"He certainly hears something," reasoned Tom. "Can any of those men
be in this vicinity?"

The bow of the launch was close to a sprawling tree branch, and to
look beyond the rubber covering, Tom crawled forward and stepped on
the branch. The dog followed to the extreme bow of the boat and gave
another short, sharp bark.

"He hears something, that is certain," mused the boy. "But what it
can be, is a puzzle to me."

Tom tried to pierce the darkness and mist, but it was impossible. He
strained his ears, but all he could hear was the occasional dropping
of water from one leaf to another over his head.

"Maybe I had better arouse the others," he murmured, for the barking
of the dog had apparently not disturbed them. "I am sure the dog
wouldn't bark unless there was a reason for it; would you, Dandy?"

Tom looked at the animal and saw the dog had his nose pointed up in
the tree next to that which the launch was under. He peered in the
direction and gave a start.

Was he mistaken, or had he caught the glare of a pair of shining eyes
fastened upon him? Tom was naturally a brave boy, yet a strange shiver
took possession of him. The dog now bristled furiously and gave two
sharp barks in quick succession.

"Hullo, what's up?" came from Dick, who was awakened.

"I believe there is some wild animal up yonder tree, spotting us,"
answered Tom. "I think I just caught a glimpse of its eyes."

This announcement caused Dick to rouse up, and taking his pistol he
crawled to the bow of the launch and joined his brother on the tree
limb. Just then the dog started to bark furiously.

"There he is!" cried Tom, and raised the pistol he had in his pocket.
There could be no mistake about those glaring eyes, and taking hasty
aim, he fired.

The report of the firearm had not yet died away when there came the
wild and unmistakable screech of a wounded bob cat--a wildcat well
known in certain portions of our southern states. At the same time
the dog began to bark furiously, and everybody on board the launch
was aroused.

"What's the matter?"

"Who fired that shot?"

"Vos dose rascals here to fight mit us alretty?"

"It's a bob cat!" cried Dick. "Tom just fired at it!"

"Look out, it's coming down!" yelled Tom, and that instant the bob
cat, unable to support itself longer on the tree limb, fell with a
snarl on the rubber covering of the launch, carrying it down upon
those underneath.

The next few minutes things happened so rapidly that it is almost
impossible to describe them. The bob cat rolled over and over, clawing
at the rubber cloth and ripping it to shreds. The boys tried to get
another shot, but did not dare to fire for fear of hitting each other.
But the dog leaped in and caught the bob cat by the back of the neck,
and an instant later cat and canine went whirling over the side of
the boat into the waters of the lake.

"They are overboard!" cried Sam.

"Make a light, somebody!" yelled Songbird. "It isn't safe in the dark."

The acetylene gas lamp of the launch was ready for use, and striking
a match Harold Bird lit it. The sharp rays were turned on the water,
and there dog and bob cat could be seen whirling around in a mad
struggle for supremacy.

Bang! went Dick's pistol. He had taken quick but accurate aim, and
the bob cat was hit in the side. It went under with a yelp, letting
go of the dog as it did so. Dandy gave a final nip and then turned
and swam back to the launch and was helped aboard by his master.

"Wonder if the bob cat is dead?" asked Fred, in a voice that he tried
in vain to steady.

"Hasn't come up again," came laconically from Songbird. He had taken
the lamp from Harold Bird and was sending the rays over the surface
of the lake in several directions.

They watched for several minutes and then made out the dead form of
the bob cat floating among the bushes on the opposite side of the
little cove.

"Done for--and I am glad of it," murmured Tom, and he wiped the cold
perspiration from his forehead.

"I don't know if we are out of the woods or not," said the owner of
the launch. "Where there is one bob cat there are often more."

"In that case I think we had better move the boat away from the
shore," answered Dick. "It may not be as comfortable as under the
trees but it will be safer."

At that moment the gas lamp began to flicker and die down.

"Here, give the lamp to me," said the launch owner, and taking the
lamp he shook it and tried to turn more water on the carbide. But
the water would not run for some reason and a few seconds later the
light went out.

In the darkness the boys started to untie the launch. As they did
this they heard a movement in the tree directly over their heads and
then came the cry of a bob cat calling its mate.

"There's another!" yelled Sam. "Say, we had better get out as fast
as we can!"

The gasoline launch was just shoved away from the tree limb when the
bob cat above made a leap and landed on the bow of the craft! It
glared a moment at the boys, its two eyes shining like balls of fire,
and then started to make a leap.

Bang! crack! bang! went three pistols in rapid succession, and as
the reports died away the bob cat fell in a heap on the bottom of
the launch, snarling viciously. Then Dandy, still exhausted from his
fight in the water, leaped on the beast and held it down while Tom
finished it with a bullet in the ear.

"Is it dead?" asked Songbird, after a painful silence.

"I guess so. Light a match, somebody."

Several matches were lit and then an old oil lantern which chanced
to be on board. The bob cat was indeed dead and near it lay the dog,
with a deep scratch in its foreshoulder.

"Noble Dandy, you did what you could," said Harold Bird, affectionately.

Very gingerly Tom and Dick picked up the carcass of the bob cat and
threw it overboard. By this time the launch had drifted a good fifty
feet from shore, and there they anchored.

"Keep that lantern lit," said Fred. "I can't stand the darkness after
such doings!"

"If those thieves are around they must have heard the shots," said
Sam. "So a light won't make much difference."

"I am going to examine the gas lamp," said the young Southerner, and
did so. A bit of dirt had gotten into the feed pipe of the lamp, and
when this was cleaned out with a thin wire the light worked as well
as ever.

