“I dunno. They lays up in all the bayous. Folks says Blue Bob mainly hangs out around the River Island, though.”
Joe asked no more questions, but bade the man farewell, and turned the canoe slowly into the stream again. Blue Bob, the notorious river pirate! That put a different complexion on the whole affair, and he no longer wondered at the theft of the rosin since that energetic and reckless gang had been at work. Glancing back at Sam, he saw that the negro boy looked considerably perturbed.
“What you goin’ to do now, Mr. Joe?” Sam inquired uneasily, holding his paddle suspended.
“Why, go ahead,” Joe responded, with somewhat more confidence than he felt.
“I don’t want to fool with no Blue Bob,” Sam protested. “He’s a shore ’nough bad man, an’ he’s allus got a mighty tough gang with him. Dey’ve all got guns, an’ dey’ll shore use ’em. What’ll we do s’posin’ we cotch ’em? Reckon we goin’ be like de man what cotched a rattlesnake by de tail!”
“What do you say, Bob?” Joe demanded. “Are you afraid of your namesake? No use talking, he’s a rough customer, just as they say.”
“No, I’m not afraid of any Bob,” said Harman. “Anyway, we don’t have to fight them, do we? What we want to do is to scout around, and find where they’ve hidden their plunder. Then we might go and get a regular posse to help us. But we surely aren’t going to turn back now, are we?”
“Of course not,” said Joe. “Sam, if you’re scared we’ll put you ashore, and you can walk home.”
“No-suh, I reckon I’m ’bleeged to go on now,” said Sam with resignation. “Only I ain’t got no gun, an’ when white folks gits a-shootin’ it’s allus de nigger what gits shot.”
“There won’t be any shooting, Sam. We won’t let them see us at all. Paddle ahead now, boys, and we’ll all make our fortunes.”