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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 22:21:03 -0800 |
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diff --git a/75520-h/75520-h.htm b/75520-h/75520-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4b707c --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/75520-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7765 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Longshanks | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.indentleft {padding-left: 5em;} +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { + margin-left: 7.5%; + margin-right: 7.5%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} + +div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} +div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} + +.xxxlarge {font-size: 300%;} +.xxlarge {font-size: 200%;} +.xlarge {font-size: 150%;} +.large {font-size: 125%;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} + +.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .indent {text-indent: 1.5em;} +.poetry .first {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; + padding: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + +.illowe28_125 {width: 28.125em;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75520 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/endpapers.jpg" alt="end papers"></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1>LONGSHANKS</h1> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_0"></span> +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="frontispiece"> + <img class="w100" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">HE LIFTED HIM CLEAR OF THE GROUND</p></figcaption> +</figure> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page"></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="titlepage"> +<p><span class="xxxlarge">Longshanks</span></p> + +<p><span class="large"><i>by</i></span><br> +<span class="xlarge">STEPHEN W. MEADER</span></p> + +<p>ILLUSTRATED BY<br> +EDWARD SHENTON</p> + +<p>HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, NEW YORK</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY<br> +HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.<br> +<br> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +</div> + +<table> +<tr><td>HE LIFTED HIM CLEAR OF THE GROUND</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_0"> <i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>HE PULLED A PISTOL OUT OF THE BOX</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58"> 58</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>HE COULD SEE THE BEAST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE POOL</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_154"> 154</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>HE SAW THE PRINT OF A NAKED FOOT</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_178"> 178</a></td></tr> +</table> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I</h2> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Down the last</span> long hill into Wheeling Town came +the stage, its four lean horses at a canter and its +brakes squealing under the heavy foot of Long +Bill Mifflin.</p> + +<p>The early April sun, which had been promising +Spring all day, was gone now, and a chill rose +with the dusk from the river. The boy on the seat +beside the driver pulled his cloak around him.</p> + +<p>“Le’s see, now,” said Long Bill, unwinding the +lash of his sixteen-foot whip. “Ye say ye hain’t +got no friends in the town, here, but I reckon ye +got plenty o’ money. So it ’pears like a public +house is the thing. Which one? Well, thar’s three +or four good taverns. The one we put up at is the +Gin’ral Jackson. Then thar’s the Injun Queen, +an’ Burke Howard’s place, only I wouldn’t counsel +ye to go thar. Good licker, good beds, an’ bad +company. Most all of ’em will be full now, though, +with the steamboat leavin’ tomorrow.”</p> + +<p>Tad Hopkins thanked the driver for this information +and looked down from his perch with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> +interest as the big coach lurched through the ruts +of Wheeling’s main thoroughfare. Soon they +came to a stop in the yard of the General Jackson +Inn. Tad climbed down, pulled his portmanteau +out of the great leather “boot” at the back of the +coach, said good-by to his comrade of the past +two days, and went into the tavern.</p> + +<p>“No beds—not even half a bed,” said the inn-keeper +with a gesture of finality.</p> + +<p>Tad went down the street, jostling his way +through crowds of river-men, backwoodsmen, +drovers, and traders. Occasionally he passed an +elegantly dressed dandy, but for the most part +the people he saw were rough and uncouth.</p> + +<p>Wheeling, he now realized, was a frontier town +of the great West, and he felt a tingle of excitement +at the thought that he had come to the gate-way +of his adventure.</p> + +<p>Finding a place to sleep in this alluring outpost +seemed a difficult matter, however. The landlord +at the Indian Queen was as short in his refusal of +lodgings as the first man had been, and at two +other taverns where he inquired Tad was met with +the same answer. Then, down close to the river front, +he saw a big white-painted frame building +with a crude sign that bore the letters “<span class="allsmcap">HOTELL</span>.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> +Lights blazed in the downstairs windows, and a +sound of music came from within.</p> + +<p>Tad trudged up the steps and entered a large +room with a sanded floor. Two fiddlers were +scraping away diligently at the farther end of the +place, and a crowd of thirty or forty men stood +drinking and watching a raggedly dressed old +fellow do a buck-and-wing dance.</p> + +<p>At one end of the long and busy bar lounged a +big, red-haired man in shirt-sleeves. Tad crossed +to him.</p> + +<p>“Could you put me up for tonight?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The man eyed him shrewdly.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got a cot in one of the rooms, but it’ll +cost ye dear,” he answered at length. “Two dollars +for the night. An’ I doubt ye’ve that much +money.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Tad. “It’s high, but I can pay it.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see your cash,” the other replied coldly.</p> + +<p>Tad hesitated a second, then pulled a purse +from under his belt. The big handful of Government +notes and silver which he held up seemed +to satisfy the tavern-keeper.</p> + +<p>“Two dollars—in advance,” he said, with a +nod. “That’ll cover supper an’ breakfast.”</p> + +<p>Tad paid him and was stuffing the purse back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> +into its place when he saw a tall, dark man, who +had come up during the conversation and was +standing a few feet away, leaning an elbow on the +bar. He was a rather handsome fellow of twenty-four +or twenty-five, with a sweeping, dark mustache +and restless, sharp, black eyes. His clothes, +beautifully tailored and expensive, seemed to have +been worn a little too long or too carelessly. But +it was his hands that Tad noticed first of all. They +were white and slim, with extraordinarily long +fingers. And on the middle finger of the right +hand was a queer-shaped silver ring with a dull +green stone.</p> + +<p>The man shifted his gaze quickly, as Tad looked +up, and the next moment he was ordering a drink +from one of the bartenders.</p> + +<p>“Here, you, Rufus,” cried the landlord to a +negro boy who emerged just then from the +kitchen, “take this feller up to Number Four—lively.”</p> + +<p>“Yassah, Marse’ Burke,” was the reply, and +Tad, hearing the name, remembered the stage-driver’s +warning.</p> + +<p>“Burke Howard,” he thought. “Yes, that was +the name. But I’ve got to sleep somewhere, and +at any rate I’ll keep my eyes open.”</p> + +<p>The darky led him upstairs to a large, bare<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> +room with two beds and a small cot. One of the +beds was already occupied by a snoring guest, +and the other had a shabby pair of boots beside +it. Tad left his satchel under the cot and returned +to the lower floor. In the great kitchen +just back of the bar he found a long table at one +end of which a few river-men were noisily finishing +their supper. And sitting down at the other end, +he was soon served with hot beef stew and potatoes. +The long, cold ride had made him hungry. +He did full justice to the meal and arose feeling +better. The fiddlers were still playing when he +returned to the main room. He watched awhile, +then took his cloak and went out of the stuffy +atmosphere of the bar into the cool night. A few +steps down the hill brought him to the river front, +and just below was the big gray shape of a steamboat, +tied up at the landing. There were a few +lights aboard her, and an occasional rumble of +barrels came from the lower deck where sleepy +stevedores were loading the last of her cargo for +the long voyage down river.</p> + +<p>Tad saw a small, lighted office at the landward +end of the dock and picked his way through and +around the scattered piles of freight till he +reached it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>“I want to take passage to New Orleans,” he +said to the sour-visaged clerk.</p> + +<p>The man continued to write an entry in his book, +scowling importantly. Then he cast a slow, scornful +glance in the boy’s direction.</p> + +<p>“To New Orleans,” he replied, “the fare is +forty-five dollars—<i>forty-five—dollars</i>—with yer +stateroom an’ meals, that is. I reckon you mean +Cincinnati or maybe Louisville, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“No, New Orleans,” Tad repeated patiently +and drew forth his wallet. “Here’s fifty. The name +is Thaddeus Hopkins of New York.”</p> + +<p>Subdued, the clerk gave him his change and his +receipt, and Tad climbed the hill once more to +Burke Howard’s place with a great sense of being +a man of the world.</p> + +<p>It was not until a half hour later, when he lay in +his cot in the big, dark bedroom at the Inn, that +his lonesomeness returned.</p> + +<p>The man in the farther bed snored steadily with +a purring sound, and Tad could not go to sleep, +try as he would. Instead he lay there thinking of +the events of the last few days and of the journey +ahead of him.</p> + +<p>It was amazing to realize that less than a week +had passed since he received his father’s letter. +Back at the Academy for Young Gentlemen in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> +southern Pennsylvania, where he had spent the +last two winters, it had seemed, five days ago, as +if the long routine of lessons would never end. +And then, one morning, had come the long envelope +from New Orleans, addressed in his +father’s big, bold hand, and in it had been news!</p> + +<p>It was in the breast pocket of his coat now, but +he did not need to look at it, for he knew it by +heart.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Dearest Tad,” his father had written:</p> + +<p>“I hear from Master Lang that you have been +doing well in your work. Otherwise I would hesitate +to suggest the plan I have in mind. As it is, I +believe there can be no harm to your education in +leaving the school before the end of the term.</p> + +<p>“I shall be sailing for England in a short time, +to look after some business, and it has occurred to +me that it would make a pleasant vacation for us +both if you were to accompany me. There is now a +steam-packet leaving Wheeling every fortnight +for the South, and I wish you to make ready as +soon as possible, so as to sail by the next vessel, +on the sixth of April.</p> + +<p>“A draft on my bankers is enclosed, which Master +Lang will cash for you, and this should provide +ample funds for the journey to New Orleans.</p> + +<p>“I am looking forward with great joy to our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> +voyage together, and shall be waiting for you at +the levee on the arrival of your steamboat.</p> + +<p class="right">“Lovingly, your father,    <br> +“<span class="smcap">Jeremiah Hopkins</span>.</p> + +<p>“March 12, 1828.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Tad’s preparations for departure, watched enviously +by the other boys in his form, had filled +the next two days. And at daybreak of the third +morning he had boarded the Baltimore-to-Wheeling +stage.</p> + +<p>Crossing the mountains on the great creaking +coach, listening to Long Bill Mifflin’s stories and +watching the road ahead for signs of the deer and +bear and mountain lions that the driver assured +him filled the woods—all this had made it a journey +he would never forget. And now he was in +Wheeling with the mighty river running past, not +a hundred yards from his bed, and the steam-packet +<i>Ohio Belle</i> waiting to carry him on the long +southward slant of nineteen hundred miles to New +Orleans.