It was some time after the excitement before any of the crowd could
get to sleep again. Then Hans got a nightmare and yelled "Bop cats!
fire! murder!" and other things as loudly as he could, and that put
further rest out of the question, and all waited anxiously for the
coming of morning.



CHAPTER VII

THE HOUSEBOAT IN THE BUSHES

With the coming of morning the mist cleared away as if by magic, and
soon the warm sunshine put all on board of the gasoline launch in
better spirits.

"How is the dog?" questioned Dick, of the owner of the canine.

"He has been pretty well mauled up, but I think he'll come around
with proper attention," answered the young Southerner. "He is a
valuable animal--valuable to me because he was a pet of my father--and
I'd hate to lose him."

All were hungry and ate their morning lunch with considerable
satisfaction, washing it down with some coffee made on a small oil
stove that had been brought along.

"Well, I don't see anything of the houseboat," announced Dick, as he
stood on a seat and took a long and careful look around. "Not a craft
or a building of any kind in sight."

"Some negroes used to live on the north shore of the lake," said
Harold Bird, "but the floods last year made them vacate in a hurry."

It was decided to move around the shore of the lake slowly, scanning
every cove and inlet with care. That the houseboat was hidden somewhere
on that expanse of water none of the party had any doubt.

"You could take quite a trip in this launch," said Sam to Harold
Bird, as they moved along. "The more I see of the craft the better
I like her. May I ask what she is worth?"

"I gave two thousand dollars for her. I bought her in New Orleans
and brought her up the river myself. The folks around here don't know
much about gasoline launches, but I think she's as nice a craft as
anybody would wish."

"How much water does she draw?"

"Only two and a half feet when loaded down--so you see we can get
over some pretty shallow spots, if it is necessary."

They were moving along a scantily-wooded stretch of shore when Tom
let out a short cry:

"Stop!"

"What's up, Tom?" asked several.

"I saw somebody just now--back of yonder bushes. He stepped out and
then stepped back again."

"Was it one of the men we are after?" asked Sam.

"I don't know--he got out of sight before I had a good look at him."

"We'll have to investigate," said Dick, and to this the others agreed.
With all possible haste the launch was run to the shore and Sam, Tom,
and Dick got out, followed by Harold Bird. The dog came also, limping
along painfully.

"Find him, Dandy, find him!" said the young Southerner, in a low
tone, and the dog seemed to understand. He put his nose to the ground,
ran around for several minutes, and then started off through the bushes.

"Do you think he has struck the trail?" asked Tom.

"I am sure of it," was Harold Bird's positive reply.

The young Southerner called to the dog, and Dandy went forward more
slowly, so that they could keep him in sight. They passed through
one patch of bushes and then came to a clear space, beyond which was
a field of wild sugarcane.

Hardly had the dog struck the cleared spot when from a distance came
the report of a pistol. Dandy leaped up in the air, came down in a
heap, and lay still.

"Somebody has shot the dog!" cried Sam. "What a shame!"

Harold Bird said nothing, but ran to where the canine lay. Dandy was
breathing his last, and in a minute it was all over.

"Poor fellow!" murmured the young Southerner, and there were tears
in his eyes. "First the bob cats and now a pistol bullet! Oh, if I
can only catch the rascal who fired that shot I'll make him suffer
for this!"

"The fellow killed the dog, so the animal could not trail him," said
Dick. "It was certainly a dirty trick."

"It shows that the man is a criminal," put in Tom. "He would not be
afraid of us if he was honest."

"And therefore it must have been Gasper Pold or Solly Jackson," said Sam.

"What will you do with the dog?" asked Dick, after an awkward pause.

"Take him back to the boat and bury him," answered the young Southerner.
"I don't want the wild beasts to feed on him."

"Hadn't we better follow up that man first?"

"We can do so, if you wish."

They passed on and looked around that vicinity with care. It must be
confessed that they were afraid of being shot at, but nothing of the
sort occurred. At one point they saw some footsteps, but these came
to an end in a creek flowing into the lake.

As the ground in that vicinity was very treacherous there was nothing
to do but to return to the launch and this they did, Harold Bird and
Dick carrying the dead dog between them. All were sorry that the
canine was dead, for they realized that the animal had done its best
for them against the bob cats.

They had no spade, but with some flat sticks managed to scoop out a
hole of respectable depth and in this they buried the canine. Over
the spot the young Southerner placed a peculiar stick to mark the spot.

"He was a fine dog and was once the pet of my father," he said. "Some
day I may place a monument over his grave."

They left the vicinity and continued on their trip around the lake,
scanning every indentation of the shore for a possible glimpse of the
_Dora_. There were many winding places, so it was noon before the
task was half completed.

"This is growing to be a longer hunt than I anticipated," remarked
Fred. "I thought finding the houseboat would be dead easy."'

Lunch was had, and once again they went on the search, this time at
a point where a bayou joined Lake Sico to a smaller lake. Here they
had to move with care, for the bayou was filled with the hidden roots
of trees long since thrown down by storms.

"Of ve ton't look out ve peen caught in dem dree roots," observed
Hans, looking down into the water. "Say, ton't da look like vater
snakes?"

"They certainly do, and they are almost as dangerous--for the launch."

Soon came a grinding tinder the boat and the screw came to a standstill.
A tree root had caught fast, and further progress was out of the
question until the screw could be cleared.

"I'll go over and do the job!" cried Tom. "I know how." And the others
being willing he divested himself of most of his clothing, leaped
overboard, and was soon at work. It was no light task, as he had to
cut the root in several places with a jackknife.

"We had better land and look around," said Harold Bird. "I'd hate to
get the screw caught again and break it, for then we'd certainly be
in a pickle."

