CHAPTER XXI
DOWN IN THE WHIRLPOOL
When Clay heard the splash of water as the tin can disappeared fromsight, he began wondering if what he had heard had reached the ears ofthe others. The lost channel was always in his mind, and he waswondering if the presence of a subterranean body of water there couldhave any connection with the channel which had disappeared as if bymagic two or three hundred years before.
In order to settle the question as to what the outlaws knew concerningthe water which must lie directly under their cave, he asked:
"Will some of you men give me a drink of water?"
"Aw, go take a drink out of the river," was the reply he received.
"Gladly!" cried Clay. "Just untie my feet and I'll show you howquickly I can get to the river."
The men laughed heartily at what they considered a good joke andcontinued their preparations for leaving the cavern. In a short timethe man believed by Clay to be Lawyer Martin made his appearance, andthen the party started up the gully turning to the east and walkingover the roughest territory Clay had yet seen in that vicinity. Theleader of the party paused now and then to inspect the landscape andto listen for sounds from the west river.
"What were your friends doing this afternoon," he asked presently."They have dug up a new boat somewhere."
"I don't know," replied Clay, stumbling over the ground with two huskyguards close to his sides. "Was it my friends who were doing theshooting?" he added.
"Shooting?" the leader repeated in apparent amazement. "Did you hearany shooting? Which way did it come from?"
"From the west," was the brief reply.
Clay's escorts glanced at each other significantly, but said nothing.The boy was satisfied from the attitude of those about him that hischums had been attacked, but, as a matter of fact, he had heard noshooting, being at the time it took place in the cavern opening fromthe gully.
After what seemed to Clay to be an endless journey, the party came tothe west shore of the east river. Here, in the glade to the north ofthe rocky ledge which they had followed, was a fairly comfortable campwith tents and bunks and plenty of cooking appurtenances.
Clay was pushed into a tent and his hands and feet bound again.
"We can't take any chances on your jumping us in the night," theleader said as he saw the ropes adjusted around the boy's ankles andwrists. "If you only had a little sense, we might make you morecomfortable."
Time and again Clay had the name of Lawyer Martin on his lips. He wasalmost positive that the leader of the outlaws was the disguised manhe had met in Montreal, the man of whom the farmer had spoken at thecampfire. However, he conquered the inclination to address the fellowby the title which he believed to belong to him.
"If he really is Lawyer Martin," the boy reasoned, "and I let him knowthat I know the truth, he'll take good care that I never get out intothe world again to tell of his connection with these outlaws."
That night was a long one for the boy. One of the outlaws walkedwatchfully about the camp all night and another sat close by his bunkwatching with unwearying eyes. It was plain that they considered hiscapture of great importance. He reasoned that it was because they hadfailed in any attack that might have been made on his chums, and hadnot succeeded in securing the map they sought.
He did not know whether Alex had escaped the clutches of the ruffiansor not, but he believed that if the boy really had been taken prisonerhe would have been brought to the camp he himself occupied.
The camp was astir at daybreak, when most of the outlaws disappearedfrom view, going in every direction except across the river. Claywould have given a good deal for exact information regarding theirplans for the day, but he could only surmise that all their energieswould be directed toward the destruction of the _Rambler_ and thedriving away of his chums.
While he lay pondering over the possibilities of the day, the leaderof the party came to his side.
"How do you feel this morning, my boy?" he asked lightly.
"I feel like I'd like to stretch my legs a little," was the reply.
"If I gave you the privilege," asked the other, "will you promise tomake no attempt to escape?"
"I'm not making any promises," Clay replied, "so I suppose I'll haveto remain where I am."
"But you can't get away," the leader insisted.
"How do you know I can't get away?" replied Clay, laughing up into theman's face.
"Because we've got you tied hard and fast," was the reply.
"I've read in the papers," the leader went on, "about this Captain Joebulldog of yours and this Teddy bear cub doing wonderful things in theway of helping you boys out of trouble, but they are up against theimpossible here."
"I'm sorry," Clay said with a shrug of the shoulders, "but you knowjust as well as I do that no game is ever played out as it should beuntil the last card is on the table."
The leader smiled whimsically and turned away. After talking for somemoments with the only man present in the camp, he turned to the westand disappeared. Then the man he had last talked with approached theboy.
"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked.
"Pie!" roared Clay. "Green apple pie, red apple pie, dried apple pie,and pie pie. And if you've got any chicken pie, that will come in allright later on."
"Your troubles don't seem to affect your appetite, kid," laughed theman whom Clay discovered to be the cook of the camp. "You're a jollykind of a fellow, anyway, and I'm going to give you the best there isin the larder."
