  Jed Dale stepped on the deck of the river barge, smoking his pipe. Anyone, looking at him, would have noticed that he puffed at it with unnecessary force, and that he was highly nervous. But no one was looking. The captain of the barge and Maxwell were in the cabin, and Todd, at the tiller, was gazing off toward the shore. They were coasting gently along a narrow part of the inland waterway, between two avenues of tall, thick trees. Tangled underbrush showed along the banks through the trees, but there was no sign of a single farmhouse. Only the puff of the barge’s steam engine broke the silence. The sun was going down, as faint and uninspiring as it had been all day. The barge swished unhurriedly through the black water. The only one who was watching Jed was Terry. The cook, still smoking, was slowly edging nearer to the man at the tiller. Todd, always contemptuous of the quiet cook, paid no attention to him. Terry, his jaw set and his mind alert, stepped casually on deck and moved nearer the cook. Todd looked at him for a moment curiously and then resumed his shore gazing. Jed had sat down on the top of a small deck locker which was close to the man at the tiller. Terry glanced over his shoulder and watched the water ahead. On all sides but one it moved rapidly, but in the one stretch, that near the right hand bank, it was still and black. There, Terry knew, was the sand bank, the instrument which he intended to use for his escape. Jed Dale looked at the quiet stretch of water, which was now drawing rapidly nearer, and then nodded to the red-headed boy. Terry nodded back and gave a final look at the cabin. The door was closed and all seemed well. Jed knocked the ashes out of his pipe and drew his long legs up under him. The next few seconds were filled with action. Without warning the cook threw himself on Todd. The man at the tiller was taken by surprise and crumpled up under the sudden and astonishing attack. At the same time Terry seized the tiller and pulled it toward him with all his might. The barge changed its course with a jerk. The blunt prow swung for the shore and the barge ground with a ripping, jarring sound on the sand bank, hard aground. Sounds of crashing woodwork came from the forward cabin, the funnel of the engine collapsed and a cloud of steam poured from the engine room. A chorus of astonished shouts came from the cabin as the barge trembled on the sand, helpless. Without wasting time to look around Terry went to Jed’s rescue. Todd had gone down like a log but now he had one hand firmly fixed in the collar of the cook. Terry realized, as he threw himself into the fray, that the loss of a minute would mean the end of their game. He could have easily leaped overboard and saved himself, but he had no intention of leaving the cook alone in the hands of the barge crew. What they would do to the unfortunate man was past thinking, and Terry put any thought of leaving Jed behind out of his mind. Todd’s hold was not any too good, and Terry seized his arm. He bent the arm backward, savagely twisting at the stubborn fingers and the bargeman’s hand came loose. Jed was on his knees, out of breath and for the moment bewildered at the turn of events. He was not the type who leaps rapidly into a strange situation, and he hesitated now. But not so Terry. The door of the cabin was opening as Terry grasped the arm of the cook. “Overboard, and make for the shore,” Terry gasped, just as Maxwell and the Captain stormed out on deck. Fairly dragging the cook Terry leaped over the rail and into the water. He had no idea how deep the water was, but he hoped it was not very deep. Both he and Jed were breathing heavily, as much from excitement as anything else, and he hoped they would not have to swim far. As a matter of fact, they did not have to swim at all. The water was just up to their armpits, and when they bobbed up out of it they found that they could wade to shore. The three men had now rushed to the rail and were shouting to them, and Todd was making their flight perilous by hurling at them large pieces of coal, which he got from a deck bunker close at hand. Besides wading forward as rapidly as possible they had to watch the flying coal, as one hit, especially on the head, would surely prove their undoing. Their flight through the water was maddeningly slow, as wading always is, and to increase their anxiety Maxwell leaped into the water and started after them. “We’ve got to go faster,” Terry gasped in Jed’s ear. The cook nodded and plowed on, glancing back of him. Had not Terry urged him forward he would have fallen into the hands of the crew in short order, for his daring had quite melted away under the violence of past events. Luckily for them the barge had no small boat, and their immediate peril was the mate, who was forcing his way through the water toward them with savage determination. The ground was becoming firmer under their feet and