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"I don't wonder you don't care to go hunting," said Sam. "I'd feel the same way."
"I have never visited the forest since the time the tragedy took place," answered Harold Bird. "At first I thought to sell off the stretch of land to a lumber company, but now I have changed my mind, and I intend to give it to the heirs of Blazen, if any appear."
"Is it a valuable tract?" asked Fred.
"The lumber company offered me twenty thousand dollars for it."
"If your father was drowned it is queer that you never heard anything of his body," said Fred.
"Bodies of drowned people are not always recovered," answered the young Southerner. "But he must have been drowned, for if he had been alive we surely would have heard something of him. The reward we offered set hundreds of people to hunting for him."
"It is certainly a mystery," said d.i.c.k. "I suppose you'd give a good deal to have it cleared up.
"I'd give half of what I am worth," answered Harold Bird, earnestly.
CHAPTER V
STUCK IN THE MUD
Noon found our friends at the town of Benton--a place of some importance in the cotton trade. Without delay d.i.c.k sought out the man who had had to do with the telegrams.
"I can't tell you much more than what I put in the message," said the man. "I saw the houseboat out yonder and headed in that direction.
I was watching her when a fog came up and hid her from view."
"I think I can follow her," put in Harold Bird. "Anyway, we can try."
"Did those fellows steal the houseboat?" questioned the Benton man.
"They did."
"Then I hope you catch them."
Our friends did not stop to get dinner, but took their lunch on board of the _Venus_. The river at Benton was broad and deep and consequently Harold Bird turned on full speed, sending the launch forward with such a rush that the water often came in a shower of spray over the bow.
"I may be mistaken, but I have an idea that those rascals headed for Lake Sico," said the young Southerner. "Gasper Pold used to hang around that lake, and most likely there are men there who would aid him in disposing of whatever is on the _Dora_ of value."
"Where is Lake Sico?" asked Sam.
"About fifteen miles from here. It is a very broad and shallow sheet of water, and is reached by a narrow and tortuous bayou all of four miles long. One end of the lake is a perfect wilderness of bushes and brake--an ideal hiding-place for the houseboat."
"Then perhaps we had better explore the lake," said Tom.
"There is only one objection," answered d.i.c.k. "If the houseboat is not there, we'll be losing a lot of valuable time."
"Is the entrance to the bayou very narrow?" asked Tom. "For if it is, the houseboat would be apt to strike the mud sh.o.r.e and leave marks."
"Yes, it is narrow, and we'll look for marks by all means," answered the young Southerner.
As they were moving with the stream it did not take the launch long to reach the bayou that connected the lake with the Mississippi. But close to the bayou entrance the swirling waters had cast up a ridge or bar of mud and on this the launch slid and stuck fast.
"Hullo, we're stuck!" cried Tom.
"And we are up out of the water too," came from his younger brother.
"Can't we back?" asked Fred.
"I'll try it," returned Harold Bird.
The screw of the launch was reversible and he made the change in power. The water was churned up into a muddy foam, but that was all.
The _Venus_ did not budge an inch.
"One of the joys of a life 'on der rollings deeps'!" grumbled Tom, imitating Hans. "Songbird, can't you compose an ode in honor of the occasion?"
"Certainly I can," said Songbird promptly, and started:
"As firm as a rock, our launch now rests Upon her bed of mud, As safe as a ship on a golden sea--"
"Or a clothespin in a tub!" finished Tom. "Songbird, give us something better, or none at all."
"Say, vot has a clothesbin in a dub to do mit being stuck here alretty?" questioned Hans, innocently.
"Why, Hansy, old boy, that's easy," cried Tom. "A clothespin is for sticking something fast, and we are stuck fast. Now, can't you see the joke, as the blind astronomer said to the deaf musician?"
"Yah, dot's so, but ve ain't stuck on no clothes-pins," answered Hans, soberly. "Ve vos stuck on der Mississippies Rifer, ain't it."
"Score one for Hans," came, with a laugh, from Sam. "Hans, what do you think we ought to do?"
"Dake a rope py der sh.o.r.e und bull der poat loose."
"That's the talk," said Songbird. "Hans can carry the rope ash.o.r.e.
The water is only a foot deep."
"And the mud is about sixteen feet deep," put in d.i.c.k, quickly. "Don't try it, unless you want to sink out of sight."
For several minutes all sat still in the launch, viewing the situation with considerable dismay.
"This is something I didn't bargain for," said Fred. "But we may as well make the best of it."
"Let us try to shove her off," suggested d.i.c.k.
On board the launch were three poles of good size, each fixed so that a small, square board could be fastened to one end. d.i.c.k took one of these poles and Tom and Sam seized the others.
"Now, Hans, Fred, and Songbird, get in the stern," said d.i.c.k.
"That's the talk, and I'll try to back her at the same time!" cried Harold Bird. "All ready?"
In a minute they were ready to try the experiment and the power was turned on. As the screw churned the water and mud once more, the three Rovers pushed on the poles with all their might.