As they drove into the grounds they saw a young man playing with a bird dog on the lawn. He smiled at them pleasantly.
“Is this Mr. Harold Bird?” asked Dick.
“Yes,” was the reply. “What can I do for you?”
“Let me introduce myself, Mr. Bird. I am Dick Rover, and these are my brothers. Sam and Tom. These are my friends, Fred Garrison and John Powell.”
“Is it possible!” exclaimed Harold Bird. “Why, I was reading about you only yesterday, in the newspaper. You are the young fellows who helped to round up that gang of counterfeiters at Red Rock ranch. It was certainly a stirring piece of work. You deserve a great deal of credit.” And then the young Southerner shook hands all around.
“Mr. Bird, we are in trouble,” went on Dick, “and we thought that perhaps you would be able to help us out.”
“I will certainly do anything that I possibly can for you. Come, sit down and tell me what is wrong.”
The young Southerner led the way to the broad veranda, and all took seats. Then Dick and the others told about the missing houseboat and of how they had wanted to charter a tug or a steamboat to go in pursuit.
“I could not find a vessel of any kind,” said Dick. “But some folks told me that you had a big gasoline launch, and I thought perhaps you would let us have that. Of course we’ll pay you for—”
“Never mind about pay, Mr. Rover. I shall be glad to be of service to you. I will let you have my launch on one condition.”
“And that is—”
“That you will take me with you. I love excitement, and this pursuit of those rascals is just to my taste. We can take one of my best dogs along, so, if we find they have landed anywhere, we can readily trace them.”
“But the danger?” said Sam.
“Why should I be afraid if you are not? Of course you will go well armed.”
“Indeed we will,” said Tom. “More than likely they’ll be well armed, too.”
After that a long talk ensued, and Harold Bird had the servants treat the boys to light refreshments. He was a capital fellow, with a winning, though rather sad smile, and all liked him from the start.
“I’ve seen a bit of adventure myself,—visiting Mexico and Europe, and climbing high mountains,” he said. “But I haven’t had such stirring times as you. It is very quiet here, and I shall enjoy the change.”
“Are you alone here, may I ask?” said Fred, curiously.
“Yes, excepting for my overseer and the servants. The estate was left to me by my mother, who died three years ago.”
“It must be rather lonely,” murmured Songbird.
“It is exceedingly lonely at times, and that is why I travel a great deal—that and for another reason.” And the face of the young man clouded for the time. Evidently he had something on his mind, but what it was he did not just then mention.
He told them how he had come to buy the gasoline launch and said it was big enough to take on board a party of twelve or fifteen with comfort. It was decided to take some provisions along, for there was no telling how long the chase would last.
It was evening before all arrangements were completed and the whole party went to town. There they met the ladies and the girls, and Harold Bird was introduced.
“I should consider it an honor to have you remain at my plantation while we are off on this search for the houseboat,” said the young Southerner. “You can stay there as long as you please and make yourselves thoroughly at home.”
As there was no good hotel in the town, this invitation relieved Mrs. Stanhope and Mrs. Laning a great deal, and they said they would accept the offer, and thanked the young man very much. Carriages were obtained, and inside of two hours the ladies and the girls were at Lee Hall, as Harold Bird called his place. There were rooms in plenty for all, and each was made to feel perfectly at home. It was decided that Aleck Pop should also remain at the plantation for the time being.
“The hospitality in the South is certainly marvelous,” said Dora to Dick. “When I left home I never thought I should be treated so well.”
“You are right, Dora. The whole world over, you will find no greater gentleman than one from our South.”
“And what a beautiful plantation!” cried Nellie. “What grand walks, and trees and flowers!”
“And what a fine lot of colored servants,” came from Grace. “Really they won’t let me do a thing for myself!”
“I should think Mr. Bird would be very happy,” said Mrs. Laning, for at that moment the owner of the estate was not present.
“You’d think so,” answered Dick. “But do you know, notwithstanding his smiling face he appears at times to be very sad.”
“I thought so,” said Mrs. Stanhope. “He acts as if he had something on his mind.”
“Yes, and something that worried him a great deal,” added Tom.
They were right, Harold Bird had a great deal to worry him, and what it was we shall learn as our tale proceeds.
CHAPTER IV
HAROLD BIRD’S STRANGE TALE
Early in the morning the Rovers and their friends were ready to take their departure. Dick came down in the garden at sunrise, and was soon joined by Dora, and they took a short walk together.
“Oh, Dick, you must keep out of danger,” said Dora. “Promise me you will be careful!”
“I will be careful, Dora,” he answered, as he looked down into the depths of her clear eyes. “I will be careful—for your sake,” he added, in almost a whisper.
“If something sh—should happen to you!” she faltered.
“I’ll take care of myself, don’t fear, Dora,” he made reply, and then, as they were all alone he drew her up to him. “Dora, may I?” he asked, softly and tenderly.
She did not answer, but looked up at him, innocently and confidingly. He bent over and kissed her, and gave her hand a little squeeze.
“We understand each other, don’t we, Dora?” he whispered.
“Of course we do,” she whispered in return.
“And some day you’ll be Mrs. Dick Rover?”
