CHAPTER XV

THROUGH THE FAMOUS RAPIDS

A special bunk, the softest and springiest that could be made, was fitted up for Captain Joe in the cabin that night. The old fellow so enjoyed visiting with the boys that it was late before they went to sleep, and so the sun was well up when they left their beds in the morning.

"Now," Clay said, after all had indulged in a short swim in the river, "we're going to celebrate the arrival of Captain Joe by one of Alex's beefsteak breakfasts at a restaurant. Captain Joe has traveled so far to see us that we're not going to take any chances on having him poisoned by Case's cooking."

"Now look here, boys," Captain Joe remonstrated, "I've had a good many restaurant meals along the South Branch since you boys deserted me, and a chef has been cooking for me on the Rutland boat, so I propose that we get breakfast right here, on the _Rambler_. It will be a novelty for me, anyway."

"What would you like, Captain?" asked Alex.

"Well," said Captain Joe almost smacking his lips, "you know the kind of pancakes they serve at the Bismark, Chicago? They're half an inch thick, you know, and as large as the bottom of a milk pan. Cost a quarter apiece, and a fellow doesn't want anything more to eat all day! Now, you go ahead and make pancakes like we used to get at the Bismark."

"And eggs, and ham, and beans, and coffee, and fried potatoes, and canned peaches?" asked Case. "We're sure going to celebrate, Captain Joe."

"Well boys," said the old captain, "if you want to go and make provision tanks of yourselves, you can do it, but for my part, I'm going to be careful in my eating, as I'm getting old! Just rig me up a simple little meal consisting of eight or ten of those twenty-five cent pancakes and half a dozen eggs and three or four cups of coffee, and I'll try to worry through the day."

"I don't see how you can get along with anything less than a dozen pancakes and a gallon of coffee," laughed Clay, "and I'll go on shore and buy a box of the finest cigars to be had in Ogdensburg."

Captain Joe held up a warning finger.

"Now look here, boys," he said, "you know how I used to pull away at that dirty old pipe on the South Branch. I used to be ashamed of myself, smoking up your quarters, so after you left I quit the weed entirely. I haven't smoked a pipe or cigar for a long time," he added, proudly.

And so the breakfast was prepared as Captain Joe directed. The boys set out what little honey Teddy hadn't succeeded in getting hold of, and the pancakes were greatly enjoyed. But the Captain didn't finish his stunt.

"You boys are mighty good to an old man like me," he said.

"Mighty good!" repeated Clay. "Don't you remember when some sneak stole all the money we had been saving for a year to take us on the Amazon trip? Don't you remember how we hustled and got a little more together, and how you were afraid we wouldn't have enough, and might go broke in the Andes, and you took two hundred dollars and put it in a packet and told us to open it when we got into trouble? There is nothing on this boat you can't have, Captain Joe."

"Well," said the old man, "I didn't need the money, and, besides, I got it back. It didn't cost me anything to lend it."

"We needed it, though," grinned Alex, "and we might have been back there yet if we hadn't had it. You're the luckiest man I know of or it would never have been returned. And we were lucky, too."

"And now, if you don't mind," said Captain Joe, "we'll cut all this talk out. I'm going to stay with you boys just as long as you'll let me, and I don't want to hear any more talk about that consarned two hundred dollars. I've heard too much already."

"We think of it every time we see the white bulldog," laughed Case.

"By the way," said the Captain, "I've got that two hundred dollars in my jeans this minute, and if you should happen to want any of it just let me know. I really don't know what to do with it."

"Pigs will be flying when we use any more of your money, Captain Joe," Alex smiled. "We've got plenty of our own."

After breakfast, with Captain Joe at the helm, the boat was turned toward the Great Lakes. It was seven o'clock when they left Ogdensburg and at ten they were at Alexandria Bay.

"Suppose we keep on the Canadian side going up," Captain Joe suggested, "and then, when we come back, we can take the American side."

