"Was that your fire we saw?" asked Case, drawing closer to the gunwale.

"We had a fire before the flood pounced down upon us," was the reply.

"What shall we do?" asked Clay, facing the others. "If they are on the square we can't leave them here. They would starve!"

"They may be pirates!" suggested Jule.

"I don't believe it," Case declared. "They don't look the part.

Besides, if they had designs on the boat, they could have picked us off in the darkness, and we'd never have known where the bullets came from. They're all right!"

"One of you come aboard," Clay instructed, "and we'll see what you look like."

In plain view of the boys the man who had done the talking handed his gun to a companion and struck out for the boat, walking on logs part of the way, wading part of the way, and swimming when he could do neither. In a moment he was on deck.

"The three of us," he explained, "were out of work at Chicago. We had a little cash, and decided to come down here and spend the winter where we wouldn't have room-rent or restaurant bills to pay. We thought we could cut and market enough fish-poles out of the brake swamps to pay our way back in the spring."

"That wasn't a bad idea!" Jule declared.

"We were getting along all right," the other went on, "until the river thieves began troubling us. They stole our food, and at last began stealing our poles. We were getting ready to go out when the flood smashed our shanty boat into smithereens. Now we are up against it, unless you take us with you. And," he added, with a quick glance around, "you'd better take us on board, for the thieves are back there in the swamp, with their envious eyes fixed on this boat. They are mostly negroes, and escaped convicts."

"You ought to know that we've got to be careful," Clay said, as the man was about to leave the boat. "We don't know anything about you, except what you have told us, but we're going to take a chance on you.

Tell your friends to come on board."

In five minutes the three were in the cabin, trying on some of Clay's clothes, for their own were not only wet but they oozed black muck.

When they were dressed again they pa.s.sed their revolvers over to Clay, with the statement that they wouldn't need them unless the river pirates took a hand in the game that night.

"Have the ruffians been here long?" asked Clay.

"About a month ago," was the reply, "a lot of negroes broke away from a convict camp off to the west somewhere. They came into this swamp and built a camp on a knoll, which must, by the way, be under water now. They are murderers, housebreakers and sneak thieves of the most desperate kind. We tried to make friends with them, but it was of no use. They think their camp is unknown, and so object to our getting out and telling where it is. I half believe they will try to keep you from getting out for the same reason."

"If it is all the same to you boys," another of the visitors said, "we'd like something to eat. We were half starved when we came on board. I think I can catch a fish or shoot a duck, so our supper won't cost you anything only the bother of having us around. What do you say? Do we eat?"

"I should say so!" cried Alex., sticking his head out of the cabin, "and when you are out after game get enough for me a little lunch. I haven't had anything to eat since dark!"

"Is that rowboat at the side all right?" asked the visitor, pointing to the boat which had been found up the river. "If it is, I'll get a little ways from the motor boat, in the shadows, and see what I can do getting ducks."

"The boat is all right," Alex. answered, "and I'll go with you. I'm beginning to feel the lack of adventure. I get awfully tired of this monotony sometimes!"

They all laughed at the idea of there being any monotony in the situation, there in the swamp, with the river roaring around them and the watchful thieves in the thicket, and Alex. seemed quite annoyed at the thought that they regarded his remark as a joke.

"Perhaps something will happen before you get back," Clay grinned.

"The boat may smash," said Jule, cheerfully. "It has been banged about quite a lot since we got it. Or you may find some of the robbers.

There's no knowing what streak of good luck you may get into!"

"I'm not looking for any good luck of that kind!" the visitor said, as he drew the rowboat around and clambered into it. "I've had all the cheerful incidents of that character I care to have. When I get back to Chicago, I'm going to get a room next to the Desplaines street police station and go to bed at seven o'clock every night."

"What's your name?" asked Alex., abruptly as he pushed off from the _Rambler_.

"Gregg Holder," was the reply. "I'm just Gregg to all my friends, but I'm Bully Gregg on South Halstead street. The others are Eddie Butler and Hank Quinn."

"That settles it!" grinned Alex. "I'm going back."

"What for?" asked Gregg, in surprise. "Don't you want a duck or a fish?"

"Sure I do," was the reply, "but I'm afraid! You're the man that fought Murphy to a draw? What? And Eddie Butler is the boy that bested Murray!"

"You've got that right, kid," was the reply. "We've all been in the prize ring, but we're no slum toughs. If you think the bears and snakes and robbers are better company than we are," he added, "we'll get out of your boat!"

"You're just the lads to give the pirates a good drubbing!" Alex.

laughed, "and so we'll ask you to remain with us and learn something of the rules of polite society! Let me take one oar, unless you want to keep on going round in a circle!"

"There's something pulling on the boat," Gregg said. "I can't keep it on a straight line. See if you can find out what has tangled us."

Alex. turned on his searchlight and cast its rays on the water ahead.

Then he dropped his light in the bottom of the boat and stuck his hands out straight. Gregg looked up as the light fell, then dropped the oars and stuck his hands out straight!

"This is the adventure you wanted!" Gregg said, as half a dozen negroes showed on a hummock only a few feet away. "We're held up by the river thieves!"

"What do you fellows want?" Alex. demanded, looking straight into the muzzle of a gun that seemed to have a bore as large as the Hudson river tunnel.

"We want that boat, so we can get on board the motor contraption,"

said a voice.

"That's no negro!" whispered Alex. "It is a white man blacked up!"

"Right you are!" replied Gregg.

"What are you boys talking about?" demanded the holder of the threatening gun.

"We were telling each other how glad we were to meet you!" Alex.

snarled.

"You're a nervy kid, anyhow," said the other. "Push the boat up here, so we can get in. We were raised as pets, and don't want to get wet."

There was nothing to do but obey instructions. They knew the desperate character of the men they were facing. If they followed orders and waited for an opportunity to turn the tables on their captors, they might get out of the mess with whole skins, but if they forced a fight there and then there would be little hope for them. When there were four of the pirates in the boat, crouching down under the gunwales, who made the fifth, the spokesman gave his orders.

"Now you boys row back. When we get close up I'll show myself and put the whole party under cover. See? My men will also have their guns, and if you disobey instructions in the slightest particular, you'll be shot in the back."

"That's where you like to shoot, I take it!" growled Gregg. "If I had one of you out on the bank I'd break him in two pieces and feed him to the snakes."

"Cuss if you want to!" commented the robber. "We can settle all that after a time. Just now, get over to that boat, and call out that you've found another castaway in the swamp! We'll be on board before they can say a word."

This looked like turning the _Rambler_ over to thieves, but there was no way in which the boys could reverse conditions just then, so they rowed toward the motor boat, calling out that they had found a sick man in the jungle. The robber prodded them with the muzzle of his gun when they did not give the right inflection to their voices.

When the boat entered the circle of light the boys on board the _Rambler_ were all leaning over the gunwale, looking for the boys and the rescued individual. There were no weapons in sight, and Alex.

feared that all the revolvers were stowed away in the cabin, and that the _Rambler_ would be taken without a shot being fired in her defense.

When the boat touched the hull of the _Rambler_ the robber sprang to his feet, presenting two long guns as he did so.