“Mary Ann, you’ve got a proper good ma,” said Bill earnestly.
As they entered the house young Tom came running up the path.
“Isn’t it awful?” he cried. “They think poor old Noah was burnt with the schooner. They found his skiff floatin’ near the middle grounds.”
CHAPTER XXV
And the Day After
It was nearly mid-day when Paisley sought his skiff once more and made to cross to Bushwhackers’ Place. It had turned bitterly cold within the last couple of hours and the ice upon the surface of the creek was almost too thick to break with a paddle. Out across Rond Eau black wisps of duck were rising from the water and fluttering upward like smoke puffs, melting in a broken line into the hanging snow-clouds. Declute was standing on the opposite shore. He spoke as Paisley’s boat parted the sere rushes.
“They’ll all go to-day, Bill. By night thar won’t be a duck on the bay.”
“Been over to Mac’s?” asked Paisley. His eyes were on the low-lying hulk of the charred schooner and his shaggy brows were puckered in a scowl.
“Just come from there,” answered the other. “Seems like old Nick has been loose amongst us las’ night, it does.”
“Then you’ve heard?” Bill nodded toward the black patch on the white waves.
“It was me seen it first,” replied Declute. “I seen her burnin’ near mornin’. Man, but it was a wild sight! Red sky above her and red water all about her. Arter daylight come I gets in my boat and goes over to the hull. Injun Noah’s skiff was thar floatin’ bottom up near the middle ground.”