They allowed him to scramble on deck, watching him warily, however, fearing treachery. But the captain was evidently sincere when he said that the odds were too great, and when the boys scrambled over the stern into their canoes, he was unlashing the tiller. Then the catboat swung around so that wind caught her sail, and moved off down the river. The captain sat in the stern, gazing stolidly ahead. Not once did he turn to look at the boys in the canoes, or even signify that he knew they were there. The matter was evidently a forgotten incident with him.
“Well, he’s a cool one all right,” said Fleet
“Too cool for me,” said Ted Lanham, who was now sitting comfortably in the bow of Fleet’s canoe, while Fleet had moved his cushions toward the stern to balance the craft.
“Do your folks live at Greenbush, Ted?” asked Chot, as the canoes moved off up the river.
“My mother,” said the boy. “Guess she’s wondering where I am.”
“When did the kidnapping occur?”
“About three hours ago. I take a swim in the river every morning, and when the catboat came toward me, I thought the captain wanted to ask me some questions. So I got my clothes and climbed on board, at his request. Then he shut me in the cabin until he got out of sight of the village, when he took me out and licked me, and told me I belonged to him.”
“What nerve!” cried Tom. “Sorry we didn’t duck him again for that.”
“May have a chance yet,” said Fleet.
“I hope we’ve seen the last of him,” said Chot.