“Row, Pete, row; and let’s try and forget our hunger in the knowledge that we are so far free.”
“Right, zir; we will. But what about that treacherous hound? Think he’s got a boat?”
“Sure to have,” replied Nic.
“Then he’ll come after as zoon as he can get help; and if he do—Well, I should be sorry to hurt him, on account of them as was kind to us; but if he does ketch it, mind, Master Nic, it’s his fault and not mine.”
There was no more talking, for both felt morose and weak, their growing sense of hunger making them more and more silent and disinclined to speak.
Still, fortune favoured them to a certain extent, for there had been rain somewhere inland, and the stream ran as if it were in flood higher up, so that their rate of progress was swift.
As the hours went on and there was no sign of pursuit—no enemies who had made a short cut to the river-bank waiting to fire at them from among the trees—the fugitives grew more and more confident; and when at last they reached another swamp, the alligators appeared to be less monstrous and the gloomy place lost half its forbidding aspect.
At last, after endless difficulties, and nearly starved, the tidal part of the river was reached, and, to the delight of both, they found that they had hit exactly the right moment, for the tide was at its height, and stood as if waiting to bear them onward towards the sea.
Excitement had kept off all thought of food; but when, after a long journey, they approached the straggling town at nightfall and saw the twinkling lights, an intense desire seized upon both to land as soon as possible and satisfy their needs.
“You see, we lost everything, Master Nic, in that struggle. What you looking at, zir?”