Finding that his companions were very unwilling to resort to violence, if the boat could be regained peacefully, Chap was obliged to submit, and Mary Brown started off to treat for a surrender of The Rolling Stone.
“Mind,” she said, as she left, “if they cut up, or try to get back into their boat, I’ll scream, and then you all come.”
“Oh, we’ll come quick enough!” said Chap, clutching his club. “You needn’t be afraid of that.”
When Mary Brown went out on the river-beach, she saw only Adam and Phil, for Phœnix had gone up the shore to look for dry sticks for the fire. She walked up to our two friends, who were quite surprised to see her, not knowing that there was any habitation in the neighborhood, and after wishing them “good-evening,” she related to them the purpose of her mission.
While she was speaking, Phœnix came up, and his appearance made her quite uneasy. She had supposed there were only two persons in the boat, but if there were three, it would make the fight a great deal worse, if there should be one, and she therefore urged, with increased earnestness, that they should give up the boat peaceably, before they were set upon by the determined men in the woods.
“Give us a moment to think this over,” said Adam, when she had finished.
And the girl retired to a short distance, while our friends drew close together in anxious consultation.
“Those two rascals,” said Adam, “must have waded ashore somewhere, and come across these Indians. And now they’re a-goin’ to try to take the boat from us. They’ve had time enough to get around here, for we came up very slow.”
“Perhaps it’s all a made-up story,” said Phœnix.
“That couldn’t be,” said Phil, “for how would that girl know that we had taken the boat from anybody?”