So the _Rambler_ headed for Cape Vincent, where they stopped long enough to inspect the big light, first taking a view of Sackett's Harbor. About noon, they came to Clayton, where they paused long enough to inspect several groups of islands on the American side.

Then, with Captain Joe still at the helm, the boat pa.s.sed down to Alexandria Bay where they tied up for the night.

"To-morrow," Captain Joe said, as the boys made great inroads on the Bismark pancakes stacked up on the table, "I'll take you through the Lachine rapids. You'll find we'll have to go some."

"You haven't got any government license!" laughed Alex.

"No," said the old Captain, "I'm not an ignorant Indian. I can read and write, and so I can't get a government license, but I'll tell you what I can do. I can take this boat down the Lachine without getting a drop of water on the deck."

The Captain was a little bit inclined to tell what he had done and what he could do, but his stories were all truthful and interesting, so the boys rather enjoyed them, and the captain enjoyed talking.

"You needn't think we're going to fly through the air on this trip,"

Jule said winking at the Captain. "We're going to take about two days to get down to the Lachine. We'll loaf along the river to-morrow, making about one hundred miles, tie up for the night, and reach Lachine in the afternoon of the day after. What do you think of that for a program, boys?" he added, turning to Clay.

"That's the way I figured it out," Clay answered. "There is no use in being in a hurry. We've got all the time there is."

Every person on the boat, except perhaps the dog and the bear, slept soundly that night. There was no wind, and the little bay they were in protected them from the wash of the steamers. When they awoke in the morning the sun was rising round and red out of the river.

That day was another one long to be remembered by every member of the _Rambler_ party. They drifted, using the motors just enough to give headway, fished in the clear water, and told stories of old days on the South Branch--days long to be remembered by them all.

That night partook of the character of the last one so far as sleep and rest were concerned. The boat lay at a little pier not far from a rural settlement. Early in the evening villagers came down attracted by the clamor of the motors but soon returned to their homes.

It was on that evening that Alex made his famous attempt to cook a river fish a la Indian. There was something the matter with the fish, or with the hot stones, or with the soil! At any rate, the white bulldog and the bear cub got the supper the boy had sweated over for an hour or more.

Shortly after noon on the following day, the _Rambler_ came to the head of the Lachine rapids, six miles above Montreal.

Although the boys had every confidence in Captain Joe as a pilot, some of them were inclined to think that his memory of the rapids might not be as good as his skill. Many a time during that pa.s.sage the grand and lofty tumbling of the waters as they broke upon projecting rocks seemed about to engulf the frail craft.

Many a time the nose of the _Rambler_ seemed pointing directly at a hidden rock which sent the river spouting into the air like the "blow"

of a great whale. Many a time the wayward current caught the prow and twisted it about until it seemed as if the boat would never respond to her rudder again.

But the eyes of the captain were true, the arms of the old sailing man were strong, and so the boat always came back to the course he had mapped out for her. When at last the rapids were pa.s.sed, the boys were greatly relieved.

During the excitement of the trip, little fear had been felt after the first plunge, but now that it was over, they realized that they had been in absolute peril. Almost with the momentum which had carried the _Rambler_ down the Lachine, the boat came to a pier on the river front at Montreal. Looking about, the boys saw that they were almost in the location where they had tied up before.

Clay sprang ash.o.r.e, hastened to a telephone, talked eagerly for a few moments and then returned to the _Rambler_. Captain Joe sat out on the prow and the boy took a deck stool beside him.

"Captain Joe," the boy asked, "what would have taken place if we had run out of gasoline while navigating the rapids?"

The captain eyed the boy with surprise showing on his weather-beaten face. He poked Clay in the ribs before answering.

"Why do you ask an old captain a foolish question like that?" he said.

"I'm asking for information," was the reply. "Tell me what would have happened. I really want to know."