"Can you take the boat up and back without knocking off any of these headlands?" asked Alex with a wink at the Captain.

"Look here, young man," replied the Captain not at all offended, "I was dipping the water into this river before you were born. I can take this boat within an inch of every island and crag and headland between here and Lake Ontario and never scrape off an ounce of paint. I've sailed on the ocean, too, and all up and down the Great Lakes. This St. Lawrence river was always like a little pet kitten to me."

According to this suggestion, the captain left Alexandria Bay to the south and proceeded over to the Canadian side. The boat was now just starting in on its run through the famous Thousand Islands.

Many times it seemed to the boys as if Captain Joe intended to run the craft directly through some of the magnificent cottages located high above the river, but always the boat turned just in time to keep in foot-clear water. The boys stood leaning on the gunwale for hours watching the splendid panorama of the river.

There were islands rich with verdure; there were islets brown and rocky, there were great level places hemmed in by the river where magnificent summer residences showed against the beauty of the landscape.

Now and then summer tourists hailed the _Rambler_ from the river, and occasionally girls and boys ran down the island piers to greet her with the waving of flags. It was a glorious trip.

Captain Joe explained many features of the stream as they passed up, and as long as the boys lived they remembered the shimmer of the sun on the island foliage, the white-fringed waves rumpled by the light wind, and the voice of the kind old man telling them the experiences of a life time.

Just before sundown, after one of the pleasantest days they ever experienced, the boys reached Kingston. Captain Joe seemed disinclined to leave the boat that night, and so the boys spent three hours wandering up and down the streets of the historic old city. Off to the west lay the famous Bay of Quinte. Farther south was Sackett's Harbor, while between the two lay Wolfe island, stuck into the mouth of the St. Lawrence river like a great plug. The boys enjoyed the night ramble immensely.

"Now, Captain Joe," Clay said in the morning, "suppose we circle Wolfe island, inspect the light house at Cape Vincent, and spend part of a day at Sackett's Harbor? I don't know of any better way to spend the next twelve hours than in making a trip like that."

"Sackett's Harbor was a military point during the last war with Great Britain," Jule said, "and I'd like to look over the town."

"Nothing much doing there now in the way of guns and soldiers," Captain Joe said, "but, as you say, it would pay you well to spend a day on the waters in this vicinity. You may never have the chance again."

So the _Rambler_ headed for Cape Vincent, where they stopped long enough to inspect the big light, first taking a view of Sackett's Harbor. About noon, they came to Clayton, where they paused long enough to inspect several groups of islands on the American side.

Then, with Captain Joe still at the helm, the boat passed down to Alexandria Bay where they tied up for the night.

"To-morrow," Captain Joe said, as the boys made great inroads on the Bismark pancakes stacked up on the table, "I'll take you through the Lachine rapids. You'll find we'll have to go some."

"You haven't got any government license!" laughed Alex.

"No," said the old Captain, "I'm not an ignorant Indian. I can read and write, and so I can't get a government license, but I'll tell you what I can do. I can take this boat down the Lachine without getting a drop of water on the deck."

The Captain was a little bit inclined to tell what he had done and what he could do, but his stories were all truthful and interesting, so the boys rather enjoyed them, and the captain enjoyed talking.

"You needn't think we're going to fly through the air on this trip," Jule said winking at the Captain. "We're going to take about two days to get down to the Lachine. We'll loaf along the river to-morrow, making about one hundred miles, tie up for the night, and reach Lachine in the afternoon of the day after. What do you think of that for a program, boys?" he added, turning to Clay.

"That's the way I figured it out," Clay answered. "There is no use in being in a hurry. We've got all the time there is."

Every person on the boat, except perhaps the dog and the bear, slept soundly that night. There was no wind, and the little bay they were in protected them from the wash of the steamers. When they awoke in the morning the sun was rising round and red out of the river.

That day was another one long to be remembered by every member of the _Rambler_ party. They drifted, using the motors just enough to give headway, fished in the clear water, and told stories of old days on the South Branch--days long to be remembered by them all.