"Could the houseboat get through here?" questioned Fred.

"Yes, they could pole her through, with hard work," answered Dick.

They turned the gasoline launch to shore and tied fast. Then all
began to leap out.

"This won't do," cried Dick. "Somebody ought to remain on the launch."

"I would like to go with you and look for the houseboat," answered
Harold Bird. "I think the launch will be safe where she is."

"If you want me to stay I'll do it, if Songbird will stay with me,"
said Fred.

"I'll stay," said Songbird, promptly.

So it was arranged, and leaving the two in charge of the gasoline
launch, all the others of the party set off on their search for the
missing houseboat.

Walking along the shore of the small lake was decidedly treacherous,
and more than once one or another would slip down in the mud and slime.

"Hellup!" cried Hans, who had dragged behind, and looking back they
saw the German lad in a bog hole up to his knees. "Hellup, oder I
vos trowned alretty!"

"Can't you crawl out?" questioned Dick, running back.

"No, der mud vos like glue!" gasped Hans.

Tom came back also, and between them they managed to pull Hans from
the sticky ooze, which was plastered over his trousers and shoes.
The German lad gazed at himself ruefully.

"Now, ain't dot a nice mess?" he observed. "Vosn't I a beach!"

"Yes, but a pretty muddy one," laughed Dick. "But never mind now,
come on. You can clean up when we get back."

The party soon reached a spot where the bushes grew in water several
inches deep. Here, to avoid sinking in the mud, they had to make a
wide detour.

"Listen!" cried Sam, presently, and held up his hand.

"What did you hear?" asked Harold Bird.

"I heard something as if somebody was walking through the brush yonder!"

"Maybe it was the men we are after!" cried Dick. "Come on!"

They continued to move forward until some fallen trees all but barred
their further progress. Then they came to a small rise of ground--a
veritable island in this swamp,--and reaching the highest point,
gazed around them.

"What is that?" asked Sam, pointing with his hand to a round, black
object showing above some bushes at a distance.

"Why, that looks like the smokestack of the houseboat!" cried Tom.
He meant the stack to the chimney, for several rooms of the houseboat
were furnished with stoves, to be used when the weather was chilly.

"We'll soon make certain," said Dick. "Forward, everybody!"

"Be careful!" cautioned Harold Bird. "Remember, you have desperate
characters with whom to deal."

"Isn't everybody armed?" asked Sam. "I brought my pistol."

All were armed, and each took out his weapon and carried it in his
hand. They wanted no shooting, but, after the killing of the dog,
decided to take no chances.

It was no light task to reach the spot where the smokestack had been
seen. They had another creek to cross and then had to crawl through
some extra-thick bushes. But beyond was a stretch of clear water,
and there they saw, safely tied to two trees, the object of their
search, the missing houseboat.



CHAPTER VIII

IN THE SWAMP

"There she is!"

"She seems to be all right!"

"Shall we go on board?"

Such were the cries from the Rovers and their friends as they came
in sight of the _Dora_. The view of the houseboat filled them all
with pleasure.

"Wait!" said Harold Bird. "Don't show yourselves!"

Dick at least understood and held the others back.

"Keep out of sight--we want to investigate first," he said, in a low
tone. "There is no use in our running our heads into the lion's mouth."

"Mine cracious, vos der a lion aroundt here?" demanded Hans, turning
pale.

"Maybe you'll find a lion if you don't keep quiet," answered Sam,
with a snicker.

After that but little was said. Gradually they drew so close that
they could see from one end of the _Dora_ to the other. Not a person
was in sight.

"Really does look as if the craft was deserted," was Harold Bird's
comment. "Perhaps they got scared when they saw what a crowd was
following them."

"I move two of us go on board and the rest stay here," said Tom.
"Then, if there is trouble, the crowd to stay behind can come to the
rescue."

"That's a good scheme," answered his elder brother. "Supposing Sam
and I go? You can lead the rescuing party, if it becomes necessary."

This was also agreed to, and a minute later Dick and Sam, with their
pistols in hand, crawled from the bushes and made for the side of
the houseboat. A gangplank was out and they saw the footprints of
several men and also two horses.

"I don't like those much," said Dick, pointing to the hoofprints. "A
horse here means that he was used for carrying some stuff away."

As nobody came to stop them, they walked on board of the _Dora_ and
looked into the gallery, that being the nearest apartment. The cook
stove was still there, just as Aleck Pop had left it, but the pots
and kettles were scattered in all directions and some of the best of
the utensils were missing.

"This looks as if the houseboat had been looted!" cried Dick, and
ran from the galley to the dining room and then to the living room,
while Sam made his way to several of the staterooms.

Nobody but themselves was on board the houseboat and they soon
announced that fact to the others in the bushes, and they came forward
on a run.

"Did they steal anything?" demanded Tom.

"Steal anything?" repeated Sam. "They have taken about everything
they could lay their hands on!"

"Everything is gone but the stove, piano, and bedding," said Dick.
"And just to show their meanness they hacked the top of the piano
with a hatchet!"

What Dick said was almost wholly true. The rascals had stolen everything
of value that they could possibly carry, leaving behind little outside
of the things already mentioned. Not only was the piano mutilated,
but also the chairs, the dining-room table, and the berths in the
stateroom. All of the lanterns but one were missing, and the small
rowboat resting on the rear deck of the houseboat had its side stove
in from an ax-blow.

"The fiends!" muttered Dick, as he gazed at the wreckage. "What they
couldn't carry they tried to ruin!"

"What could you expect from fellows who would shoot my pet dog?"
returned Harold Bird.

"I tell you, Dick Rover, those men ought to be landed in jail!"

