Tug had not spoken a word since setting out, and after reaching the street which led down to the crazy collection of houses where he lived, he travelled down that way a while, and at last turned off toward the right, following the course of the river through alleys and back yards, and over fences and gaping sloughs, until at last he stopped near an old warehouse, which had been used a great many years before in storing freight arriving by the boats when the Bend was an important town. It was entirely deserted now, and as the two men stopped in its shadow, Tug gave his companion to understand that he must be very quiet and secret.
After they had blown awhile, Tug began crawling around the building on his hands and knees, followed by his companion, occasionally raising his hand as a warning when they both stopped to listen. When Tug had reached the other end of the warehouse, he motioned Davy to come up to him; and when he did so this is what he saw:—
A light skiff tied to the bank, with the oars laid across it, and a woman seated in the stern—the woman they had seen when they followed the shadow down the river, after its appearance at Allan Dorris's window. They were certain it was the same woman, because she wore a waterproof cloak, as she did on the night when they followed the shadow down the river, and she was very small. Her back was turned toward them, and she was motionless as a statue; and realizing that as her ears were covered with the waterproof she could not hear well, the two men arose to their feet after a careful inspection, and walked back to the other end of the building.
"I intend to steal her," Tug whispered into his companion's ear, at the same time reaching down into Davy's pocket and taking out a handkerchief, which he arranged in his hand like a sling ready for use.
CHAPTER X.
TUG WHITTLE'S BOOTY.
After resting a while, and looking carefully around to make sure that they were not watched, Tug and Silas crawled cautiously back to the bank which overlooked the boat and its singular occupant, and after warning his companion to remain where he was by shaking his hand at him like a club, Tug began to climb down the bank, feeling every step as he went with the cunning stealth of a tiger. Gradually he worked his way to the water's edge; so careful was he, that even Silas, watching him with breathless interest above, could not hear his step, and at last he stood on the brink of the water. The boat was in an eddy, floating easily about, and when it came within Tug's reach, he clapped the handkerchief over the woman's mouth, tied it in a knot at the back of her head, and came clambering up the bank with her on his shoulders. Without saying a word, he started to retrace his steps, only stopping once or twice to see that his booty was not smothering, when, finding the little woman all right, he went on over the fences and sloughs, and through the alleys and yards, until he entered his own door.
"Now then, sister," he said, putting the woman on her feet, and breathing heavily from his exercise, "Tell us who you are. Davy, make a light."
Silas came lagging in about this time, and did as he was told, though he was a long time about it, for the matches were damp, and the flame slow in coming up. Everything seemed to be damp in Davy's Bend, and it was no wonder that the matches were slow and sleepy, like the other inhabitants of the town; therefore they came to life with a sputtering protest against being disturbed. While Silas was rubbing them into good humor, Tug was closely watching the little woman with his great eye, and getting his breath; and when the light was fairly burning, he went over to her side, and removed the handkerchief from her mouth.