</p> + +<p>Tad was genuinely fond of his father, though +they had seen little of each other for the past two +years. Jeremiah Hopkins was a New York cotton +broker of considerable wealth. His interests frequently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> +took him into the South and to Europe, +and after Tad’s mother died, he had left the boy +in the care of school-masters.</p> + +<p>The prospect of a whole long Spring and Summer +spent in voyaging with his father made Ted’s +heart thump joyfully. He was just drowsing off, +with rosy thoughts of the future filling his head, +when the door of the room was opened quietly.</p> + +<p>A tall figure entered and crossed the room with +slow steps, lurching a little as he walked. There +was no lamp in the place, but a ray of moonlight, +reflected from the wall, lighted the man’s face +dimly. As Tad watched, he moved a few paces toward +the cot and stood motionless, looking down +at the boy with a somber expression as if he were +deep in thought. Tad looked up from under lowered +lids, pretending to be asleep, and after a +moment the figure turned away and went over to +the vacant bed. It was the gentleman with the long +white fingers he had seen below in the bar.</p> + +<p>For some reason he could not quite define, Tad +was frightened. Surely there was nothing strange +about the man’s actions. A little drunk perhaps, +but incidents like that were to be expected in a +river-front tavern. He watched him partially undress +and tumble into the bed, where presently his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> +snores began to mingle with those of the first +sleeper. And not till then did Tad draw a full +breath.</p> + +<p>Stealthily he felt beneath his pillow for the +purse. It was there, safe and sound. He wound the +leather thong tightly about his fingers and lay +quiet, too much disturbed to sleep.</p> + +<p>An hour crept by. Somewhere off in the woods +back of the town a fox barked, and hound dogs +answered with a frenzy of baying. A tipsy roisterer +went past, mouthing a river song. Then +gradually the noises of the night subsided, and +Tad dropped off to sleep.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Bright April</span> sunshine, streaming in the window +of the room, flooded the bare walls with matter-of-fact +daylight. It shone in Tad’s eyes, and he woke +up with a start.</p> + +<p>The steamboat! It left at eight. He reached for +his big silver watch under the pillow, and found +to his relief that it was only a few minutes after +six. At the same time he discovered the purse, +still firmly attached to his hand. The terror of +the night seemed ludicrous now. He chuckled at +his own timidity and began dressing rapidly.</p> + +<p>The two other occupants of the chamber were +still heavily asleep when Tad doused his face and +hands in the wash basin, strapped his traveling-bag, +and went out.</p> + +<p>In the front bar there was only a single customer—a +humorous-faced little Irishman in brass-buttoned +blue clothes, who sat beside a table with +a glass of hot toddy in one hand and a pipe in the +other.</p> + +<p>He looked at Tad jovially. “Bedad, an’ it’s glad +I am the last barrel is aboard!” he said, quite as +if they had known each other for years.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>“Are you one of the steamboat men?” the boy +asked.</p> + +<p>“I am that, lad—first mate of the <i>Ohio Belle</i>, +an’ a terrible tired one. We’ve been takin’ cargo +for two days an’ nights on end. An’ now I’ve got +a half hour ashore while they’re a-gettin’ up +steam.”</p> + +<p>“Does she sail in half an hour?” asked Tad.</p> + +<p>“Or sooner,” replied the Irish mate. “Th’ ould +man’s a driver whin his cargo’s once loaded. If +it’s breakfast ye’re thinkin’ of, wait and have it +aboard with me. I take it ye’re bound down river. +I’ve bread and butter and a cold chicken in me +locker, and we’ll get coffee from that black son o’ +Ham in the galley. The passengers ain’t supposed +to begin gettin’ their meals aboard till dinner +time. But we’ll have a breakfast, or my name’s not +Dennis McCann.”</p> + +<p>The plan sounded like a good one to Tad. He +waited while the mate finished his glass and paid +his score; then, shouldering the bulky portmanteau, +he followed him down the hill.</p> + +<p>“Ye see,” said McCann, “this steamboatin’ is +only a bit of a change like, for me. Me real business +is deep-water sailin’, as ye may tell by the +roll o’ me legs.”</p> + +<p>Already, by twos and threes and singly, people<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> +were going aboard. Tad and his companion shouldered +through the crowd that had assembled to +witness the great event of the week, and crossed +the gayly painted gangplank.</p> + +<p>Instead of climbing the broad stairway to the +deck above, McCann led the boy forward through +a narrow alleyway just inside the paddle-box +amidships. A blast of heat struck them as they +emerged, and Tad found himself facing a row of +glowing doors, where sweating darkies fed the +boiler-fires with cordwood.</p> + +<p>“That’s prime, seasoned hickory,” shouted the +mate above the roar of the fires. “Don’t take long +to get a head o’ steam with wood like this. But +wait till ye see the dirty green stuff they give us +down along the lower river.”</p> + +<p>They went through another passage where the +heat was almost stifling and came out on the forward +cargo deck, solidly piled with merchandise. +Climbing a steep, ladder-like companionway, they +reached the main passenger deck. Higher still, +Tad could see the “Texas,” or upper deck, with +the pilot-house perched atop, and just aft of it +the two tall stacks, with clouds of smoke pouring +from them.</p> + +<p>“Rest here awhile, me lad,” said McCann, +“whiles I rustle that breakfast.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>Tad sat down on his portmanteau, close to the +rail, and watched the spectacle below. The passengers +made a colorful assemblage. There were plain +pioneer folk in linsey-woolsey and butternut cloth, +going back to their homesteads in Indiana or Illinois. +There were wealthy planters from the cotton +States, resplendent in fine raiment and attended +by retinues of colored body-servants. +Small tradesmen, drovers and the like, from the +nearer river towns, made up a fair proportion, +and Tad saw two or three lonely-looking hunters +in buckskin, with their long rifles and little packs +of provisions, bound for the wild western country. +One oddly dressed man, with an eyeglass, who was +constantly asking questions and jotting down +notes in a little book, Tad decided must be an English +tourist.</p> + +<p>There remained a little group which he found +it harder to identify. Three or four men in fashionable +frock-coats, their pearl-gray beaver hats +cocked at a rakish angle, and clouds of smoke +rolling up from their cigars, idled and jested by +the landward end of the gangplank. Either they +had no luggage, or it was already stowed aboard. +Tad did not care for their looks, and he liked them +still less when he saw them joined by a companion—the +tall, dark fellow whom he had already<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> +encountered twice in his brief stay at Wheeling.</p> + +<p>The friendly mate returned just then with a +steaming pail of coffee and led Tad off to his bunk +in the officers’ cabin. Breakfast over, McCann rose +and put on his mate’s cap.</p> + +<p>“There goes the ‘all ashore’ call,” said he. +“I’ll take ye down to the purser, an’ ye can get yer +room from him.”</p> + +<p>Tad found the stateroom assigned to him and +put his bag inside. It was a tiny cubicle with a +single bunk, its window opening on the deck far +aft. Outside, the boy joined a group of passengers +at the rail.</p> + +<p>The last hurried arrivals had rushed aboard, +and final preparations for departure were now in +progress. Negro deck hands stood by the mooring +ropes at bow and stern. At a signal from the pilot-house +the cables were cast off and the darkies +burst into song as they hauled them in and coiled +them down.</p> + +<p>Bells rang sharply in the engine-room. With a +creak and a splash the tall paddle-wheels began +to turn, and the steamboat, catching the swift current, +swept grandly out into the Ohio. A long, bellowing +blast of the whistle bade farewell to the +waving throngs astern.</p> + +<p>That day and those that followed were full of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> +experiences for Tad. Hour after hour he sat by the +rail, or stood on the Texas with his friend the +mate, watching the valley unfold. The river was +running bank-full, fed by the April freshets; and +added to the eight or ten miles an hour of which +the steamer was capable, the strong current gave +them a speed that seemed almost dizzying.</p> + +<p>They shot past dozens of loaded broadhorns and +keel-boats, drifting down with a single long steering-oar +directing their course. The boatmen would +cheer the <i>Ohio Belle</i> or curse her, depending on +their humor and whether or not their craft misbehaved +when her wash hit them.</p> + +<p>Some of these rude arks held all the worldly +possessions of a family—homesteaders setting out +to conquer the wilderness in Missouri or Iowa. +Many of them had chicken coops on their half-decks, +and once Tad saw a yoke of red steers +chained to a post amidships and watching the +water with rolling, frightened eyes.</p> + +<p>He tried to imagine what sort of life the people +led, aboard those homely, slow-moving boats. Almost +he envied the freckled youngster he saw +fishing over the side of one weather-beaten broadhorn. +If he weren’t going to New Orleans to see +his Dad—well, he couldn’t help thinking what a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> +lazy, carefree, interesting voyage one could take +in an Ohio River flatboat!</p> + +<p>To Tad, raised in the more thickly populated +country along the Atlantic seaboard, the forest-covered +hills that rolled back from the river as +far as the eye could see were satisfyingly wild +and mysterious. And yet he was surprised at the +feeling of bustle and activity that pervaded the +valley.</p> + +<p>Little settlements of new log houses were continually +appearing along the shore, and in many +places sheep and cattle were grazing in freshly +cleared pastures. Ferry-boats, rowed by lusty +river-men, plied back and forth between the West +Virginia and Ohio villages. Trading scows, loaded +with calico, tools, and manufactured goods from +the East, put in at the farms and hamlets to exchange +their merchandise for produce.</p> + +<p>“This is a great country, lad—a great country,” +Dennis McCann would say. “Some day, belikes, +’twill be almost as great as Ireland!”</p> + +<p>Tad watched the pilot spin the huge wheel to +left and right, as the <i>Ohio Belle</i> splashed her way +down through the shallows. There was plenty of +water and fairly easy steering, but the skill of the +gray-bearded old keel-boat man in the pilot-house<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> +seemed uncanny nevertheless. He could sense a +sunken snag farther away than Tad could see a +floating one. And he seemed to mind steering at +night no more than in the daytime.</p> + +<p>They stopped at Marietta and later at Parkersburg +that first afternoon, and as darkness fell, the +chief pilot came up to relieve his assistant, who +had had the wheel most of the day. Tad, before +he turned in that night, had the thrill of standing +in the pilot-house and watching the old-time river-man +take his craft down through the inky blackness, +swinging the bends like a race horse.</p> + +<p>The little stateroom was clean and comfortable +in spite of its tiny size, and the boy slept so +soundly that not even the hoarse wail of the +whistle awoke him.</p> + +<p>The <i>Ohio Belle</i> made a stop of several hours at +Cincinnati to load and unload freight the morning +of the third day. And again the following forenoon +at Louisville there was a long delay.</p> + +<p>The weather, which had been fine up till then, +turned cloudy with spits of rain that morning, +but Tad, as usual, spent his time on deck with the +mate. The river was high enough to make the +passage of the Falls a possibility, and the <i>Ohio +Belle</i>, shallow of draft like all the river steamers, +took the white water safely.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>The rain increased in the afternoon, and Tad +was finally driven inside out of the wet. He had +paid very little attention to his fellow passengers +on the voyage so far. But now, for something to +do, he strolled down the inside passageway to the +main saloon. It was just before he reached the +cabin companion that he passed a door standing +ajar and heard men talking angrily. Suddenly one +voice rose to a shout and a chair was pushed back +with a violent scraping noise. Then the door +opened, and in it, with his back to Tad, stood a tall +man in shabby, well-cut clothes. The fellow swayed +a little and caught the door-jamb with one hand. +With the other he flung a pack of dirty playing-cards +back into the room. Then he spoke in a +thick, choking voice.