then asked of Clay. “Honest, now! Where did the boy go?”

“He must have taken a jump into the river,” was the boy’s reply. “He certainly is not on board the Rambler. He just disappeared when those men appeared.”

“Then he’s probably drowned!” Alex. commented. “No one could swim long in that current. And the man, too, probably went under! Too bad!” he added, soberly.

“Well,” Clay declared, “I’ve got enough of the hospitality of this city. Suppose we drop down to-night? It will be risky sailing because of the flood, but at the same time it may keep us all out of jail. Those men may come back after they get a few more drinks.”

The Rambler was a staunch little motor boat, fully competent to make her way in almost any body of water, but the boys were afraid of driftwood and wreckage, and also of running off into bayous which ran out into swamps for miles, with almost as strong a current as the main channel. Those who have read previous volumes of this series will doubtless recall the adventures of the four boys in Brazil on the Amazon river, on the Columbia river, far up in British Columbia, and on the Colorado river, as far up as the Grand Canyon.

A month before that night in Cairo, the boys had launched the motor boat on the Mississippi far up near its source. They had struggled with sandbars and falls, but had at last worked round the Falls of St. Anthony and struck better water. They had met with plenty of adventures on the way, but nothing of the character of the happenings of that evening. The portion of their journey really worthy of record begins at Cairo on this early November night.

The pets, of which the boys were very fond, had, as already stated by one of the boys, been acquired in Brazil and British Columbia, Captain Joe having been bought by Alex. at Para, and Teddy having been rescued from a tree wreck in the great river of the north. Both animals had been taught all sorts of tricks by the boys.

“That’s all right, about our being in danger here,” Case observed, “but, at the same time, if we leave now, in the night, with the river up, we shall only confirm the suspicions of those on shore. Suppose we move away from this pier, so as to be out of the way of the mob, and anchor in another place, where those whose duty it is to look up suspicious river boats can find us if they desire to? For one, I don’t like the idea of being chased down the river.”

“Solomon had nothing on you!” Alex. agreed. “We may as well remain here until morning. I must confess that I don’t like the way the Father of Waters is acting!”

“Well, let us get somewhere and settle down for the night!” Jule suggested. “I’m still hungry! Those fellows spoiled my supper. Who wants more ham?”

“Say,” Alex. cried, with one of his inimitable grins, “why not have a fish for supper? I won’t be able to sleep much, on account of watching, and may as well have a good square meal! Then I’ll sit up and you boys can go to bed.”

“Where can you get a fish to-night?” demanded Jule. “Think one is going to climb up on the deck? Ham is good enough for me right now!”

But Alex. did not abandon the idea of having a fish supper. After the Rambler had been taken a short distance up the river and anchored in a little bay which promised protection from the rushing current, loaded at times with driftwood and the wreck of houses and barns, the lad again broached the subject.

“I can get the rowboat out,” he insisted, “and let her down stream with a line. Then I can fish under that bank to the east. Don’t you ever think all the river fish have moved into top flats because of the flood! I saw one jump up just a moment ago! You boys keep a good fire and I’ll guarantee to bring the fish!”

“Go it!” Clay laughed. “I wouldn’t go out in a rowboat for a dozen fish suppers, but you seem to have the luck of the Irish on such occasions, so get to going!”

“You’ll eat the fish, all right!” Alex. taunted, “so help me get the boat down.”

The skiff was lowered from the roof of the little cabin and placed in the water, with a great splash. It tugged and strained at the cord which held it, and now and then received severe bumps from floating debris, but Alex. insisted on drawing it up and jumping in. Then he set about getting his fish for supper!

For a long time the boy fished without receiving any intimation that there was a fish left in the river! The boat caught plenty of driftwood, however. At times great masses of trees and timbers would go sailing down, advancing out of the darkness into the circle of light about the Rambler as if brought to life by the presence of mankind. Then the darkness would receive them again and the water would run clear for a time.

The little bay where the Rambler was moored was in a measure out of the sweep of the strong current, still the water eddied and swirled around the little rowboat in a threatening manner. Sometimes the boy had all he could do to keep the craft from turning turtle and dumping him into the river. The other boys, watching from the deck of the motor boat, often called to him to draw up on the line in order to avoid a mass of wreckage drifting that way.

The strong, high prow-light of the motor boat cast a sharp illumination over the river for some distance up stream, revealing the approach of dangerous wreckage, and the lone fisherman was often glad to heed the warnings of his chums. At last, however, just as he was playing a fish which seemed to him as large as a whale, and twice as ferocious, he heard a call which he disregarded for a second.

“There’s a roof coming down!” Clay shouted to the boy. “It is likely to pay you a visit! Better come aboard!”

“And there’s something moving on it!” Jule shouted. “It looks like a baby!”

Alex. was busy with his line. The fish supper was almost in sight! If he heard what was said to him he did not heed the warning, for he kept on playing his fish, which seemed inclined to take the rowboat down the river to the Gulf of Mexico!

The piece of roof to which the boys pointed swung around the side of the Rambler and was pulled in toward the shore by the eddy which had drawn so many lesser objects in. Then, for the first time, Alex. saw his danger. If the mass struck the boat it might crush it. At the very least it would be likely to break the line with which it was attached to the Rambler and send him adrift!

The boy seized the cable and began to draw the boat up to the Rambler, seeking protection under its bulk. Then he heard a cry come from the raft, and saw a mite of a boy reaching out his hands. The boat dropped back and the mass, edging in below the Rambler, struck it full on the prow!

CHAPTER III—A WAIF FROM THE RIVER

The cable tying the rowboat to the Rambler parted with a snap as the wreckage struck the light craft, and Alex. went rocking and bobbing down toward the Gulf of Mexico! The boys on the Rambler saw him get out an oar to secure steerway, though he was pressed on by the house roof which had done the mischief.

It was not a flat roof, but one with two steep sides and a sharp apex. It rode the current apex up, as if floating on a floor crossing under the eaves. On the top of the ridge-boards, clinging on with hands and bare heels, and shouting fit to wake the people of Cairo, the lads on the Rambler saw a half-dressed negro boy of perhaps ten or eleven years. The more the roof bobbed on the waves the louder he yelled.

When the line snapped Clay rushed to the motors and turned on full power. The Rambler trembled as she