“Oh, Dick!”
“But you will be, won’t you?”
“I—I—suppose—Oh!” And then Dora broke from Dick’s hold, as Fred Garrison and Hans Mueller appeared, around a bend of the pathway.
“Breakfast is waiting!” sang out Fred. “Hurry up, if we are to start that search.”
“All right,” answered Dick.—“We’ll be in right away.”
“See, I vos bick me a peautiful roses,” put in Hans Mueller, coming closer. “Dick, of you ton’t peen—vot you call him?—jealousness, yah, I gif him to Dora,” and he passed over the flower.
“Oh, thank you, Hans,” replied Dora, and she placed the flower in her hair. Then she gave Dick a look that meant a good deal, and they understood each other perfectly, and both went in to breakfast feeling very happy.
In the meantime Sam and Tom had been out on a side veranda with Grace and Nellie. Tom was as full of fun as ever and kept the two girls in a roar of laughter. Yet both girls grew serious when the time for parting came.
“You look out for yourself,” said Grace. “Remember, those men are bad characters to meet.”
“Yes, I shouldn’t want you to get hurt for the world,” added Nellie, and when she shook hands with Tom there was something like a tear in her eye.
Then came good-byes all around, and the carriage that was to take Dick and the others to the town drove around to the door. The party climbed in and in a moment more were off, the girls and ladies waving their handkerchiefs and the boys swinging their caps and hats.
“Yo’ boys dun take good care ob yo’selves,” said Aleck, who stood by, with a look of concern on his ebony face. “If yo’ come back killed dis coon will neber fo’give himself!”
“Come back as soon as you can!” called out Do
ra.
“Don’t worry—we may be back in a day or two,” answered Dick. But it was destined to be many a long day ere the two parties should meet again.
Down at the riverside they found the launch in charge of a negro and all ready for the start. The provisions were stored in two lockers on board, and another locker held their firearms and some raincoats.
“Hurrah! Here is news,” cried Dick, after perusing a telegram that had been handed to him. “You’ll remember I telegraphed to Benton, the town below here. Well, here is word that the houseboat was seen passing Benton yesterday at about five o’clock, and headed towards the west shore. That ought to give us something to work on.
“It will,” answered Harold Bird. “Come, the sooner we get started the better.”
All stepped aboard of the Venus, as the launch was named, and soon the gasoline motor was buzzing away at a good rate of speed. Then the power was turned on the screw, Harold Bird took his station at the wheel, and away they sped from the landing and out onto the broad Mississippi.
“Hurrah for a life on der oceans vafe und a ship on der rollings deeps!” sang out Hans, who sat near the bow.
“Gosh, Hans is getting poetic!” said Tom. “That’s right, Hansy, my boy, keep it up and you’ll soon put Songbird out of business.”
“What I want to know is,” came from Fred, “if we strike a sunken snag is this launch safe?”
“As safe as any craft of her size,” answered Harold Bird. “But I shan’t strike a snag if I can help it. I am not running at full speed, and if you’ll notice I am keeping where the water is fairly clear.”
“Which isn’t saying a great deal,” came from Sam. “I never saw a river as muddy as the Mississippi.”
“I know one other stream that is worse, and that’s the Missouri,” said Harold Bird. “And as that flows into the Mississippi it makes the latter almost as bad.”
As soon as they were well on their way Dick brought out the firearms which had been brought along, and examined them with care.
“You certainly have some fine weapons,” said he, referring to the pistols brought by Harold Bird. “Do you do much shooting—I mean with a gun?”
“I never go shooting at all,” was the young Southerner’s reply, and once again the boys saw that strange look of sadness come over his face.
“Funny, you wouldn’t care to go out,” said Songbird, carelessly. “Must be quite some game around here.”
“There is plenty of game, but—” Harold Bird heaved a deep sigh. “I presume I may as well tell you my story, for you are bound to hear it sooner or later,” he went on. “About four years ago my father went out hunting in the forest to the north of our plantation. He was out with two friends, but about the middle of the day the party separated and my father found himself alone. Then he saw something that to him looked like a wildcat on a big rock. He fired quickly, and when he drew closer he saw to his horror that he had shot and killed a man—an old hunter named Blazen.
“The shock of the discovery made my father faint, and when the others came up they found him working over the dead body of Blazen in a vain endeavor to bring the hunter back to life. A doctor was called, but nothing could be done for Blazen, for the shot had killed him instantly, taking him squarely in the heart. Of course it was an accident, but my father couldn’t get over it. He raved and wept by turns, and at last the doctors had to place him in confinement for fear that he would try to do himself some injury. My mother was prostrated by the news, and you can imagine how I felt myself.”
“It was certainly terrible,” said Dick, and the others nodded in silence.
“Blazen was an old bachelor, with no relatives, so there were few to mourn over his death. We saw to it that he was given a decent burial and advertised for his heirs, but nobody appeared. In the meantime my father grew melancholy and the doctors thought he might become insane. They advised a trip to new scenes, and my mother and I took him to Europe and then to Kingston, Jamaica, where an old friend of the family had a plantation. One day my father disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” echoed Sam and Tom.
