ADAM LEADS HIS PARTY.
Adam and the two boys had not sailed very far in the dirty little boat,
when they found out why the persons who had been using her had left her
and taken The Rolling Stone in her place.
This little boat, on the stern of which was painted the name “Maggie,”
was very leaky, and required continual bailing. Her sailing tackle
was out of order, and she was a very undesirable boat. But Phœnix and
Phil bailed away bravely with a couple of tin cans which they found on
board, and Adam, having steered into the mouth of the smaller river,
put the boat before the wind and sailed along at a good rate.
The stream they were now in twisted and wound a good deal, and they
could not see very far ahead, but every moment they hoped to come in
sight of The Rolling Stone.
“I cannot imagine,” said Phil, “why Chap should have gone off in
that boat. If it was taken away from him, or borrowed, I should have
supposed he would stay behind to tell us what had become of her.”
“If it was took by unfair means,” said Adam, “he’d be very likely to
think he ought to stick by her to the last, and if they took her they’d
have to take him. P’raps they were only goin’ a little way up this
river, and he’s undertook to bring her back.”
“If he does, he’ll upset her,” said Phœnix.
“If that’s so,” said Adam, “we’ll come across her bottom up, and the
young chap sittin’ on her keel.”
“And all our things in the river,” said Phil.
“That’ll be about it,” quietly replied Adam, hoping from the bottom of
his heart that nothing worse than this had happened.
About four o’clock, as they rounded a bend in the river, Phil, who was
standing by the mast, gave a shout.
“A sail ahead!” he cried.
And, sure enough, about a mile ahead a boat was plainly to be seen.
“That’s her!” cried Adam. “Now, boys, load up that gun with buckshot,
six in each barrel, and we’ll keep after her as long as she’s above
water.”
“The Rolling Stone is a great deal faster than this old thing,” said
Phœnix, “and I’m afraid we’ll never catch up with her.”
“We’ve gained on her now,” said Adam, “for she must have been a good
deal ahead of us when we started. There isn’t much wind up here, with
these high trees on each side, and that boat needs a good breeze to
make her do her best. If the wind goes down altogether toward sunset,
and we have to pole, I’d rather have this boat than that.”
Adam now gave his utmost attention to making the best of the breeze,
and as he was a better sailor than the men in The Rolling Stone, and
as the Maggie could make a fair headway with less wind than the larger
boat, she gradually gained upon the latter.
“Look here,” said Phil, who, while Phœnix was still bailing away, had
been gazing earnestly ahead, “there are only two men on board that
boat, and I’m certain that neither of them is Chap.”
Phœnix started as he heard these words, and involuntarily looked up at
Adam. The sailor said not a word, but his face seemed to have grown
hard and dark, and his hand fastened itself upon the tiller with a
nervous grip, as if he wished to animate the vessel with his own fierce
anxiety to hasten on.
The young men in the other boat evidently knew that they were pursued,
and were doing all that they could to get away.
If there had been a fair wind, The Rolling Stone would have left the
other boat far behind; but it soon happened that the Maggie had greatly
the advantage.
A portion of the river was now reached where, although the stream was
very wide, the water was not over five feet deep, and the bottom, which
seemed to be made up entirely of oyster-beds, could plainly be seen.
One of the men on The Rolling Stone was already using a pole to assist
the progress of the boat; but when Adam called Phil to the tiller and
seized the pole which lay on the deck of the Maggie, it soon became
evident that a small boat was much better than a larger one, when each
was pushed through the water by means of a pole.
Adam was a strong man and accustomed to hard work, and his vigorous
efforts made the Maggie glide so fast through the water that she
rapidly gained upon the foremost boat.
As the two were about a dozen yards apart Adam told Phœnix to stand
ready to lay hold of the other boat when they should touch.
Phil held the gun, but Adam cautioned him not to be too quick in using
it.
When the boats were quite near each other, the young man who had been
poling The Rolling Stone dropped his pole, and picking up a gun, raised
it to his shoulder. But this did not frighten the valiant Adam.
“Put down that gun!” he roared, as the two boats touched.
The young man who had been steering now rose to his feet. His gun was
probably not loaded, for he did not attempt to pick it up, although it
lay near him.
The two fellows looked sullenly at the party in the other boat, but
they must have felt that it would be of no use to offer battle.
Adam had picked up a hatchet; Phil had a double-barrelled gun, and
a glance at the strong figure of Phœnix, who stood with his sleeves
rolled up and his shirt thrown open, was enough to make any one feel
that a tussle with such a fellow was not a thing to be desired.
