"Say, boy, wot yer doin' in my boat?"

It was a burly fellow standing upon the sh.o.r.e who asked the question.

"Excuse me; I am looking for my father, who is missing. I just found his hat on the seat here. Did you see anything of him?"

"Missing, eh--an' thet's his headgear? Say, boy, thet's no laughin'

matter," and the burly fellow looked at the youth kindly.

"I know it. I am afraid he tumbled overboard. He had times when he wasn't feeling quite right in his head."

The burly individual whistled softly to himself. "Then I reckon Sary was right, arter all," he half mused.

"Sary? Who do you mean?"

"Sary's my wife. She woke me up about five o'clock this mornin'. We live up in the shanty yonder. Sary said she heard somebody moanin' an'

yellin' down here. I said she wuz dreamin', but I allow now ez I might hev been mistook, eh?"

"You didn't come out to investigate?"

"No; it war too stormy. I listened, but there wuz no more of the noise arter Sary waked me up. If yer father fell overboard I'm mighty sorry fer yer. If he did go over his body must be a long way down stream by this time."

"Poor father!" It was all d.i.c.k could say. He and his parent had been alone in the wide world, and now to think that his only relative was gone was almost beyond endurance.

"Take the boat and go down if yer want to," went on the burly individual. "Ye can leave the craft at Woolley's mill. I'd go along, only the old woman's took sick an' I've got to hustle fer a doctor."

"I will take a look around in the boat," answered d.i.c.k, and, having procured the oars, he set off. The current was so strong it was not necessary to use the blades, and he had all he could do to keep the craft from spinning around and dashing itself against the sh.o.r.e or the other boats which lay along both banks.

On and on the rowboat sped, until about a quarter of a mile had been covered. Nothing unusual had yet been noted, yet the boy kept his eyes strained for some sign of his father, praying inwardly that all might still be well with the only one who was left to him.

"If father is dead, what shall I do?" he thought with a shiver. "He had all of our money with him, all of those precious papers, everything. I would be left a pauper, and, worse than that, without a single relative in the wide world. Oh, pray Heaven he is spared to me!"

"Look out there, youngster!"

It was a wild cry, coming from a bend in the stream. d.i.c.k had been gazing across the river. Now he turned to behold his craft rushing swiftly toward the trunk of a half-submerged tree which the storm had torn away from the sh.o.r.e.

The river was almost a torrent at this place.

He grasped the oars, intending to turn the boat from its mad course. But the action came too late. Crash! The craft struck a sharp branch of the tree with fearful force, staving in the bow completely, and the next instant the boy was hurled headlong into the boiling and foaming current.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The next instant the boy was hurled headlong into the boiling and foaming current"]

CHAPTER VIII.

EXPOSING A SWINDLER.

It was less than an hour after separating from d.i.c.k Arbuckle that p.a.w.nee Brown found his way to Arkansas City.

He was accompanied by Jack Rasco and Cal Clemmer, and the great scout's object was not alone to aid d.i.c.k in the search for Mortimer Arbuckle, but also to help Cal Clemmer get back some money out of which the cowboy boomer claimed he had been swindled.

Clemmer had played cards with a certain sharp known as Pete Stillwater, and lost two hundred and fifty dollars. At first he had imagined he had lost it fairly enough, but after thoughts, coupled with what he heard on the sly the next day, made him certain that Stillwater had cheated him.

He had brought his case to p.a.w.nee Brown, and the leader of the boomers at once concluded that the gambler had not acted fairly. He had met Stillwater at Wichita, where the gambler's reputation was far from savory.

"You were a fool to bet at cards, Cal," he said flatly. "But that is no reason why Stillwater should cheat you. I'll do what I can, but you must promise to leave playing for high stakes alone in the future."

"Don't yer fear, p.a.w.nee," was Clemmer's ready reply. "A scorched Injun keeps hez distance from the blaze, don't he? Wall, I'm the scorched Injun in this air case. Git back my money fer me an' I won't play nothin' higher then penny-ante ez long ez I live."

The gambling resort at which Stillwater was holding forth was soon reached, and the three entered, to find the place comfortably crowded by boomers, men-about-town, cowboys and gamblers, all anxious to add to their wealth without working. As p.a.w.nee Brown surveyed the a.s.semblage his lip curled with a sarcasm which was by no means displaced.

"Poor fools!" he thought; "they expect to win, and nine-tenths of them are bound in the end to be fleeced out of all they possess. Why men who have brains will throw away good money in this fashion is more than I can understand."

"Thar's Stillwater," whispered Cal Clemmer. "Hang hez hide, I'd like ter wring hez neck fer him."

"Better wring his money bag first," smiled p.a.w.nee Brown.

Without hesitation he called Stillwater outside and explained the situation.

"You can say what you please, Stillwater," he said. "I am certain you have been cheating, for I know your past record. You must restore that money and do it right away."

A stormy war of words followed, but p.a.w.nee Brown was firm and at last Stillwater gave up about a hundred dollars--all he had with him.

He went off vowing vengeance and when at a safe distance turned and drew a pistol from his pocket.

"He's going to shoot ye!" cried one of the boomers, but Stillwater was afraid to fire. As p.a.w.nee Brown started after him on a run the gambler fled toward the river.

"Let us go after him!" cried one of the others, and away they went. Soon they came in sight of the river and saw Stillwater in a small craft, sculling his way to the opposite sh.o.r.e. Presently a bend in the stream hid him from view.

"Hullo!" sang out p.a.w.nee Brown. "Here comes another rowboat, and--yes, there is d.i.c.k Arbuckle in it. What can he be doing on the river?"

"The boat is makin' fer thet half-sunk tree!" interrupted Cal Clemmer.

"He'll strike ef he don't look out! Heavens!"

"Look out there, youngster!" yelled p.a.w.nee Brown, and those were the words which attracted d.i.c.k's attention, as mentioned in the former chapter.

It was useless to say more. Standing upon the bank, p.a.w.nee Brown and the cowboy boomer saw the craft strike and go to pieces and saw d.i.c.k thrown out into the madly rushing current.

As the boy sped along his head came into painful contact with the furthest of the tree branches, and he was partially stunned. His eyes closed and he struck out wildly and ineffectually.

"He'll be drowned!" gasped Clemmer. "It would take a strong swimmer to gain the bank with the water runnin' ez it is to-day."

"I don't believe he could catch a rope," answered p.a.w.nee Brown, starting off down the river bank. "Cal, hunt one up somewhere; I'm going in after him!"

"But the risk----"