"Isn't it time for you to go to The Locks?" he asked.
"Sure enough," Tug said. "I am going up there this morning. I'll go now."
Without further words, he picked up his gun, and started out, going over the hills to avoid the frequented streets. He had made up his mind to make a full breast of the story, so he walked along leisurely, thinking that he had a genuine surprise in store for his friend.
Arriving at The Locks' gate, he blew the whistle, which was always looking out into Dorris' room like an eye, and waited for an answer. It came soon after; the cheerful voice of Annie Dorris, inquiring what was wanted.
"It's me,—Tug," he answered, "I want to see Dr. Dorris."
"He left an hour ago, to go over into the bottoms," was the reply. "Anything urgent?"
"Oh, no," the man replied, as he swallowed a great lump which came up into his throat. "Nothing urgent; I only wanted him to pull a tooth."
With long strides at first, Tug started for the river, but after he was out of sight from The Locks, he ran like a man pursued, and arriving at the place where the ferry was tied up, making steam for the day's work, he seized the first boat within his reach, and pushed off into the stream. The owner of it called to him to come back, as he wanted the boat himself; but Tug paid no attention, except to row the harder, and soon disappeared under the trees.