“Yes, he can,” cried Bob, blubbering now aloud. “He means it, and he’ll half-kill us. Let’s get out to this side and run.”
“Pull! I tell you, pull!” cried Dexter furiously; and Bob pulled obediently, sending the boat along fast round the curves and bends, but not so fast but that they heard a furious rustling of the osiers and reeds, and saw the figure of the man above them on the bank.
“There, I told you so,” whimpered Bob. “Let’s get out t’other side.”
“Row, I tell you!” roared Dexter; and to his surprise the man did not stop, but hurried on toward the mouth of the creek.
“There!” cried Bob. “He’s gone for his boat, and he’ll stop us, and he’ll drown’d us both.”
“He daren’t,” said Dexter stoutly, though he felt a peculiar sinking all the time.
“But he will, he will. It’s no use to row.”
Dexter felt desperate now, for theirs was an awkward position; and to his horror he saw that Bob was ceasing to row, and looking up at the bank on his left.
“You go on rowing,” cried Dexter fiercely.
“I shan’t,” whimpered Bob; “it’s of no use. I shan’t row no more.”