"You let the newspapers alone," advised Captain Joe. "They have advertised you boys, and the _Rambler_, and the bulldog, and the bear, from one end of this river to the other."

"Well, what do you think about this advice given by the chief?" asked Clay. "We ought to reach some conclusion immediately."

"You came down here to find that lost channel, didn't you?" asked Uncle Joe with a twinkle in his eyes.

"We came down here to look for it," answered the boy.

"Well, then," continued Captain Joe, "we'll go and look for it."

"That's what I thought!" cried Case.

"I wouldn't turn back now for a million!" yelled Alex.

"Boys," smiled Captain Joe, "I never knew any one to get rich by changing plans every time some fool friend advanced a contrary opinion. When you make up your mind to do a thing, you go right on and do it. Did you ever notice the bulldog when he gets into a sc.r.a.p?"

"I've seen him in several sc.r.a.ps," answered Clay.

"Well," went on the captain, "when the bulldog gets into a fight, the harder they chew him the tighter he hangs on, and that's about the way all the money and reputations have been made in this combative world."

"Oh, we hadn't any idea of turning back," Clay hastened to say. "I only wanted to know what the others thought about it."

"Well you found out pretty quick," laughed Jule. "Why, we've had four or five days that we haven't had a fight, or seen a midnight prowler, or been dumped on a sand bar, or experienced any other pleasant little incident of that description. I was actually beginning to fear that our river trip from this time on would be one long sweet dream."

The boys pa.s.sed another restful night and were up with the sun. The first thing Alex did after bathing and dressing was to spring to the pier and start off into the city.

"Here, here!" cried Captain Joe. "We don't allow little boys to go wandering off alone! If you've got to go, I'm going with you."

"That's fine!" shouted Alex, capering about on his toes. "Come along, and we'll take the old town to pieces to see what makes it tick."

"I'm going uptown," Alex explained as they mounted one of the sidling streets which led up from the river, "to buy a porterhouse steak that weighs ten pounds. This will be our last chance."

"Now," said Captain Joe mildly, "don't you think a porterhouse steak weighing nine pounds and a half would be enough for our breakfast?"

"But we ain't going to have this steak for breakfast," Alex protested.

"I'm going to put this steak in that cute little cold air refrigerator of ours and when wet get down to Cartier island, I'm going to cook a beefsteak a la brigand. If you eat a steak cooked in that way once, you'll never want one cooked any other way. It's simply great!"

"It's a new one on me," replied Captain Joe.

"Oh, well," Alex said, "I'll show you all about cooking it when the time comes. When we get back to the South Branch, you can have one every day if you want it. We can get pretty good porterhouse in Chicago."

The two strolled through the city for a couple of hours, buying vegetables, condensed milk, tinned goods, fresh fruit and meats.

Later, when the provisions were delivered to the _Rambler_ at the foot of the pier, Case declared that Alex had spent money enough to take them all over Europe. Alex was somewhat disappointed to think that he had not encountered Max in the city, but did not inform his chums how keenly he had watched for him.

"What did the chief of police say about Max?" asked the boy as they returned to the boat. "You forgot to say anything about that."

"Sure I did," answered Clay. "Well, he said that Max had blossomed out in a suit that must have cost a hundred, with a big roll of money in his pocket. He said, too, that he had strutted around the city for a few days and then suddenly disappeared. It is the opinion of the chief that the boy, who is by no means as young as he looks, went down the river to Cartier island."

"I really hope he has," Alex blurted out, "I'll crack that boy's crust if I ever come across him."

"And you'll wash dishes, too," laughed Captain Joe. "Oh, I remember how you boys used to fight against slang up on the South Branch."

That night the boys anch.o.r.ed the _Rambler_ in a cove of good size just south of Rivere du Loup. They were well away from the wash of the steamers, and yet not near enough to the houses of the little railway station to attract general attention.

The night closed down cloudy and dark. The pa.s.sing vessels on the river seemed to burn holes in the darkness for only an instant and then disappear.

The sounds which came from the water rang loudly in the heavy atmosphere and sounded mysterious and uncanny. There were plenty of vessels on the river now, as the channel between the gulf and Quebec is navigable for the largest ocean steamers.

While the boys lay in the cabin, sheltered from the gulf wind which had been so grateful the night before, the heavy rumbling of a freight train and sharp call of an engine whistle came to their ears.

"That listens good to me," Alex cried. "Say, fellows, how would you like to know, just for a couple of hours, that the noise of that train came from the Union station in little old Chicago?"

"Yes," Jule exclaimed, "I like to look into the river and think I'm standing on Madison street bridge! Do you remember the stories the newspapers used to print about the water in the Chicago river, before the drainage ca.n.a.l was put through? Pretty good fiction, eh?"

Captain Joe chuckled until his shoulders shook like jelly.

"Every reporter on the Chicago papers in those days," the captain said, "was turning out works of fiction. They used to print pieces about men falling off Madison street bridge and off Clark street bridge and dashing out their brains on the solid water below. And then they used to tell stories about the river being so black the typists used to color their ribbons in it. There's something about Chicago that seems to me to stir the imagination! It's a great old town!"

The boys discussed their home city until something like ten o'clock.

They were just going to bed when a call came from the sh.o.r.e at the end of the cove. All were on deck instantly.

"Perhaps that's Max," suggested Jule, "or one of those river pirates."

"Or it may be a detachment of ruffians looking for the lost channel,"

Case put in.

Captain Joe sat back and laughed heartily.

"Boys," he said, "I believe that lost channel has turned your heads.

You talk about it, and drink it, and sleep it, and I believe you would eat it if there was anything tangible about it. I'm interested in it, too, kids, but I don't spread it on my bread instead of b.u.t.ter."

"h.e.l.lo, the boat," came the hail from the sh.o.r.e.

"What do you want?" asked Clay.

"I want to come on board."

"Beds all full," answered Alex.

"But I want to talk with you," insisted the strange voice.

"All right," Clay said, "proceed with your conversation."

"I'm not here to confide to the whole countryside what I want to say to you," was the angry reply.

Clay was considering a sarcastic rejoinder but Case laid a warning hand on his shoulder.

"There may be something in this," the boy said. "Suppose two of us get into the boat and go over and see."

"Don't you think of such a thing," Captain Joe advised. "That fellow may not have a boat of his own, but if he is of any account at all, he can get one long enough to row out to the _Rambler_. The place for him to talk to us is right on this deck. It may be a trap."