He was from the country, but three of them were city boys and it was one of these who now responded:
“Hush, Jim! If you haven’t steered right into the Harlem River! That’s the Third Avenue swing-bridge. Go right under it. ’Twasn’t far to come, either.”
Right over their heads, now, for a moment, was the vast shadow of the bridge, and then, as they shot swiftly out beyond it, Joe whispered:
“North shore, Jim. We can get right in among the lumber yards. Best kind of hiding place.—We’re safe!”
It was but a minute, after that, before all five of them were standing on a wharf, looking back at the lifeboat, as she disappeared in the fog, for Jim had shoved her off and the tide had caught her.
“I don’t care where it carries her,” he said. “When they find her, she can’t tell them where she left us.”
X
A NEW HOUSE OF REFUGE
Jim had a very clear idea that the city of New York, with its thousands of sharp-eyed policemen, was no place for him. His four friends, however, were better acquainted with it and they now proposed to work their way down town before daylight, to hiding places they said they knew of. They urged him to come with them but he responded: