“Good!” Joe exclaimed. “We’ll do it. Run back into the woods and get the grub. I’ll go straight to the landing.”
It was not steamboat day, and nobody was about the landing when he got there after fifteen minutes of tearing through tangled woods. He found the canoe, a home-made, ownerless craft that had been public property for years, and untied it. Ten minutes later Sam appeared with the packages of food, and they went skimming down the river.
There were several paddles in the boat and a strong current running, and they made good speed. The wooded shores rolled past. There was no chance of overtaking the houseboat for miles or hours, however, and as Joe paddled the manifold risks of the chase began to present themselves sharply. There would be trouble when he did overtake the enemy; there might be shots fired. Sam was courageous and loyal, but he had no weapon but his iron bar. More force was needed for the pursuit, and Joe began to think of his cousins at the plantation. Before he reached Magnolia Landing his mind was made up.
“We’ll stop here at Magnolia, Sam,” he said, steering in. “You wait for me. I won’t be long.”
Nobody was about Magnolia any more than at Marshall’s, and Joe hurried up the road toward his uncle’s place. Partly running, partly walking, he covered the distance in half an hour, and, entering the gate, he reconnoitered cautiously. He was not anxious to be seen. He did not want to have to make any explanations just then; but by great luck he espied Bob Harman lounging on the front veranda with a book. It was the very person he wished to see, and Joe managed to attract his attention and signaled to him to come down to the gate, where he waited behind a big chinaberry-tree.
Bob came out, astonished and expectant, full of greetings which his cousin cut short. In a few seconds Joe informed him of the essential features of the situation.
“I’m going after them,” he said. “I’m going to run them down and find out what they’ve done with that stuff—get it back too. If you feel like it, get your rifle and come along.”
“You bet I will!” exclaimed Bob enthusiastically. “And how about Carl?”
Joe hesitated. “This may be a serious affair,” he said, “and I reckon one of you-all is enough to get into it. Don’t say anything to anybody. Pick up all the grub you can lay your hands on. We may be out a couple of days, but I don’t think so. If Aunt Katie asks about it, tell her I’ve called you to go hunting in a hurry, and I’ll see her when we get back. Be quick, now.”
Bob was quick. In fifteen minutes he was back, with a big newspaper parcel of provisions, his rifle under his arm, and his pockets heavy with cartridges. The two boys hurried down the road, caught a fortunate lift from a farmer’s mule wagon, and arrived at the landing, where Sam grinned joyfully at this reinforcement. He had met the Harmans when they visited the turpentine camp, and he was prepared to extend his allegiance to them also, as members of the Marshall family.