A BLAZE ON THE RIVER.
As Messrs. Plater and Grimshaw will not appear again in this story, it
may be as well to dismiss them at once. The well-conceived and
desperate effort to gain possession of the raft just described was
their last attempt in that direction. They had watched Billy Brackett
leave it, had enticed the ever-faithful Bim from it, and when, from a
place of concealment, they heard two of its remaining defenders go
ashore in search of the brave dog, their satisfaction was complete.
Now they were sure of the prize for which they were willing to risk so
much. Stealing silently to the raft without attracting Binny Gibbs's
attention, they leaped aboard, proceeded to dispose of him, and at the
same time to set the _Venture_ adrift. Had not Binney's shout guided
Solon to the scene, success would have crowned their efforts.
The old negro was not a fighter by nature, but in defence of those he
loved he could be bold as a lion. Consequently he rushed to the rescue
of the boy whom he supposed was Winn Caspar without hesitation, and
careless of the odds against him. His coming, followed so quickly by
that of Billy Brackett and the arrival of the two boys, turned the tide
of battle. Glen and Winn were compelled to plunge overboard and swim
for the raft, as it was already a rod or so from shore when they
regained the place where it had been tied.
The "river-traders" were unwillingly compelled to take the same plunge
a moment later, and as they swam towards the shore, which, fortunately
for them, was still near at hand, their hearts were filled with
bitterness at their defeat, while plans for future vengeance were
already forming in their minds. But these were never carried out, for
the reason that, as they were making their dripping way into town, they
came across the mob bent on a deed of destruction that they themselves
had instigated. With it was Joe Riley, the operator, and as these were
the very men he was most desirous of meeting just then, he persuaded
his associates to devote a few minutes of attention to them.
As a result of this interview with one who knew so much about them and
their business, their career as "river-traders" ended then and there.
A few days later they left Cairo in company with Sheriff Riley, of
Dubuque, who had come down the river on purpose to escort them north.
Why they had been so anxious to recover possession of the _Venture_ was
for a long time an unsolved puzzle to the crew of that interesting
raft. That the reason was finally explained will be made as clear to
us as it was to our raft mates before the end of this story of their
unique voyage down the great river. When it is, we shall probably
wonder, as they did, that so simple a solution of the mystery had not
occurred to us before.
In the mean time the raft, once more in full possession of its rightful
crew, is gliding swiftly with the mighty current through the starlit
darkness. Billy Brackett, with a heart full of sorrow over the loss of
his four-footed but dearly loved companion, is on watch. The lantern,
lighted and run to the top of the flag-staff, sends forth a clear beam
of warning to all steamboats. In the "shanty," which looks very bright
and cosey in comparison with the outside darkness, Binney Gibbs is
lying comfortably in one of the bunks, Solon is making himself
acquainted with the arrangements of his new galley, and the other two
are changing their wet clothing, while carrying on an animated
conversation regarding the stirring events just recorded.
"How jolly this would all be if it wasn't for poor Billy's melancholy
over the loss of his dog," remarked Glen Elting, as he turned the
steaming garments hanging in front of the galley stove. "It was a
splendid start, wasn't it, Grip?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Binney, a little doubtfully; "though I
don't believe it would seem quite so fine to you if you ached all over
as I do."
"Perhaps not, old man. But you'll be all right again to-morrow, after
a good night in 'dream-bags;' and anyway, you must admit that this
beats steamboating all to nothing. Just think, if we hadn't been lucky
enough to fall in with this blessed raft, and Billy and Winn, and all
the rest, we should at this very moment be just ordinary
ten-o'clock-at-night passengers, shivering on the Cairo wharf-boat, and
waiting for the New Orleans packet to come along. She's due there some
time this evening, yon know."
"Yes; and instead of that, here I am--"
"Here you are," interrupted Glen, seeing that his friend was about to
utter a complaint; "and thankful you ought to be to find yourself here,
too. Why, we'll be as merry as this muddy old river is long, as soon
as Billy ceases to mourn for his dog. I'm a little surprised that he
should take it so much to heart, though. It isn't like Billy B. to be
cast down over trifles."
"Trifles!" cried Winn. "When you call dear old Bim a 'trifle,' you are
making one of the big mistakes of your life, and you wouldn't do it
either if you had known him as well as I did. There never was another
dog like him for wisdom and gentleness and pluck and--well, and
everything that makes a dog lovely. Why, that Bim would reason his way
out of scrapes that would stump a man, and the word 'fear' was never
printed in his dictionary. Somehow I can't help thinking that he'll
turn up all right, bright and smiling, yet."
"I don't see how," said Glen.
"Neither can I, and I don't suppose I could if I were in his place; but
unless Bim is uncommonly dead, I'll guarantee that he'll come to life
again somehow and somewhere. In fact, I shouldn't be one bit surprised
to see him aboard this very raft again before our voyage is ended."
"I must confess that I should," said Glen.
"That's because you don't know him," responded Winn. "Isn't it, Solon?"