That night partook of the character of the last one so far as sleep and rest were concerned. The boat lay at a little pier not far from a rural settlement. Early in the evening villagers came down attracted by the clamor of the motors but soon returned to their homes.

It was on that evening that Alex made his famous attempt to cook a river fish a la Indian. There was something the matter with the fish, or with the hot stones, or with the soil! At any rate, the white bulldog and the bear cub got the supper the boy had sweated over for an hour or more.

Shortly after noon on the following day, the _Rambler_ came to the head of the Lachine rapids, six miles above Montreal.

Although the boys had every confidence in Captain Joe as a pilot, some of them were inclined to think that his memory of the rapids might not be as good as his skill. Many a time during that passage the grand and lofty tumbling of the waters as they broke upon projecting rocks seemed about to engulf the frail craft.

Many a time the nose of the _Rambler_ seemed pointing directly at a hidden rock which sent the river spouting into the air like the "blow" of a great whale. Many a time the wayward current caught the prow and twisted it about until it seemed as if the boat would never respond to her rudder again.

But the eyes of the captain were true, the arms of the old sailing man were strong, and so the boat always came back to the course he had mapped out for her. When at last the rapids were passed, the boys were greatly relieved.

During the excitement of the trip, little fear had been felt after the first plunge, but now that it was over, they realized that they had been in absolute peril. Almost with the momentum which had carried the _Rambler_ down the Lachine, the boat came to a pier on the river front at Montreal. Looking about, the boys saw that they were almost in the location where they had tied up before.

Clay sprang ashore, hastened to a telephone, talked eagerly for a few moments and then returned to the _Rambler_. Captain Joe sat out on the prow and the boy took a deck stool beside him.

"Captain Joe," the boy asked, "what would have taken place if we had run out of gasoline while navigating the rapids?"

The captain eyed the boy with surprise showing on his weather-beaten face. He poked Clay in the ribs before answering.

"Why do you ask an old captain a foolish question like that?" he said.

"I'm asking for information," was the reply. "Tell me what would have happened. I really want to know."

"Well," Captain Joe replied, scratching his chin meditatively, "if the gasoline had given out in the rapids, just about this time there would be a lot of boards bumping against the rocks, and a motor rusting in the bottom of the river, and five human beings, a bulldog and a bear floating out toward the Gulf of St. Lawrence."

"That's just what I thought," Clay exclaimed. "That's just why I was scared stiff when I found out that we were just about out of gasoline as we struck the head of the rapids."

"And you never said a word about it," asked the captain, "to any of the boys? You kept it all to yourself?"

"Huh," replied Clay, "where was the use in scaring the fellows out of a year's growth. Didn't you notice my cap walking straight up into the air? That was because my hair lifted it."

"Boy, boy," expostulated Captain Joe, "don't lie to the old man. I don't believe you were scared at all."

"Well, anyway," replied Clay, "the tanks are empty, and there will be a wagon down here pretty quick to fill them up. Now mind you, I'm not going to say a word to the other boys about this. If I do, they'll never get over roasting me. We should have taken on gasoline at Kingston, but I forgot all about it."

"Do you remember what you told me about this Lawyer Martin?" asked Captain Joe. "He seems to be the lawyer leading the band of ruffians who are trying to keep the lost channel lost forever!"

"Yes," replied Clay, "and I was just going to speak about that. It was in Montreal that we met him, disguised as a riverside character, and I was wondering if it might not be well to go ashore and look him up."

"Don't you ever think of doing that," Captain Joe replied. "You get your gasoline and lay in additional pancake material and we'll go on down the river to Cartier island. That's what they call that peninsula, isn't it? Let me tell you this," the old man added, "if you have anything more to do with this man Martin, you let him be the one to do the looking up."

"That's good sense, too," agreed Clay. "He might discover that we were on our way back if we went up into the city. So we'll remain quiet to-night and set out for Cartier island and the lost channel early to-morrow morning."