Then he pulled the tender alongside, and I stepped on board the
"Hoppergrass."
"Now, I know why you were running," said he,—"anyone would run to get away from Snider. Has he been advising you to be good?"
"He's been trying to—I don't know what. Kill me, I guess. Do you know him?"
"Don't we!" they both exclaimed together.
And then the one at the wheel said: "Has he g-got his g-gold machine here?"
"Yes," I said, "he and another man. They're a couple of crooks, and they're cheating people out of stacks of money. How did you know him?"
"Oh, he's b-been at the house. But after the first t-time we always s-skun out, over the back f-fence when we heard he was coming. Mr. Chick brought him,—to talk b-business with F- Father."
The "Hoppergrass," still sailing slowly, had drawn near the point of land at the entrance of the little bay. Mr. Snider, who had walked a few steps along the shore, stood near this point,— watching us. We passed so near him that I could easily have hit him with a base-ball, if I had had one, and felt so inclined. It was curious to be so near a man who, five minutes earlier, had been chasing me with a club. He was still clasping and unclasping his hands nervously, but he said nothing, and neither did we. After about half a minute he turned, and hurried through the trees in the direction of the house.
"I think I'll get some dry clothes," said I, starting toward the cabin. Then I stopped,—it occurred to me that there were some questions to be asked. Up to this moment I had been so glad to get away from Mr. Snider, and to find the boat again, that I had thought of nothing else.
"Say—look here—you know,—how do you happen to be on this boat, anyhow? Where's Captain Bannister?"