“Tom! Tom! this way!” called Will, cautiously.
But his companion in peril either did not hear him or had determined to follow his own course. He struck out deliberately to cross the river, swam vigorously forward, and, reaching the opposite shore, cast a quick look in the direction of the burning mill, and then disappeared in the darkness outside the radius of its light.
“He’s probably afraid the captain will catch him,” theorized Will. “At all events, he’s safe.”
Will shook the water from his clothes and made a wide detour of the burning.
As he looked back he saw quite a crowd gathered around the building, but determined to evade them, and made his way homeward, walking briskly to restore the circulation to his chilled frame.
He found the lamp turned down when he reached home, and was glad to know that his father and mother had retired for the night.
“There’s no use worrying them about what’s happened to-night,” he soliloquized, and he made up a good fire in the kitchen and spread out his soaked garments to dry.
“Is that you, Will?” Mrs. Bertram called from her chamber.
“Yes, mother.”
“Where have you been?”