“Yes, disappeared utterly and forever. We hunted high and low for him and offered a big reward for any information. It was useless. We have never seen him or heard a word of him since.”
“And what do you think became of him?” questioned Songbird Powell.
“I cannot imagine, excepting that he may have thrown himself into the bay and drowned himself. He had a habit of going down to the water and gazing out to sea by the hour.”
“Too bad!” murmured Dick. “Mr. Bird, I sympathize deeply with you.”
“And so do I,” came from the other boys.
“The disappearance of my father made my mother ill and it was all I could do to get her back home. There we procured the best of medical skill, but it did little good. She had always had heart trouble and this grew rapidly worse until she died, leaving me utterly alone in the world.”
Harold Bird stopped speaking and wiped the tears from his eyes. All of his listeners were deeply affected. It was several seconds before anybody spoke.
“I don’t wonder you don’t care to go hunting,” said Sam. “I’d feel the same way.”
“I have never visited the forest since the time the tragedy took place,” answered Harold Bird. “At first I thought to sell off the stretch of land to a lumber company, but now I have changed my mind, and I intend to give it to the heirs of Blazen, if any appear.”
“Is it a valuable tract?” asked Fred.
“The lumber company offered me twenty thousand dollars for it.”
“If your father was drowned it is queer that you never heard anything of his body,” said Fred.
“Bodies of drowned people are not always recovered,” answered the young Southerner. “But he must have been drowned, for if he had been alive we surely would have heard something of him. The reward we offered set hundreds of people to hunting for him.”
“It is certainly a mystery,” said Dick. “I suppose you’d give a good deal to have it cleared up.
“I’d give half of what I am worth,” answered Harold Bird, earnestly.
CHAPTER V
STUCK IN THE MUD
Noon found our friends at the town of Benton—a place of some importance in the cotton trade. Without delay Dick sought out the man who had had to do with the telegrams.
“I can’t tell you much more than what I put in the message,” said the man. “I saw the houseboat out yonder and headed in that direction. I was watching her when a fog came up and hid her from view.”
“I think I can follow her,” put in Harold Bird. “Anyway, we can try.”
“Did those fellows steal the houseboat?” questioned the Benton man.
“They did.”
“Then I hope you catch them.”
Our friends did not stop to get dinner, but took their lunch on board of the Venus. The river at Benton was broad and deep and consequently Harold Bird turned on full speed, sending the launch forward with such a rush that the water often came in a shower of spray over the bow.
“I may be mistaken, but I have an idea that those rascals headed for Lake Sico,” said the young Southerner. “Gasper Pold used to hang around that lake, and most likely there are men there who would aid him in disposing of whatever is on the Dora of value.”
“Where is Lake Sico?” asked Sam.
“About fifteen miles from here. It is a very broad and shallow sheet of water, and is reached by a narrow and tortuous bayou all of four miles long. One end of the lake is a perfect wilderness of bushes and brake—an ideal hiding-place for the houseboat.”
“Then perhaps we had better explore the lake,” said Tom.
“There is only one objection,” answered Dick. “If the houseboat is not there, we’ll be losing a lot of valuable time.”
�
�Is the entrance to the bayou very narrow?” asked Tom. “For if it is, the houseboat would be apt to strike the mud shore and leave marks.”
“Yes, it is narrow, and we’ll look for marks by all means,” answered the young Southerner.
As they were moving with the stream it did not take the launch long to reach the bayou that connected the lake with the Mississippi. But close to the bayou entrance the swirling waters had cast up a ridge or bar of mud and on this the launch slid and stuck fast.
“Hullo, we’re stuck!” cried Tom.
“And we are up out of the water too,” came from his younger brother.
“Can’t we back?” asked Fred.
“I’ll try it,” returned Harold Bird.
The screw of the launch was reversible and he made the change in power. The water was churned up into a muddy foam, but that was all. The Venus did not budge an inch.
“One of the joys of a life ‘on der rollings deeps’!” grumbled Tom, imitating Hans. “Songbird, can’t you compose an ode in honor of the occasion?”
“Certainly I can,” said Songbird promptly, and started:
“As firm as a rock, our launch now rests
Upon her bed of mud,
As safe as a ship on a golden sea—”
“Or a clothespin in a tub!” finished Tom. “Songbird, give us something better, or none at all.”
“Say, vot has a clothesbin in a dub to do mit being stuck here alretty?” questioned Hans, innocently.
“Why, Hansy, old boy, that’s easy,” cried Tom. “A clothespin is for sticking something fast, and we are stuck fast. Now, can’t you see the joke, as the blind astronomer said to the deaf musician?”
“Yah, dot’s so, but ve ain’t stuck on no clothes-pins,” answered Hans, soberly. “Ve vos stuck on der Mississippies Rifer, ain’t it.”
“Score one for Hans,” came, with a laugh, from Sam. “Hans, what do you think we ought to do?”
“Dake a rope py der shore und bull der poat loose.”
“That’s the talk,” said Songbird. “Hans can carry the rope ashore. The water is only a foot deep.”
“And the mud is about sixteen feet deep,” put in Dick, quickly. “Don’t try it, unless you want to sink out of sight.”
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