Their opponents were three to their two, and looked like fellows
determined to win. It would not pay to fight, and the untidy young man
with the gun lowered his weapon.
Instantly Adam sprang on board The Rolling Stone.
“Where’s the boy who was on this boat?” he cried.
“He went ashore when we traded,” was the answer. “Didn’t he tell you
so?”
“We haven’t seen him,” said Adam. “Now, if you fellers lie to me, I’ll
split your heads open with this hatchet. I’ll have no foolin’. Where is
he?”
The young men looked at each other. They were evidently surprised that
the boy from whom they had taken The Rolling Stone had not been seen
by his companions. They supposed, of course, that he had told them all
about the affair.
“I tell you,” said one of them, “we’re not foolin’. He went right
ashore after we had traded boats.”
“Traded boats!” cried Phil, who had laid down his gun. “What do you
mean by that?”
“Why, your pardner said you folks only wanted a boat to get up the
river, and as this one is to be took back to Brewer, we traded.”
“I don’t believe a word of it!” cried Phil and Phœnix, almost in a
breath.
“It’s a lie on the face of it,” said Adam, stepping up to the last
speaker and lifting his hatchet. “Now, if you scoundrels don’t want to
be brained right here, you’d better speak out and tell the truth. You
stole the boat, and we know it.”
“I didn’t say the young man was altogether willin’ to trade, but we did
trade. Didn’t we leave our boat? and haven’t you got it? We was a-goin’
to leave all your things for you, but your pardner, as soon as he went
ashore, began a-hollerin’ for you all, and we thought you’d be firin’
at us the next minute, and so we had to put off.”
“You meant to steal this boat and everything in it,” said Adam, “and
you made that young man go ashore.”
“We told him he’d better,” said the other.
“Yes,” added his companion; “but he got mad, and the minute he set foot
on the sand, he ran into the woods a-hollerin’ for you all.”
Phœnix had said little during this time, but his feelings were rapidly
reaching the boiling-point. At this moment he sprang on board The
Rolling Stone, and, seizing one of the young men by the collar, he
shouted,--
“If I hear any more of that talk, you’re going overboard. Where is the
boy that was on this boat?”
The young man thus suddenly attacked raised his arm to defend himself,
but Adam pushed between the two.
“Don’t fight yet,” he said to Phœnix. “We’ll see directly what’s to be
done to ’em.”
This remark frightened the two rascals more than anything that had
been yet said or done. It seemed to indicate a determination to
inflict some sort of punishment upon them, and if these three excited
persons believed that their companion had been made away with, there
was nothing to prevent them from taking summary vengeance upon their
captives, and throwing their bodies to the alligators. On these lonely
waters they could expect no help.
“I tell you,” said one of the young men, very earnestly, “it’s all
truth that we’ve been sayin’. The whole thing was a lark, and we
wouldn’t ’a’ done it if we hadn’t been drinkin’. We was a-sayin’ just
before we seed you comin’ after us that we was sorry we took your boat,
and if there was a good wind to-morrer, we’d overhaul you and give her
back to you. We haven’t hurt none of your things, and we’ve fed your
little bears with the milk we brought along for ourselves.”
“Yes,” said Adam, grimly; “that’s because you wanted to raise ’em and
sell ’em.”
“No,” said the other. “We was a-goin’ to give ’em back to you.”
No answer was made to this palpable falsehood, and every one seemed to
hesitate before making the next move. Then Adam spoke up.
“We’ve got to talk this thing over,” said he to Phil and Phœnix. Then,
turning to the untidy young men, he told them to get into their own
boat, and pull her out of ear-shot. “And mind you don’t try to get
away,” he added, as the fellows scrambled into the Maggie; “for if you
do I’ll put a dozen buckshot into you before you know it.”
One of the young men poled his boat away until Adam called to him to
stop, and then our three friends sat down to talk the matter over.
There was a gentle current in the stream, and the two boats floated
slowly along without diminishing the distance between them.
“What do you both think about it?” asked Phil, nervously.
“I think they are a pair of scoundrels,” said Phœnix, “and they ought
to be knocked on the head.”
“We can’t do that,” said Adam, “though I’d shoot ’em quick enough if it
had to be done to save any of us; but I feel pretty sure that Chap’s
all right, though the story of these fellers is an out-and-out lie.
