Turning the glass to the brig Chris hunted for the name as the prow swung about. Through the glass the letters, gold on the black-painted side, leapt at his eye across the distance. Venture, Chris read, and with a beating heart he saw his adversary's ship for the first time.
CHAPTER 16
ome along, Amos! We must get a closer look at that ship!" Chris cried, putting his glass away. Scrambling down, the two boys ran along the stream until it was shallow enough to cross. The water was icy, telling, as well as the turning leaves and cooler air, that fall had come and winter was on the way.
Hurrying forward, Chris and Amos reached the mouth of the stream where it joined the river. There on the left bank of Rock Creek, high rushes grew in rank profusion on the marshy land. They rose higher than the heads of the two boys and were too closely packed to allow for easy passage.
"We'll have to skirt the very edge," Chris said glancing about. "Barefoot would be the best. This soft ground would soon go over our shoes and maybe suck them down."
"Keep right against the rushes," Chris warned Amos, "and if a boat shows up coming from the wharves, we can't take any chances. We'll have to dive into the rushes and hide, just in case it's Claggett Chew."