</p> + +<p>“You’ve cleaned me,” he said. “You’ve got my +last cent, curse you! But I’ll be back, and don’t +you forget it!” As he turned to leave he almost +fell over Tad, and the boy was startled by the look +of ferocity on his white, drawn face—a face he +knew and had begun to fear.</p> + +<p>With long strides the man reached the end of +the passage, then checked himself in the act of +turning the corner, and glanced back at Tad as if +he remembered something. An instant later he +was gone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>The other gamblers in the stateroom were silent +for a moment after his departure. Then one of +them burst into a loud guffaw.</p> + +<p>“So he’ll be back, eh!” he cried. “That’s a good +’un. Who’d lend him a plugged nickel on board +here?”</p> + +<p>They resumed their game, and some one +slammed the door shut. Restless, Tad roamed +about the interior of the vessel, went down to +watch the darkies firing the boilers on the lower +deck, watched the Indiana bluffs to the northward +slide past in the rain, ate supper with the other +cabin passengers, and finally went back to his +stateroom. When he had undressed he bolted the +door, opened the window a few inches for fresh +air, and went to bed. Lulled by the steady beat of +the rain, he was soon asleep.</p> + +<p>It must have been hours later when he woke, for +the downpour had ceased and a gusty wind was +blowing. Was it the wind rattling his door that +had wakened him? Rubbing his eyes he rose on +one elbow and peered over the edge of his bunk. +And there, just climbing through the window, was +the black, looming figure of a man.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">For three or four</span> seconds Tad was too terrified +to move. Then he recovered his presence of mind +and scrambled up, drawing a deep breath to shout +for help. But before he could utter a sound the +intruder had dropped, cat-like, to the floor of the +stateroom and was on him in a bound.</p> + +<p>A powerful hand closed on his windpipe, and a +gag of some sort was stuffed into his mouth.</p> + +<p>Tad, strong and wiry for his fifteen years, +fought back at his tall antagonist savagely, but it +was an unequal struggle. With a swift skill that +argued previous experience, the prowler pulled a +cord from under his coat, and twisting the lad +over on his stomach, he caught his wrists in a +tight hitch behind him. Half a dozen quick passes +of the cord, and Tad lay trussed up on the bunk, +helpless as a baby.</p> + +<p>Then the man rose leisurely, produced a tinder-box +from somewhere, and lit a candle, which he +stuck on the lid of the box and set down on the +floor. Tad, getting a good look at him for the first +time, saw that he was masked. A black handkerchief<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> +with holes cut in it covered the whole upper +part of his face.</p> + +<p>With quick fingers the fellow went through +Tad’s clothes, taking his father’s letter, his +watch, and a few other trifles, and putting them +in his own pocket.</p> + +<p>The boy, struggling desperately to get his +hands free, had to lie there in anguish and see +his treasures taken. At last, as the robber +paused, baffled for a moment, Tad felt the knots +that held him slip a little. He bent his knees up +to loosen the tension between ankles and wrists, +and worked his arms cautiously back and forth. +One hand slid through, then the other, but he lay +still and gave no sign.</p> + +<p>The man had opened the portmanteau and was +rummaging through it swiftly, but still he did not +find what he was after. As he rose, the candle’s +beam shone full on his right hand and Tad had a +momentary glimpse of a ring—silver, with a dull +green stone. It was the gambler from Wheeling, +who had seen him open his purse to pay for his +lodging. Would he give up the search and leave +as he had come? It was a foolish hope. At that +very instant the fellow turned and stepped over +to the bunk, his slim, sure fingers feeling under +the pillow where the purse was hidden.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>Tad could restrain himself no longer. With a +cry, muffled by the gag, he pulled his arms from +behind him and leaped upon the thief. Together +they went sprawling across the tiny cabin. The +candle was kicked over and extinguished and the +struggle went on in the dark. Suddenly the +gambler shifted his position, and Tad felt an arm +tighten about his head with a grip like a vise. +His ears began to sing, and all his senses were +numbed by the pain of the head-lock. He was +powerless to move. Then he became dimly aware +that his antagonist was using his other hand to +open the door. A draft of cold air struck him and +he was pulled out upon the deck. With a suddenness +that gave him no time for terror, he felt +himself swung up and outward over the rail. And +then, as in a bad dream, he was falling—falling.</p> + +<p>The shock of the icy water brought him out of +his stupor. For a second or two his whole energy +was concentrated on getting back to the air again, +for the fifteen-foot drop had plunged him deep. +As he came up, choking, he pulled the gag out of +his mouth and tried once more to call for help. +But the stern of the <i>Ohio Belle</i> had already gone +past, and there was nothing around him but +watery blackness.</p> + +<p>What should he do now? He was a good swimmer,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> +but the water was almost as cold as in winter, +and he knew he could not last long in it. The +steamer had been running close to the Indiana +shore most of the day, and he had been thrown +from the starboard side of the vessel. Something +told him to try for the north bank. With the river +sweeping down upon him at five or six miles an +hour, it was easy to keep his sense of direction. +He struck out almost at right angles to the current +and swam steadily, saving his strength.</p> + +<p>The task seemed endless. As far as he could +tell, he might still be miles from land, and he was +numb with cold. Twice he had such an attack of +shivering that he could not take a stroke for several +seconds. His short cotton night-shirt was not +much of an impediment to swimming, but the +trailing cord was still tied fast to one of his feet, +and he used up some of his strength in a vain +effort to get rid of it.</p> + +<p>Some last reserve of pluck kept his arms and +legs going despite the achy weariness that was in +them. He thought he saw a blacker mass rising +in the blackness ahead, but it seemed to draw no +nearer, and he lost hope. Then his toe struck +something soft that frightened him. He lashed out +desperately to get away from it and struck it +again. It was mud. He could stand up, half out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> +of water, and wade. The looming bulk ahead of +him must be trees. In another minute or two he +was crawling up the bank, so nearly exhausted +that he seemed hardly able to move, yet filled with +an indescribable sense of happiness at being +alive.</p> + +<p>Another attack of shivers made him realize that +he must try to get warm. Rising, he half stumbled, +half ran along a sort of path that followed the +top of the bank. And a moment later, to his joy, +he saw a small cabin set in a clearing ahead of +him. Hurrying forward, he approached the front +of the shack and was about to rouse its inmates by +knocking on the door, when two huge dogs came +running around the corner and rushed at him. +They growled and snapped so viciously at his +bare legs that Tad made a hasty retreat, beating +them off with the cord which he had removed +from his ankle and was still carrying.</p> + +<p>“Hello, the house!” he cried.</p> + +<p>But the people inside either could not or would +not hear him, and after a moment of hesitation +a renewed attack by the dogs caused him to keep +on his way westward along the bank. The damp +twigs and briars slapped and scratched his naked +legs, but he was past paying any attention to such +trifles. If only he could find a sheltered corner of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> +some sort where he could curl up and rest without +perishing of cold!</p> + +<p>The path opened after a while on another clearing, +bigger than the first, and he made out the +shapes of half a dozen scattered houses off to the +right, away from the river. There was something +depressing in their silent blackness, and after his +experience at the last place, he had little heart to +approach them. Instead he followed a deeply rutted +road that led forward to the bank of what +seemed to be a good-sized creek flowing into the +Ohio.</p> + +<p>Tad groped his way to the door of a log shanty +which stood by the water—a store-house of some +kind, he thought. But here again he was disappointed, +for a heavy padlock secured the latch.</p> + +<p>As he stood there, shivering and desperate, his +eye fell on a long, dark bulk beside the landing-stage. +It was a boat—a clumsy broadhorn of the +kind he had seen drifting down the river.</p> + +<p>He drew closer and saw a roofed shelter covering +the after part. It looked warm and dry. Surely +there could be no harm in resting there until daylight. +He would come ashore before the owners +appeared, he told himself. And a moment later +he was scrambling aboard. There were rough, +warm burlap bags and a heavy tarpaulin in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> +shelter. Shivering, he made a place for himself +in a deep, snug corner and pulled the canvas cover +about him. After a moment or two his body began +to warm the nest, and a heavenly peace seemed +to soothe his weariness like a drug. Before another +minute passed, he had fallen into a slumber +far too deep for dreams.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Hard upon the beach oar—</div> +<div class="indent">She moves too slow.</div> +<div class="verse">All the way to Shawneetown,</div> +<div class="indent">Lo-o-ng time ago-o.”</div> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The song</span> came sifting into Tad’s consciousness +pleasantly, to the accompaniment of a snapping, +sizzling noise and a most appetizing smell. He +opened his eyes and tried to think where he was, +but everything was dark around him—dark and +strange. He put out a hand and felt bags close by. +Then he remembered in a flash all the details of +the catastrophe that had brought him there. With +a start he sat upright, looking out over the tops +of bales and boxes.</p> + +<p>It was not only morning but bright, broad daylight. +And the boat was moving. He could see the +line of trees on shore marching past. Painfully, +for he was very stiff and sore, he changed his +position so that he could look out ahead. There in +the waist of the broadhorn, just forward of the +shelter, was a small fire blazing cheerfully on a +rough clay hearth. Over it crouched a young man +in a cap and “store clothes,” holding a frying-pan<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> +full of bacon, which gave forth the pleasant +aroma he had already noticed.</p> + +<p>The tuneful cook resumed his song, adding a +verse that took his crew on the next stage of their +journey, and Tad, looking beyond him, discovered +that there was still another person aboard the +flatboat. Up on the half-deck, forward, a big, +loose-jointed young fellow of nineteen moved +back and forth. In each brown fist he gripped the +handle of a fifteen-foot sweep-oar trimmed out of +an ash sapling, and pulled steadily and powerfully, +walking two steps forward and two back +at each stroke. He was dressed in a coarse butternut +shirt and fringed leather hunting-breeches, +which made a quaint contrast to the more pretentious +costume of the man by the fire. He was a +tremendously tall youngster—as tall as any one +Tad had ever seen—and his gaunt, big-featured, +homely face, with the quirk of humor at the corners +of his mouth, attracted the boy instantly. +He had a mop of tousled, rusty-black hair and +deep-set gray eyes that were fixed, at that moment, +on the Kentucky shore.</p> + +<p>The singer’s voice ceased abruptly, and Tad, +glancing in his direction, found the man’s eyes +looking straight into his own.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll be tee-totally—” he began, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> +rose, almost dropping the pan. “Looky here, Abe! +Leave go them oars an’ come a-runnin’.”</p> + +<p>The young giant in the bows landed amidships +in a single long jump.</p> + +<p>“What is it? Snakes?” he cried.</p> + +<p>For answer the other pointed a finger at Tad, +as the boy crawled out of his hiding-place. The +look of open-mouthed astonishment on the cook’s +face had changed now to one of outraged wrath.</p> + +<p>“See here, you—you dirty, thievin’ skunk!” he +blustered. “What in the nation do ye think ye’re +a-doin’ aboard of our—”</p> + +<p>His voice was drowned by a roar of good-natured +merriment from his tall companion. And +Tad, looking down at himself for the first time, +realized what a grotesque appearance he presented. +The brief night-shirt he had worn when +the gambler entered his stateroom had been torn +to ribbons in the fight which followed. And after +being covered with mud and further ripped by +the briars, it was no longer recognizable as a +garment. From head to foot he was smeared with +dirt and dried blood, and his hair was matted +with twigs.