The other boys made no protest, although the fear and dread of having gems which probably had been stolen—which, at least, did not belong to them—discovered in the cabin was in their hearts, so Clay swung the door open.

A slender, black-eyed boy of about sixteen stood there, an appealing look on his face. When he dodged into the cabin they saw that his clothing was shabby and insufficient for such a night, and that it was soaked with rain. He shivered as he stood by the table and motioned to Clay to lock the door. Before he could thank them for the hospitality so grudgingly extended, the policeman’s strident voice came again from the deck.

“Here!” he said, angrily. Don’t try to make a fool of me. You come on out here! You don’t belong in there, you know. There’s been robbery on the river to-day, and I want you.”

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