"Well, we'll land them there!" cried Dick, earnestly.

"Do you mean that?"

"I certainly do."

"I will aid you all I can," answered the young Southerner heartily.

After that all made a thorough examination of the houseboat, to learn
if they could find out anything concerning the thieves. Muddy footprints
were visible in every apartment, but they told little.

"I think we are simply wasting time here," said Tom, presently. "The
best we can do is to follow up those footprints outside and see where
they lead to."

"Dot's so," said Hans. "Dis muss is so bad like it vill pe Lund vill
get no petter py looking at him, ain't dot so?"

"All right, come on," said Sam, and led the way off the houseboat.
"I don't believe those chaps intend to come back. They took all they
wanted."

To follow the footprints was no easy task, and before long, they
found themselves going through a swamp where the walking was extremely
treacherous.

"I don't like this," said Sam. "They may have known the way, but we
don't; and if we don't look out we'll get in so deep we'll be helpless."

"Yah, let us go back," said Hans, who had not forgotten his experience
in the bog hole. "A feller can't schwim in vater mit mud up to his
neck alretty!"

Again they had to turn back. As they did this Dick fancied he heard
a faraway cry for help.

"Did you hear that?" he asked of Tom. "What?"

"I heard somebody call, I think."

"So did I," put in Harold Bird. "Listen!"

They listened, but the cry, or whatever it was, was not repeated.
Soon they were back to the side of the houseboat once more.

"Do you think that call came from Fred or Songbird?" asked Sam.

"It might be, Sam," answered Dick. "Maybe we had better get back to
the launch."

"Yes, yes, let us go back by all means!" exclaimed Harold Bird. "If
your friends are in trouble we ought to aid them."

As rapidly as they could do so, they started back for the spot where
the gasoline launch had been left. Once they lost their way, and got
into a swamp from which it was next to impossible to get out.

"We'll have to go back!" cried Sam, after he had moved in several
directions, only to find himself worse off than before.

"Be careful," warned Harold Bird. "If you aren't careful--Stop!"

All of the boys halted, for the command was out of the ordinary. The
young Southerner was looking straight ahead of him.

"What is it?" questioned Tom, in a low tone, thinking some of the
enemy might be near.

"Am I right, and is that a snake ahead?" asked Harold Bird. "It looks
like a snake and still it may be nothing but the dead limb of a tree."

"Say, I ton't vonts me no snakes in mine!" ejaculated Hans, trying
to retreat.

All the boys gazed at the object ahead with interest. Then Tom broke
off a stick near him and threw it at the object. The latter did not
budge.

"Must be a tree limb," said Tom. "But it looked enough like a snake
to frighten anybody."

"I am not sure yet," answered Harold Bird. "You must remember that
some of our southern snakes are very sluggish and only move when they
are hungry or harassed."

"We'll give the limb, or whatever it is, a wide berth," said Sam.

They started to move to one side. But Tom was curious, and chancing
to see a stone among some bushes, hurled it at the object, hitting
it directly in the center.

Up came an ugly-looking head, the object whipped around swiftly, and
the next instant the boys found themselves confronted by a swamp
snake all of six feet long and as thick as a man's wrist!

"Mine cracious!" burst from Hans' lips. "It vos a snake annahow! Look
out! he vill eat us up alife!"

"We must get out of here!" cried Sam. "Oh, Tom, why didn't you leave
it alone?"

"I didn't really think it was a snake," answered the fun-loving Rover.
"Somebody shoot it!"

Queer as it was, nobody had thought to use his pistol, but as Tom
spoke Dick pointed his weapon at the snake, that was crawling rapidly
over the tree roots towards them. The puff of smoke was followed by
a writhing of the reptile, and they saw that it had been hit although
not fatally wounded.

"Wait, I'll give him another shot!" cried Sam, who now had his pistol
out, and as the head of the snake came up over a tree root, the
youngest Rover fired point-blank. His aim was true, and the head of
the snake went down, and the body whirled this way and that in its
death agonies.

"Is he--he dead?" faltered Tom.

"Next door to it," answered Harold Bird. "That last shot took him
directly in the throat. I do not think he will bother us any more."

They saw the body of the snake sink down in the water beneath the
upper roots of the tree, and then continued to retreat, making their
way to what looked like safer ground. They were now completely turned
around, with only the sun to guide them in their course.

"This is no joke," said Dick, gazing around in perplexity. "If we
are not careful we'll become hopelessly lost."

"I think somebody had better climb a tree and look around," said Tom.
"I'll go up if somebody will boost me."

The others were willing, and soon the fun-loving youth was climbing
a tall tree which stood somewhat apart from the others. He went up
in rapid fashion and before long was close to the top.

"Can you see anything?" called up Sam, after what seemed to be a long
pause.

"Hello!" cried Tom. "Why, there is the small lake and, yes, the launch
is moving from the shore."

"The launch?" ejaculated Harold Bird. "Do you mean my gasoline launch?"

"It must be yours--or some craft very much like it," answered Tom.
"There, it is out of sight now behind the trees."

Tom waited for fully a minute, but the launch did not reappear.

"Who was on board?" questioned Dick, as his brother came down.

"I couldn't make out."

"Which is the way to the spot where we tied up?" asked the young
Southerner, impatiently. "We must investigate this without delay."

"Over that way," answered Tom, pointing the direction out with his
hand. "Come, I think I saw a good way to go."

Then all of the party struck out to reach the landing-place without
delay. They felt that something unusual had occurred, but what, they
could not surmise.



CHAPTER IX

TWO YOUNG PRISONERS

Left to themselves. Fred Garrison and Songbird Powell hardly knew
what to do to pass away the time. With all of the others away the
spot where the gasoline launch had been tied up appeared to be
unusually lonely.

