il the captain snapped open his old-fashioned silver watch.

"One o'clock," he exclaimed in surprise.

Charley and Walter looked at each other apprehensively. "What can be
keeping Chris?" Walter cried.

"Maybe he is having good luck and hates to quit," suggested Charley.
"Let's give him a while longer."

But two o'clock came and no Chris appeared.

"Get your guns, boys," commanded the captain. "We must go hunt him.
Something's the matter."

CHAPTER VI.

SOME SURPRISES.

Loosening their pistols in their holsters, and grabbing up their guns,
the little party struck out in the direction in which Chris had
disappeared.

They were proceeding almost at a run when Charley checked their
headlong speed.

"Let's go slow," he panted, "it may be that the convicts have got him
and we may be running right into an ambush."

He but voiced the fear in the minds of the others, and they slackened
their advance to a slow walk, keeping a cautious eye on every bush or
tree large enough to conceal an enemy.

Trampled marsh grass and broken twigs gave them an easy trail to
follow, and in a few minutes they were in sight of the river bank.
Charley, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped short with an
exclamation of relief and disgust.

"Just look at that," he said.

On a little grassy knoll close to the water was Chris flat on his back,
his mouth open, fast asleep. A half dozen fine bass lay on the grass
beside him, the end of his fishing line was tied to one ebony leg, and
a coil of slack line lay upon the turf.

"Let's give him a scare for causing us so much worry," Walter suggested.

"Wait a minute," cautioned the captain, "he's gettin' a bite, let's see
what he will do."

The little party drew in behind some bushes, where they could peep out
at the slumbering little darky.

The slack was running out rapidly, and at last the line tauted with a
jerk on the sleeper's leg.

Chris sat up with a start, rubbed his eyes and looked at the sun, then
at the pile of fish beside him. The continued jerking of the line at
his leg seemed to bring him out of his drowsiness. With a broad grin
he began pulling in the line, hand over hand.

The three watchers stood peeping eagerly through the bushes, expecting
to see another fine bass appear.

As the hooked victim was drawn in close to the knoll, Chris gave a
hearty yank and landed it on the grass beside him.

But the result was not what the watchers expected. With a ho