Chapter XII: A Queer Passenger

There was a faint flush of dawn in the east when the rowboat left the _Rambler_'s side and struck out into the river. The motor boat had been slowed down to the pace of the other, and the surgeon and Case watched the boys from the deck.

As the prow light was still burning, their view of the scene was exceptionally good. The rain had ceased, and the morning stars were shining. The day promised to be a fine one.

Clay was asleep when the rowboat was launched, so the two boys had nothing to worry over. They had every confidence in the surgeon, and believed in the ultimate recovery of their chum.

"It is a trifle light to fish for bullheads, but the burning of the prow light will make the fish think we have a torch especially for their benefit, so they may bite after all!"

It was Jule who emitted this bit of wisdom about fish thinking, and Alex laughed him to scorn.

"Fish can't think," he laughed. "They haven't the machinery for thought in their make-up."

"Much you know about fish!" Jule answered. "I've seen fish that would come to the surface when their master whistled! And there is a fish at Lincoln Park which----"

There is no knowing how much longer the fish story would have continued if just at that instant Alex had not seen his bobber, making little circles in the river.

"You've got a bite, Alex," Case shouted from the deck of the _Rambler_. "Look out or he'll pull you under!"

"Never you mind about his pulling me under!" Alex answered. "This is a pet fish, and he knows his business! When he gets done playing with the hook, he'll come to the surface and give himself up, like a good little fish!"

But the fish did not come to the surface and give himself up as he was scheduled to do! Alex leaned too far over the edge of the boat and went down to meet the fish!

Jule doubled up with laughter, and Case gave advice from the deck of the _Rambler_.

"Dive under the fish and bring him to the surface when you are on your way up!" he shouted. "You don't often get a chance to embrace a live fish!"

Alex paid no attention to this advice, but kept his hold on the line. He took time, however, to wrinkle a freckled nose at his tormentor. He seized the rowboat by the prow, and drew himself up.

"I always take a bath in the morning," he said, "it's good for the health."

"Do you always employ a fish to pull you in?" asked Jule. "I should think you'd run shy of fish!" "See! He never got off the hook!" exclaimed Alex. "Didn't I explain to you that this was a pet fish? I'll have him giving a song and dance in a second."

"I hope the song and dance will be given in the frying pan!" contributed Case, speaking from the deck of the _Rambler_. "I'm hungry enough to eat stones out of the river."

"Just you wait a second and I'll have this one simmering in the frying pan!" Alex said, getting a better hold on the line by winding it around his wrist. "Wonder what kind of fish this is? He's a corker for weight, anyway."

When the "fish" was at last brought to the surface it proved to be a long and vexatious snag!

"Hi!" laughed Case, from the _Rambler_'s deck, "how do you work it when you want to exercise that fish? Pet of yours, eh?"

Alex scratched his head and joined in the laugh.

"Anyway," he declared, "if there's a fish in the Rio Grande I'll introduce him to you! We've got to have that fish breakfast!"

By this time Rube and Buck, having inspected the _Esmeralda_ and discovered that the injury to the prow was not as serious as at first supposed, had joined the surgeon and Case on the deck of the _Rambler_. The two boats were now tied together, so that the prow of the _Esmeralda_ ran flush with the aft deck of the _Rambler_.

"What's that about a fish breakfast?" asked Buck.

"You just hold your horses for a couple of minutes, and you'll see!" was Alex's reply. "I'm so hungry, right now, that I'm turning black in the face."

"How would you like to have a good, steady job driving a pie wagon?" questioned Case. "That might suit you as long as the pie held out! Of all the nice, good-looking, long-distance pie-destroyers you take the cake."

For reply Alex wrinkled his nose and pointed to Captain Joe, who had left the deck of the _Rambler_ for the river, and was now swimming round and round the rowboat.

"He's taking his morning bath," he said. "Go away, dog, don't spoil my fishing," he added, as Captain Joe attempted to get into the boat.

"Captain Joe!" called the parrot. "Good Captain Joe! Come to me, you cur dog!"

If the dog had any objections to being called a cur dog he said nothing on the subject, but continued to swim round and round the rowboat.

"What's the matter with the dog?" Alex asked, moving over to a side of the boat where he could get a full view of the dog, "I wonder if he isn't going crazy."

He called to the dog, but he continued to swim round and round the boat.

"Well, of all the fool capers that I ever came across, you certainly are the whole biscuit! What do you see down there in the river, Captain Joe?"