"I can tell you what, I shouldn't care to be caught all alone at
night in such a spot as this," said Fred, with something of a shiver.
"It is about as dismal as any place I've seen."

"Right you are," murmured Songbird and then continued:

  "The lonely waters washed the lonely shore,
  Where they had washed full many a moon before,
  I listened pensively--not a sound
  Was there to break the tomblike silence all around!"

"Great mackerel, Songbird!" cried Fred. "Don't go on like that. It's
enough to give a fellow the creeps!" But the would-be poet only
continued:

  "I listened for a single bird,
  But not a note my ear there heard,
I looked up in the calm, clear sky--"

"And nervous enough was I to fly!" finished Fred, and went on:
"Songbird, if you've got to make up poetry give us something cheerful.
Can't you make up something about--er--about circus clowns, or apple
pie, or--er--"

"Circus clowns or apple pie!" snorted the would-be poet, in deep
disgust. "Well, you are the limit, Fred Garrison. No, I can't make
up poetry about circus pie or apple clo--I mean apple clowns or
circus, pshaw, you know what I mean--"

"I didn't mention mixed pickles," observed Fred, demurely. "But if
you can mix--What's that?"

He stopped short and straightened up on the launch seat, and so did
Songbird. Both had heard voices at a distance.

"They must be coming back," said Songbird. "It didn't take them long."

They listened, and set up a call, but no answer came back. Then they
looked around searchingly.

"That's funny," murmured Fred.

"I don't think it's funny," was the low answer. "Something is wrong."

"Help! My foot is caught!" came presently, in a muffled voice. "Hello,
the launch! Help me somebody, quick!"

"Who is that calling?" asked Songbird.

"Somebody of our crowd and in trouble," answered Fred, and leaped
ashore with Songbird at his heels.

The call had come from a thicket about a hundred feet away, and in
that direction dashed the two unsuspecting youths, never dreaming of
the plan laid to trap them. As they ran into the thicket four persons
came behind them, and in a trice each was thrown violently forward
on the ground and held there.

"Wha--what does this mean?" gasped Fred, as soon as he could get his
breath.

"It means that you are prisoners," came in the voice of Gasper Pold.
"Keep quiet now, it will be best for you."

"Blindfold 'em and be quick about it," came in a low tone from one
of the others of the party.

"Dan Baxter!" exclaimed Songbird, recognizing that voice. "Is it
possible! I thought you died in the swamp!"

"Hang the luck!" muttered the former bully of Putnam Hall. "I didn't
want them to know I was here."

By this time the two boys had had their hands tied behind them. Then
they were allowed to rise.

"Don't you make a noise, if you value your lives," came from another
of the men, and to their surprise they saw that it was Sack Todd,
one of the head counterfeiters of Red Rock ranch and the only man
who had escaped from the authorities at the time the noted gang was
rounded up. How slick an individual this chap was those who have read
"The Rover Boys on the Plains" already know.

The boys now saw that the fourth person who had attacked them and
made them prisoners was the carpenter Solly Jackson. The fellow took
small part in the proceedings and was apparently under the thumb of
Gasper Pold.

"What is the meaning of this outrage?" asked Songbird.

"You'll find out quick enough," answered Dan Baxter, with a chuckle.
"So you thought I perished in the swamp, eh? Ha! ha! I thought I'd
fool you!"

"Did you get away with Sack Todd?" asked Fred.

"Not exactly--but we soon met--after that fight was over--and here
we are, to fix you for interfering with our business," went on the
big bully.

"Look here, Baxter, we can't stop to talk now," broke in Gasper Pold.
"Those other fellows will be back soon. We've got to make the best
possible use of our time."

"Tie 'em to the trees," said Sack Todd. "Quick now, and then we'll
be off. You say you can run the launch?" he asked, turning to the
former bully of Putnam Hall.

"Sure I can--used to do that sort of thing at home, years ago,"
replied Dan Baxter.

Without ceremony Fred and Songbird were tied fast to two trees near
by, the ropes being passed from their wrists directly around each
tree. Then the men and Baxter departed, taking with them several
heavy bundles which they had been carrying.

"That stuff they have must be from the houseboat," said Fred, when
he and Songbird were left alone in the forest. "They are going to
run off with it on the launch!"

"I reckon you are right." Songbird gave a groan. "Gosh! they tied my
wrists together so tightly the blood won't circulate!"

"They are first-class rascals, and Dan Baxter is as bad as any of
them," was the answer. "Isn't it strange that he should escape from
that swamp, and after losing his horse, too!"

After that the two prisoners listened intently and soon heard the
putt-putt of the gasoline launch, as the power was turned on. Gradually
the sound grew fainter and fainter.

"They are off!" sighed Fred. "Perhaps now we'll never see the launch
again!"

"This will make Harold Bird angry, Fred. First his pet dog and now
his new launch. He'll want to land those rascals in jail just as much
as we do."

Half an hour went by--the young prisoners thought it must be four
times that long,--and still nobody came near them. Each tried to free
himself from his bonds, but without avail. Fred cut one wrist and
Songbird scraped off the skin and that was all.

"It's no use," sighed the would-be poet. "We'll have to stay here
till the others get back."

"What fools we were to be deceived into thinking one of our party
was in trouble! I thought that cry for help didn't seem just right.
We walked right into the trap."

"I was afraid--My gracious me! Look!"

At this exclamation both boys looked into the forest they were facing
and there they saw a sight that almost made the blood freeze in their
veins. Crouching down between some bushes was a bob cat larger than
either of those that had been killed the night before.

