“I’ll do something to you!” declared Gid, “if you don’t keep that mouth closed.”
“You don’t dare!” returned Jule. “If you touch me I’ll yell like a loon, and then the officers will come running in here, and that’ll be your finish. You’d better go out on deck.”
Gid did go out on deck, arriving just in time to greet two Government officers as they stepped on board the Rambler. This formality over, the fellow backed up against the cabin door and stood facing the light now burning at the prow. The cabin door was open, and the boy could hear nearly every word that was spoken on deck, the wind having in a measure died out.
“What’s your boat?” he heard an officer ask.
“Rambler, Chicago,” was the reply.
“Whither bound?”
“New Orleans,” was the quick answer.
“Who have you on board?” was the next question.
Jule saw Mike point with a hairy fist toward the cabin.
“Only a kid,” he said, “back there in the cabin shaking his bones to pieces with the ague.”