The thing Joe saw took the form of a man. So far as the boys could see, he was rather neatly dressed in clothing which was wet with the wash of the river.

He was clinging to the side of the rowboat when first seen, but let go his hold and struck out for the shore. Evidently an expert in the water, he was halfway to the land before the occupants of either the _Rambler_ or the rowboat recovered from their amazement and thought of stopping him.

Taking advantage of the darkness, the fellow had traveled for perhaps an hour, perhaps two, in the bottom of the rowboat. Then, when the boys had use for the boat, the only thing he could do was to take to the river.

They remembered that the rowboat had not been used since the robbers had been driven off with dynamite. The man might be a river pirate for all any member of the party knew.

The _Rambler_, being nearer to the swimmer than the other boat, at once turned her prow in his direction, but he reached shoal water before they overtook him, and disappeared in the thicket.

"Wouldn't that frost you?" exclaimed Alex, bending over the edge of the boat and looking as if he expected to see more men where the swimmer had released his hold. "Say, but that man, whoever he is, can go some in the water!"

"I should say he could!" said Jule. "Where did he come from? Where did he go? If that act of his was a disappearing one, he certainly did it right!"

"I guess the _Rambler_ obstructed our view," explained Alex. "I'd like to know how long we've been carrying passengers, anyhow."

The _Rambler_ now returned from her fruitless quest of the stranger and anchored by the side of the rowboat.

"How long have you been leaking passengers?" Case demanded. "How many more have you got concealed in the boat?"

"Go ahead and get that fish!" said Rube, rubbing his stomach. "I feel like the Mammoth Cave!"

"Lock him up in a bakery, then, for I don't think there's any fish in the blooming river. If he's hungry enough to chew buns, turn him loose on em!

It was Alex who gave this advice. For the next few minutes he busied himself making a closer examination of the boat.

"Look here," he exclaimed, "who is there in this party that can read Greek? There's a lot of queer writing on the rear end of the boat. I'd like to know what it means."

All was excitement after this announcement, and Case and Buck climbed down into the rowboat.

The writing was in pencil, and was already half obliterated.

"Can you make anything of it?" asked Case, bending over the side of the boat.

"Not a thing," was the reply. "I think it must be Hebrew! Anyway, it's some sort of warning. Or it may be a threat."

"Much you know about it!" laughed Case.

"What about that fish breakfast?" Rube called out from the motor boat. "I'm so hungry I could eat nails."

"Well, I presume that means me," Alex replied. "If I've got to catch a fish for breakfast, you've got to get out of this boat. How can I get a fish with all you people on board?"

"But we haven't read the writing yet," urged Jule.

"That can wait for a time. Rube will be crying his eyes out in a minute! Anyway, the writing will keep."

"No, it won't," Buck cut in. "If you're ever going to read it, it strikes me that now's the time."

"All right!" declared Alex, "if you want to delay the fish breakfast, give me a knife, and I'll cut the letters out."

"Better use a saw," advised Buck.

"Happy thought!" said Alex. "But where's your saw? Do you happen to have one in your pocket?"

Case clambered to the deck of the motor boat and soon returned with a saw from the tool-chest.

Buck took the tool and fell to work so vigorously that the rim of the boat, where the writing was, soon lay in his hand.

"Now you can order your fish breakfast as soon as you like," he said, putting the piece of wood he had removed into a pocket ... "I suspect that Rube will be referring to it until he gets fed."

"You bet he will!" came from the deck of the _Rambler_.

"Could you eat a piece of cherry pie?"

Jule asked the question, and was answered in a quick affirmative. Then he said he'd see about getting one when he got to El Paso!

"You're a fraud!" laughed Rube. "I don't want anything to eat, anyway."

"No, you don't!" Alex said, with a wrinkle in his nose. "I've got a photograph of you refusing food!"

Case and Buck soon left the rowboat for the deck of the _Rambler_, and Alex went ahead with his fishing, with such good success that a fine string was carried on board the _Rambler_.

"Now," said the lad, "if you'll get me some butter, I'll see what I can do with these fishes! You put the '_-es_' on when you want to put on style."

"Look at this translation Paul made of the writing on the boat! He says it's French."

Buck came out on deck with a paper in his hand and handed it to Case. The boy took it and read:

"The meaning of 'a l'outrance' is to the death."

"Who furnished the translation?" questioned Jule.

"Paul did," was the reply.

"Can anyone give the meaning of the translation?" asked Case.

"Why, it means just what it says, 'to the death,'" said Jule.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" asked Buck.

"It may be either," was the answer.