While General Gordon and the constable were gathering up the mail and putting it into the bag, they had much to talk about. They had secured the robbers, and the next thing was to get them back to Rochdale. They had about decided that they would tie the house-boat to the bank and take the prisoners up the river in the sail-boat, when Curtis came in to say that there were lights below them; whereupon the general picked up Barlow’s horn and went out to answer the steamer’s signals. This having been done, he waited for her to come abreast of the flat-boat. She proved to be a large stem-wheeler with a tow of empty coal barges.
“Steamer, ahoy!” shouted the general.
“Hallo!” responded a man who was standing on the hurricane-deck near the bell.
“What steamer is that?”
“The ‘B No. 2’ of Pittsburg.”
“Is that you, Captain Pratt?”
“Yes; but that can’t be you, Gordon.”
The general replied that it was he; and upon receiving this reply the captain raised his hand, the pilot rang the stopping-bell, and the steamer’s wheel hung motionless in the water.
“Why, Gordon, what in the world are you doing here at this hour in the morning?” demanded the captain.
“Can’t stop to explain now,” answered the general.“ Will you give us a lift as far as Rochdale?”