"Sure, miss," was the response, in a rough voice, but with a kindly intonation.
"I wish to get across the river. I live beyond the point, and some one has stolen my own boat. Can I engage you to paddle me over? I will pay you half a dollar."
"That's like finding money, miss," said Chick, looking into her face with a broad smile. "But, as I need some coin of the realm, I'll close with your offer, and thank you kindly for making it. Get right in, and away we'll go."
Nick's assistant was no novice at boat-work. He was as much at home on the water as on land. Swiftly and dexterously he paddled across the Potomac's east branch, landing, as directed by his fair employer, a quarter of a mile below the point in the direction of Uniontown.
On the way Chick asked a question:
"What kind of a boat is the stolen one?"
"Something odd for these parts. It's a batteau which my father brought from Vermont."
"Isn't that it over there?" pointing to a flat, sharpnosed, square-sterned boat on the shore toward which they were proceeding.
She looked, and, without showing any surprise, said: "Yes, that is the one."
And now Chick was convinced that Mannion had used the batteau, and that his wife was on the way to find him.