When they had gained courage to look back they saw a policeman standing on the wharf looking at the boat. No doubt he was looking at them, and they went forward, their hearts still beating wildly when they stepped ashore on the Illinois side.
“Les go home,” said Tommy.
“Never. Everybody in St. Louis knows me, and if we’ve been reco’nized they’ll go right to the house to git us. We must not go home to-night.”
“Well, les don’t stan’ here where they can see us,” said Tommy, and they strolled down along the water-edge.
They climbed up onto an old, abandoned cart and watched the ferry-boats come and go. They watched closely for the caps and buttons of police officers among the passengers that passed out between the two big lamps on the landing.
“Like as not they’ll put on citizens’ clothes, or maybe send detectives after us, an’ you can’t tell a detective from anybody else; sometimes they dress up like storekeepers an’ sometimes like tramps.”
It was quite dark now, where the boys sat upon the old cart, and presently they saw three men coming up the river, walking slowly and talking low.
“Come on,” said Jack, grasping Tommy’s arm, and hurrying down to the very water-edge. They hid under an old, abandoned wooden pier and waited for the men to pass by, for they made no doubt that they were detectives.
“They must have seen us,” whispered Jack, “they’re comin’ out on the pier.” Now the boys tried to hold their breath, for the men were walking silently over their hiding-place, and not four feet above them.
The three men sat down upon one of the stringers that pointed out over the water.