“Where shall we go?” he asked. “I’m all right again.”
“To the river,” answered Watson. He pointed eagerly to the right of the pines, where they could see, in the darkening light of the afternoon, a swollen stream rushing madly past. It might originally have been a small river, but now, owing to the spring rains and freshets, it looked turbulent and dangerous. It was difficult to cross, yet for that very reason it would make a barrier between pursued and pursuers. Should the former try the experiment?
“Can you swim?” asked Watson.
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll risk it. After all, the water’s safer for us than the land.”
Out through the pines they ran until they were at the water’s edge. The sight was not encouraging. The river foamed like an angry ocean, and a strong current was sweeping down to the northward.
The soldier looked at the boy in kindly anxiety. “The water is a little treacherous, George,” he said. “Do you think you’re strong enough to venture across?”
“Of course I am!” answered George, proudly. He felt more like himself now; he even betrayed a mild indignation at the doubts of his friend.
“Well,” began Watson, “we had—but listen! By Jove, those rascals have discovered us! They’re making this way!”
It was true; the barking of the dog and the sound of many voices came nearer and nearer. Waggie began to growl fiercely, quite as if he were large enough to try a bout with a whole Confederate regiment.