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he grinned, “I don’t blame you for +laughing, or for thinking I’m a thief, either. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> +you don’t have to worry. I just crawled in here +to sleep last night, and—”</p> + +<p>“What do ye mean by makin’ free with other +folks’ property?” began the smaller of the two +boatmen. The one called Abe put a restraining +hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Shut up, Allen,” he said. “Let the boy tell +his story. You’re cold, ain’t you, son? Here, wrap +yerself up in this.”</p> + +<p>Gratefully, Tad pulled around him the heavy +blanket which was offered, and proceeded to give +them an outline of his adventure, while Allen continued +cooking the breakfast.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” grunted that individual, still sourly, +when Tad had finished. “How much was you +robbed of?”</p> + +<p>“Not quite two hundred dollars,” answered the +boy.</p> + +<p>“Ha, ha!” chuckled the doubter. “That’s a +likely yarn!”</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute, Allen,” Abe interrupted. “I +don’t know how much money he had an’ don’t +keer. But I do know when a boy’s tellin’ the truth. +What’s your name, sonny?”</p> + +<p>“Thaddeus Hopkins,” answered the boy. +“People generally call me Tad.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>“All right, Tad,” the tall young backwoodsman +continued. “I reckon the fust thing you’re +interested in is breakfast. After that we’ll see +about dressin’ you and make some plans.</p> + +<p>“Now, Allen, if the viands are prepared you +may serve our frugal repast.”</p> + +<p>There was such a comical dignity in his stiff +bow as he made the last remark that both his +hearers laughed in spite of themselves. Without +more ado they attacked the smoking pile of bacon +and cornmeal johnny-cake, and Tad thought no +food he had ever eaten had tasted quite so good. +There had seemed to be a prodigious lot of it +when they started, but the giant sweep-oarsman +had an appetite quite in keeping with his huge, +gaunt frame, and in fifteen minutes the pans were +empty.</p> + +<p>“Thar,” said Abe as he wiped the last of the +bacon grease from his tin plate with a piece of +corn-bread, “now maybe we can give some attention +to navigatin’ the good ship <i>Katy Roby</i>.”</p> + +<p>He winked at Tad as he pronounced the name, +and Tad, glancing at Allen, saw him flush with +embarrassment and turn quickly to the business +of cleaning the breakfast utensils.</p> + +<p>Abe looked at both banks, to make sure the +broadhorn was drifting on the right course, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> +rummaged in a pine box under the shelter, astern. +From it he pulled forth presently a pair of woolen +breeches, worn and shrunken, and a clean white +cotton shirt.</p> + +<p>“These may fit ye a bit long,” he said to Tad, +“but rollin’ up the legs an’ sleeves won’t hurt a +thing. Maybe ye’ll grow into ’em.”</p> + +<p>Tad was really touched, for he could see that +the gangling young boatman had given him his +own “best clothes.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” he said. “That’s mighty good of +you. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to wash +before I put them on.”</p> + +<p>There was a length of new rope for mooring, +tied to one of the bow-posts, and when Tad had +stripped off his rags he threw the rope over the +side and let himself down into the river. In the +bright morning sun it felt warmer than the night +before, but there was no temptation to stay in +long. He scrubbed off as much of the grime as he +was able, holding on by one hand, and then +clambered back aboard. Five minutes later he was +warm, dry, and decently clad, at least according +to the simple standards of the river.</p> + +<p>“Now, Allen,” said Abe, resting on his oar-handles, +“what are we a-goin’ to do with this +young rooster?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>Allen was frowning in perplexity.</p> + +<p>“Got any folks along this part o’ the river?”</p> + +<p>“No,” Tad said. “I don’t know a soul between +here and New Orleans. But if you want to put me +ashore, I suppose I could get something to do and +earn my keep until Father comes for me.”</p> + +<p>Abe shook his head. “That don’t seem to me +exactly reasonable,” he said. “We’re a-goin’ +down to New Orleans ourselves, an’ we could +maybe use a spare hand. What d’ye say, Cap’n?”</p> + +<p>Allen seemed a trifle dubious. “Think the rations’ll +hold out?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Sartin they will,” Abe replied. “We can +make it quicker’n we planned, by runnin’ nights +sometimes. An’ with a real dead-shot rifleman like +you along, we ought to jest about live on b’ar an’ +turkey meat, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>The other member of the crew was somewhat +mollified by these words. “Wal, maybe so,” said +he. “I reckon we can’t help ourselves. What can +ye do, boy? Cook?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” Tad hesitated, “I—I don’t think +I can, but perhaps I could learn.”</p> + +<p>“I b’lieve Allen, here, would condescend to +give ye a lesson,” put in Abe, seriously.</p> + +<p>“Hm,” said Allen. “Can ye ketch fish, or chop +wood?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>“I never tried,” answered Tad, “but I’d like +to.”</p> + +<p>Abe, who had been rowing hard during this +questioning, leaned on his oars again.</p> + +<p>“Now see here,” he said, “you don’t have to +worry about this yere boy. Any youngster with +the spunk to wrestle with a robber, an’ be dropped +off a steamboat into cold water at midnight, an’ +swim across the Ohio River, an’ run three miles, +naked, with mean dogs after him—can look out +for himself. He’ll be cookin, fishin’, <i>an’</i> choppin’ +wood long ’fore he gits to New Orleans.”</p> + +<p>With these words Tad was officially admitted +to membership in the crew of the home-made +flatboat <i>Katy Roby</i> and set forth on one of the +strangest and most interesting adventures that +ever befell a fifteen-year-old school boy.</p> + +<p>All that fine April day they made steady progress +down the swollen river. Part of the time Abe +and Allen worked at the oars, adding a mile or +two an hour to the speed of the current. Part of +the time they loafed in the sun on the half-deck, +asking Tad questions about the politer world of +the Eastern cities and swapping yarns about their +own great frontier country.</p> + +<p>“You mean to tell me they <i>all</i> wear shoes in +New York?” asked Abe incredulously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>“Yes,” said Tad, “all but a few poor children. +I’ve never gone barefoot since I was a baby.”</p> + +<p>“Gosh!” the lanky backwoodsman exclaimed. +“Look at <i>my</i> feet!” He pulled off his moccasin +and showed a sole covered by a single vast callus. +“Outside of about five months in winter +when I wore hide boots, I never had a shoe on my +foot till last year. Pap always figgered it was +cheaper to let me grow my own leather,” he +added, with the twinkle in his gray eyes that Tad +was learning to expect.</p> + +<p>Piecing together what the two boatmen told +him and what he picked up from their conversation, +he learned that Allen Gentry was the son +of a merchant living in the settlement at the +mouth of Little Pigeon Creek, where Tad had first +sought shelter in the flatboat. His father, James +Gentry, was the owner of the craft, and was sending +Allen to sell the corn, pork, and potatoes +which made up its cargo in the great produce +market of New Orleans.</p> + +<p>Abe, as he himself told Tad, was merely a +“hired hand,” sent along to do the heavy work +and to “take keer” of Allen. But it was quite +apparent that the long-limbed country boy with +his quaint humor and his common sense was the +real leader of the expedition.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When the lingering</span> spring sunset came, the +flatboat was bowling along so merrily that Abe +decided to make a long day’s run of it. He left the +bow sweeps and stretched his long bulk on the +little after deck with the steering-oar under his +arm. Allen pulled out a home-made banjo from +some mysterious hiding-place and proceeded to +strum it softly. His pleasant tenor voice, floating +out across the reaches of the river, was joined by +a bass bellow from another broadhorn astern, and +for several miles they drifted to the mellow harmony +of “Skip to My Lou,” “Weevily Wheat,” +“Down the Big River,” and “Wabash Gals.”</p> + +<p>The afterglow dimmed out of the sky, and +bright stars filled it. And Tad, yawning drowsily, +was sent to bed. Rolled up in a blanket on the +hard deck planks and lulled by the murmur of +the river, he slept as soundly as he ever had in +his life.</p> + +<p>The sun had already risen when he woke, and +he was surprised to see the budding branches of +a big sycamore overhanging the deck of the flatboat. +Abe was up on the bank chopping wood for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> +the breakfast fire, and Allen was casting off the +stern mooring-rope which had been fastened +around the tree. Tad threw off his blanket, pulled +up a bucket of water from over the side, and +hastily performed his morning ablutions.</p> + +<p>By the time he had finished, the boat was well +on its way again.</p> + +<p>“Wal, youngster,” chuckled Allen, “how’s +this? You awake an’ ready to eat again?”</p> + +<p>The truth was, Tad did have a fine appetite for +breakfast, and he admitted it with a grin. “I feel +as if I ought to work for it first, though,” he said.</p> + +<p>“So you can,” Abe put in. “Here’s the ax. +S’pose you split some o’ this wood up in nice fine +kindlin’, while I go up forrard an’ persuade her +a little with the oars.”</p> + +<p>Tad, willing enough, picked up the ax and +started clumsily to hack away at the chunk of +pine. By dint of hard work he managed to split +away a cross-grained sliver from one side and +was attacking the larger piece again when a +smothered choking sound reached his ears. There +lay Allen, rolling on the planks and holding his +sides with laughter.</p> + +<p>In a country where children learned to use an +ax almost as soon as they could walk and supplied +the house with firewood before they knew their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> +A-B-C’s, the sight of Tad’s awkwardness was +enough to provoke any man’s mirth.</p> + +<p>But Abe did not laugh. He left his oars and +came down to Tad’s side.</p> + +<p>“Watch,” he said. “You’ll git the knack of it +in no time.” And swinging the ax one-handed, +with no apparent effort, he cleft the log cleanly +through the center, then into quarters. His arm +rose and fell steadily, and in an amazingly short +time there was only a neat pile of slender pine +splints lying by the hearth.</p> + +<p>As they breakfasted, a big keel-boat, piled with +farm implements and furniture and with half a +dozen lively-looking children swarming over and +through everything, steered close to them.</p> + +<p>“Movers,” said Allen.</p> + +<p>A bearded man with a cross, discontented face +appeared at the gunwale of the keel-boat and +hailed them.</p> + +<p>“Where are we? Can you tell me?” he shouted.</p> + +<p>“This is the Ohio River,” Abe replied cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but whereabouts—what part?” fretted +the mover.</p> + +<p>“Jest now,” said Abe, considering, “you’re in +Indianny. But in five more minutes your bow-end’ll +be in Illinois. Thar’s the Wabash, now.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>He pointed to the right bank a mile or so below, +and Tad saw a wide river emptying into the Ohio +from the north.</p> + +<p>The bearded man muttered something that +might have been thanks and went back to the +tiller of the keel-boat, while Abe resumed his +breakfast.</p> + +<p>“They’ll make a mighty valuable addition to +the population of whatever place they’re a-goin’ +to,” he remarked between mouthfuls of johnny-cake.</p> + +<p>“Must be Illinois,” put in Allen. “That question +sounded jes’ like a ‘Sucker.’”</p> + +<p>The latter scornful epithet, Tad discovered, was +universally applied by the Hoosiers to their +neighbors on the west. Although hundreds of +families were moving from Indiana into Illinois +every year and the people of the two States were +often blood kin to each other, there was a vigorous +rivalry that did not always confine itself +to calling names.</p> + +<p>Something of this feeling Tad was soon to see, +for they made a landing at Shawneetown on the +Illinois shore, sometime during the forenoon. One +of the first things he had asked his new friends +was how he might send word of his safety to his +father, in New Orleans. And it had been agreed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> +that they should stop at the first town where +steamboats touched and mail a letter.