To Stephen’s intense relief, he now saw Charley and George coming towards him from the village. He welcomed them with feverish delight.

“Hollo, Steve!” Charlie shouted. “What performance is that on the other side of the river? Who has set our raft afloat, and what is that thing on it?”

A hoot of defiance came booming across the river from Bob. He still felt himself secure; and instead of one witness of his triumph, there would now be three.

Stephen ran to meet the new-comers, and told them all that he knew about the matter, not sparing the arch-villain.

Their expressions of hopelessness and anger exceeded even Stephen’s.

“Isn’t there anything we can float over on?” Charles asked.

“Not a thing. Do you suppose I’d be here if I could cross?” Steve retorted, angrily.

“Take it coolly, boys,” the Sage advised. “We are not going to let that Herriman have it all his own way; surely we can work some plan to outwit him.”

Bob looked on in ecstasy, and hallooed as barbarously as a wild Indian on the war-trail. His plans had succeeded in every particular—almost beyond his expectations. Why should he not rejoice and be merry?

This shifting of the scene from one bank of the river to the other is not conducive to the reader’s happiness or the writer’s reputation. It would be better to single out one party and let the other go.

After a critical examination of how matters stood, the Sage said abruptly, “Look here, boys; there is room for hope. In the first place, Bob and the raft are moving at the same rate; second place, he has a cord fastened to the raft, with the other end in his left hand—but it’s an enormously long cord; third place, Will crossed the river in the village, and he will soon be coming up on the other side. Now, look at Bob and the raft, and see for yourselves.”

But before he had finished speaking, Steve and Charley had descried the rope in Bob’s hand.

“Oh, George!” cried Stephen, “you are a philosopher!”

George was right about Will. A few minutes later, he was seen coming up on the other side of the river, and accompanied by Marmaduke and Jim.

Thus the whole band of heroes was assembling! Gentle reader, when that event takes place, you know that the villain’s downfall is at hand.

Stephen and Charles, beside themselves with delight, screamed to the three heroes to pounce on Bob and save Carlo.

The Sage—puffed up with pride at hearing himself called a philosopher by Stephen, who never flattered anybody—took another survey of affairs, and remarked: “Look here Steve, that raft is only drifting slowly, and by swimming out I could easily reach it, and then let Carlo free. The only objection to this plan is, that I should have to stay on the raft without my clothes on until I could get to them again. But there is no one to see me, and I don’t mind when Carlo’s fate hangs by a—a—tow-line. And by doing so, Will and the rest can chase Bob; for Bob will move nimbly somewhere in a minute or two.”

This striking idea took well with Charles and Stephen.

“Oh,” groaned the latter, “why didn’t I think of doing that before you came up!”

Will, Marmaduke, and Jim, hastened on, taking in the whole plot at a glance.

“Look out for Bob!” they heard from the three on the opposite bank. “See to Bob; we’ll take care of Carlo.”

Bob, however, had awakened to a sense of his danger. He saw Will, Marmaduke, and Jim, approaching; but not so soon as the boys across the river, as the intervening shrubs and inequalities in the ground obscured his view.

In all his nice little calculations he had not thought of, nor provided for, such a casualty as this. In the midst of his triumph why should three boys all at once come upon him? Why should they be coming up on his side of the river, when he had never known them to do so before?

But there was no time to be lost in idle speculation.

Should he fly? Then in which direction? To fly towards home seemed madness, for the three would have to be passed, and he knew well that at least one, Will, could outrun him. Or he might go up the river, as he would have a start in his favor. But he was already a long way from the village and his home; of course he would be pursued; and where would the pursuit end?

His wild behaviour now gave place to gravity, and his last exultant shout died away on his lips.

He considered a moment, and then rejected both these possible means of escape, and determined to take what seemed the only course left open to him. The raft was under his control—he would haul it up and sail away on it!

