With this whispered menace, he reached up one hand and ducked Morris's head quite under water. That stopped all further sound from him. And by this time their feet had touched bottom. They waded ashore, with Towser wagging a triumphant tail, shaking himself and sending showers of spray over them. There they stood, wet as water-rats, with nothing in the world except the dripping clothes they wore. And there was no hiding-place near. For half a mile on either side of them a cleared field lay open to the day and the day was upon them. They had tempted Fate by rowing on too long after the first signs of dawn. Fate had turned the trump upon them. The sun rolled up above the eastern horizon at their back. It showed them, not half a mile away, a plantation house. It showed them a swarm of field-hands coming to the day's toil. It showed them a mounted overseer, only a few hundred feet away, riding up to the flat range of the field from a ravine that had hidden him. He had heard Morris's yells. He saw the three and rode furiously at them, calling out:
"What are you niggers doin' here?"
Tom stepped forward to meet him. His two companions were useless in an emergency like this. They cowered back and were dumb. Towser strode ahead beside Tom and barked. The overseer pulled up short. He saw he was dealing with a white man, or rather with a white boy. The circumstances were suspicious. Who were these three dripping ragamuffins? But since one of them was white, the man's tone changed and he modified his question.
"Who are ye? And what are ye doin' here?"
"I am on my way to Vicksburg," Tom answered, "by the river. My boat sunk just off shore here and we swam ashore. Can you give me another boat?"
"I mout 'n I moutn't."
"I am carrying dispatches," said Tom, sternly. "You will delay me at your peril. I shall take one of those boats, whether you consent or not."
With this he pointed at the most encouraging thing the sunrise had shown him. This was a line of three boats fastened to a wooden landing-place by the river.
"I b'lieve you're a Yankee," said the horseman, "and these are runaway niggers. You and they must come up to the big house with me. If you're all right, we'll send you on your way. If you're not, well, we know what to do with Yanks and runaway niggers! March!"