</p> + +<p>There were no writing materials aboard the +<i>Katy Roby</i>. When Abe and Allen had calculations +to make, they did it with a burnt stick on the deck +planking. So, leaving Allen to guard the flatboat +and her cargo, Abe and Tad climbed the muddy +hill from the landing-stage and sought a place +where paper and ink might be bought. One of the +first buildings they reached was a rambling log +house with a wide porch in front, which turned +out to be a general store. They entered and made +their purchases, and Tad started to write his +letter, using the head of a barrel for a table. +Briefly he described the attempt to put him out +of the way and how he had made his escape. Basing +his estimate on the average speed of the +<i>Katy Roby</i>, he wrote that with good luck they +would reach New Orleans within two or three +weeks.</p> + +<p>He was just signing his name to the message +when he heard a commotion of some kind outside. +The group of loafers who had been hanging +around the door when they entered now left the +porch with a clatter of boots. A loud voice was +raised tauntingly.</p> + +<p>“Wal, you long-legged, slab-sided, lousy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> +Hoosier, want to see how it feels to git thrown?” +it asked.</p> + +<p>Tad hastily pocketed his letter and went to the +door. In the midst of a ring of spectators outside, +a big, stocky, river-man was brushing the dirt off +his hands, while a crestfallen youth in torn homespun +lifted himself out of the mud.</p> + +<p>Abe’s long, awkward figure towered above the +group of bystanders. Evidently the champion’s +invitation had been addressed to him. He strolled +forward into the ring. “Don’t keer ’f I do,” he +said.</p> + +<p>There were roars of laughter from the Illinois +men.</p> + +<p>“Them leather breeches is to scare off the varmints!” +one cried.</p> + +<p>“What do they feed you on, Longshanks?” +asked another.</p> + +<p>“Suckers,” answered Abe, with a grin, and +pulled his belt a notch tighter.</p> + +<p>The river-man was broad-shouldered and powerful, +with short, thick arms like a bear’s. He +pounded himself on the chest with a huge fist and +roared:</p> + +<p>“Here I am! I’m ‘Thick Mike’ Milligan o’ +Kaskaskia! I kin drink more likker an’ walk +straighter, chaw more terbakker an’ spit less<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> +juice, break more noses an’ swaller less teeth, +than any man on the rivers. I eat wildcat fer +breakfast an’ alligator fer supper. I’m a ragin’ +hyena! I’m a terror to snakes! Look out, fer I’m +a-comin’!”</p> + +<p>As he shouted the last words, he jumped in the +air and clapped his heels together. Then with a +rush he charged at Abe.</p> + +<p>There was nothing awkward about the tall +Hoosier now. He took a quick sidewise step, +springy as a cat on his moccasined feet. One long +arm shot out and caught Milligan by his thick +neck, spinning him about so that he dropped on +one hand and one knee. The river-man was up in +an instant, roaring like a bull. But now he came +on more warily, trying to get in close, where he +could come to grips with his opponent. Abe, +circling and retreating constantly, held him out of +reach with those long, sinewy scarecrow arms of +his.</p> + +<p>The onlookers began to hoot and jeer. “They +call that wrastlin’ in Indianny?” yelled one. And +another edged close to Abe to trip him.</p> + +<p>“Look out!” cried Tad, but his warning was +unnecessary. The lanky young flatboatman had +seen the movement out of the corner of his eye, +and instead of falling over the outthrust foot he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> +suddenly leaped backward, seized the tricky bystander +by the collar, and hurled him through the +air, straight at Milligan. Then, without the loss +of a second, he was after the two of them. Catching +the river bully off his balance, he lifted him +clear of the ground and slammed him on his back, +piling the dazed and gasping meddler on top of +him before either could collect his wits.</p> + +<p>“Thick Mike” picked himself up angrily, while +the crowd howled its desire for the “best two out +o’ three falls!”</p> + +<p>Abe seemed to have undergone a change. He +was mad now—mad clean through—and his gray +eyes blazed as he trod lightly forward to meet +Milligan’s attack.</p> + +<p>The river-man tried a new plan. Waiting till +Abe was close, he suddenly plunged in low, hoping +to get a crotch-hold and upset the lanky Hoosier. +This time Abe wasted no time in dodging. Before +the other’s hands were fairly on him, he had +seized him with both arms around the middle and +whirled him, feet in air, over his shoulder. Milligan +landed heavily on the small of his back, and +with a panther-like spring Abe was on him, pinning +his shoulders flat.</p> + +<p>There was no longer a question as to which was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> +the better wrestler, and the stocky Kaskaskia man +was the first to admit it. He rose, still a little dizzy +from the force of his fall, and shook Abe’s hand.</p> + +<p>“They ain’t many kin do that,” he grinned. +“How tall air ye, lad?”</p> + +<p>“Six foot four,” said Abe.</p> + +<p>“An’ how old?”</p> + +<p>“Nineteen,” answered the flatboatman.</p> + +<p>“Great sufferin’ catfish!” the other exclaimed. +“Ye’d oughter be a good-sized feller when ye +grow up!”</p> + +<p>The crowd of loafers did not seem disposed to +take their champion’s defeat quite so good-humoredly. +As Abe and Tad went back to the +store to post the letter, these hangers-on followed +at their heels.</p> + +<p>“Huh! Wrastle? Sure he kin. That ain’t nothin’,” +said one of them. “But what’d he look like +in a real ruckus—knock-down an’ drag-out?”</p> + +<p>The tall youth turned on the top step and deliberately +rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, quietly. “One Hoosier to one +Sucker ain’t a fair fight. But if any two of ye +want to tackle me at once, I’ll be pleased to accommodate. +Step right up here, boys.”</p> + +<p>His words produced an immediate hush. For a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> +moment he stood there eyeing them scornfully, +while they shuffled their feet and looked sheepish. +Then he entered the store.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Tad,” he said with a wink, “we’ll be +a-goin’ now.”</p> + +<p>The boy gave his letter to the postmaster, got +that worthy’s assurance that he would mail it on +the steamboat <i>Nancy Jones</i>, from Louisville, +likely to stop at Shawneetown in the next day or +two, and followed Abe down the hill.</p> + +<p>Allen, who had heard the shouting, was filled +with curiosity. “What’d ye see, boys—a fight?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Abe, “it was jest a demonstration.” +And chuckling, he went about the business +of getting headway on the boat. Allen, however, +was not satisfied till he had got a glowing account +of the wrestling bout from Tad.</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” he nodded. “This yere Abe is +the powerfullest critter ever I see. He kin outrun, +outwrastle an’ outfight any man in our country, +back home—yes, an’ outtalk any woman. He’s as +fast as greased lightnin’ and tougher’n a white +oak post.”</p> + +<p>It was early afternoon when they passed the +broad mouth of a cave on the Illinois bank. Allen, +who had once been as far as Paducah on the steamboat,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> +pointed it out and told the gruesome story +of the Wilson Gang, a notorious outlaw band +which, twenty-five years earlier, had made the +cavern its stronghold.</p> + +<p>“Thar was more’n a hundred of ’em,” said he, +“an’ they used to rob boats an’ travelers all up +an’ down the river. They say thar’s a sort o’ +chimney goin’ up from that cave into another one +over it, an’ after the gang was cleaned out, sixty +skeletons of murdered folks was found up in that +secret cave.”</p> + +<p>Tad gazed at the place in awe as they drifted +past. It looked peaceful enough now. The sun +slanted brightly across the gray face of the rock, +and a flight of twittering swallows darted in and +out of the dusky opening.</p> + +<p>They fished and talked, sang and whittled, with +alternate spells at the oars, all afternoon, and +toward sunset sighted a black cloud of smoke beyond +the next bend.</p> + +<p>“Steamboat comin’,” remarked Abe. A long, +mournful whistle-blast came up the river, and +they saw a man, at work in a stump-filled clearing, +suddenly drop his plow handles and run down to +the shore. He leaped in the air, waving his hat +frantically as the tall stacks and shining upper +works of the craft appeared around the bend.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> +His horses eyed the approaching monster with +alarm, snorted, reared, and would have dashed +off if the plow had not buried itself and anchored +them.</p> + +<p>The steamer passed within a dozen yards of the +flatboat and they read her name, <i>Amazon</i>, in +gilded letters across her paddle-boxes. The big +wheels thrashed and churned with a mighty uproar +as the vessel forced her way up against the +current at all of four or five miles an hour. The +foamy wake that rolled out from her paddle-wheels +caught the <i>Katy Roby</i> at an awkward +angle and made her pitch like a steer. Bracing his +feet, Abe pulled on the oars with all his strength +to keep the craft from swinging sidewise. A roar +of laughter went up from the deck of the <i>Amazon</i> +where two or three of the crew were gathered.</p> + +<p>“Hold her, bean-pole!” shouted one of them.</p> + +<p>Abe dropped the oars, picked up a four-foot +stick of firewood, and sent it whirling after the +steamer, already many yards away. He threw so +hard and so true that the billet bounced off the +rail a foot from the fellow’s head, and the steamboat +men retreated hastily.</p> + +<p>Abe grinned as he handled the sweeps again. +“I’m willin’ to take their wash,” he said, “but not +their sass.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>That night, when Allen was tuning up his banjo, +Tad went aft to lie by the steering-oar with Abe. +He looked at the long, easy frame of the backwoods +youth and thought of that morning’s +wrestling-match.</p> + +<p>“Jiminy, but you’re strong!” he said, admiringly.</p> + +<p>Abe shifted his position, looking off at the low +stars.</p> + +<p>“That’s nothin’!” he said gruffly. “I was born +big. There’s no credit in that. What I’d like is to +be able to sing an’ play the banjo like Allen. I +can’t carry a tune any more’n a crow. Or I’d like +to go to an academy like you. I bet you’ve read a +power o’ books!”</p> + +<p>Tad was truthful. “Not such a terrible lot,” he +said. “They’ve got a whole library full at school, +but when you have to read them, there’s no fun +in it.”</p> + +<p>“Gee,” murmured Abe, and was silent for a +little. Then he turned toward the younger boy, +his rugged, homely face serious in the starlight.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t git much schoolin’, back whar we +lived on Little Pigeon,” he said. “But I’ve read +some—books like the Life o’ Washington, an’ the +Fourth Reader an’ the Bible, an’ <i>Æsop’s Fables</i>, +an’ the Laws of Indiana, an’ <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i>,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> +an’ <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, an’ the Almanac. Guess I’ve +read about all the books I could borrow from any +one ’round Gentryville.</p> + +<p>“’Course I learned to write an’ cipher in the +log school. An’ I used to work out the accounts for +folks—neighbors—an’ write letters for ’em if they +had to send news off. I fixed me up a quill pen out +of a turkey-buzzard’s feather, an’ the ink I made +out o’ blackberry-briar roots an’ copperas.</p> + +<p>“I’d rather have book-learnin’ than all the +muscle in the world. They say there’s a new University +goin’ to open in Indiana next Fall. If I +was rich, maybe I wouldn’t go up thar in a hurry! +But I guess I’ll likely stay workin’ ’round on +farms an’ boats.”</p> + +<p>“I should think you’d want to,” Tad put in. +“If I was as big and husky as you, and could do +the things you can, I’d never go back to school.”</p> + +<p>“Thar,” chuckled Abe, “you’ve put your finger +on it. I seem to be a born corn-husker. An’ that’s +all right, too. I like an ax. I like to work with an +ax, splittin’ rails, buildin’ things. An’ I like to +plow, an’ hoe, an’ take care o’ cattle. Only,” he +paused, frowning, “some way, that ain’t enough.” +And for many minutes thereafter he sat buried in +thought, his chin in his hand. Tad, respecting the +stern, almost sad expression on the older boy’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> +face, rose quietly and joined Allen up forward.</p> + +<p>Allen finished his song and greeted him. +“What’s the matter—Abe got one of his silent +spells?” he asked. “Don’t mind him. He’s all +right—jes’ shiftless an’ dreamy sometimes.”</p> + +<p>And striking a chord or two, he launched into +the stanzas of “Old Aunt Phoebe.