In a moment Clay saw Alex. bending over a figure lying on the ground at the edge of a rude windbreak of willow bushes, cut and woven together.
“Where’s the coon’s boat?” he asked, hurriedly.
Clay smiled happily. He had not thought of that!
“Off there on the east side,” replied the boy. “Have you got a knife yet?”
For answer Alex. seized the lad by the feet and called out to Clay:
“Catch him by the shoulders, and we’ll carry him!”
Clay was not slow in following the suggestion, and the boys soon had the captive between the fringe of willows and the water. The boat was there, a large, four-oared craft which was partly filled with plunder taken from the river. The negroes were evidently making a business of gathering supplies from the flood. Just then Jule came up, out of breath from a stumbling run in the dark.
The captive was placed on board, and then Clay seized a pair of heavy oars.
“Take the helm,” he called to Alex., “and you help with the oars, Jule,” he added.
Then the craft shot out into the current. When she came around the corner of the little island, where the light from the Rambler struck her a series of frantic shouts came from the men huddled on the south bank, and a few shots were fired, but, the current running swiftly, they were soon out of range.