o and
all ready for the start. The provisions were stored in two lockers
on board, and another locker held their firearms and some raincoats.

"Hurrah! Here is news," cried Dick, after perusing a telegram that
had been handed to him. "You'll remember I telegraphed to Benton,
the town below here. Well, here is word that the houseboat was seen
passing Benton yesterday at about five o'clock, and headed towards
the west shore. That ought to give us something to work on.

"It will," answered Harold Bird. "Come, the sooner we get started
the better."

All stepped aboard of the _Venus_, as the launch was named, and soon
the gasoline motor was buzzing away at a good rate of speed. Then
the power was turned on the screw, Harold Bird took his station at
the wheel, and away they sped from the landing and out onto the broad
Mississippi.

"Hurrah for a life on der oceans vafe und a ship on der rollings
deeps!" sang out Hans, who sat near the bow.

"Gosh, Hans is getting poetic!" said Tom. "That's right, Hansy, my
boy, keep it up and you'll soon put Songbird out of business."

"What I want to know is," came from Fred, "if we strike a sunken snag
is this launch safe?"

"As safe as any craft of her size," answered Harold Bird. "But I
shan't strike a snag if I can help it. I am not running at full speed,
and if you'll notice I am keeping where the water is fairly clear."

"Which isn't saying a great deal," came from Sam. "I never saw a
river as muddy as the Mississippi."

"I know one other stream that is worse, and that's the Missouri,"
said Harold Bird. "And as that flows into the Mississippi it makes
the latter almost as bad."

As soon as they were well on their way Dick brought out the firearms
which had been brought along, and examined them with care.

"You certainly have some fine weapons," said he, referring to the
pistols brought by Harold Bird. "Do you do much shooting--I mean with
a gun?"

"I never go shooting at all," was the young Southerner's reply, and
once again the boys saw that strange look of sadness come over his face.

"Funny, you wouldn't care to go out," said Songbird, carelessly.
"Must be quite some game around here."

"There is plenty of game, but--" Harold Bird heaved a deep sigh. "I
presume I may as well tell you my story, for you are bound to hear
it sooner or later," he went on. "About four years ago my father went
out hunting in the forest to the north of our plantation. He was out
with two