Only for your warning, the river thieves might have sneaked aboard the _Rambler_ and captured it. In that case, you know very well what would have become of us. We should have been murdered!"

"I have no doubt that you would have taken care of yourselves," Eddie declared.

"There's one thing I want to ask you," Clay went on, "and that is about 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 a description 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 prepossessing one, by any means."

"Can you give me something of a notion of it in a few words?" asked Clay.

"Some old acquaintance of yours?" asked the other, with a smile at Case.

"He might have been. The fact is, I thought I recognized the voice of the 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 dog into the water?"

"Ah sure done thought so!" was the reply.

"You think it was Sam, the Robber, the man who accompanied Red?" asked Jule.

"I didn't know but it might be!" answered Clay, and Alex. at once insisted that it was the same man. Mose was ready to swear to the fellow's ident.i.ty by this time!

"Tell us how he looked after the black was washed off," requested Clay, after a short pause, during which the three men compared notes--mental notes--of their impressions of the man they had left in the 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 manner resemble some wild animal species. Some men are lions, some are monkeys, some are dogs, some are bears, some are foxes. Well, this man was a fox!"

"I thought so," Clay exclaimed. "I thought the fellow's voice sounded like Sam's."

"There are many men with fox-faces," Gregg warned. "This man may not have been the individual you refer to as Sam. If he is an enemy of yours, keep looking for him."

With this bit of good advice the matter was dropped for the time. The steamer was no longer in sight, but the _Rambler_ was kept on her way to the Gulf.

In the middle of the next forenoon they came to Delta, which is at the bottom of the Vicksburg cutoff, on the west bank of the river. Here, with many handshakes and expressions of regret at parting, the three men 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 to see that swamp country."

The boys moved slowly down the river after that.

Again they were enjoying themselves, fishing, hunting and exploring the country on either side of the great stream.

There were lowlands, swamps, winding bayous and forests in places.

Again, there were plantations, with n.o.ble houses showing from the river. Whenever they halted at a plantation landing they were received most hospitably.

The wreckage of the flood was running out of the stream, and the water was dropping down to normal. Occasionally they left the boat at night and built rousing camp-fires on high banks. At such times plantation hands often gathered about them with banjo and mandolin and violin and made the night musical.

They heard no mention of the Rock Island warehouse robbery until they approached Baton Rouge. The night before they sighted that beautiful city they camped on a piece of high land on a small island. No sooner was their fire blazing high than a couple of rowboats skimmed across the river and drew up near the little camp.

There were three men in one boat and two in the other, and the whole five hastened to greet the boys. They were evidently planters, for they 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 with outstretched hand.

"I don't need to ask who you boys are," he laughed. "I am a regular reader of the Chicago newspapers. One of them, not long ago, printed your pictures, including those of the dog and the cub! If you'll desert this camp and come over to the house, I'll be glad to put you up for the night."

"I hardly think we would sleep well under a roof," Clay laughed, "but we're all very thankful for your kindness. Besides, we'll have to remain 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 to clear 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 up above Vicksburg?"

"There was a steamer chased us--for a little while!" grinned Clay.

"Yes, I understand," replied the sheriff. "The newspapers were full of the incident the next day, and you were held forth to the public as the boldest of river brigands! Why did you run away from the officers?"

"We only suspected that they were officers," was the answer.

"It wouldn't have taken long for you to have found out," smiled the officer.

"It might have taken us a long time to get away from them," Clay answered. "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 our heels."

"The officers were looking for a boy believed to be on your boat," the sheriff remarked. "They had information that he had been seen with you on two occasions."

"He must refer to Chet Vinton," Case interrupted.

"I don't know his name," the sheriff went on, "but he is the boy believed to have taken a hand in the Rock Island robbery."

"That is the lad," Clay answered, with an amused smile. "We have had him on board the _Rambler_ on two occasions, and each time he has mysteriously 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 soon after I rented the deposit box in the bank. By the way, do you know a giant of a man, red-headed and kind-hearted, who is a gentleman of leisure one moment and a river pirate the next?"

Clay thought he saw suppressed excitement in the face of the sheriff as he asked the question, and waited expectantly for an answer. The officer hesitated before saying a word, then he pushed the direct question aside.

"There are a good many men along the river who might answer to the description," 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 as secretive as the officer, "and I also met a man I took to be him at Memphis. I have a notion that I would like to meet him again some time. He's all right, that man!"

"Tell me this," said the sheriff, then, "what did you boys discover in the old house on the bank of the lagoon? I understand that at least two of your party spent the day there. I'd like to know what they saw and heard in the house."