“I’m not going that far. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, though,” said the stranger—“you pole me down to Swan Cove——”
“That’s about fifteen miles.”
“Yes. You take me that far, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“It’s a bargain, and I’m delighted!” exclaimed Andy with spirit.
“All right,” said the man; “get to work.”
He never got up from his seat while Andy cast free the shore hawser. When everything was ready he stepped aboard rather clumsily. Andy thought it very strange that the man never offered to help him the least bit. His passenger seated himself in the stern of the barge, the cloak still closely enveloping his form, his hands never coming into sight.
It was welcome work for Andy, propelling the boat. It took his mind off his troubles, and every push of the pole and the current took him away from the people who had injured his good reputation and were bent on robbing him of his liberty.
The grim, silent man at the stern of the craft was a puzzle to Andy. He never spoke nor stirred. Our hero wondered why he kept so closely covered up and in what line of transportation he used the barge.
They had proceeded about two miles with smooth sailing when there was a sudden bump. The boat had struck a snag.
“Gracious!” ejaculated Andy, sent sprawling flat on the deck.