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">They were</span> peeling potatoes for the noon meal +on the fourth day of the flatboat’s voyage when +Tad chanced to look off to the southward and +stood up suddenly, with an exclamation of wonder. +Above the Kentucky bluffs a cloud was rising +swiftly—a living cloud of beating wings.</p> + +<p>“Pigeons!” said Abe. And Allen, springing to +his feet, ran back under the shelter to get his +fowling-piece.</p> + +<p>The great flight of birds came swiftly. Before +Allen could finish loading the long-barreled shotgun, +the first of them were winging over—twos +and threes and fifties, and then thousands—so +many that they seemed to cover the sky. A vast, +vibrating hum of wings filled the air.</p> + +<p>Allen rammed home his charge and lifted the +gun. Taking aim was hardly necessary. He +pointed where the flock seemed thickest and fired. +At the loud report a sort of eddying movement +went through the nearer part of the cloud of +birds, but there was no change in the speed or direction +of the flight.</p> + +<p>Then bodies of dead and wounded pigeons began<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> +dropping like feathered hailstones into the +river. They sent up little splashes of water. There +must have been a dozen at least.</p> + +<p>Only one pigeon fell aboard the <i>Katy Roby</i>. +Tad picked up the warm, plump body and held it, +watching the eyes glaze. The sleek brownish-gray +feathers were ruffled, and a shot had carried away +part of the long tail.</p> + +<p>Allen was grumbling. “One pigeon! I hit +plenty, but they all fell in the water. We’d oughter +have a dog along to fetch ’em.” He was reloading +rapidly while he talked, and raised the gun again, +looking for the likeliest place to shoot.</p> + +<p>Abe’s voice came from the bows.</p> + +<p>“Don’t kill any more of ’em, Allen,” he said +with something like a command in his tone. +“Spose’n you <i>should</i> git one or two more to fall +in the boat. It takes more’n three pigeons to make +a meal for this crew. You ain’t jest shootin’ ’em +for the fun of it, are you?”</p> + +<p>“Well, why not?” replied young Gentry with +a scowl. “Thar’s millions an’ millions. Look at +’em!” He waved his arm in a wide arc. “They’re +so thick they’re ’most a nuisance.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” Abe answered. “They never harm +crops, do they? An’ they’re pretty, an’ hev a +right to live. They’re bein’ killed off too fast as it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> +is. My Pap says when he was a boy in Kaintuck’ +there used to be four or five flights every year +when the pigeons would make the sun dark for a +whole day. You don’t see that now. This flock here +is ’most over now. That’s what comes o’ killin’ +’em by the bushel jest for the sport of it.”</p> + +<p>Even as he spoke, the rear guard of the flock +swept over, leaving the sky clear once more. The +dark cloud of beating wings drew away rapidly +to the north, and in a moment the only traces of +the event were the stiffening body in Tad’s hand +and the acrid smell of burnt powder as Allen +sulkily set about cleaning his gun.</p> + +<p>When dinner was over, the long-legged backwoods +boy rose, stretched and climbed to the forward +deck. Before picking up the oars he shaded +his eyes with his hand and looked away south-westward.</p> + +<p>“Boys,” he said, “unless I’m mighty mistook, +we’ll pass Cairo an’ be sailin’ down the Mississippi +before night.”</p> + +<p>“Huh,” snorted Allen, “what do <i>you</i> know +’bout it? This ain’t the headwaters o’ Little +Pigeon Creek ye’re a-navigatin’!”</p> + +<p>“Reckon I’m as wise an ol’ barnacle as any +aboard this packet,” Abe replied with a twinkle. +“Whar do <i>you</i> figger us to be, Cap’n Gentry?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>“Wal, le’s see, now,” said Allen. “We sighted +Paducah jes’ before noon. Now I fergit how many +miles it is from thar, but seems like they told me +it was a full day’s run, that time I was down +thar I told ye about.”</p> + +<p>The argument went on spasmodically for the +balance of the afternoon. But Abe, as usual, was +right.</p> + +<p>An hour after sunset, in the calm blue dusk, +they floated out of the Ohio with the broad current +of the Mississippi sweeping down in a resistless +muddy tide from the northwest. They +knew the power of that flood a moment later when +another broadhorn, just below them, was caught +in an eddy and whirled end for end like a twig in +a brook.</p> + +<p>Abe pulled with might and main on the starboard +oar, and Allen swung the steering-sweep to +bring them over toward the Kentucky shore. “We +might’s well stay this side whar it ain’t so yaller, +long as we kin,” said the big bow-oarsman. “I +feel sort o’ more at home in water that might ha’ +come down from Little Pigeon.”</p> + +<p>They tied up to the Kentucky bank while it was +still light enough to find a good mooring-place. +Not much singing or hilarity aboard that night. +Something of the vast, brooding mystery of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> +river had got into them. Tad didn’t feel afraid, +or even lonesome, exactly. He just wasn’t in a +mood for talking. The immense distances, the +wildness of the country, the hurrying, watery +sounds of the mile-wide flood—perhaps it was +none of these, or all of them combined, that +weighed down their spirits.</p> + +<p>“Spooky, ain’t it?” said Allen, shaking himself +uneasily, and he went to his blankets without taking +out the banjo.</p> + +<p>Tad followed soon and left Abe sitting hunched +in dark silhouette against the stars, his big hands +gripped around his knees and his eyes on the +shadowy line of willows and cottonwoods across +the river. He was used to spells of sadness. This +one seemed no worse than usual.</p> + +<p>Morning made a difference. The sun shone on +budding leaves of tender green and sparkled on +the dimpling surface of the water. A perfect riot +of bird-song filled the air. In the big trees that +overhung the mooring-place there must have been +hundreds of warblers, finches and song-sparrows, +and several times Tad caught the red flash of a +cardinal among the branches.</p> + +<p>Allen sang and Tad whistled intermittently +while they cooked and ate breakfast, and even +Abe hummed something that might have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> +“Turkey in the Straw” and danced a home-made +double shuffle on the fore deck, as he cast off.</p> + +<p>“Make the most of it, boys,” he laughed. “This +is all the Spring we’re a-goin’ to see. By day after +tomorrer we’ll ketch up with Summer, at this +rate.”</p> + +<p>The sun was warm enough that day to give +truth to the tall boy’s words. They passed islands +where the dogwood, at the height of its bloom, +made a white canopy almost to the water’s edge. +And in fields along the shore there were bare-footed +children running about in calico frocks.</p> + +<p>The river did not seem lonesome in daylight. +Above and below them they could see busy specks +that were keel-boats and barges. They overtook +one of these toward noon—a shabby old trading-scow. +On its after part was built a little house, or +“caboose,” from which a length of rusty stove-pipe +projected. And a dingy bit of what had once +been bright cotton print waved in tatters at the +top of a pole. Despite the forlorn appearance of +the craft, cheerful sounds came from it, as the +Indiana flatboat drew alongside.</p> + +<p>A squat, broad-shouldered old man with a +bushy gray beard and merry eyes was sitting on a +box, forward of the caboose, scraping away lustily +at a backwoods fiddle, and thumping time with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> +one foot on the deck. And sitting facing him, apparently +entranced by the hoarse squeaking of the +fiddle, was a fine red setter dog.</p> + +<p>The old fellow finished his tune with a flourish +and swung about on his box.</p> + +<p>“Howdy, boys!” he cried. “I’m Moses Magoon +o’ the Big Sandy, peaceful trader an’ musician by +choice, but a bad ’un when raised. Mebbe you’ve +heard o’ these half-horse, half-alligator fellers. +I’m one-third horse, one-third alligator, an’ the +other third mixed catamount an’ copperhead. +What d’ye find yerselves in need of today? I’ve +got calico, buttons an’ sewin’ thread, extra fine +pantaloons, shoe leather an’ wheaten flour, pots +an’ pans, powder an’ lead, candles, salt, nutmegs, +an’ red pepper.”</p> + +<p>All this had been said in a loud, hearty voice +and without any apparent pause for breath. Mr. +Magoon was about to continue when Abe interrupted +by laying an oar across the bow of the +trading-boat and pulling the two craft together, +side by side. This maneuver was not to the liking +of the setter, which jumped up, growling, teeth +bared for action.</p> + +<p>“Be still, Fanny,” said the old man quietly. +With a dexterous motion he pulled an old-fashioned +horse pistol out of the box beneath him and +laid it across his knees. At the sight of this +weapon, fully eighteen inches long, Abe’s jaw +dropped comically.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_058a"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_058a.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">HE PULLED A PISTOL OUT OF THE BOX</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>“Hol’ on!” he exclaimed, and hastily withdrew +the foot he was about to set aboard the scow. +“’Pears like we’d better introduce <i>our</i>selves, too. +We’re the law-abidin’est, softest-spoke flatboat +crew betwixt this an’ the Falls o’ the Ohio. We’re +two-thirds fishin’ worm an’ three-quarters turtle-dove. +All we want’s a chance to trade some good +salt pork an’ ’taters fer a pair o’ them extra +fine pantaloons—boy size—’bout big enough fer +young Tad here. Ef you’ll jes’ put away that +blunderbuss an’ explain the purpose of our visit +to Miss Fanny, we’ll come aboard an’ do business.”</p> + +<p>Magoon’s whiskers parted to display a set of +strong, even teeth. He tipped his head back and +reared with laughter. “So ye shall,” he said at +last, and wiped the tears from his eyes with the +back of a weather-browned hand. “Durned ef I +ever heerd sech a brag as that on any o’ the +rivers,” he chuckled. “But I’ll guar’ntee the +fishin’ worms an’ turtle-doves kin take keer o’ +theirselves when they hafter.”</p> + +<p>He rose, thrust the pistol back into its hiding-place, +and limped over to the gunwale with outstretched<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> +hand. “Make yerselves to home,” he +said.</p> + +<p>They lashed the two boats loosely with a length +of rope, and Allen stayed aboard the <i>Katy Roby</i> +to steer, while Abe and Tad made their purchase. +They picked out a pair of serviceable brown homespun +breeches from the merchant’s stock, and for +them traded two flitches of bacon and a barrel of +apples.</p> + +<p>Allen, with an eye to the profit of the voyage, +started to raise some objection, but Abe merely +answered, “I’ll pay fer ’em when I git my +wages,” and went on rolling out the barrel.</p> + +<p>When the transaction was completed, the genial +trader looked up at the sun and whistled. “What +about dinner?” he asked. “I’ve got a big catfish +here—more’n Fanny an’ me could eat in a +week. S’pose I make some hot coals an’ we’ll +broil him on a plank.”</p> + +<p>The Hoosier crew were in hearty agreement +with this idea, and while Abe relieved him at the +steering-oar, Allen set about making corn-bread +as their share of the feast.</p> + +<p>Tad, who had no special chores to perform, +stayed aboard the scow and got better acquainted +with Magoon and the red setter.</p> + +<p>The old river-man had an ingenious sort of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> +Dutch oven built into the wall of the caboose. +Adding dry wood to his fire, he soon had a brisk +blaze roaring up the chimney. Meanwhile he proceeded +to clean and split the catfish, and peg it +out on a piece of plank which had evidently been +used before for the purpose.</p> + +<p>“That pistol,” said Moses Magoon, “my ol’ +Pap toted over the mountings from North Caroliny +in ’seventy-nine. It’s old an’ rusty an’ ain’t +been fired fer fifteen year. ’Tain’t even loaded +now, but I keep it handy to persuade some o’ +these thievin’ river toughs with.</p> + +<p>“I been cruisin’ up an’ down the Mississip’ an’ +the Ohio ever since I was a young feller, an’ I’ve +run afoul of ’em all, one time or another. Jes’ last +week here, a big keel-boat with half a dozen men +on deck come up alongside, somethin’ like you did. +It was Little Billy, an’ his gang, from up the +North Fork o’ Muddy Run, an’ I figgered I was +in fer trouble.</p> + +<p>“But this yere Little Billy has only got his eye +out fer two things—money an’ whisky—an’ I +don’t carry neither one of ’em. I let him come +aboard an’ look, an’ he never laid hand on any o’ +my goods—jes’ as polite as you please. ‘Well,’ +says he, ‘long as ye ain’t got no Kaintucky red-eye, +what’ll ye take fer the dog?