“Looks like he’s afraid of something,” said Pod.

“Sure; this is the haunted sloop you’ve read about,” Fleet responded.

“If you can make a sloop out of a catboat, you’re a dandy, Fleet Kenby,” said Pod. “Don’t you know that a sloop has a bowsprit and a jib?”

Fleet was silent. He saw that his anxiety to bring in the “haunts,” had led him into making a nautical error, so he subsided.

As the canoes approached the catboat, the lad at the tiller held his hand to his lips for silence, then pointed significantly toward the cabin.

“It may be a catboat, but it’s haunted all right,” said Fleet. “Don’t you think we’d better clear out of this?”

“I don’t see as this is half as scary as that hut I was shut up in on the east side of the river the night Kenton Karnes and his gang played kidnappers,” said Pod.

“Well, let’s see what this boy wants,” said Chot. “He is evidently in great fear from someone in that cabin.”

“Someone?” said Fleet. “You mean something!”

“I mean what I said.”

“Push up alongside, fellows,” said Tom, “and keep quiet unless the boy talks. He’s trying to impress us to be silent.”

The lad was still holding the nose of the boat to the wind, and the sail still flapped in the breeze.

The boys paddled up alongside, worked their way around to the stern, where again the lad held a finger to his lips. On the stern of the catboat were the words: “Nellie B. of Troy.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Chot in a low tone.

“Sh! Easy there,” was the lad’s reply. “Captain’s drunk. Can you fellows take me off this blooming boat?”

“Why do you want to leave?”

“Because I don’t belong here. He kidnapped me—shanghaied me, I guess you’d call it.”

“He did?”

“Yes; my name is Ted Lanham. I live at Greenbush. He got me while I was in swimming. He’s awful, fellows,” and to prove the truth of his assertion, he pulled up his sleeve, showing several large black and blue spots on each of his arms.

“Why, that’s a dirty shame!” cried Fleet “And you say this captain is in that cabin?”

“Sh! Yes; he’s in there, but he’s about half shot.”

“Well, we’ll get him for this!” said Fleet, whose sympathies had gone out to the unfortunate lad.

“You can’t do it; he’s six-foot tall and weighs over two hundred.”

“Don’t care if he weighs a million. There’s enough of us to take care of him.”

“I have a better plan,” said Chot. “You say you live at Greenbush?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we’re headed in that direction. Your canoe will hold two, Fleet. Suppose we just take Ted off and leave the catboat to drift where she pleases.”

Fleet did not like this idea. Of course, he wanted to take Ted in his canoe and carry him home; he had intended doing just that. But first, seeing the lad had been mistreated, he wanted to mete out some sort of punishment to the captain.

The plans of the boys were taken out of their hands in a most sudden manner. There was a bellow as if from a mad bull, and the next moment their startled gaze was focused upon the burly figure of a man in the cabin doorway. As the boy had said, he was a big man, and just now his eyes were inflamed, his hair tousled and his face as red as a beet, which made him look more ferocious than ever.

“What does this mean?” he roared. “Who stopped my boat?”

“I did,” said Ted Lanham, a defiant note in his voice. Now that he had the Comrades and Pod to back him up, his courage began to return.

“Oh, ye did, did ye?” cried the captain. “You stopped my boat, did ye? Well, I’ll learn ye how to interfere with my plans—I’ll learn ye!”

“He’s never been to school,” piped Pod. “He said, I’ll learn ye’,” at which there was a laugh from the other boys.

Ted Lanham left the tiller and ran around the cabin, as the big captain staggered toward him.

“Did you kidnap that boy?” asked Chot.

“Well, what if I did?” was the leering reply. “Who are you, that you interfere in my business?”

“The boy’s business is our business, and we’ll make your business our business until we get that boy out of your clutches.”

“So ye’re goin’ to try an’ take the boy, are ye? Well, just come ahead. I’m good for th’ whole pack an’ parcel of ye.”

“Oh, you are?” cried Chot, his eyes blazing with anger. A peculiar smile played about his lips, which Tom and Fleet had grown to recognize as denoting great emotion. And now, as Chot sprang on to the deck of the catboat, yelling for Tom and Fleet to follow, the boys knew there would be “something doing.”

“Do you want me?” asked Pod.

“No; you stay and watch the canoes. And you, Ted, climb over the stern into Fleet’s canoe—that big one over there on the end.”

By this time Tom and Fleet had followed Chot on to the deck of the catboat, and with a bellow of rage the big captain rushed toward them.

“Into the water with him!” cried Chot, “and keep out of the way of his fists. If he thinks he can beat the Experience Club, he’s badly fooled.”

“That he is,” said Fleet.

