‘Ah! but your own face,’ put in Lucius. ‘Don’t forget that. And the way you talked to him. My! It was the ‘cutest thing in the world. What put it into your head?’
‘It come thar ez we war runnin’ along,’ returned Ephraim; ‘an fer the rest, it jest argued itself out ez it went. But come, thar ain’t too much time. We must be orf out er this before he gits back.’
‘In the boat, of course,’ said Lucius, rising.
Ephraim nodded. ‘Yas, sir!’ he answered with a light laugh. ‘And I do think it war mighty nice of ’em ter hev thet boat hyar fer us jest ez we wanted ter git away and all.—In with ye, Luce.’
Lucius scrambled down the bank, and catching hold of the painter of the boat, drew her in to the shore and leaped aboard; while Ephraim, with the all important document in his hand, stood for a moment to consider.
‘It won’t do to run no risk er losin’ this, after all the trouble we’ve been at ter git it,’ he said. ‘Whar d’ye reckon I’d better put it?’
‘Stow it in your cartridge pouch,’ suggested Lucius. ‘That will be as safe a place as any other.’
‘Right!’ said Ephraim, folding the letter up small and placing it in his pouch. ‘Haul her in, Luce.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Lucius, bringing the boat’s nose again to the bank. ‘If we pull out into the river, we shall be seen.’
‘Likely, ain’t it?’ inquired Ephraim cheerfully, as he gathered up the rifles. ‘No; we’ll head her up stream and glide along the bank till we git below their outposts. Ketch hold er the guns.’