As he spoke he handed the first letter--the one delivered by the mysterious canoeist--to the captain, who smiled as he looked at it.

"I'll tell you about that," he said. "There is a man over in Quebec who claims that he owns about half of the province under a grant of land made to Jacques Cartier in 1541 by Francis I. of France. This grant, or charter, he claims, was confirmed to his family, the Fontenelles, in 1603 by Samuel de Champlain, who was sent to Canada by de Chaste, upon whom King Louis XIII. had generously bestowed about half of the new world.

"Fontenelle claims that all the kings and presidents of France from 1541 down to the present time have confirmed this grant so far as certain mineral and timber properties are concerned. For years Fontenelle has been trying to gain possession of the original charter brought to this country by Cartier, but has never succeeded."

"Would he secure a large amount of property if he found it?" asked Alex. "How did it ever become lost?"

"It disappeared from Cartier's hands," was the reply. "It is believed that the recovery of the original charter would make the Fontenelles very wealthy, especially as the family jewels, worth millions of francs, are said to have been lost with the important doc.u.ment."

"I think they had their nerve to send family jewels to America in 1541," Case cut in. "Might have known they would be lost."

"You must remember," Captain Morgan replied, "that for years during and following the reign of Francis I. the protestant persecutions kept France in a turmoil. It was hinted that the Fontenelles did not favor these persecutions and that the jewels were shipped to the new world for greater safety. What I am telling you now, remember, is only tradition, and not history. To be frank with you, I will say that I don't believe it myself. It is too misty."

"It is interesting, anyway," Clay declared, "and I'd like to hear more about it, but tell me this--why should the Fontenelles, or their agents, send this letter to us? And why should they send it, if at all, in so mysterious a manner?"

"I have heard," Captain Morgan replied, "that an expedition for the recovery of this original charter was being fitted out at Quebec. Your boat may have been mistaken for the one carrying the searchers."

"Searching in this wild country?" questioned Alex. "Where do they think this blooming charter is, I'd like to know?"

Captain Morgan took the crude map into his hands and pointed to an egg-shaped peninsula reaching out into the St. Lawrence between the mouths of two rivers.

"There is said to be a lost channel somewhere in that vicinity," he said, "and tradition has it that the papers and the jewels were hidden on its sh.o.r.e. The searchers, for years, have been in the hope of finding this lost channel. They have never succeeded."

"Then we're almost on the ground," cried Jule. "Where do we go to reach this peninsula? We might be lucky enough to find this channel."

"It doesn't exist," smiled Captain Morgan. "Every inch of that country has been gone over with a microscope, almost, and there is no lost channel there. At least, it can't be found."

"There is one on the map, anyway," Alex observed.

"Well," Clay laughed, "we have been mixed up with some one else's affairs on every one of our river trips, and we may as well keep up the record, so I propose that we spend a few days looking for this lost charter and these family jewels."

The boys all agreed to the proposition, and even Captain Morgan seemed to gain enthusiasm as they talked over their plans.

"I wouldn't mind being with you," the captain said, "but of course, I can't go. However, if you keep on across the river, straight to the north, you'll come to the egg-shaped peninsula. Keep to the right of it, and you'll enter a broad river. This map shows you where the lost channel is claimed to have existed. Go to it, kids, and good luck go with you!"

"Now then that point is settled," Clay smiled, taking the second letter from his pocket, "tell us what this means."

Captain Morgan looked over the paper carefully before making any reply. His face clouded and an expression of anger came to his eyes.

"The fact of the matter is," he said, "that for two hundred years the Fontenelles have met with opposition in their search for the lost channel. Some of the land claimed under the charter is now held by innocent purchasers who believe their t.i.tle to be perfect.

"There is no doubt that such might come to a fair understanding with the Fontenelles if the charter should ever be found, but it is alleged that an a.s.sociation has been formed by the wealthier persons who are interested to defeat any attempt made to discover the charter. They claim, of course, that with the charter in their possession the Fontenelles would be able to make their own exorbitant terms."

"I knew it!" Alex cried. "We are in between two hostile interests again! It always happens that way. But we like it!"

"I have been thinking," Captain Morgan went on, "that the men who attempted to wreck the _Rambler_ are not river pirates at all, but men sent here to obstruct, as far as possible, those in search of the lost channel. It certainly looks that way."

"Well," Clay remarked, "they haven't got any motor boat, and we've got one that can almost beat the sun around the earth, so we'll just run away from them. In an hour after you leave here, we'll be in the east river looking for the channel which is said to have connected it in past years with the one paralleling it on the west."

The sailors who had been searching now reported to the captain that no strangers had been seen by them on the island, and it was agreed that the outlaws, whether wreckers or men employed to obstruct the search for the lost channel, had taken to the south sh.o.r.e. Captain Morgan shook the boys warmly by the hand as they parted.

"If you say any more about your plans," he said, "I'll be going with you. Already I can sense the smoke of your campfire, and smell the odor of the summer woods. There are fine fish up in those rivers, boys, great shiny, gamy things that fight like the d.i.c.kens in the stream and melt like b.u.t.ter in the mouth."

"We'll send you out some," promised Clay, and the steamer's boat carried the boys back to the _Rambler_.

The needed repairs were soon accomplished, and when night fell the motor boat lay under a roof of leaves in a deep cove on one of the rivers behind the egg-shaped peninsula. Just above the anchorage the water tumbled, from a high ledge. The boys had no idea of remaining on board that night, so they built a roaring campfire on sh.o.r.e and stretched hammocks from the trees.

"Right here," Clay said as the moon rose, "right about where we are sitting, there may be a lost channel!"

"That's all right," grinned Alex, "but I don't see myself getting very wet sitting on it."

"I don't blame any old channel for getting lost in this wild country,"

Case contributed. "We'll be lucky if we don't get lost ourselves. Hear the owls laughing at us!"

"I've been listening to the owls," Clay said, "and I have concluded that they are fake owls. If you'll listen, you will hear signals."

The boys listened for a long time, and then above the rush of the river and the murmur of the leaves in the wind, came a long, low call which seemed to them to be a very bad imitation of owl talk.

CHAPTER V

TEDDY GIVES AN EXHIBITION

"There is one sure thing," Clay said, as the boys listened, "and that is that we have got to watch the _Rambler_ to-night. I propose that we take down the hammocks and go back to our bunks."

"It's a shame to sleep in that little cabin," Alex protested, "when we've got the whole wide world to snore in. Suppose you boys remain here on sh.o.r.e, and let me stand guard on the boat."

"That will be nice!" Jule laughed. "Alex always gets his soundest sleep when he's on guard."

"Don't you worry about me," Alex said, "I'll keep awake, all right.

Besides, I want to hear the owls talk."

"I think we would better all go back to the _Rambler_," Clay advised.

"We can anchor her farther out in the stream, leave one on guard, and so pa.s.s a quiet night. It looks risky to leave the boat where she is."

"Perhaps that's what we ought to do," Alex agreed, giving Jule a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. "Who's going to stand watch?"

"I will," Case offered. "I'll sit up until daylight, and then you boys can get up and catch fish for breakfast."

"I want a fish for breakfast two feet long," Alex declared. "I'll catch it and cook it in Indian style. That will be fine!"

"How do you cook fish a la Indian?" asked Case.

"Aw, you know," Alex replied. "First, you get your fish; then you dig a deep hole in the ground and fill it full of stones. Then you build a roaring fire on the stones. Then you wrap your fish up in leaves and put it on the hot stones and cover it up. Then, if you want it to cook quick, you must build a fire on top. They sell fish cooked in that way at two dollars an order in Chicago."