"Oh!" cried Songbird. "Scat!"

At the cry the bob cat turned and disappeared into the bushes like
a flash. But then they heard it leap into a tree, and the rustling
of the branches told them only too plainly that it was approaching
closer and closer.

"This is--is awful!" groaned Fred. "It will surely pounce down and
tear us to pieces. Help! help, somebody! Help!"

Songbird joined in the cry and the forest rang loudly with the sounds
of their voices. Then they stopped to get their breath.

"I see him--he is almost over our heads!" gasped Songbird. "Help!
Help!" he yelled, at the top of his lungs.

"What's the trouble?" came from close at hand, and Dick Rover burst
into view, with Tom and Sam at his heels and each with his revolver
drawn. Not far behind were Hans and Harold Bird.

"A bob cat! Look out for him!" cried Fred.

"Protect us!" put in Songbird. "We are helpless!"

"See, they are tied to the trees!" exclaimed Tom. "What does this mean?"

"I see the bob cat!" said Sam Rover, and without ado fired up into
the tree. Down came the beast, spitting viciously and clawing the
air, to fall at Tom's feet. Bang! went Tom's pistol and then all of
the others fired, and almost as quick as I can tell it the beast lay
dead where it had fallen. Then the boys looked around for other bob
cats, but none showed themselves.

"Oh, how thankful I am that you came," said Fred, as he was being
released.

"And you didn't arrive a minute too soon either," said Songbird.
"That bob cat was getting ready to spring on us! It was a narrow escape!"

"Who made you prisoners?" asked Dick. "But I suppose it was that
Gasper Pold and his tools."

"Yes, and who do you think his tools are?" answered Fred.--"Solly
Jackson, Sack Todd--"

"Sack Todd!" exclaimed Sam.

"Yes, and Dan Baxter."

"Baxter!" came from the others.

"The young rascal you told me about?" said Harold Bird.

"Exactly, and all of them have run away with your launch," put in
Songbird. "They went quite a while ago."

"I was afraid of it," answered the young Southerner. "Of course they
must have steered for Lake Sico."

"Yes, and as they have had a good start, they must be a long way off
by now," added Tom.



CHAPTER X

THE CHASE ON THE RIVER

The whole party walked down to where the launch had been tied up,
and Fred and Songbird told their story and then heard of what had
happened to the houseboat.

"What rascals!" murmured Fred. "We must do our level best to catch them."

"I am going to catch them, if I have to follow them a thousand miles!"
exclaimed Harold Bird, impulsively.

"That's the talk!" came from Dick. "We are bound to catch them sooner
or later, if we stick to the chase."

Yet, though he spoke so hopefully, the outlook just then was dismal
enough. The gasoline launch had a good start, and they had nothing
at hand with which to follow the craft and those on board.

"I'd hate to see the launch wrecked," said Tom. "But I'd like to see
those fellows blow themselves up!"

"Well, in that case I could almost stand the loss of the boat,"
answered the young Southerner, with a faint smile.

They sat down and talked the matter over for quarter of an hour, Fred
and Songbird in the meantime bathing their wrists and having them
bound up with handkerchiefs. Not only was the launch gone, but their
food also.

"I saw a few things left on the _Dora_," said Dick; "canned stuff
and like that, which they forgot to take or ruin. That will give us
something to eat."

"We might find a trail out of the swamp to some plantation," suggested
Harold Bird, "but that would take time, and I think we ought to be
following the launch."

"How?" asked Fred.

"Ve can't schwim," put in Hans.

"Go back for the houseboat and follow them in that. It will be slow,
but it will likewise be sure."

"We'll do it," answered Dick.

This time all set out for the houseboat. They followed the first
trail that had been taken and, remembering the bad spots, covered
the distance without serious mishap. By this time all were hungry,
and while Hans and Fred set to work to make a fire in the cook stove
and prepare the best meal possible under the circumstances, the others
turned the houseboat down the inlet and out into the small lake. It
was hard work poling the big craft along, but once in the little lake
they were delighted to find that the current was fairly strong towards
the big lake and the Mississippi. They used both poles and sweeps
and worked like Trojans.

"Dinner is ready!" called Fred at last, and one after another took
a seat and ate the canned corn, tomatoes, and salmon which had been
made ready. They also had a few crackers and a pot of rather weak
coffee, but they were sincerely thankful that matters were not worse.

"The worst of it is, we are not the only sufferers," said Dick to
Harold Bird. "The ladies and the girls who have been traveling with
us have lost all their valuables--that is, such things as happened
to be left on the _Dora_. Just what is missing they will have to tell
us."

"Well, as I said before, I shall do all in my power to bring them to
justice. I should think you'd be more than anxious to have this Dan
Baxter locked up."

"Yes."

"You say he has been your enemy for years?"

"Yes. When my brothers and I started to go to a boarding school called
Putnam Hall, in New York State, we ran across this Baxter. He was
annoying Miss Stanhope and her two cousins, Grace and Nellie. We had
a row then and there, and ever since that time he has been our bitter
enemy and has tried, in a thousand ways, to make trouble for us. Not
only that, but his father was a bitter enemy of my father and was
locked up. But strange to say, Arnold Baxter has reformed, while Dan
seems to go from bad to worse."

"Then you don't think Dan will reform?"

"Hardly. If he does, it will be the surprise of my life," answered
the eldest Rover.

The meal, slim as it was, put all on board the houseboat in better
humor, and as he washed the dishes Hans hummed a little German ditty
to himself. Soon the small lake was left behind, and they found
themselves skirting the upper shore of Lake Sico. Nothing was in
sight on the broad bosom of this body of water.