They just took the boat from him, and made off with it, and that’s all
there is about it.”
“One part of their story seemed probable,” said Phil, “and that was
that Chap got mad and bolted into the woods after us. He isn’t the
fellow to stand still and see his property taken off without making a
fuss.”
“No, indeed!” added Phœnix, earnestly.
“If their story is true,” said Adam, “and Chap ran into the woods after
us, he must have taken the wrong track, or we would have seen him.
There is a path which leads to the left not very far from the beach.”
“Yes,” said Phil, “Phœnix and I noticed that, and debated a little
which way we should go, and finally concluded to keep to the right.”
“Yes,” said Adam, “that’s what he must ’a’ done, and that’s the way we
missed him. I don’t believe them fellers did anything to him. There
couldn’t ’a’ been any need of it, for I ’spect they sneaked off with
the boat while he was on shore.”
“And what are we going to do about it?” said Phœnix. “Let them off
scot-free while we go back after Chap?”
“Well,” said Adam, “we can’t very well kill the rascals, and it
wouldn’t pay to hold on to ’em. The best thing we can do is to get rid
of ’em as soon as we can.”
“And then go back after Chap,” suggested Phœnix.
“I don’t know about that,” said Adam, a little absently.
He was looking at Phil, and noticed that the boy was very pale and
silent, and that he sat doubled up as if he felt weak and tired.
Not one of the party had eaten anything since breakfast. They had been
so excited and so eager to overtake the stolen boat, and find out what
had become of Chap, that the thought of food had not entered their
minds. Phœnix and Adam were both very robust, and the omission of a
single meal had not affected them; but Phil, although he was a healthy
fellow, was not so hardy and so capable of sustaining privations as his
companions, and Adam could see that he was really faint for want of
food.
“I don’t think we’ll make anything by startin’ back now,” he said.
“It’ll be dark in an hour or two, and then we couldn’t sail on this
crooked river, and we’d have to anchor and wait for mornin’. We
couldn’t land and make a fire and have anything hot and comfortable for
supper, for there isn’t a spot we’ve passed where we could go ashore.
But I see a bit of sandy beach way up ahead there, and there we can
land and boil some coffee, and have a good meal, and I’m sure we all
need it.”
“But what about poor Chap all this time?” asked Phil, looking up.
“Oh, I haven’t forgot Chap!” said Adam; “and I don’t think we need
be troubled about him. When he got down to the beach he’d know that
we’d gone off in the boat that was left there, and that we’d come back
ag’in. He’d be sure to go and look for the house when he felt hungry,
and as he wouldn’t take the wrong track the second time, he’d find it
easy enough. There’s no gittin’ really lost in them woods, for there’s
no gittin’ out of the beaten tracks, and they always lead somewhere.
So it stands to reason he’s better off than we are, as far as comfort
goes. And we can’t get to him till to-morrer, no matter when we start.
So I say we’ll go up there to that beach and have our supper. I don’t
want either one of you sick on my hands, for that would be the worst
thing that could happen.”
“But what about those two fellows?” asked Phœnix.
“We’d better let them get out of sight just as fast as they can,” said
Adam. “If they can’t find any place to camp it’ll serve ’em right. It’s
not our business to make ’em comfortable, and they can’t stay where we
are. So I say let’s put their things on their old boat and tell them to
make themselves scarce.”
The boys both agreed that in regard to Chap and the two untidy young
men there did not seem to be anything to do but to follow Adam’s
advice. The Maggie was, therefore, hailed and ordered to come alongside.
“Now, look here,” said Adam to the two men; “you’ve got to get out of
this just as fast as you can, for we’ve agreed that we can’t keep our
hands off o’ you more’n half an hour longer. We’ll give you back your
dirty things, for we don’t want none of your property. But I’m not
goin’ to give you back your guns, for one of ’em is a rifle, an’ you’re
just the fellers to take a crack at us after you got out of range of
our shot-gun. I’ll leave the guns for you at Titusville, at the hotel.
You can’t have ’em while we’re on the river.”
The young men demurred very much at being deprived of their firearms,
but Adam’s determination was not moved, and they were obliged to go
away and leave their guns on The Rolling Stone.
The wind served them better going down the stream than coming up, and
so, with pole and sail, and the assistance of the current, they soon
put a good distance between themselves and the other boat, feeling in
their hearts that if they did not make haste enough, a ball from their
own rifle might overtake them. They were so cowardly themselves that
they expected every one else to be so.
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