Jack gave her name, adding the information that he had been sent there for cotton, and there wasn’t enough in sight to load a skiff.
“Oh, we’ve got plenty more back there in the woods,” was the answer.
“But I don’t want it back there in the woods,” shouted Jack, from his perch on the roof. “I want it on the levee where I can get at it.”
“We’ve got teams enough to haul it out faster than you can load it. It’s all right, cap’n. I had a long talk with your agent only a few days ago.”
“It’s all wrong, and you may depend upon it,” said Rodney in a low tone.
Jack Gray was of the same opinion, and if he had not been afraid that the men with whom he was associated in business would accuse him of cowardice, he would have cut the bow-line, which had by this time been made fast to a tree on the bank, and backed away with all possible speed. Instead of doing that, he descended the stairs and walked down the gang-plank, while Rodney and Dick drew off to one side to compare notes.
“If it’s all right, what’s the reason they didn’t have the cotton ready for us?” said the latter.
“That’s what I’d be pleased to know,” said Rodney. “Do you believe there’s any cotton here?”
“Not a bale except the few you see on the levee, and which were put there for a blind. Your cousin believes he’s in a trap or else his face told a wrong story.”
“That’s my opinion, too. Now don’t you think it would be a good plan for us to put the skiff into the water and go down and tell those gunboats about it?”