# The Rover Boys in Southern Waters/Chapter 5

CHAPTER V
STUCK IN THE MUD
Noon found our friends at the town of Benton—a place of some importance in the cotton trade. Without delay Dick sought out the man who had had to do with the telegrams.
"I can't tell you much more than what I put in the message," said the man. "I saw the house boat out yonder and headed in that direction. I was watching her when a fog came up and hid her from view."
"I think I can follow her," put in Harold Bird. "Anyway, we can try."
"Did those fellows steal the houseboat?" questioned the Benton man.
"They did."
"Then I hope you catch them."
Our friends did not stop to get dinner, but took their lunch on board of the Venus. The river at Benton was broad and deep and consequently Harold Bird turned on full speed, sending the launch forward with such a rush that the water often came in a shower of spray over the bow.
​"I may be mistaken, but I have an idea that those rascals headed for Lake Sico," said the young Southerner. "Gasper Pold used to hang around that lake, and most likely there are men there who would aid him in disposing of whatever is on the Dora of value."
"Where is Lake Sico?" asked Sam.
"About fifteen miles from here. It is a very broad and shallow sheet of water, and is reached by a narrow and tortuous bayou all of four miles long. One end of the lake is a perfect wilderness of bushes and brake—an ideal hiding-place for the houseboat."
"Then perhaps we had better explore the lake," said Tom.
"There is only one objection," answered Dick. "If the houseboat is not there, we'll be losing a lot of valuable time."
"Is the entrance to the bayou very narrow?" asked Tom. "For if it is, the houseboat would be apt to strike the mud shore and leave marks."
"Yes, it is narrow, and we'll look for marks by all means," answered the young Southerner.
As they were moving with the stream it did not take the launch long to reach the bayou that connected the lake with the Mississippi. But close to the bayou entrance the swirling waters had cast up a ridge or bar of mud and on this the launch slid and stuck fast.
​"Hullo, we're stuck!" cried Tom.
"And we are up out of the water too," came from his younger brother.
"Can't we back?" asked Fred.
"I'll try it," returned Harold Bird.
The screw of the launch was reversible and he made the change in power. The water was churned up into a muddy foam, but that was all. The Venus did not budge an inch.
"One of the joys of a life 'on der rollings deeps'!" grumbled Tom, imitating Hans. "Songbird, can't you compose an ode in honor of the occasion.?"
"Certainly I can," said Songbird promptly, and started:
"As firm as a rock, our launch now rests Upon her bed of mud, As safe as a ship on a golden sea——" "Or a clothespin in a tub!"
finished Tom. "Songbird, give us something better, or none at all."
"Say, vot has a clothesbin in a dub to do mit being stuck here alretty?" questioned Hans, innocently.
"Why, Hansy, old boy, that's easy," cried Tom. "A clothespin is for sticking something fast, and we are stuck fast. Now, can't you see the joke, as the blind astronomer said to the deaf musician?"
​"Yah, dot's so, but ve ain't stuck on no clothespins," answered Hans, soberly. "Ve vos stuck on der Mississippies Rifer, ain't it."
"Score one for Hans," came, with a laugh, from Sam. "Hans, what do you think we ought to do?"
"Dake a rope py der shore und bull der poat loose."
"That's the talk," said Songbird. "Hans can carry the rope ashore. The water is only a foot deep."
"And the mud is about sixteen feet deep," put in Dick, quickly. "Don't try it, unless you want to sink out of sight."
For several minutes all sat still in the launch, viewing the situation with considerable dismay.
"This is something I didn't bargain for," said Fred. "But we may as well make the best of it."
"Let us try to shove her off," suggested Dick.
On board the launch were three poles of good size, each fixed so that a small, square board could be fastened to one end. Dick took one of these poles and Tom and Sam seized the others.
"Now, Hans, Fred, and Songbird, get in the stern," said Dick.
"That's the talk, and I'll try to back her at the same time!" cried Harold Bird "All ready?"
In a minute they were ready to try the ​experiment and the power was turned on. As the screw churned the water and mud once more, the three Rovers pushed on the poles with all their might.
"Hurrah! she's moving!" cried Fred.
He was right, the Venus was slowly but surely leaving the bank of mud. Suddenly she gave a twist and then ran backwards rapidly, and then the power was shut off again.
