“Do you see that long point running out from the left-hand bank?” said he. “If we make a landing within the next fifty miles, without being hailed, we shall make it there. It is Rochdale.”
Fortunately for Bob, George just then turned his back and started toward the pilot-house, so he did not see the sudden start the runaway gave when these words fell upon his ear. He was going toward his home again as fast as a strong current and a swift boat could take him. Suppose the steamer should make a landing there! He would conceal himself, of course; but what good would that do? Some of the many idlers who were always to be found about Silas Jones’s store would come aboard, and they would be sure to hear all about the burning of the Kendall. They would be equally sure to hear his name mentioned, for George had given it with his own to the captain, in the hearing of all the passengers. That would excite their wonder, and would be almost certain to lead to an investigation; and how would he feel when he was hunted up and pulled out of his hiding-place, with David Evans’s hard-earned money on his person, and five dollars of it gone? How heartily he wished now that he had given it into the hands of its lawful owner! If he had done that, he would have made himself famous in the settlement, and everybody would have thought he was the best fellow in the world.
“Come on, Bob,” exclaimed George. “What are you standing there for?”
As Bob could not leave the boat unless he jumped overboard, he had nothing to do but to go on with her, and trust to luck; so he followed George into the pilot-house, and, with his companion, was warmly welcomed by the man at the wheel. He sat on the bench by George’s side, while the latter related the story of their adventures in detail, and, fastening his eyes on the point before him, thought of the little settlement there, and the people who lived in it. When there was a pause in the conversation he managed to say to the pilot:
“Do you stop at—I mean—what is your next landing?”
“I don’t know,” was the reply; “but I can soon find out. Who-whoop!” shouted the pilot, through the trumpet that led down to the office.
“Ay! ay!” shouted the clerk.
“Anything for Rochdale?”
“Nary thing,” was the encouraging response.
The pilot then went on to tell what the name of their next regular landing was, and how far down the river it was located, but Bob heard none of it. He had learned that the boat was not going to stop at Rochdale, and that was enough for him. But, would she be signaled from the shore? That was the question he kept asking himself, and it was answered about two hours afterward, when they came within sight of the landing. How his heart throbbed as he drew near to the familiar place, and how glad he would have been if he could have gone back there with everything just as it was before he stole that money! He noticed, with no little uneasiness, that there was a larger number of idlers than usual congregated on the levee, and he gazed anxiously at them, expecting every moment to see a white handkerchief waved in the air. But his fears proved groundless. The steamer held steadily on her course, and in a quarter of an hour more Rochdale was out of sight. Bob was very miserable and gloomy after that. He did not recover his usual spirits until the steamer landed at New Orleans; and then the sights and sounds of the city, which were new to him, seemed to draw his attention to other matters, and to put a little life into him.