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>“‘Sorry, Mister,’ I says, an’ I was scairt. ‘She +ain’t no ways fer sale,’ I says. ‘She’d break her +heart an’ die if I let her go.’ An’ Little Billy, +he jes’ grins an’ says, ‘Right, I had a good dog +myself, once.’ An’ with that he steps back on his +keel-boat an’ off they go.</p> + +<p>“I had a bad time, couple o’ years back, with +Mike Fink—him they call ‘The Snag,’” the old +trader went on. “I landed at New Madrid one +night an’ went up to the store. When I come back, +with my arms full o’ provisions, I see another +boat tied up, close above. An’ jest as I was goin’ +to step aboard mine, eight or ten men that had +been layin’ low under the bank stood up thar in +the dark. One of ’em says, ‘All right, stranger, +we’ll take keer o’ this,’ an’ he grabs the provisions. +Then they march me aboard o’ my own +craft an’ tell me to show ’em whar my money is +an’ no monkey business. I acted like I was plumb +scairt to death—teeth a-chatterin’ an’ knees +a-shakin’.</p> + +<p>“‘All right,’ I finally whispers, ‘I’ll show ye +whar it’s hid, only thar ain’t room fer but two +to go in.’</p> + +<p>“Mike Fink swings ’round to his gang. ‘Git +back on shore, ye lousy varmints!’ he bellers. +When they’re all up on the bank, he pulls out his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> +knife an’ holds it in his teeth, an’ I lead the way +into the caboose here. It’s a right dark night an’ +Mike he strikes a light an’ holds up a candle, +while I’m rummagin’ round in the corner. Pretty +soon I undo the ketch o’ this leetle trap door down +here in the bulkhead, an’ open her up. ‘Whar’s +that go?’ says the Snag. ‘That’s my secret hidin-place,’ +I says—‘want me to go first, or you?’ An’ +I’m still lettin’ on to be tremblin’ so I kin hardly +talk.</p> + +<p>“‘You,’ says Mike, ‘an’ by the ol’ ’Tarnation +I’ll cut you into stewin’ meat if you try any +tricks.’</p> + +<p>“So I crawls through the hole on my hands an’ +knees, an’ waits fer him to follow.”</p> + +<p>Magoon opened the little trap door as he spoke, +and Tad laughed when he saw a two-foot ledge of +deck and then the river beyond it.</p> + +<p>“Wal,” the old man went on, “Mike didn’t +come through, right off, an’ I tell you I <i>was</i> +scairt. ’Twas so durn dark outside, I knew he +couldn’t see, but he stayed thar an’ tried to figger +if I was up to anything. Finally he says, ‘Bring +the money out here in the cabin.’ I’m workin’ at +the moorin’-rope all this time, an’ now I make a +noise like I’m tuggin’ an’ liftin’. ‘Can’t,’ says I. +‘It’s too heavy!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>“That fetched him, sure ’nough. Here he comes +on all fours, with the knife still in his teeth. I +gives the rope one last pull an’ it comes away, an’ +then ’fore he rightly sees whar he is, I ketches +him by the scruff o’ the neck an’ heaves him overboard.</p> + +<p>“You can bet I didn’t wait to see whether he +was drowned, neither. I give a big shove with the +oar an’ got out o’ reach o’ the bank, an’ then I +stood by the gunwale with an ax, ready to cut the +hands off anybody that tried to swim out an’ +climb aboard.</p> + +<p>“It must have took Mike a few minutes to +crawl out an’ git organized again. Anyhow they +never follered me.”</p> + +<p>The last part of the story had been told out +on the open deck, and Abe and Allen were listening +with rapt attention.</p> + +<p>“Is that the same Mike Fink they call the +‘Snappin’ Turtle’ up our way?” asked Abe.</p> + +<p>“That’s him,” the old man nodded. “He’s +called that above the Wabash. Both names is too +good fer him. Wal, boys, how’s the dinner comin’ +along?”</p> + +<p>Tad’s mind was filled with questions about the +river pirates, but he postponed asking them long<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> +enough to do full justice to the planked catfish. +When the meal was over he perched himself on +the gunwale of the trading-boat and waited for +the grizzled river-man to get his cob pipe going.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Magoon,” he said, when the blue smoke-clouds +were rising at last, “who do you think is +the worst outlaw you ever ran across?”</p> + +<p>The old man puffed in silence for a moment. +“Reckon the worst I ever see with my personal +eyes was ol’ Jericho Wilson o’ the Cave Gang,” +he replied at length. “Him an’ Black Carnahan +an’ Earless Jake Rogers was a bad bunch. They +had more’n a hundred men to back ’em up, an’ +kep’ the whole Ohio Valley scairt fer a while. +When that posse of up-river hunters wiped ’em +out, I know mighty well we all breathed easier.</p> + +<p>“But listen to me, boy. Fer real cold-blooded, +cutthroat deviltry, nobody on any o’ the rivers +kin touch this man John Murrell. He an’ his gang +hang out on an island somewhere down beyond +Natchez. He started as a gambler, hoss-thief, an’ +murderer, but his main trade nowadays is stealin’ +niggers. They say he’s killed twenty-eight men +himself, an’ gosh knows how many the rest o’ the +gang have put away. Mostly he works along the +lower river, but once in a while, when things git<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> +too hot around the plantations, he stays out o’ +sight fer a while, mebbe up the Ohio, or over in +Alabama.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see him?” asked Tad.</p> + +<p>“Not me, an’ I hope the day don’t soon come!” +said Magoon, fervently. “They tell me he’s a tall, +pale-faced sort o’ feller, with dead black hair like +a Frenchman. But the chances are you’ll never +run afoul of him. He don’t bother with flatboats +much. He’s out for bigger game.”</p> + +<p>He got up from his box and looked over at the +eastern shore, shading his eyes with his hand. +Some one on the bank was waving a white cloth +to and fro.</p> + +<p>“That’s a signal fer me to land,” he said. +“The folks along the river know a tradin’-scow +by the calico flag, an’ wave to us when they want +us.”</p> + +<p>Tad got back aboard the <i>Katy Roby</i>, and they +cast off the tie-rope.</p> + +<p>“Wal, so long, Hoosiers,” said Magoon. +“Reckon I won’t see ye again, less’n I ketch ye +in New Orleans. Take keer o’ yerselves. Ho, ho! +Fishin’ worms an’ suckin’ doves! Heh, heh!” +And he was still chuckling over Abe’s words and +repeating them to Fanny, the setter, as the two +boats drifted apart.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>Tad watched the odd little craft until its owner +was no longer visible in the distance. Then he +looked down at the coarse, homely pantaloons that +covered his legs. In spite of himself he could not +help a little smile as he thought of the spectacle +he would present to one of his carefully attired +schoolmates.</p> + +<p>Abe saw the smile, and his face lit with +pleasure.</p> + +<p>“Like ’em, Tad?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“You bet,” said Tad stoutly. “But listen, Abe, +you oughtn’t to do this for me. How much does +Mr. Gentry pay you, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” replied the big backwoodsman, +grinning proudly. “I git eight dollars a +month an’ my steamboat passage home.”</p> + +<p>And with that he vaulted to the fore deck and +picked up the oars.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The current</span> set over strongly toward the Kentucky +shore that afternoon, and soon they found +themselves swinging around the outer side of an +immense bend. At noon they had been heading +almost due south. By three o’clock they were +running northwest, and an hour later they were +carried over to the Missouri side as another great +sweep began, this time to the left.</p> + +<p>“That must be New Madrid,” said Allen. “The +river makes a big S, an’ the town lays right in +the second bend.”</p> + +<p>They saw a settlement of twenty or thirty +houses sprawled along the bank, with a white +church rising from trees above the landing. The +river ran fast around the bend, and Abe had left +the oars to man the steering-sweep. “Want to +land?” he shouted. “Guess we don’t need +nothin’,” said Allen. “After hearin’ what happened +to that trader feller at New Madrid I’d +jest as leave sleep farther down.”</p> + +<p>They shot past the drowsy town and swung +southward again with the hurrying brown flood.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> +Instead of the wilderness of willow-clad banks +and reedy marshes past which they had been drifting, +the Missouri shore stretched away here in +broad acres of plowed ground.</p> + +<p>At sunset they saw ahead of them a big, white-painted +house set among trees on a knoll. A +broad, rolling lawn stretched down from it to the +river, and there were barns and outbuildings half +hidden by shrubbery at the rear. Beyond the expanse +of lawn and nearer the river, was a less +pretentious house, flanked by a row of trim cabins. +There were a dozen or more of these, each with +its small garden and a curl of blue smoke coming +from the chimney.</p> + +<p>“Golly,” said Abe, “ain’t that a pretty layout? +S’pose we could git some good clear water here? +I’m all clogged up with yaller mud, drinkin’ this +river water. Let’s land anyhow.”</p> + +<p>He steered inshore and tossed a snubbing-rope +over one of the piles at the end of the little landing. +When they had made the <i>Katy Roby</i> fast, Abe +and Allen went up the path toward the smaller +house at the end of the line of cabins.</p> + +<p>A big man in riding-boots and a wide-brimmed +black hat was sitting on the veranda. He had a +long, drooping mustache from which a black cigar +protruded at a ferocious angle. Altogether he did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> +not look particularly hospitable. Abe stood awkwardly +at the foot of the steps.</p> + +<p>“Evenin’,” said he. “I reckon a place as fine +an’ handsome as this must have a good well o’ +water. Ef it ain’t too much trouble, we’d like to +fill up a kaig or two.”</p> + +<p>The man got up and took the cigar from his +mouth. Under the huge mustache he smiled, and +his whole expression grew more friendly.</p> + +<p>“No trouble whatsomever, stranger,” he answered. +“We have to watch out down yere on account +o’ these river scalawags that steals our +shoats an’ chickens. But now I know ye ain’t that +breed o’ varmints, fo’ they won’t drink nothin’ +but straight Mississip’ water, one-third mud an’ +two-thirds liquid. Bring yo bar’l right along up, +an’ make yo’selves free o’ the landin’, ef yo’re +stayin’ all night.”</p> + +<p>They rolled their big water-keg up to the plantation +well, where a couple of grinning darkies filled +it for them.</p> + +<p>As they came back past the row of slave shanties, +a pleasant smell of bacon and corn-pone +drifted out to their nostrils. Half a dozen negroes—strapping +black field hands in cotton shirts and +trousers—lounged on the grass in front of the +cabins. One drew weird minor chords from a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> +home-made banjo, and the others were “patting +Juba” as they swayed and sang.</p> + +<p>Rolling bass and rich husky tenor blended in a +throbbing harmony that sent shivers of delight +up and down Tad’s spine. It was the first time he +had ever heard negroes singing a plantation song. +After they had reached the landing and were getting +supper aboard the flatboat, the words still +came drifting down to them:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Oh, I long fo’ to reach dat heavenly sho’,</div> +<div class="indent">To meet ol’ Peter standin’ at de do’;</div> +<div class="verse">He say to me, ‘Oh, how you do?</div> +<div class="indent">Come set right yonner in de golden pew.’”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>“Gosh,” said Abe, “those boys shore can sing.”</p> + +<p>Allen nodded. “Ye’d oughter hear ’em when +they git really worked up to it,” said he. “That +time I was down to Paducah, there was a big gang +of ’em aboard the steamboat, bein’ took down to +New Orleans. Sing! Boy, you’d thought they was +goin’ on a picnic!”</p> + +<p>“Pore things,” said Abe.</p> + +<p>“Aw, shucks,” Allen laughed. “Thar goes your +tender-heartedness again, Abe. ’Tain’t no use +feelin’ sorry fer ’em, no more than cattle goin’ to +market.”</p> + +<p>Abe shook his head, thoughtfully. “It’s not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> +exactly the same,” he said. “They <i>ain’t</i> cattle, no +matter how much folks say so. You take it on a +plantation like this one an’ they look to be well +kept an’ happy enough. But s’pose this owner +dies, or gits a new overseer. Right off, mebbe +inside a week’s time, they’re bein’ starved, or +whipped, or sold down the river—families broke +up—everything changed.</p> + +<p>“Misery comes to white folks, too, but at least +they’ve got somethin’ to say about it. Looks like +we have to have the slaves to raise cotton. But +we ought to make it more of a square deal.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” yawned Allen, “what’s the use of +arguin’? ’Tain’t likely any of us’ll ever be bothered +about it, one way or t’other.”</p> + +<p>They followed the overseer’s suggestion and +spent that night tied up at the plantation landing. +The last thing Tad heard before he dropped off +to sleep was a broken strain of that barbaric music—a +low, sobbing croon, inexpressibly sad—borne +down on the night wind from the slave quarters.