“Keep your upper lip stiff, an’ don’t stop, once you’ve started, till you’re so far from New York that the detectives can’t find you,” Tim whispered encouragingly, and ten seconds later the fugitive was running at full speed up the gangway, Snip barking shrilly at the throng on either side.
Tim and Teddy followed their friend to the street beyond the ticket office, and there stood watching until he had disappeared from view. Then the latter said, with a long-drawn sigh:
“I wish it had been almost any other feller what passed the lead nickel, for Seth hasn’t got sand enough to do what’s needed, if he counts on keepin’ out’er jail.” And Tim replied sadly:
“If a feller stuck me with a counterfeit I’d think I had a right to shove it along; but after all this scrape I’ll keep my eyes open mighty wide, else it may be a case of the country for me, an’ I ain’t hankerin’ after livin’ on a farm, even if Pip Smith does think it’s sich a soft snap.”
Then the friends of the fugitives returned to the ferry-boat, in order that they might without delay make a report to those acquaintances whom they knew would be eagerly waiting, as to how Seth had fared at the outset of his flight.
CHAPTER II.
THE COUNTRY.
Seth had little idea as to the direction he had taken, save that the street led straight away from the water, and surely he must come into the country finally by pursuing such a course.
Neither time nor distance gave him relief of mind; it was much as if flight served to increase the fear in his mind, and even after having come to the suburbs of the city he looked over his shoulder apprehensively from time to time, almost expecting to see the officers of the law in hot pursuit.