"I 'spec's hit must be, Marse Winn," answered the old negro.
"And wasn't he the very wisest dog you ever knew?"
"Yes, sah, he suttinly was, all 'ceptin' one, an' hit war a yallar
'coon dawg wha' I uster own down in ole Lou'siana. I 'spec's he war
jes a teenty mite more knowin' dan eben Marse Brack's Bim dawg. He
name war Bijah."
"How did he ever prove his wisdom?" asked Winn, incredulously.
"How him provin' it!" exclaimed the old negro, warming to his subject.
"Why, sah, him provin' it ebbery day ob he life more ways 'n one."
"Well, give us an example, if you can remember one."
"Yes, sah, I kin. An' I tell you-all one ob de berry simples' t'ings
what dat ar Bijah ebber done. He war jest a ornery, stumpy-tail, 'coon
dawg, Bijah war, an' him know he warn't nuffin else. Dat's why he
won't go fer nuffin 'ceptin' 'coons--no rabbits, ner 'possum, ner fox,
ner b'ar, ner nuffin--jes 'coons. But 'coons! Don' talk, gen'l'_men_!
I reckin dat ar Bijah done know ebbery 'coon in twenty mile ob de Moss
Back plantashun. An' he knowed some fer 'coons wha' didn' 'low dey war
'coons no way."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Winn.
"Dat's wha' I comin' to, Marse Winn, but yo' mus'n' hurry de ole man.
One day I takin' de ole kyart inter town wif a load er wood, an' Bijah
he gwine erlong. When we comin' to der place whar de wood kyarts
stops, I onyoked, an' Bijah he lyin', sleepylike, ondur de kyart. I
passin' de time er day 'long some udder cullud fellers, an' tellin'
wha' kind ob a 'coon dawg Bijah war, an' how he ain't know nuffin no
way 'ceptin' 'coons. Suddint I see dat ar dawg kin' er wink he eye,
an' raise up an' sniff de yair, an' den lite out licketty cut down
erlong. Dey ain't nuffin on de road 'ceptin' jes a cullud gal, an' she
a-turnin' inter de sto'.
"Dem fellers laff fit to bus' deirselfs, an' say, 'Hi dar! wha' dat
fine 'coon dawg gwine fer now?'
"I say, 'Him gwine fer a 'coon, gen'l'men, he suttinly am.' Yo' see, I
jes nacherly 'bleeged ter say so. Same time, I kin' er jubious.
"Afo' we comin' ter de sto', I heah ole Bijah gibbin tongue lak mad,
an' I say, 'Him treed um' gen'l'men! him treed um fer sho'. But when
we comin' dar, an' look in der do', I feelin' mighty sick. Dat ar
cullud gill she up in er cheer er-shyin' she umbrel at Bijah, an' him
jes a dancin' 'roun', an' er-yelpin'.
"Well, ef dem fellers ain't laff! Dey jes roll deirselfs in de dus'.
"'Whar yo' 'coon dawg now? Whar yo' 'coon dawg?' dey axin; but I kep'
on sayin' nuffin. I know dat gal, an' when I hit Bijah er clip to stop
he noise, I say, berry polite, 'Mawnin', Lize. Yo' got any 'coon 'bout
yo' pusson?'
"Den she say, snappylike, 'How I gwine get 'coon, yo' fool nigger! No,
sah, I ain't got no 'coon 'ceptin' my ole man wha' I marry yistiddy he
name _Coon_.'"
The shout of laughter that greeted this story was interrupted by the
appearance of Billy Brackett at the door.
"Come out here, boys!" he cried. "There's a steamboat on fire and
coming down the river!"
This startling announcement emptied the "shanty" in a hurry. Even
Binney Gibbs forgot his aches and joined his mates outside.
There was no doubt as to the meaning of the column of flame that turned
the darkness into day behind them. It was so near that they could hear
its ominous roar, while the black forest walls on either side of the
river were bathed in a crimson glow from its baleful light. A vast
cloud of smoke, through which shot millions of sparks, trailed and
eddied above it, while, with the hoarse voice of escaping steam, the
blazing craft sounded its own death-note.
As the monster came tearing down the channel of crimson and gold that
opened and ever widened before it, our raftmates were fascinated by the
sight of its sublime but awful approach. They stood motionless and
speechless until roused to a sudden activity by Billy Brackett's shout
of "Man the sweeps, fellows! She is unmanageable, and headed for us as
straight as an arrow. If we can't get out of the way she'll be on top
of us inside of two minutes more!"
Like young tigers the boys tugged at the heavy sweeps; but they might
as well have tried to extinguish the floating volcano that threatened
them with destruction as to remove that mass of timber beyond reach of
danger within the time allowed them. The task was an impossible one;
and as they realized this fact, the crew of the _Venture_ prepared to
launch their skiff, abandon the raft, and row for their lives.
[Illustration: "Like young tigers the boys tugged at the heavy sweeps."]