CHAPTER XXII
THE SHERIFF KNOWS A LOT
It was still raining when the _Rambler_ headed into the Mississippi,and there was no glimmer of light in sight save that which came fromthe steamer, still puffing at the mouth of the bayou, and that whichlighted the path of the motor boat. The wind had gone down, and theslow, soft rain dominated the night.
It was evident from the very start that the steamer was no match forthe _Rambler_ when it came to a question of speed. As well might adelivery truck attempt to compete in swiftness with a perfect touringcar.
Besides the power of speed, the _Rambler_ had another quality whichenabled her to rapidly increase the distance between the two boats.The river was still covered with wreckage, and the motor boat was agood dodger! She responded quickly to her helm, avoiding the driftwoodahead easily, while the steamer was slower in picking her way.
"Your boat is a peach!" Gregg exclaimed, enthusiastically, as thelights of the steamer dropped out of sight behind a bend in the river."Nothing would please me better than a long trip in her."
"Well," Clay replied, "why not? We are going to the Gulf, and are inno hurry to get there. We are shy sleeping bunks, but if you boys canput up with beds on the floor you are welcome to go along with us. Ireckon you'll manage to supply your share of the provisions!"
"The prospect is an attractive one," Gregg replied, "but I think we'dbetter stop at Vicksburg and find employment of some kind. Later, wemay go on down the river in a houseboat of our own. That depends onhow lucky we are in getting good jobs."
"We shall be sorry to part with you," Case put in. "We have beentogether only a few hours, but a great deal has happened in that time!Only for your warning, the river thieves might have sneaked aboard the_Rambler_ and captured it. In that case, you know very well what wouldhave become of us. We should have been murdered!"
"I have no doubt that you would have taken care of yourselves," Eddiedeclared.
"There's one thing I want to ask you," Clay went on, "and that isabout the outlaw you buried back in the swamp. He was a white man,wasn't he?"
"Yes; a white man blacked up like a negro."
"Did you look him over carefully enough to be able to give me adescription of him?"
"Well, we washed him up a little when we saw that he was a Caucasian,and I got a fair impression of his face, which wasn't a prepossessingone, by any means."
"Can you give me something of a notion of it in a few words?" askedClay.
"Some old acquaintance of yours?" asked the other, with a smile atCase.
"He might have been. The fact is, I thought I recognized the voice ofthe spokesman."
"There!" Alex. exclaimed. "I had that same notion. Mose," he added,turning to the negro boy, "was that the man who threw you and the doginto the water?"
"Ah sure done thought so!" was the reply.
"You think it was Sam, the Robber, the man who accompanied Red?" askedJule.
"I didn't know but it might be!" answered Clay, and Alex. at onceinsisted that it was the same man. Mose was ready to swear to thefellow's identity by this time!
"Tell us how he looked after the black was washed off," requestedClay, after a short pause, during which the three men comparednotes--mental notes--of their impressions of the man they had left inthe lonely grave in the swamp.
"We have decided on one word that expresses our thought of the man,"Gregg finally replied. "You know that all human beings in some mannerresemble some wild animal species. Some men are lions, some aremonkeys, some are dogs, some are bears, some are foxes. Well, this manwas a fox!"
"I thought so," Clay exclaimed. "I thought the fellow's voice soundedlike Sam's."
"There are many men with fox-faces," Gregg warned. "This man may nothave been the individual you refer to as Sam. If he is an enemy ofyours, keep looking for him."
With this bit of good advice the matter was dropped for the time. Thesteamer was no longer in sight, but the _Rambler_ was kept on her wayto the Gulf.
In the middle of the next forenoon they came to Delta, which is at thebottom of the Vicksburg cutoff, on the west bank of the river. Here,with many handshakes and expressions of regret at parting, the threemen left the boat.
"If we have any luck at all," Gregg said, as the _Rambler_ pushed out,"we'll meet you somewhere south of New Orleans. We've always wanted tosee that swamp country."
The boys moved slowly down the river after that.
Again they were enjoying themselves, fishing, hunting and exploringthe country on either side of the great stream.
There were lowlands, swamps, winding bayous and forests in places.Again, there were plantations, with noble houses showing from theriver. Whenever they halted at a plantation landing they were receivedmost hospitably.
The wreckage of the flood was running out of the stream, and the waterwas dropping down to normal. Occasionally they left the boat at nightand built rousing camp-fires on high banks. At such times plantationhands often gathered about them with banjo and mandolin and violin andmade the night musical.
They heard no mention of the Rock Island warehouse robbery until theyapproached Baton Rouge. The night before they sighted that beautifulcity they camped on a piece of high land on a small island. No soonerwas their fire blazing high than a couple of rowboats skimmed acrossthe river and drew up near the little camp.