they were slowly but surely gaining the bank. A final desperate flounder and they reached the edge of the stream, to stagger onto the land. They would have gladly stopped there, but Maxwell was close to them and Todd was in the water following. Out of breath as they were, they had to start running as rapidly as possible through the woods. Terry’s first thought had been to stop and fight, but he soon realized the futility of that. Maxwell was a huge man and a brutal one, and even if Terry could have depended on Jed’s help, it would have been a severe and doubtful battle. But the cook was no help in the present emergency and Todd was coming fast. Abandoning the thought of anything so rash as a stand Terry did the only sensible thing and took to flight, the silent cook with him. The fact that the light had disappeared rapidly was greatly in their favor. It had been just at sunset that they had attacked Todd, and now the sun had gone down altogether. Out in the open it would not have made any difference, but here under the thick trees a welcome darkness was wrapping the woods like a cloak. It was not yet dark enough to hide them completely, but just enough to aid them materially. If they could keep away from the bargemen long enough to allow total darkness to settle over the countryside they would surely escape. Maxwell had reached the shore and was plunging recklessly into the bushes after them. They could hear him coming and a few seconds later Todd followed his mate. Terry decided not to try to hide for a time yet, but to trust to luck to outrun the men. They were active men and likely to give the escaped pair a lively race of it, but Terry was sure that he at least could outrun them. His anxiety was the cook, but so far the man had made no complaint and was running well. It did not last long, however. The cook seemed to lose his strength all at once. Even Terry, with all his athletic life to his credit, found the race cruel. His breath was coming fast, hurting his lungs severely, his legs felt as though lead weighed them down, and his eyes hurt. The cook began to falter and stumble, and Terry found his own progress slowed down as a result of having to give his arm to the man. “I—I can’t make it, no—how,” gasped the cook. “You run on, bub. I’ll be all right.” “Nothing doing,” breathed Terry. “We’ll look for cover and take a breathing spell.” A dry brook supplied them with the very place of concealment that they wanted and they crawled into it. But instead of lying there Terry began to crawl along its bed on his hands and knees, finding relief in the fact that the leaves were wet and therefore helped by deadening all sounds. They followed this brook for two hundred yards and then lay still, listening. The pursuing men made a lot of noise, but by its very nature the two in the brook knew what was going on. The men were uncertain, for they slowed down and began to talk together. Terry now had no fear of discovery, for the real darkness was coming over the woods and no human being could see them. Unless someone actually fell over them the chances of being captured were small. So they lay there, gradually getting their breath and recovering from the strain of the long chase. From time to time they heard a movement from the men and now and then a brief word. They had lain there for perhaps half an hour when they heard the whistle of the barge blown three times, little sharp blasts. “The skipper’s callin’ them back,” whispered Jed, close to his ear. Terry nodded but did not move. They heard the men making their way back through the woods. Just to be sure they lay there for another half hour and then crawled out. After a conference they decided that they would be wiser to go away from the river and seek some nearby town, where the matter could be reported to the local authorities. Accordingly, they struck off in a direction north of the river and walked for two hours. At the end of the time they gave it up and came to a halt. “Nothing to do but call a halt until daylight,” decided Terry. “We don’t know whether we’re walking around in circles or not. Perhaps we can get a little sleep, if we can find a dry place.” “What do you think of building a small fire?” inquired Jed. “Where will we get the matches? The few I had in my pocket are soaked.” Jed brought out a metal case. “I’ve got some in a waterproof case. Do you think it is all right to make a fire?” “I don’t see why not,” said Terry, thoughtfully. “We must be far enough away now to be able to do it with safety. It isn’t what you’d call cold out tonight, but a small fire will dry us out and help a lot. Anyway, the captain blew the whistle for those fellows, so I guess we needn’t worry.” “No, I think not,” answered Jed, beginning to gather what dry wood he could find. “They know that we have escaped and they’ll want to clear out as soon as possible. But I’m thinkin’ they’ll have one sweet job getting that barge