“Stop!” he cried to the rowers; “stop! turn back—back—quick—to the landing!”
Brede had already turned, and was hastening up the dock toward the railroad station. The whole party understood the meaning of his conduct now, and every breast was filled with sudden indignation. He was playing the part of traitor and coward at a most critical moment.
The water curled and foamed under the oars of the rowers in the foremost boat as it was backed speedily to the landing. Brightly leaped lightly to the dock, and, followed by a half-dozen others, gave chase to the retreating captain. Brede saw them coming, and broke into a run.
Already the whistle of the approaching train was in his ears, and the next minute it rumbled by him and pulled up at the station. He knew that if he could reach it and get on board, he could protect himself from his pursuers during the minute that might elapse before it should be again under way. He redoubled his efforts.
The bell rang for the train to move. The rear car was not fifty feet ahead of him; but behind him he heard fleet steps and quick breathing, and he knew that Brightly was at his heels.
[CHAPTER VI.]
QUARTERED ON A HAYMOW.
The race was an exciting one. The people who crowded the platform of the station looked on with interest, supposing that both boys were running to catch the train.
At the edge of the platform Brede tripped and fell, with Brightly so close behind that he stumbled involuntarily over the captain’s prostrate body. In an instant both boys were up and facing each other, Brightly’s face pale with excitement and determination, and Brede’s distorted with fear and anger.