“Better say, ‘How that boy did run, than here he lies!’” hummed Jule.
“I guess he’s got good cause to run,” Clay observed. “Looks to me as if that mob meant business. You don’t suppose he stole the dog, do you. Case? Why doesn’t he put him down?”
“Just like him to steal a dog and get the boat held up here for a month,” Case answered. “Then the rainy season will come on, and we’ll not enjoy the trip at all.”
The boys all laughed heartily at this new manifestation of Alex’s failing, and the boy turned away from them and jumped into the little row-boat, now ready for the rescue, attached to the prow.
“Here!” shouted Jule, “don’t go off that way! I’m going with you. You can’t fight that mess alone.”
But Case was pushing off, and the next instant was rowing with long, steady strokes toward the pier down which Alex must pass to reach the river front.
The next minute Frank, who had planned to go in the boat, was in the water, headed in the same direction. The race on shore was now drawing to a close.
Clay called out to Case not to leave the boat, but to hold it ready for the pursued youngster to leap into, but this was unnecessary, as Alex reached the end of the pier before the boat could be forced there. Frank was swimming like a duck in the water, but was slowly being swept down stream.
Alex turned for an instant and faced a collection of a score or more of disreputable-looking men and boys who were dashing down the pier after him. Then he lifted his face with a grin, gave out a long “Whoop” of defiance and took to the river.
He still held the dog in his arms as he leaped, and, Alex being obliged to loosen his hold in order to swim, that thoughtful animal immediately clawed his way to the boy’s half submerged shoulders and set up a howl which was as plainly a request for sympathy and assistance as could be imagined.