"Yes, mother; and he still sticks to it that I robbed the mail—that I did!" added Ham, with the same sickly grin.
"I should like to know!" exclaimed she, placing her arms a-kimbo, and staring me full in the face. "I should like to know! Haven't we done enough for you, Buck Bradford, that you want to use us in this way? How du'st you run away, and take Flora with you? You will make her as bad as yourself byme-by."
"I hope not," I replied, smiling.
"She went all the way to New Orleans with him on a raft, and so did that Sim Gwynn," interposed the captain.
"Well, there's no end of wonders with bad boys. But where's Flora now?" asked Mrs. Fishley.
"She's at the hotel in Riverport, with Clarence and his wife."
My female tyrant wanted to know all about it, and I told her; but I will omit the torrent of snapping, snarling, and abuse she poured out upon me for my base ingratitude to her who had always treated me like a son. By this time the news had begun to circulate in the village that "the mail robber" had been caught, and men, women, and children came to see the awful monster. It was an awkward and uncomfortable situation for me; but I consoled myself by anticipating the triumphant acquittal which awaited me. When the people had gazed at me to their satisfaction, the constable conducted me to the jail. I did not shudder, as I supposed I should, when I was cast into the lonely cell, for I knew I was innocent.
I had been there but a couple of hours, when the door was opened, and Clarence came in. Sim had succeeded in navigating the boat back to the hotel, and the story of my mishap had been told by Flora.
"The steamer arrived just before I left," said my brother. "A gentleman came to the hotel inquiring for you. Who was he, Buck?"
"He will tell you himself, if he chooses. I suppose he is the person I wish to see."