"Can the launch be in hiding in some cove?" asked Sam. "We don't want
any more tricks played on us."

"It is possible," answered Harold Bird. "Still I think our wisest
course will be to get to the river as soon as possible. If the launch
has passed out we may find somebody who has seen her."

All worked with vigor, and by nightfall they gained the bayou leading
to the mighty river beyond. As they came out they saw a lumber barge
tied up not far away.

"Ahoy there!" shouted Dick, using his hands for a speaking trumpet.

"Ahoy!" came the answering shout, from a man on the barge.

"Have you seen anything of a gasoline launch around here?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Coming from the bayou?"

"Yes."

"Which way did she head?"

"Down the river."

"Are you sure of that, Dillard?" called out Harold Bird.

"Hullo, Mr. Bird, that you?"

"I say, are you sure the launch went down the river?"

"Positive, sir--we watched her out of sight. Was she your boat?"

"She was."

"Stolen?"

"Yes."

"You don't say so! Hope you get her back."

"Who was on board?"

"Four men, so far as we could see. We weren't very close to her."

"We are on the right trail!" cried Tom. "Now the question is, How
can we follow her down the river?"

"On the houseboat, of course," answered his elder brother. "If we
stop to do anything else we'll lose too much time."

"But that launch can run away from us."

"Perhaps, but you must remember that they'll have to be cautious,
because the craft is strange to them. They won't dare to run full
speed for fear of blowing up or of striking a snag."

"I vish da struck a hundred of dem snags alretty!" cried Hans.

"Then again, they may tie up as soon as they think they can leave
the river with safety. I think we can follow in the houseboat as well
as in anything."

"Yes, let us stick to the houseboat," came from the young Southerner.
"But wait, pole her over to the barge. Perhaps we can buy some food."

"Yes, let us get food by all means," added Sam.

They were soon beside the lumber barge, which had a comfortable cabin
and sleeping quarters. As Harold Bird knew the owner well, there was
little difficulty in obtaining provisions and at a reasonable price.
Then off those on the _Dora_ pushed, and soon the current of the
broad Mississippi carried them out of sight down the stream.

"We must keep a good lookout," said Dick, as night came on. "We don't
want to miss them in the dark."

"And we don't want to run into anything either," added Sam.

"Dis ain't kvite der life on der oceans vaves vot I like," observed
Hans. "I dink me after all a sail ship oder a steamer been besser, hey?"

"Yes, a sailboat or a steamer would be better just now," answered
Tom. "But we have got to put up with what we happen to have, as the
dog said who got lockjaw from swallowing a bunch of keys."

"Did dot dog git dot lockjaw from dem keys?" asked Hans, innocently.

"Sure he did, Hans. You see, they didn't fit the lock to his stomach,
so he couldn't digest them."

"Poor dog, vot vos his name?"

"Why, his name was--er--Picker,--but he couldn't pick the lock, so
he died."

"Is he teat yet?"

"Is he dead--Say, Hans, what do you mean?"

"Oh, it ton't madder," answered the German boy, and walked away,
leaving Tom wondering if the joke had been turned on him or not.

On and on swept the houseboat over the broad bosom of the Mississippi.
Fortunately for our friends, it proved a clear night, with countless
stars bespangling the heavens.--They had managed to find two lanterns
fit for use and each was lit and placed in position. Most of the boys
remained on the forward deck, watching anxiously. Dick was at the
rudder, steering as Harold Bird directed.

It was not long before something dark loomed up along shore and they
knew they had struck one of the numerous levees, or artificial banks,
along the Mississippi, put there to prevent the country from being
inundated during the freshets. The levee was very high and looked
strong enough to withstand almost any pressure that could be brought
to bear against it.

"And yet they sometimes give way and cause a terrible amount of
drainage," said Harold Bird, in reply to Sam's question. "I have seen
the river spread out for miles, and houses and barns carried off to
nobody knew where over night."

"Well, I don't think the launch would tie up at the levee, do you?"

"It is not likely. I have an idea those fellows will try to get down
to New Orleans."

After that an hour passed without anything unusual happening. Twice
they passed river steamboats, one of them sweeping quite close to
the houseboat.

"Why don't you put out more lights--want to be run down?" came the cry.

"Haven't any more lights," answered Tom, and then the two boats swept
apart, so no more could be said.

A mile more was passed when Fred set up a cry:

"I see a light ahead, flashing from side to side," he said, and
pointed it out.

"It is the acetylene gas lamp," ejaculated Harold Bird, "and it must
be aboard of the launch!"



CHAPTER XI

WHAT THE ROCKETS REVEALED

All of those on board of the houseboat watched the flashing light
with keen interest. That it came from the gasoline launch none of
them doubted.

"If we can only catch up to them," said Tom. "And do it on the sly!"

"We want to be on guard--they may be ready to do some shooting,"
returned Sam.

"Does you dink da vill shoot?" inquired Hans, anxiously.

"I don't think they will kill more than three or four of us," answered
Tom, by way of a joke.

"Vat?" screamed Hans. "Not me, by chiminatics! I ton't vos vant to
been shot dree oder seven dimes alretty!"

"I doubt if they'll do any shooting," answered Harold Bird.

"I can't believe that," said Dick, with a shake of his head. "That
Sack Todd is a bad one, and Baxter can be very wicked at times. We
certainly want to be on guard against any underhanded work."

The launch had been running somewhat across the river, but was now
headed straight down the Mississippi.

"We don't seem to be gaining," said Fred, after a silence of several
minutes. "It appears to be just as far ahead as when we first saw it."

"We are certainly not gaining much," answered the young Southerner.
"But I think we are gaining a little."