There were three men in one boat and two in the other, and the wholefive hastened to greet the boys. They were evidently planters, forthey were well dressed and gave the impression of being gentlemen.
The man who seemed to be the leader looked keenly around the camp,peered into the cabin of the _Rambler_, and then approached Clay withoutstretched hand.
"I don't need to ask who you boys are," he laughed. "I am a regularreader of the Chicago newspapers. One of them, not long ago, printedyour pictures, including those of the dog and the cub! If you'lldesert this camp and come over to the house, I'll be glad to put youup for the night."
"I hardly think we would sleep well under a roof," Clay laughed, "butwe're all very thankful for your kindness. Besides, we'll have toremain here and watch the boat. We've had some trouble coming down,and are determined to be on our guard."
"You won't find any river thieves around here," smiled the visitor."I'm sheriff of this parish, and I've taken considerable trouble toclear the country of them. You say you've had trouble on the way down?Then this must be the party that gave the officers such a race upabove Vicksburg?"
"There was a steamer chased us--for a little while!" grinned Clay.
"Yes, I understand," replied the sheriff. "The newspapers were full ofthe incident the next day, and you were held forth to the public asthe boldest of river brigands! Why did you run away from theofficers?"
"We only suspected that they were officers," was the answer.
"It wouldn't have taken long for you to have found out," smiled theofficer.
"It might have taken us a long time to get away from them," Clayanswered. "You know how eager some officers are to make a capture.Well, we didn't want to be bothered with them, so we just took to ourheels."
"The officers were looking for a boy believed to be on your boat," thesheriff remarked. "They had information that he had been seen with youon two occasions."
"He must refer to Chet Vinton," Case interrupted.
"I don't know his name," the sheriff went on, "but he is the boybelieved to have taken a hand in the Rock Island robbery."
"That is the lad," Clay answered, with an amused smile. "We have hadhim on board the _Rambler_ on two occasions, and each time he hasmysteriously disappeared."
"Where did you see him last?"
"At Memphis."
"That was after you rented a deposit box at a bank?"
"You seem to know all about it," grinned Clay. "Yes, he left soonafter I rented the deposit box in the bank. By the way, do you know agiant of a man, red-headed and kind-hearted, who is a gentleman ofleisure one moment and a river pirate the next?"
Cl
ay thought he saw suppressed excitement in the face of the sheriffas he asked the question, and waited expectantly for an answer. Theofficer hesitated before saying a word, then he pushed the directquestion aside.
"There are a good many men along the river who might answer to thedescription," he said, "but I can't call any names to mind just now.What about him?"
"Why, I met him on the river," Clay answered, resolved to be just assecretive as the officer, "and I also met a man I took to be him atMemphis. I have a notion that I would like to meet him again sometime. He's all right, that man!"
"Tell me this," said the sheriff, then, "what did you boys discover inthe old house on the bank of the lagoon? I understand that at leasttwo of your party spent the day there. I'd like to know what they sawand heard in the house."
Clay regarded the sheriff suspiciously.
"Has there anything happened to us on this trip that you don't knowabout?" he asked, then.
"Why," replied the other, "we've been hearing about you all down theriver. Don't forget that we have telegraph wires in this country, aswell as up north. Yes, we've heard a lot about you, and, to tell thetruth, I've been waiting rather anxiously for you to make yourappearance. What about the old mansion, where the negro boy and thedog got your friends out of a bad mess?"
"Say," Alex., who had been listening, cut in, "what do you know aboutthat old mansion? What kind of a gang is it that holds forth there?"
"You ought to know!" smiled the sheriff. "You called on them."
"Yes, and they insisted on our making a longer visit!" grinned Alex.
"Now, what is it about the boy?" the sheriff said, changing thesubject.
"You know all that I know about him," replied Clay. "He ran away fromus following the visit to the boat of the bank cashier and twofriends."
"Yes, I heard about that," said the officer. "Now, will you be goodenough to tell me if you have seen him since that night?"
"We have not, except that he returned to the _Rambler_ during the darkhours and restored something he had taken away from her."
"Are you sure it was the boy who came back with the leather bag?"asked the sheriff, with a most exasperating laugh. "Are you sure itwas the boy?"
"I am not," Clay answered, wonderingly. "I spoke too hastily. Come,Mr. Sheriff, tell me how you know anything about that leather bag."
"I don't know much about it, that's the trouble," was the reply. "Iwish I knew more. Now, tell me this: Have you an appointment with thisboy farther down the river? Do you expect to meet him again duringyour trip?"
Clay replied that he hoped to, and the sheriff said little more on thesubject. He expected the sheriff to ask for the key to the depositbox, but he did not.
The River Motor Boat Boys on the Mississippi; Or, On the Trail to the Gulf Page 22