“Say no more about that,” returned Mr. Mortimer. “Put us on dry land and I will compensate you for the loss of your boat.”
The captain gave the necessary orders to the pilot, called up his crew to man the sweeps, and in a few seconds the bow of the flatboat was turned toward the shore.
CHAPTER XIII.
IN THE SMOKE-HOUSE.
“IF ANY one on board that flatboat is crazy it is Jack Bowles. He might have known that I wouldn’t stay there long after my hands were untied. Didn’t I tell him that I would never go back to that camp and give him my money with my own hands? I am free now, and if he ever captures me again I shall deserve to be obliged to remain under his roof for the rest of my days. The cabin can’t be more than ten miles away. I can easily walk there in three hours, and it will be no trouble for me to slip into the house and obtain possession of my rifle and blankets without awakening Jake and Tom. Then I’ll catch my horse, go back to my camp on the bluffs after my money, and by daylight I’ll be twenty miles away.”
While these thoughts were passing through Julian’s mind he was striking out lustily for the shore. The flatboat was still in plain view, for the current carried both her and him down the river at an almost equal rate of speed. Julian kept close watch of her, expecting every moment to hear an uproar on her deck, telling him that his absence had been discovered. He little dreamed that his escape, which he had so easily accomplished, had been brought about by the assistance of his dreaded enemy, who was at that very moment creating a diversion in his favor; and he little thought, too, that the pursuers he feared were not coming from the flatboat, but from another quarter altogether. Had he looked up the river occasionally, instead of keeping his gaze so steadily directed across the stream, he would have discovered something.
A dug-out was coming swiftly down the river, its prow being pointed directly toward Julian. In the stern sat Tom Bowles vigorously plying a paddle, which he used with so much skill that it made not the slightest sound as it rose and fell in the water. Stretched out flat in the bow was Jake Bowles, who kept his eyes fastened on Julian’s head, now and then signaling to his brother with his hands, and showing him what course to steer. Julian discovered his enemies before he had swam a third of the distance to the shore, but then it was too late to make even an attempt to avoid them. He heard a hissing sound, made by the sharp bow of the dug-out as it cleft the water, and turned quickly, only to find himself in the grasp of Jake Bowles, who seized his collar with both hands and held fast to it.
“I reckon ye thought ye was gone, didn’t ye?” he cried, in a triumphant tone; “but ye hain’t, be ye? Yer ketched agin, an’ this time ye’ll stay ketched, I bet ye. Balance the boat, Tom, an’ I’ll haul him in.”