“Ain’t you going to make him come on shore?” demanded the storekeeper, angrily.
“No, sir; I’ve nothing whatever to do with your quarrel with the boy.”
“The boy is a thief, and you’re helpin’ him to get away,” cried Mr. Maslin. “Don’t you know that’s ag’in the law and that I can make you sweat for it?”
“He has denied the charge, and as there is no proof against him his word is as good as yours,” replied the skipper, resuming his former station against the cabin wall.
“I’ll have you up before the justice for this,” shouted Mr. Maslin, coming to a stop and shaking his fist at the captain of the Minnehaha. “And what’s more, I’ll have that boy took up by the constable afore you get many miles further down the canal.”
After hurling his threats after the receding boat he and Luke turned about and hurried back the way they came.
“I guess the storekeeper means to send the constable after you with a warrant for your arrest, Armstrong,” said the captain when the two boys ranged up alongside of him after Mr. Maslin took his departure, “in which case you’ll have to go along with the officer. Now, if you will take my advice, young man, you’ll get ashore at Caspar’s, a mile below here, and make your way by land to Albany, where we’ll lay up a week or so, as I’ve got to load up there for New York after discharging what I’ve brought on from Buffalo and Syracuse. You can leave your bundle aboard—your friend will look out for it.”
As the captain’s advice was good, Dick determined to act on it.
After receiving explicit directions where to rejoin the boat at Albany, Dick bade all hands good-bye for the time being and left the boat at Caspar’s.