“Then my advice is, that we find and search that house-boat at once,” said the constable. “Mr. Don, you would make a first-rate detective.”
The general went into the house to make out a search-warrant, and the boys hurried back to the jetty to put the sail-boat in readiness for her trip down the river. As the mast had been stepped that morning, the bowsprit put in, the sails bent on and the running rigging rove, all they had to do was to loosen the canvas and select those who were to pull the oars.
“There’s a splendid breeze on,” said Don, who had never been able to make up his mind which he liked best—sailing, horse-back riding, or shooting. “It blows right down the river, too. We can’t sail out because the pass is so narrow; but when we get out into the Mississippi, will go flying. Now, then, why doesn’t father come?”
The general was making out a warrant empowering the constable to search the house-boat when they found it, and then he lingered to unsaddle the horses which he had brought out for his own use and Godfrey’s. When these duties had been performed, he and Godfrey and the constable came down to the jetty and took their seats in the sail-boat, which was promptly pushed off and headed up the pass. Half an hour sufficed for the oarsmen to bring her to the levee, over which she was hauled without the least trouble. Then came another short stretch through which she was propelled by the oars; and as soon as she was fairly out of the pass and began to feel the force of the wind and the current, the oars were drawn in, Don seated himself at the helm, Bert, with Fred and Joe Packard’s assistance, hoisted the sails, the sheets were let out and the pursuit was begun.
“Keep as close in to shore as you can, Don,” said Bert. “It’s pretty dark, and we may pass her before we know it.”
“You don’t expect to see that house-boat where you found her this morning, do you?” said Don. “It’s eleven o’clock, isn’t it? Well, she is twenty miles down the river by this time. Keep a bright look-out for lights, everybody. We don’t want to let some steamboat run us down before we know it.”
Although he knew he was wasting time in doing it, Don kept the boat as close to the bank as he could with safety, but nothing was to be seen of the piratical craft of which they were in search. When Bert announced that they had passed the place where she had been moored in the morning, Don drew in the sheets a little, and held the boat’s head diagonally across the river in order to strike the stronger current of the channel. Then the sail-boat began to show the speed of which she was capable; and then, too, the general enjoined silence upon all her occupants.
“The night is comparatively quiet,” said he, “and the rattling of an oar, or a word spoken in a loud tone of voice, can be heard a long distance. We have one advantage over the crew of that flat-boat: we can get out of the way of a steamboat and they can’t; so they will have to carry lights for their protection.”
Under Don’s skillful management the little boat flew swiftly along, keeping in the channel when her course was clear, and making all haste to get out of it as often as the vigilant look-out announced that there were lights ahead. Two hours passed, and nothing had been seen of the flat-boat.
“I reckon we’ve missed her,” said the constable. “She has tied up to the bank somewhere, and we have run by her in the dark.”