"Free at last!" cried Tom. "Now what's the next move?"
"We must find the proper channel into the bayou," answered the owner of the launch.
Dick and Tom went to the front with their poles and the power was turned to a slow speed forward. The Rovers felt their way in the water with the poles, calling to turn to the right or the left, as the case required. By this means they soon left the treacherous mud bars behind and reached a point where forward progress was more certain.
"Now then, let us look around and see if we can find any traces of the Dora," said Dick.
"The houseboat couldn't have come over that spot—she would have been stuck sure," said Fred.
"Years ago Solly Jackson used to be a riverman," said Harold Bird. "He would probably know exactly how to get the houseboat into the ​bayou. Gasper Pold couldn't run the craft himself, so he had to take in a fellow like Solly."
As the gasoline launch entered the bayou all kept their eyes on the alert, and presently Songbird set up a shout:
"Look over yonder—there are some sort of marks on the bank!"
He was right, and they turned the launch in the direction indicated, advancing slowly. There was a sharp cut in the mud and also several pole holes which looked to be rather fresh. A few feet further on they came to a piece of a pole painted blue.
"That settles it," exclaimed Dick. "They certainly brought the houseboat in here. Our poles were painted blue, and that is a piece of one."
"The very one I cracked in the storm," added Sam.
"I can explain it," said Harold Bird. "They got the houseboat around the mud bars, but the force of the current, combined with the current in the bayou, swung the craft up against this, bank. Then they had to pole the houseboat off."
"But how did they go on, against the current from the lake?" asked Songbird.
"Pulled and poled the houseboat. Just wait and see if I am not right."
They waited, and soon reached a point where one bank of the bayou was fairly firm. Here ​they could see footprints and the "shaving" of a rope as it had passed over the edge of the bank.
"We are on the right track," said Dick. "Now, all we have to do is to locate the house boat and corner the rascals who stole her."
"All!" cried Fred. "I should say that was enough!"
"Especially if they offer to fight," added Sam.
"It is a pity we can't come on them unawares," said Tom. "But that is impossible, for you can't run the launch without making a noise."
"Maybe you don't besser git out dem bistols alretty," came from Hans. "Of da ton't gif ub ve plow der heads off, ain't it!"
"Yes, we may as well get out the firearms," said Dick. "The sight of the pistols may have a good effect. Perhaps the rascals will give up without fighting."
The pistols were gotten out, and all of the youths saw to it that they were in perfect condition for immediate use. As he looked at the weapons Harold Bird shuddered.
"I suppose you hate the sight of them,—after what happened to your father," said Dick, in a low tone.
"I do. I sincerely trust there is no bloodshed," answered the young Southerner.
It was nightfall by the time the launch was clear of the bayou. In front of them lay the ​calm waters of Lake Sico—a shallow expanse, with mud flats at one side and a wilderness of trees, bushes, and wild canebrake at the other. They shut off the power and listened. Not a sound broke the stillness.
"Talk about solitude," was Tom's comment. "Here is where you can chop it out with an ax!"
"It's enough to make one shiver," added Fred.
Just then the dog Harold Bird had brought along set up a mournful howl.
"Even the dog doesn't like it," said Songbird. "Let us go on—I'd rather hear the puff-puff of the gasoline motor than listen to such stillness."
"I thought a poet craved solitude," said Dick. "This ought to fill you with inspiration."
"I think it will fill us with chills and fever," said Fred. "Ugh, how damp it is, now the sun is going down."
"There is a mist creeping up," said Harold Bird. "Too bad! I was in hope it would remain clear."
Soon the darkness of night settled over the lake. The mist continued to roll over them until they were completely enveloped and could no longer see where they were going.
"It can't be helped," said the owner of the launch. "We'll have to wait until daylight. If I light the acetylene gas lamp it will simply put those rascals on guard."
​"Vot is ve going to do—sthay on der poat all night?" asked Hans.
"We can either do that or go ashore—just as you wish."
"Let us move towards shore," said Dick. It will be more pleasant under some overhanging trees or bushes."
This was agreed to, and they steered for the bank of the lake, which was not far away. None of them dreamed of what that night was to bring forth.