off’n that sand bank.” Jed made a good fire and they were grateful for its warmth. Under the spell of it the cook regained his spirits. He was glad to be rid of his association with the river crew and his admiration of Terry was tremendous. “My goodness!” he exclaimed, talking about it. “I always sort of worshipped that captain, that is, I was scared to death of him. But you stood right up to him and told him if he wasn’t such an old man you’d lick him.” Terry grinned. “I guess I said a few things that sound foolish now. That captain, old as he is, could probably break me in two if he wanted to. I guess the only reason he didn’t do it was because he realized that if he was ever caught he would suffer heavily for it. As to standing up to him, that wasn’t so hard, because I was thundering mad. I hate anything cowardly, and when I see it I always feel sure that I can lick the bully. Maybe you heard what Roosevelt said once, about Spain’s attitude toward little Cuba. He said: ‘When I see a bully beating a child, I want to beat the bully!’ Not classing you as a child, of course, but it made me boil to see him aim a kick at you.” “I’m pretty much of a child in some ways,” answered Jed, seriously. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have been caught by that gang, and what they wouldn’t have done to me! You’re all right, bub!” “Nonsense,” said Terry, hastily. “Do you want to get some sleep, Jed?” It was finally arranged between them that they would each take two hours of sleep at a time while the other stood watch, and Jed was the first to turn in. Finding a fairly dry spot under a tree the cook slept well until awakened by Terry, who then took his turn. In this manner they spent the night and when the morning came they felt much better, though very hungry. “Now to find a town,” said Jed, as they started out. After walking for a half hour they came to a road and followed it into a fairly large-sized town. A sign on the railroad station told them that it was Brockport. They were lucky enough to find a restaurant open and they bought breakfast, which Terry paid for, as the cook had left all his money on the barge. Once out on the street again they paused to consider. “There is the sheriff’s office,” said Terry, pointing to a weather-beaten place down the street. “I guess we had better report to him. Shall we go down?” Jed, assenting, they walked into the sheriff’s office, to find the man sitting at his desk reading a morning paper. He was a keen looking man, with iron gray hair and a face that spelled outdoor life in every line. “’Morning, boys,” he hailed, looking at them searchingly. “What can I do for you?” Terry told his story in detail and the interest of the sheriff grew as it was unfolded. When Terry had finished he reached for a battered hat and took a shotgun from a corner. “I’ve had a few bits of trouble with this Captain Ryder before,” he said, grimly. “And I’m goin’ to get him now, if that barge is still stuck on that flat. Do you think that you can find your way back? If you can’t, we can go up the river bank.” Realizing that they had turned and twisted in their flight on the previous evening the two told the sheriff that they were not sure that they could, so he decided to lead them up the river bank. “I think that is the best way, after all,” explained Sheriff Atkins. “They may have gotten the barge afloat and we may see them coming down. I hope we get them. If we do I’ll lock them all up on your charge and others that I have.” They gained the river bank and followed it up in the direction from which the boys had come. It was a good five miles to the point where the sand bar jutted out, and as they rounded a bend they could see the barge still stuck in the mud. “Good huntin’,” nodded the sheriff, satisfaction in his tone. “Now, let’s hope the men are aboard. Say, what is that other boat near it?” Terry looked and then shouted, “That’s my boat—my friends’ boat, the Lassie. I guess they were looking for me and somehow they got down the river. I wonder what they are going to do?” They could see the sloop making for the barge, with Captain Blow standing on the bow. Don and Jim stood in the cockpit, Don holding onto the tiller. The sloop was drifting. They heard the captain call out. “Ahoy there, barge! Hand over that boy of ours!” The three members of the barge’s crew appeared from the cabin at his hail. Ryder walked to the rear rail and shook his fist at Captain Blow. Todd and Maxwell picked up handles from the hand winch and waited. “You keep off o’ here!” they heard Ryder snarl. “We ain’t got your darned old boy. Do you hear? Keep off!” Captain Blow turned to the boys back of him. “Get ready to board ship!” he roared. Terry grasped the sheriff by the arm. “They’re no match for that crew! Let’s hurry up!” “Don’t worry, son,” said the sheriff. “I’ll see that no one gets hurt.” |
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