Enoch believed he had made some such remark.
“Then I say, let’s go back to the Firefly!” exclaimed Lester, who, having seen one detective that day, did not want to see another, for fear that he might ask some questions that he would not care to answer. Enoch laughed at his fears, but agreed to go back, because there wasn’t any fun to be seen in sailing twenty miles before a light breeze on a dark night, just to see a boatload of ducks sold.
When the mainsail had been hoisted, Enoch went to the wheel, and the sloop moved into the river to pick up the canoes, whose positions were pointed out by occasional flashes of light from Barr’s lantern. Pete, who was the first to come alongside, said, in response to Enoch’s inquiries, that they had secured seven dozen and three birds. How many had escaped to die of their wounds in the marshes, or to be eaten by seagulls, weasels or foxes, Pete didn’t state. The “gentlemen sportsmen,” of whom Enoch had so lightly spoken, always made it a point to allow no injured bird to get away if they could help it; but these two professionals did not belong to that class. They took care of the dead, and left the wounded to look out for themselves.
“Eighty-seven birds at one fire!” exclaimed Lester, who was profoundly astonished.
“That’s nothing,” replied Enoch. “The big gun I told you of this morning has been known to knock over more than a hundred at one shot. Where’s Barr?”
“Gone ashore to hide the gun,” answered Pete. “If you and your pardners will help with these ducks, we’ll pick him up and get out of this as quick as we know how.”
Enoch and his companions, who were quite as anxious to put a safe distance between themselves and Bush River as Pete was, willingly assisted him in unloading his canoe and stowing the ducks on board the sloop. This work being done, they set out in search of Barr, who, having concealed his gun so that he could easily find it again when he returned from Havre de Grace, pulled the slide of his lantern now and then to show them where he was. He was glad to let Enoch have his canoe to go back to the Firefly, for it saved him the trouble of hiding it in the marshes. Bold as he was, Barr would have thought twice before taking it to Havre de Grace on board the sloop. If the officers who visited his cabin that morning should happen to get a glimpse of it, they would know what he had been doing, for the recoil-block, which was not there when they saw the canoe, would condemn him at once.
When Barr sprang aboard his sloop, the boys dropped down into the canoe, and the two crafts moved away in opposite directions, both reaching their destinations without any mishap, but not without some exertion. Barr spent a good deal of time in dodging the Magpie, whose familiar exhaust betrayed her presence, and the boys were obliged to paddle almost twice ten miles, following, as they did, all the windings of the shore in order to keep their bearings. They were tired enough when they climbed over the Firefly’s rail, and too sleepy to make up the bunks, so they threw themselves down on the floor of the cabin, and with their hats and boots for pillows, slept soundly until Barr’s hoarse voice aroused them. They woke up long enough to hear him tell of his adventure with the Magpie, and then went off into dream-land again, where they stayed until nearly eight o’clock. By that time they were hungry, and the remains of their lunch, supplemented by a “diamond back,” which Barr roasted for them, only served to give them a sharper appetite for their dinner. The duck-shooter was in excellent spirits. He and his partner had made twenty dollars apiece by their night’s work. During the run from Havre de Grace they had spied another big bed, and Pete had remained behind to watch it. But this announcement did not tempt the boys to stay and go out on another night expedition. They were all tired and hungry, and two of them had seen as much of law-breakers and their ways as they cared to see for some time to come; so they filled away for home, passing close enough to the Sallie to see that she was still above water, and that Egan and his guests were making ready to go somewhere in her.
Enoch and his friends spent the rest of the day in doing nothing, and very hard work they found it; but the day following brought excitement with it, and much more than they wanted, too. As they could think of no better way of passing the time, they set sail in the Firefly at an early hour, intending to spend the day in camp on Powell’s Island, and to knock over any ducks that might happen to come in their way; but their hearts were not in the work, and the bag they took home with them was not worth bragging about. Enoch and Jones, who were very fine shots, managed to kill half a dozen birds between them, but Lester missed every one he fired at. The day was raw and windy, and Lester, who did the most of his shooting and fishing with his mouth, found much more pleasure in hugging the camp-fire than he did in exposing himself to the keen blasts, which could not have been a great deal colder if they had come off an iceberg. He was glad when Enoch announced that it was time to go home, but when he got there, he wished that he had gone as straight as he could to Havre de Grace and taken the first train for Cairo. The schooner had hardly stopped at her moorings when Barr appeared as if by magic. The first hint they had of his presence was a low “how dy, boys,” and, upon looking up, they saw him peering over the rail, to which he held fast with both hands, in order to keep his canoe in position.
“Hallo!” exclaimed Enoch. “Where did you drop down from, and what do you want here in broad day-light?”