ven he been in his coffin,"
remarked Hans.

"All of which doesn't answer the question, What are we going to do?"
said Sam.

"I wonder if I can charter a small tug or steamboat to go down the
river after the houseboat," came from Dick.

"There isn't much to be had in the town," answered Fred Garrison.
"Still, we can try."

The Rovers with their friends returned to Shapette. Here they ran
into the chief of police, who also acted as a sort of detective.

"Boat stolen! Is it possible!" burst out that official. "Never heard
of such a thing befo', sah, never! I am sorry, sah, exceedingly sorry,
sah! Have you any idea who is guilty, sah?"

"I have," answered Dick, and told what he knew.

"A bad man, sah, that Gasper Pold--ought to have been arrested long
ago, sah, yes, sah. But nobody would make a complaint--all afraid of
a shooting--very quick man to draw a pistol, yes, sah."

"That's interesting," said Tom. "He'll be a fine man to confront, if
we catch up to him."

The chief of police said he would do anything he could, but in the
end refused to leave Shapette, and so did nothing. The Rovers soon
learned that all he was good for was to talk, and they left him in
disgust.

"We must take this trail up ourselves," said Sam. "And the quicker
the better."

They walked down to the river front, and after a number of inquiries
found out that to charter a tug or small steamboat was just then out
of the question, for no craft of that sort was near. But they learned
that a young man of the vicinity named Harold Bird, who was the owner
of several valuable plantations in that district, owned a new gasoline
launch of good size which was housed at a place a mile away.

"I am going to see Harold Bird," said Dick. "Perhaps he'll lend us
his launch."

They found out where the young man lived and visited the plantation
in a carriage. It was a beautiful place, with an old family mansion
surrounded by grounds laid out with exquisite taste.

"Evidently these folks have money," observed Tom.

"Oh, some of these planters are immensely wealthy," answered Sam.

As they drove into the grounds they saw a young man playing with a
bird dog on the lawn. He smiled at them pleasantly.

"Is this Mr. Harold Bird?" asked Dick.

"Yes," was the reply. "What can I do for you?"

"Let me introduce myself, Mr. Bird. I am Dick Rover, and these are
my brothers. Sam and Tom. These are my friends, Fred Garrison and
John Powell."

"Is it poss