"Do to me?" repeated Alex. "Why, they had a stew, or a boiled dinner, or something, cooking in a tin pail over a fire, and they wouldn't give me a thing to eat. And that is the height of meanness!"

As if repenting of the violence of the day before, and trying to make rest.i.tution for the many blows at the sad old world, the weather that morning was all that could have been desired. The air was clear and sweet after its bath of rain, and the leaves of the forest sparkled and rustled like jewels as the sun shone upon their moist surfaces.

The boys made good time that day, although they did not feel inclined to hurry. Alex took the canoe out in the forenoon and caught half a dozen fish which he cleaned for dinner. The boy wanted to go ash.o.r.e and prepare the dinner a la Indian again, but the others insisted that they really wanted a fish dinner, so the catch was baked in the oven of the coal stove. The boys claim to this day that Alex consumed half of the fish that he caught, but of course Alex disputes this.

At sundown they anch.o.r.ed the _Rambler_ within four or five miles of the west river, in a little bay which ran into the mainland almost behind the westward extension of Cartier island.

No lights were shown on the boat, supper having been prepared in the dark, and the boys sat along the deck fighting mosquitoes and listening to the calls of the wild creatures in the woods.

The point they had selected for their anchorage was directly west of Point aux Outardes, and when the moon rose the boys naturally turned their eyes in that direction. Although the point was fully four miles away, a rocky promontory could be seen standing sharply out against the dark line of the forest.

"Captain," Alex said, as they sat back of the gunwale on the prow, "I wish you'd take this gla.s.s and see what you can discover on that point."

Captain Joe took the gla.s.s into his hand and held it for a long time, swinging it back and forth over the sh.o.r.e to the north, and over the river line of Cartier island. Then he handed it back to Alex.

"I'll tell you," he said slowly, "there's a campfire over on the point, and there are many people around it. At least I see figures moving back and forth."

"Perhaps that is a base of supplies for the fellows who are trying to find the lost channel in order to beat Fontenelle to the charter and the family jewels," Clay suggested.

"It doesn't seem as if they would camp in so conspicuous a place."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Case said, "they have nothing to fear from officers or wreckers. They are only hunting for a lost treasure, which any one may find who is lucky enough to get to it."

"Let's go and call on them," suggested Alex.

"I prefer to live a little longer," Case laughed.

"Aw, come on, they won't hurt us," Alex argued, "I'm going."

The boys laughed at the idea and Alex said no more about the proposed excursion, but Clay suggested to Captain Joe after the others were in their bunks:

"We must watch that little rascal, or he'll get up in the night and run over there. He's always doing tricks of that kind, and some time he'll get into serious trouble."

Captain Joe pretended to regard the situation as very serious, and said that he would see that Alex didn't get away from the boat that night. With this Clay seemed contented. The old captain insisted on keeping watch again that night, but if the boys had been about the deck they would have seen very little of him, for all that.

As soon as the others were asleep, the captain untied the tow line of the canoe, stepped softly into it, and paddled away in the direction of the north sh.o.r.e. So far as possible he kept the bulk of the _Rambler_ between himself and the point where the light had been seen.

Reaching the margin of the bay, he turned to the east and paddled straight to the mouth of the west river. After an hour of steady work, he reached a point a little east and directly north of Point aux Outardes. Nothing could be seen of the fire or the figures about it from the north, and the captain boldly crossed the arm of the bay stretching in behind Cartier island. In half an hour he was on the island itself, and separated only by a few rods of mingled rocks and bushes from the point.

Advancing cautiously to the south he came within view of the blaze and within hearing of much of the conversation going on there.

The night hours pa.s.sed slowly. The moon swung to the south and off to the west, and the shadows lay long in the forest before the old captain moved from his point of observation. Then with a chuckle he crept back to his canoe, and long before the boys were out of their bunks he was fishing over the gunwale of the _Rambler_ in the most innocent manner imaginable. The old fellow chuckled as he dropped his line.

"That bay stretching in behind the peninsula," he mused, "looks to me just as it did a good many years ago. No improvements seem to have been made there notwithstanding the work of the surveyors, and the country is just as desolate as it was then. If I had had a little more time I might have paddled up to the mouth of the west river and looked over the situation there, but daylight showed too soon."

"What's that you're muttering about?" asked Alex clapping a hand on the old captain's arm. "You must be talking in your sleep."

"Not that any one knows of," chuckled the old captain. "I was only saying that from here the country looks exactly as it used to."

"And my stomach feels exactly as it used to," Alex declared. "You catch the fish, and I'll cook 'em, and we'll tumble the boys out for breakfast. They're sleeping too long, anyway."

This program was followed to the letter, and before noon the _Rambler_ lay up the west river about a mile from the bay creeping in behind Cartier island. At first no one left the boat, however.

"Do you remember what the chief of police said about Fontenelle's boat and a lot of perfectly good provisions lying on the bottom of the river?" asked Clay as the boys lounged on deck.

"Indeed I do," replied Case. "I've been thinking it would be a fine thing if we could find that boat."

"I have found it!" Clay exclaimed.

"Yes, you have!" Case said, doubtfully.

"Sure, I have," Clay went on. "When we swung in past Point aux Outarde, you were all watching the point to see what had become of the men who camped there last night, while I was searching the bay on the north side looking for some signs of the wreck of the _Cartier_."

"And you found it, did you?" Case cried excitedly.

"Sure, I found it," Clay declared. "It lays bottom down in about fifteen feet of water, with the top of the cabin showing plainly."

CHAPTER XVIII

IT IS NOW CLAY'S TURN

"Do you think we can raise her?" asked Case.

"We can if she has any bottom left," declared Clay. "If they only cut a few holes in her and sunk her that way, we can get her out."

"Aw, what's the good of taking up time with the old wreck!" demanded Alex, who had listened to the conversation. "It isn't our boat, anyway."

"But the _Cartier_ is a splendid launch, and worth a lot of money,"

Clay suggested, "and we might pay the expenses of the trip by getting her out for the Fontenelles. It won't do any harm to try."

"All right!" Alex cried. "Just remember I'm the champion long distance diver, when you get ready to go down and look her over."

After breakfast the _Rambler_ was taken still farther upstream, as far up, in fact, as the depth of the water would permit.

"There!" Captain Joe observed, pointing to a bend just above the prow of the boat. "This is the strange thing that I called your attention to. The river widens here in the most mysterious manner."

"It may be just back water," Clay ventured.

"No sir!" answered the captain. "There is no back water here. See how steadily the current runs? And there's no creek running in, either."

"Then there must be a subterranean stream running--"

Clay checked himself with the sentence half finished.

"Suppose," he mused, "just suppose, there should be a subterranean stream running in from under the hills--let us say from the north.