We were pretty relieved, I tell you. After that we were sure the men wouldn’t bother us any more that night, so we went to bed again. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep, and I guess the others did, too. Anyhow, I didn’t know another thing till Sammy shook me next morning. It wasn’t light yet, but Mark was up and ready.
“They said they’d be lookin’ for us this m-m-mornin’,” he said, “so we better be stirrin’. It’s half past three now.”
The first thing to do was to haul out the boat and see how badly smashed it was, and to do that we had to take the turbine out on shore. Mark and I got big clubs and stood right by Sammy while Sammy worked. He killed one rattler with eight rattles on his tail the first thing, and between us we got three more before Sammy had the boat up and turned over. One plank was split and sprung out so that there was a big gap for the water to run through. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it might have been, and Sammy wasn’t any time fixing it up with the little ax. It wasn’t as good as new, by any means, but the water couldn’t leak in very fast. Mark figured he and I could bail while Sammy rowed, and so keep the thing afloat.
Mark was too anxious to get home with the turbine to bother about breakfast, so we started off, rowing and bailing, and didn’t have any trouble to speak of. It was a fine bright morning, with the sun coming down so clean and shiny and light that it looked as if it was something being poured all over everything—something you could touch. I’ve seen lots of spring mornings like that, when the sunlight didn’t seem like sunlight at all, but as if it were a kind of dew that made every leaf and stone and the water, and even animals and folks, sort of glow. Mark was a great fellow for noticing things like that, even when he had worries on his mind, and he kept talking about it all the way down the river.
Along toward the last the boat commenced to leak pretty bad again. I guess it was the weight of the turbine pressing down on the weak board, so Mark decided to stop at the cave and hide the engine there while somebody went into town for a wagon to haul it in. It was a pretty hard pull getting it up on the hill and into the cave, but we managed it, and Mark and I were able to help with a rope that we had there. He and I went first with the rope and held the engine from slipping back when Sammy had to put it down to rest. We were pretty tired when the turbine was safe inside the cave, so we lay down and took a little rest.
“Sammy,” says Mark, “you stay here and guard the turbine while Tallow and I go to town for help. Don’t let anybody git it away from you.”
“Sammy watch. Nobody get machine.” He got a big club and whirled it around his head so it whistled. “Nobody take it away from Sammy, eh? Sammy guess not.”
Mark guessed not, too. He and Sammy and I walked to the road together, and Mark and I were just for starting off toward town when we saw a couple of men coming in a buggy. At first I thought it was Batten and Bill, but it wasn’t, and my heart went back where it belonged. We turned to Sammy to say good-by, but a more frightened fellow there never was. His eyes bulged, and his knees sagged, and he was muttering and shaking his head and pointing.
“After Sammy,” he chattered. “Take him back to poor-farm. Make Sammy dig in fields. Make him sleep in house.” Then all of a sudden the idea of running popped into his head, and without so much as an “Aye,” “Yes,” or “No” to Mark he turned and scooted down the hill and out of sight.
Sure enough, when we took a good look at the men one of them was Mr. Grey, superintendent of the poor-farm; but it turned out they weren’t looking for anybody, but just driving home from the next town, where Mr. Grey had been on business.