"Stop that firing!" roared Bolder. "Don't hit your friends!"
"Take to the water, you cowards!" came in the lieutenant's voice, and he fired again, a shot that both Deck and Life returned.
Nobody was touched, and now Deck ordered the Confederates to pole the raft into the creek and down that watercourse, as he remembered what had been said about the Southern forces being further up. All he desired at present was to get out of reach of the enemy, and remain so until he could get reënforcements.
Inside of two minutes the raft was out of the inlet, and the trip down the stream began. The flow of the current was in their favor, and soon the woods was left behind, and they came out between meadow banks on both sides. The Confederates remained passive enough, and Deck gave his whole attention to discovering a suitable landing place—one which might put him within easy call of assistance.
As has been said, it had grown dark, and now a fog began to creep over the meadows and the creek, gradually shutting every object but those close at hand, from view. The fog was very penetrating, and all on board began to shiver with the cold.
"Where are you goin' to take us?" asked Bolder, presently.
"To a safe place, my man," answered Life. "Better not ask any more questions."
"We are booked for a Northern prison, I reckon," said Peters, gloomily. "If those prisons are as bad as I've been told they are, I'd rather be shot than taken to one."
"All right; we'll shoot you if you say so," rejoined the Kentuckian; and then the Confederates relapsed once more into silence.
"There seems to be a bend here—" began Deck, a moment later. "The fog is so thick I can't see if we are turning to the left or the right. If we—"