In half an hour a really good breakfast of ham and eggs, potatoes,bread and butter, and coffee was served to the boy. He ate heartily,of course, as most boys will under any circumstances, talking with thecook as the meal proceeded.
Directly the leader came to the edge of the little glade and beckonedto the cook. The latter looked from his employer to the boy and backagain. The leader beckoned imperatively, and the cook left the tentand approached him. Together they stepped away into the edge of thethicket and engaged in an animated conversation.
Clay heard the leader ask if the ropes which held his hands and feetwere still in place, and heard the cook reply that he supposed theywere as he had not examined them.
"Just for the fun of the thing, now," Clay mused, "I'll find outwhether that chap is right."
He pulled away at the cords on his wrist, but for a long time wasunable to move them beyond the limit of the motion which had enabledhim to use a fork at his breakfast.
"I wonder," he thought, "why they didn't give me a knife to eat thatham with. Never mind, I can make a knife of my own."
He set his elbow against an earthen plate which lay on the ground,breaking it into several pieces. The largest fragment, he got into hismouth and began to saw his wrist ropes against it. The strands of therope soon gave way and the boy's hands were free. It took him but amoment to untie the cords which held his ankles.
Thus released, he listened for a moment to make sure that the two menin the edge of the thicket were not observing him. All was still inthat direction and he finally ventured to the opening of the tent andlooked out. The two men were nowhere in sight.
"Now or never," thought the boy. "While those fellows are cooking upsome scheme for the destruction of the _Rambler_, I'll make a quietsneak. The peninsula must be crowded with outlaws, all in search of alost channel, and so I'll have to take to the river."
The boy was out of the glade in an instant, crouching low, of course,but making good time until he reached the margin of the river. Hopingto see a boat, he paused there a moment and looked about. As he didso, the roar of the falls which had obstructed the progress of the_Rambler_ on her first trip to that vicinity, reached his ears and heknew that a boat would be practically useless, as it would never livethrough the falling water. The only thing for him to do, seemed to beto take to the water and keep as much out of sight as possible underthe bank.
He sprang in and struck out down stream wondering if he could pass thefalls without returning to the shore. A
fter swimming a few strokes, heheard a shout from the bank and saw the leader and the cook hasteningtoward the river. The current was strong there just above the fallsand the boy was an excellent swimmer, so the men did not decrease thedistance between themselves and their quarry.
"If you don't stop, we'll shoot!" the cook cried.
"And shoot to kill!" came the voice of the leader.
For a moment Clay swam on blindly under a rain of bullets but he hadno idea whatever of voluntarily returning to the shore. The leadenpellets splashed into the water all about him for a time but presentlyas the men got better range, they began making closer acquaintance.
The roar of the falls was now almost deafening. The boy could hear atorrent of water pouring down upon broken rocks. He knew now that itwould be impossible for him to negotiate the falls by way of theriver. He must swim to the shore and pass around the danger point.This would subject him to the direct fire of his pursuers.
At last, almost hopeless, he dived into the water to escape the rainof bullets. To his surprise, he did not come to the surface again whenhe used his strength in that direction.
Either his body had lost its buoyancy or the water was pulling himdown. He seemed to be in a whirlpool. The force of the water drew athis arms and his legs and clutched him about the chest. Around andaround he whirled, until he grew dizzy with the motion and his lungsseemed bursting for want of air.
Then, almost unconscious, he knew that he was being drawn through anopening into which the water poured with awful force. He knew that hewas being tossed to and fro in something like a basin or pool a momentlater, and felt the fresh air creeping into his lungs.
The water where he lay did not seem to be more than three or four feetdeep but the current was swift and steady. There was no lightanywhere. The boy groped forward with his hands outstretched until hecame to what seemed to be a ledge of rock. There, exhausted and almostunconscious from his exertions, he dropped down and his mind became ablank.
When he returned to consciousness, a single shaft of light penetratingthe darkness of the place showed him to be in a cavern the dimensionsof which he had no means of knowing. The ledge upon which he hadfallen lay a yard or so above the surface of an underground stream. Hecould see the light glancing on the water and hear the roar of thewhirlpool which had brought him into this subterranean place.
"I've found the lost channel, I guess," he thought bitterly, "and Iguess there'll be two of us lost--a lost river and a lost boy."
After a time, he felt his way along the ledge only to find that itcame to an abrupt termination against a shoulder of rock.
The Six River Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence; Or, The Lost Channel Page 21
