Frank picked up the lantern, as though speedily making up his mind. “We can go ashore ourselves, fellows,” he said, “and see what’s wrong. Bluff, would you mind coming with me; and Will, bring the lantern, please.” “Don’t think I’m going to be left out,” cried Jerry, as he let his baited hook drop into the water, where the current carried it down-stream, as he wanted. And so the four chums made their way ashore. This was not hard to do, since the houseboat was warped close to the bank; and indeed, it only required a single jump to bring them to firm ground. The light of the lantern showed them a single figure, and that of an old man. He did not seem any too robust, and his face was seemingly pinched with pain, and possibly hunger. “Who are you, and what brings you here?” asked Frank, hardly knowing whether he liked the appearance of the other or not, and secretly resolved that unless it were positively necessary he would not take him aboard the boat. “My name is Luther Snow,” said the other, in a trembling voice. “I was on my way to New Orleans on a packet, when some thief stole my pocketbook, with every cent in the world I had, and my passage ticket as well. So the captain put me ashore, and I’ve had hardly a bite to eat for twenty-four hours. I must get down there soon, or lose all chance of ever seeing my daughter, who sails for Australia, and I’m in a bad fix, boys, I tell you.” Jerry made a bolt back to the boat, and Frank did not need to be told what he was going for. A man half starved, while they had plenty to eat in the larder, went against the grain of the generous boy. “Wait a minute, Jerry!” called out Frank; “we’ll build a fire ashore, and cook something for him right here;” and turning to the man he continued in a lower tone, as though he thought some sort of explanation might be necessary: “you see, we don’t happen to own this houseboat; and one of the rules set down for us by the gentleman who does, was that, under no circumstances, unless it seemed absolutely necessary to save a life, were we to keep a stranger aboard over-night. But we can make you fairly comfortable here, and give you some breakfast in the morning; perhaps chip in, and help you out some in the money line. So just sit down, while we get busy, and make the fire first.” That was as generous a proposition as could possibly be expected from any traveler along the great river highway; and the man should have felt pleased when he heard what Frank said; but the sharp eyes of the boys, watching his face, caught a plain flash of disappointment there, as though he had fully anticipated being invited to at least spend the night aboard. Frank was the last fellow to wish to think ill of anybody, and so he said nothing about what he might suspect; only he resolved to carry out the scheme he had in mind, and make the unfortunate traveler comfortable—but on shore. CHAPTER XI—A THREATENED COLLISION