If Bob had been a boy of George’s sententious terseness, he would have said, “I can defy my enemies when I am on the raft.” If he had been a hero of romance: “So shall I balk my persecutors, and frustrate their evil designs.” But being neither, he simply said to himself, “I’ll mount the raft; and then let ’em sing and holler as much as they want to! And the dog will be under my thumb, too!”

If Bob had reflected a little longer, perhaps he would not have resorted to this extreme measure; for, although he would be at liberty to float whither he pleased, in reality he would be as much a prisoner as the dog. Five resolute boys and one willing-hearted candle-holder, Jim, would sooner or later contrive some plan to entrap him.

Not a little to the boys’ astonishment, he now began to draw the raft hastily towards him. He worked as though his life depended on his agility; and as the rope came in hand over hand, it fell in a loose coil at his feet. If the raft had caught on a snag or run into the bank, he would have been left in a sad predicament; for the faster he drew in the rope, the faster Will bounded towards him. It was a strange, exciting race—not a race for life, but a race between meanness and its inevitable punishment.

The three on the opposite bank could not at first guess Bob’s intention. George was undressing himself preparatory to swimming out to the raft; but this manoeuvre caused him to desist, and with the other two he stood stupidly gazing at the plotter, eagerly awaiting further developments.

But when the truth dawned upon him, he cheered Will so heartily that all the boys, together with the squirrels and birds, took up the cry, and made the place ring again. In fact, there was danger that all this hubbub might draw on them the wrath of some peace-loving paterfamilias.

Bob had reason to fear that the boys would take dire vengeance if they should overhaul him, and he toiled worthy of a better cause. Yard after yard of the rope passed through his hands, but notwithstanding all his efforts, he saw that Will was gaining on him. Although at his wit send, he yet had the sagacity to pull steadily and not too fast—that might break the rope.

At last the raft was alongside; and having gathered up the folds of the rope,—which he durst not leave behind, because that would put it in the power of Will easily to secure boy, dog, and raft,—he made a desperate and final effort, and sprang almost at random.

At the time of the leap Will was almost upon him.

Bob sprang courageously, but wildly. Alas! “the best-laid schemes of mice and men—” the rest is not English.

The tangled rope in his hands proved his downfall; it coiled round his feet with a merciless grip, and he alighted on the raft in a sorry plight. There he lay, sprawling and struggling, a most ludicrous sight. The more he struggled to free himself, the more tightly he was encircled by the terrible coils. Boys, the youth who becomes entangled in one thousand feet of rope is to be pitied.

To add to his misery, shout after shout of laughter burst from the entire six. Their hour of triumph had, in its turn, come.

The impetus given to the raft carried it on a little farther, but Will soon reached it, sprang, and almost fell over struggling Robert. No need to make him a prisoner; both hands and feet were bound fast by the long rope.

Will’s first act was to liberate poor Carlo, and take off his muzzle.

Bob groaned and shivered, but the noble dog stretched himself and frisked about the raft, scarcely noticing him.

“Carlo, Carlo, come, Carlo,” Stephen called joyously.

Carlo plunged into the river and swam towards his master, who, half beside himself with exultation, cried: “Steer for this port, Will; and bring the prisoner.”

“All right!” Will shouted back, and put the raft to the bank to take on Marmaduke and Jim, who soon came up.

The raft sank low under the weight of the four, but still it floated them; and Will and Marmaduke took up the oars and began to work their way slowly across the stream. Jim sat on the cage and pretended to steer; but his eyes roved from the prisoner to the boys on the opposite bank, and then, by way of the oarsmen, back to the prisoner.

The hearts of the six beat loud with triumph; but poor Bob’s heart sank, and beat very faint. “Oh,” he gasped piteously from among the serpent-like coils of the rope, “Oh, let me go! For mercy’s sake, let me go! Don’t take me over to Stephen and his dog; and I’ll promise never to meddle with you boys any more.”

Will looked pityingly at the abject creature, but answered with firmness: “No, Bob, I must take you to Stephen. You have played a mean trick on him, and he must settle with you. But,” whispering in his ear, “I guess you’ll survive.”