Then the boys scattered so that, turn as he might, there was always a boy behind the captain. He realized that he was in a tight corner, but in his half-drunken rage he was blind to his best interests, so he rushed at Chot, who seemed to him to be the aggressor in the fight.

Chot easily evaded the rush, stepped lightly to one side, put out his foot, and the captain stumbled over it and sprawled his length on the deck. He arose, cursing, and rushed again. This time Tom was in his way. Tom, too, sidestepped and when the captain was even with him, gave him a blow in the stomach that doubled him up and sent him reeling on to the roof of the little cabin.

“My turn now!” cried Fleet, and before the captain could recover from Tom’s blow, or realize what was about to happen, the fleshy lad had lifted him almost bodily, shoved him to the edge of the boat and toppled him into the river. At this there were shouts of delight from Pod and Ted.

The captain came up, puffing, and shaking the water out of his eyes after the fashion of an expert swimmer. The water had somewhat cooled his ambition for a fight, and he looked rather meek as he swam toward the side of the boat and started to scramble up. Here he met with a surprise, however. The Comrades blocked his way, and the moment he put a hand on the rail, it was loosened by one of the boys and the captain shoved back into the water.

“You’re not goin’ to let me drown, are ye?” he demanded.

“Oh, no—not yet, at least, but before you are allowed aboard the boat, we want to hear you say that you kidnapped Ted Lanham, and that you now relinquish all claim to his services,” said Chot.

“I don’t know what his name is, but I picked him up. I had to have someone to work my boat.”

“While you could drink and sleep, eh?” demanded Tom. “A fine specimen of humanity, you are.”

“Oh, let up, won’t ye? I know when I’ve had enough. It was three against one, an’ no man can fight such odds.”

“Glad you realize it,” said Fleet. “Do you relinquish all claim to his services?”

“See nothin’ else to do,” he sputtered, “lemme aboard. You go your way an’ I’ll go mine. But if I ever meet ye again, look out!”

“You’ll never meet us again,” said Chot.

“Not if we see you first, anyway,” said Fleet.

They allowed him to scramble on deck, watching him warily, however, fearing treachery. But the captain was evidently sincere when he said that the odds were too great, and when the boys scrambled over the stern into their canoes, he was unlashing the tiller. Then the catboat swung around so that wind caught her sail, and moved off down the river. The captain sat in the stern, gazing stolidly ahead. Not once did he turn to look at the boys in the canoes, or even signify that he knew they were there. The matter was evidently a forgotten incident with him.

“Well, he’s a cool one all right,” said Fleet

“Too cool for me,” said Ted Lanham, who was now sitting comfortably in the bow of Fleet’s canoe, while Fleet had moved his cushions toward the stern to balance the craft.

“Do your folks live at Greenbush, Ted?” asked Chot, as the canoes moved off up the river.

“My mother,” said the boy. “Guess she’s wondering where I am.”

“When did the kidnapping occur?”

“About three hours ago. I take a swim in the river every morning, and when the catboat came toward me, I thought the captain wanted to ask me some questions. So I got my clothes and climbed on board, at his request. Then he shut me in the cabin until he got out of sight of the village, when he took me out and licked me, and told me I belonged to him.”

“What nerve!” cried Tom. “Sorry we didn’t duck him again for that.”

“May have a chance yet,” said Fleet.

“I hope we’ve seen the last of him,” said Chot.

“I’ll be careful when I go swimmin’ after this,” said Ted. “Guess I was a little too far from shore.”

“Well you had no means of knowing that he was going to kidnap you. Kidnapping is an unusual occurrence on the old Hudson,” said Tom.

The canoes were moving rapidly up stream now, and during the afternoon Ted’s home was sighted. Greenbush was a pretty village on the east bank of the river, and the Comrades stayed over long enough to partake of the hospitality of Ted’s mother. Mrs. Lanham received them warmly, after Ted had told of his experience, and thanked them for their efforts on behalf of her son.

She fixed a fine dinner for them, greatly to Fleet’s delight. During the meal one of the boys happened to mention Winton, at which Mrs. Lanham became immediately interested.

“I hope to have money enough to send Ted to Winton next year,” said she.

“We’re all from Winton, and we’d like nothing better than to have Ted there in the fall,” said Chot.

“Well, if that’s where you fellows belong, it won’t be my fault if I’m not there,” said Ted.

It was nearly two o’clock when they took leave of Ted and his mother, and pushed off into the river again. They liked Ted and resolved to make his stay at Winton a pleasant one should he be so fortunate as to enter the academy at the beginning of the fall term.

It was but a short distance from Greenbush to Albany, and toward evening the young canoeists found themselves in the river off that city, with the great dome of the capital building shining against the western sky.