"Well," Captain Joe replied, scratching his chin meditatively, "if the gasoline had given out in the rapids, just about this time there would be a lot of boards b.u.mping against the rocks, and a motor rusting in the bottom of the river, and five human beings, a bulldog and a bear floating out toward the Gulf of St. Lawrence."

"That's just what I thought," Clay exclaimed. "That's just why I was scared stiff when I found out that we were just about out of gasoline as we struck the head of the rapids."

"And you never said a word about it," asked the captain, "to any of the boys? You kept it all to yourself?"

"Huh," replied Clay, "where was the use in scaring the fellows out of a year's growth. Didn't you notice my cap walking straight up into the air? That was because my hair lifted it."

"Boy, boy," expostulated Captain Joe, "don't lie to the old man. I don't believe you were scared at all."

"Well, anyway," replied Clay, "the tanks are empty, and there will be a wagon down here pretty quick to fill them up. Now mind you, I'm not going to say a word to the other boys about this. If I do, they'll never get over roasting me. We should have taken on gasoline at Kingston, but I forgot all about it."

"Do you remember what you told me about this Lawyer Martin?" asked Captain Joe. "He seems to be the lawyer leading the band of ruffians who are trying to keep the lost channel lost forever!"

"Yes," replied Clay, "and I was just going to speak about that. It was in Montreal that we met him, disguised as a riverside character, and I was wondering if it might not be well to go ash.o.r.e and look him up."

"Don't you ever think of doing that," Captain Joe replied. "You get your gasoline and lay in additional pancake material and we'll go on down the river to Cartier island. That's what they call that peninsula, isn't it? Let me tell you this," the old man added, "if you have anything more to do with this man Martin, you let him be the one to do the looking up."

"That's good sense, too," agreed Clay. "He might discover that we were on our way back if we went up into the city. So we'll remain quiet to-night and set out for Cartier island and the lost channel early to-morrow morning."

CHAPTER XVI

A CALL FROM WRECKERS

Nothing occurred to disturb the slumbers of the _Rambler's_ crew that night. The cool wind made the cabin of the boat comfortable, and the street lights of Montreal winked down upon the craft with friendly eyes. The afternoon of the following day found them at Quebec.

"I've been thinking," Clay said as the boat tied up at the pier they had occupied on the occasion of their former visit, "that we ought not to keep this stolen canoe. Of course Max stole it."

"Perhaps he'll come down here and claim it again," suggested Jule.

"If he does," Alex exclaimed, "I'm going on sh.o.r.e to find him and get even with him. He'd no business to bring that gang of wharf rats onto us. I hope he's under arrest somewhere."

"There's an idea!" suggested Case. "Suppose we telephone to the chief of police and find out. We can leave the canoe in the care of the chief, too, if we want to. He might be able to find the owner."

"It seems to me," Captain Joe interrupted, "that you boys may as well keep that canoe until we return to Quebec, on our way to the Great Lakes. It will come in mighty handy when we're prowling around those two rivers you've been talking about. The owner won't miss it for a few days."

"That's another good notion," Clay agreed. "We'll use the canoe and return it when we get back. And now I'll go and telephone to the chief of police and see if he has discovered anything additional about Max."

Clay was gone only a short time. When he returned, he looked a trifle anxious. When he spoke, it was in an excited tone.

"Look here, boys," he said, "the chief of police advises to us to give up that hunt for the lost channel. He says that Fontenelle has just returned from Cartier island leaving a wrecked launch and a lot of perfectly good stores stacked on the bottom of the river."

"I had an idea," Captain Joe suggested, "that things would be moving about the time we got down here. Why, do you know, boys," he went on, "that this lost channel matter is creating about as much excitement in Quebec province as the coronation of a new king ought to?"

"The procession seemed to start about the time we struck the river,"

Alex grinned, "and there's been music ever since we left St. Luce."

"Yes," Clay went on, "and the newspapers have been printing feature stories and describing the family jewels, and the lost channel, and telling how many land-holders would be made homeless if the charter should ever be found and sustained. The newspapers are always meddling with our affairs."