Harold Bird was right, they were gaining probably one rod in twenty.
Thus, in a little over half an hour, they saw that the launch was
almost within hailing distance. The acetylene gas light was thrown
ahead and to the right and left, and lit up the surface of the river
for a considerable distance. Against the rays of the lamp they could
make out four persons in the launch.

"They must be the four we are after," said Dick. "I wish they would
turn into shore, at some town. Then we'd have an easier time of it,
rounding them up."

"I have an idea!" cried Sam. "Why not follow them until they do land
somewhere and go to sleep? We'll have a better chance to capture all
of them than in a fight out here. Here, if we get into a row, somebody
may fall overboard and be drowned."

"Yes, let us follow them until they stop somewhere," came from
Songbird, who had no desire to fight out there on the bosom of the
swiftly-flowing Mississippi.

This decided on, they did not attempt to catch up to the launch, but,
getting near enough to keep the craft in plain view, held back just
a trifle.

"Do you suppose they see us?" asked Fred.

"They may see the houseboat, but they don't know what craft it is,
or who is on board," answered Dick.

Presently the launch stopped running and merely drifted with the
current. Those in the houseboat saw the gas lamp turned toward the shore.

"I think they are making preparations to land," said Harold Bird.

A moment later the acetylene lamp was turned back and the sharp rays
fell full upon the _Dora_ and those on the forward deck.

"Hi! There is the houseboat!" cried Dan Baxter, who was following
the rays of light with his eyes.

"That's so!" returned Gasper Pold. "They must be following us!"

"How did they do it so quickly?" questioned Solly Jackson.

"That's a puzzle, but it certainly is the houseboat, and there are
three or four of the crowd on board," said Sack Todd.

Those on the launch were amazed to think they had been followed so
quickly and for the moment knew not what to do. Then Sack Todd drew
his pistol.

"Hi, there!" he yelled. "Keep your distance, if you know when you
are well off!"

"They know us right enough," murmured Tom. "And they mean to fight!"

"Go ahead,--we can't afford to land around here!" said Gasper Pold,
to Baxter, who had been running the motor of the launch. And soon
the power was turned on and the launch started down the river faster
than ever.

"They are running away from us!" ejaculated Dick. "Oh, what luck!"

"Stop!" yelled Sam. "Stop, or we'll fire at you!"

"That's the talk," said Harold Bird.

"If you do any firing, so will we!" came back from one of the persons
on the _Venus_.

Then of a sudden the acetylene gas lamp was either turned off or its
rays were hidden, for the launch was almost lost in the darkness of
the night.

"They were trying to hide," said Fred. "And it looks as if they would
succeed," he added, as the launch seemed to fade utterly from view.

"If we only had that gas lamp,--to keep them in view!" sighed Sam.

"Are you certain there is nothing of the kind on board?" questioned
Songbird. "Didn't you buy some rockets when we stopped at--"

"Sure I did!" shouted Dick. "Just the thing--if they are still on
board. And they may be--for I put them in a closet we don't often use."

Dick started on a hunt and soon put in an appearance with several
rockets, such as are generally used on a ship as a signal of distress.

"They'll be good in more ways than one," said Tom. "They will keep
those rascals in sight and also let folks know that we need help."

"Py golly! Ve vill haf a regular Fourth of Chuly, hey?" came from Hans.

A rocket was placed in position at the bow end of the houseboat and
the eldest Rover touched it off. It sizzed for an instant and then
shot forward over the water in the direction of the gasoline launch,
making the scene light for the time being. It came down just over
the _Venus'_ bow.

"Hi! stop that, or we'll fire at you!" came from the launch, and then
a pistol rang out and the ball whistled over the deck of the _Dora_.

"Are they really shooting at us?" asked Songbird, nervously, while
Hans sought the shelter of the cabin in a hurry.

"I reckon not," answered Harold Bird. "That was simply meant as a
warning."

Those on the houseboat waited for several minutes and then, imagining
the launch was turning to the shore, Dick prepared another rocket.

"Get behind the woodwork," he said. "They may take it into their
heads to aim at us when this goes up."

All sheltered themselves and with a rush the second rocket flew
skyward. It had not been aimed at the launch, yet it cut the water
within a yard of the _Venus'_ side, much to the alarm of those on board.

"They are trying to shoot us with rockets!" yelled Dan Baxter.

"Take that!" said Sack Todd, and fired point-blank at the houseboat.
The bullet hit a pane of glass in the cabin window, and there was a
jingle followed by a yell from Hans.

"Sthop dot! Ton't kill me! I ain't vos tone noddings alretty! Of you
schoot me again I vos haf you but in prison for a hundred years,
ain't it!"

"Are you hit, Hans?" questioned Dick, running to the German boy.

"Putty near, Dick. Dot pullet knocked owit der glass chust ven I vos
going to look owit!"

"They have hit on something!" came from Harold Bird, who had remained
outside, behind a barrel.

"Hit?" queried Sam.

"Yes, they are stuck fast, and we are drifting right on top of them!"

The news proved true, the launch had gotten caught on a sunken tree
trunk and was helpless on the bosom of the river, the propeller
whirling madly. The houseboat was less than two hundred feet away
and coming forward as swiftly as the current could carry her.

"Look out! Don't smash us--we are stuck!" yelled Dan Baxter.

"Sheer off!" came from Solly Jackson. "Sheer off, or we'll all be
wrecked!"

It was a position of unexpected and extreme peril, and those on the
houseboat realized it as well as those on the launch. Yet what to do
our friends did not exactly know.

"Out with the sweeps--on this side!" called out Dick, and ran for
the biggest sweep he could find. "Jam over the rudder!" he called to
Songbird, who was at the tiller.