"There may be some fellows in here a little later in another airplane," he told the riverman. "They're apt to inquire about Crazy John. Do you suppose you could forget all about him?" "After what you did for us when we had the flood I could forget a whole lot," smiled the owner of the boats. "Sladek and his men won't be here for a couple more hours," chuckled Ralph. "What I didn't do to their motors last night doesn't amount to much. I had a hard time to keep from laughing this morning. Poor old Carl at the airport was the goat. They accused him of failing to keep a proper watch over their plane. We'll have to square it with him some way." Tim obtained detailed instructions from the boatman on the way to Crazy John's island. "Don't try to sneak up," was the riverman's final word of caution, "or he'll get you sure. Just keep off shore in plain sight and do some lusty hollerin'." Tim thanked him for the final words of advice, said goodbye to Ralph and started to shove off when his friend stopped him. "Got a gun?" he asked. Tim shook his head. "I won't need one. I don't think Crazy John is as bad as he's pictured and I'm sure I won't have any trouble with Ford." "But there's Sladek and his bodyguards. If you run into them, you might get in a jam. Better take this." Ralph handed Tim a heavy, snub-nosed automatic. "It's loaded and here's two extra clips. Take care of yourself." "See you in a day or two," said Tim as he shoved away from the landing stage. Turning on the ignition he gave the starter rope on the outboard a jerk. The motor responded with a steady putt-putt-putt and Tim started the journey down stream to the island abode of Crazy John. Ralph watched the boat until it was lost from view behind a curve in the broad river. Then he turned and went back to the village, had breakfast, obtained gasoline, and walked back to the Jupiter where he replenished the fuel and sat down in the shade. He was going to have lots of nothing to do until Tim returned. On the Cedar, Tim's small craft surged steadily down-river. There was no regular navigation on the stream and the channel swung from one side to another. Black snags stuck their dangerous heads above the surface of the water and occasionally a broad sand bar ran almost across the stream. Finding the channel was no easy task and Tim realized that it might be at least two days under the best of circumstances before he returned to the village. The Cedar turned and twisted, first on one side of the heavily wooded valley and then on another. Bayous opened off on long, quiet stretches of back water and once in a while he could see the mouth of some tributary sneaking in around a bluff. There was no sign of human habitation and he felt immensely lonely. He might have been the first white man down the stream and he would not have been surprised to have rounded a curve and sighted an Indian village on the next strip of sand.