</p> + +<p>The crew of the <i>Katy Roby</i> were up betimes +next morning.</p> + +<p>“We’re runnin’ slow,” said Abe. “Got to do +some rowin’ or we won’t be in New Orleans on +schedule. Come on thar, cooks an’ cook’s helpers, +git that fry-pan hot!” And he bent his long back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> +to the oars with a vigor that made the ash wood +creak.</p> + +<p>Within an hour they had left civilization behind +them again and were slipping down through the +wildest-looking country they had yet encountered. +There were many islands, some hardly more than +sand-bars where the twisting, gnawing river was +depositing the tons of yellow mud it had eaten +away, farther up. Jungles of tall cane lined the +banks, and often, when the current bore them +through a narrow cut, they would pass so close +that the cane rattled along the side of the boat.</p> + +<p>They were just entering one of these channels, +sometime in the middle of the afternoon, and Allen +and Tad were speculating as to whether they +were yet in Tennessee, when Abe held up his hand +for silence.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, after a moment. “Dogs +barkin’, down in the canebrake. Mebbe we’ll see +what they’re a-huntin’.”</p> + +<p>The others climbed to the fore deck and stood +quiet, listening. Soon they too heard the savage +baying of the hounds, away to the south, and as +the current brought them nearer they watched +the banks intently.</p> + +<p>The sound was much closer now, and seemed +to have changed in tone. There were short breathless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> +barks and an undercurrent of fierce snarling.</p> + +<p>“They’ve got somethin’, sure!” said Abe. “An’ +if they ain’t too far back from the river we’ll +come in sight of ’em in a minute.”</p> + +<p>“Look!” cried Tad.</p> + +<p>As he pointed they saw a gaunt black bear, +with two cubs running at her side, dash across an +opening in the canebrake not twenty yards away.</p> + +<p>Close on their heels came the dogs—big mongrel +hounds that leaped abreast of the hindmost +cub and pulled him down with murderous jaws. +The old bear had started into the cane on the far +side of the opening but turned at a scream from +her luckless baby. With a rumbling growl she +rushed back into the tangle of dogs, knocking +them to right and left with vicious blows of her +great forepaws.</p> + +<p>The other cub had taken to the water and was +swimming strongly out across the channel.</p> + +<p>“Back water with the oars!” shouted Abe from +the stern. And lifting the long sweep from its +chocks, he thrust it down into the mud like a +setting-pole. The flatboat slackened speed and +came to a stop. Leaning far out over the gunwale +and stretching his long arm downward, Abe +gripped the young bear by the scruff of the neck +and hauled him aboard, dripping and gasping.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>Meanwhile events had developed swiftly on the +shore. There was a noise of running feet, and a +hunter in deerskin burst out of the cane. As he +appeared, the mother bear left her dead cub and +plunged into the river. The next second the man +came bounding after her, with no weapon but the +long hunting-knife he gripped in his right hand.</p> + +<p>The bear saw the flatboat, hesitated, and +doubled back to the left, only to meet the hunter, +who sprang to bar her last path of escape. With +a grunt of rage the great black beast surged up +on her hind feet and faced this enemy, standing +chest-deep in the water before her.</p> + +<p>There was something deadly about the slow advance +of the bear, her head sunk between hulking +shoulders, and her lips curled back savagely over +her great, keen eye-teeth. Cool and tense, the man +pulled off his coonskin cap with his left hand. And +at the moment when the bear lunged toward him, +he waved the furry headgear, with its big, flapping +tail, almost in her face. There was a great splash +of water as the enraged brute struck downward at +the moving object. And so swiftly that the boys’ +eyes could scarcely follow it, the hunter’s foot-long +blade was driven home behind her left shoulder. +A vivid spurt of crimson tinged the water, +and the huge animal made for the shore with a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> +convulsive bound that swept her adversary off his +feet. He was up the next instant, shaking the water +out of his hair, and with the knife held ready, he +followed his victim up the bank. There was no +need for another blow. Halfway out of the water, +the bear had coughed and stumbled, and when he +reached her there was only a limp furry bulk at +the edge of the cane.</p> + +<p>The crew of the flatboat had watched this encounter, +speechless except for a shout or two of +encouragement. Now, as the victor drove off the +dogs and stooped to examine the slain cub, Allen +looked around with a grin of admiration.</p> + +<p>“Phew!” he breathed. “No wonder they call +’em half a horse an’ half an alligator. Chase a b’ar +’cross country, ketch up with her, an’ kill her with +a knife in four foot o’ water! Glory be!”</p> + +<p>The man wrung some of the water out of his +fringed buckskin shirt, then turned toward the +<i>Katy Roby</i>. Abe was still holding the boat against +the current, bracing his weight on the long steering-sweep. +It was to him that the hunter now addressed +himself.</p> + +<p>“Wal, stranger,” he said, “who does that-air +cub belong to—you or me?” He spoke without +heat, in a clear, drawling voice that had a steely +ring in its undertone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>Abe was silent, looking back at him appraisingly. +The man was big-framed, powerfully +muscled, lean as a stag. He had straight black +hair, worn long, after the fashion of the Tennessee +hunters. His strong, fearless face with its big +hooked nose looked like an Indian’s.</p> + +<p>“Ye see, b’ar scalps is wu’th a dollar apiece in +Nashville,” the hunter proceeded. “The old un’s +skin’ll bring mebbe four dollars more, but I’ve +been trackin’ these three fer nigh a week. That’s +how I make my livin’, mostly.”</p> + +<p>Abe looked down at the cub, which squatted between +Tad’s knees, licking its fur dry with a long +pink tongue.</p> + +<p>“’Pears like the leetle feller got away, fair an’ +square,” he replied. “He’d have made the other +bank if we hadn’t been thar to pick him up. An’ +I reckon the boy here would like to keep him. Tell +ye what I’ll do. I’ll wrastle ye fer him.”</p> + +<p>The man on the bank shot a keen glance at Abe. +“Huh!” said he. “Good ’nough. Quick as I kin +git this job done, we’ll slip on down to the next +cleared spot an’ see ’bout it.”</p> + +<p>With that he stooped and deftly cut a circle +around the head of the dead cub, lifting off its +scalp with the ears attached. Then he set to work +on the big bear and in an incredibly short space of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> +time, he had stripped off the heavy pelt and rolled +it up, hair inside. From the haunches he cut some +chunks of meat which he pierced with a sharp stick +and swung over his shoulder. And whistling to the +hounds, he picked up his rifle and powder-horn and +set out along the bank.</p> + +<p>Abe kept the boat within sight of him except +when the high cane occasionally swallowed him up. +The lanky Indiana boy had little to say as he +worked the boat slowly down-channel.</p> + +<p>“What about it, Abe?” chattered Allen. “Think +ye kin throw him? He looks powerful stout to me. +Don’t you count on keepin’ that b’ar too durn +much, Tad.”</p> + +<p>But Tad, looking up into the weather-tanned +countenance of the steersman, saw a twinkle, deep +in the gray eyes, that reassured him.</p> + +<p>“Why,” said he to Allen, “you told me yourself +he could throw anybody on the river.”</p> + +<p>“On Little Pigeon, that was,” Allen amended. +“I didn’t say nothin’ ’bout the Mississippi.”</p> + +<p>Below them a sandy point thrust out from the +Tennessee bank, where the river was making land +faster than the rank growth could cover it. There +the hunter paused and waved to them to come +ashore. They tied the flatboat to a stump a little +way above, where there was water enough to land,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> +and strolled down to the sand-bar. Tad led the cub +by a piece of rope knotted about its neck.</p> + +<p>The stranger was already stripping for action. +He pulled off his leather hunting-frock and his inside +shirt of wool and stood forth naked to the +waist, his big, muscular arms and mighty chest +gleaming in the sun. Abe made similar preparations. +To Tad’s joy, the long-limbed Hoosier appeared +no less impressive than his rival. There +was a look of whalebone toughness in the tall lad’s +physique that made up for any difference in bulk.</p> + +<p>As they faced each other, the hunter seemed to +swell, visibly, like a ruffling rooster.</p> + +<p>“Whoopee!” he crowed. “I’m the high-an’-mighty +boss b’ar-killer o’ the Tennessee bottoms. +When I open my mouth all the big b’ars an’ little +b’ars fer a hundred mile up an’ down the river +start skedaddlin’. I’d ruther wrastle than eat, an’ +I give ye warnin’, I’m gwine ter git that cub, or +my name ain’t Davy Crockett!”</p> + +<p>He accompanied all this with a droll flapping of +the arms, and as he shouted the last words he +launched himself through the air at his young +adversary.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">That was</span> a wrestling-match that Tad never forgot. +Abe met the opening rush of the Tennesseean +with an old trick, but a good one. Crouching just +at the right time, he caught the hunter around the +knees and lifted him, letting the momentum of his +charge carry him on over Abe’s shoulder. Instantly +the young Hoosier spun about and gripped +his rival’s body almost before it touched the +ground. But Crockett broke the hold with a great +writhing twist and rolled over to light on his feet +like a fighting cat.</p> + +<p>After that they came together more cautiously, +each seeming to realize that he was dealing with +an opponent beyond the common run. They +stepped in and out with a swift padding of moccasined +feet, their hands sparring for grips. Twice +they went down together, with Abe underneath, +for he was finding his antagonist tremendously +fast and strong. But the lanky flatboatman could +turn quickly, too, and he refused to stay under +long enough to have his shoulders pinned to the +sand.</p> + +<p>Minutes went by, and still the two kept up their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> +furious pace. It was hot in the sun. Sweat streamed +from their bodies, and they panted hoarsely each +time they came to grips. But there was no easing +off in the ferocity of their attack.</p> + +<p>To Tad, watching breathlessly and shouting encouragement +to his champion, came the thought +that here perhaps Abe had met his match. A sudden +lightning-like shift of the hunter’s grip and a +sharp heave of his shoulders brought the tall +youngster to earth yet again, and the watchers +could see that this time Abe was hard put to it to +defend himself. He was on his right side, with the +powerful Crockett partly on top of him, struggling +to turn him with a half nelson—a hold in which +the hunter’s left arm was used as a lever under +Abe’s left arm and around the back of his neck.</p> + +<p>The Hoosier’s long legs were spread in a wide +V to brace him, and he seemed to be making +a last desperate resistance against a defeat he +could not avoid.</p> + +<p>“Gosh,” groaned Tad, as he saw Abe’s shoulders +slowly giving.</p> + +<p>“Hol’ on!” Allen breathed. “He ain’t done +yet.”</p> + +<p>And almost before the words had left his +mouth, the whole complexion of the bout had +changed. With a sudden tremendous twist, Abe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> +rolled over to his right side, breaking the hold, +and as he turned, his long, strong legs wound +themselves swiftly about the hunter’s middle.</p> + +<p>“Hooray!” yelled Allen. “I was waitin’ fer +that. Watch, now, when he puts the clamps on!”</p> + +<p>The Tennesseean strove fiercely to break loose, +but those fence-rail legs of Abe’s were as tough as +hickory. He locked them at the ankles, and as his +knees straightened, the hunter’s breath came in +short, hard gasps. And slowly Abe began to turn +him over.</p> + +<p>As the minutes passed, Crockett’s endurance +ebbed. He made one final try, fighting with the +fury of a wildcat to escape from the vise in which +he was gripped. Then as his muscles relaxed, +his young antagonist pressed him downward with +his shoulders squarely on the ground.</p> + +<p>“Say ‘’nough’?” panted Abe. But Crockett had +no breath to speak. He moved his head in a weary +gesture of assent.</p> + +<p>The Indiana boy unwound his legs and got up, +stiffly, reaching out a hand to the defeated bear-hunter. +Crockett stumbled to his feet and stood +feeling gingerly of his ribs.</p> + +<p>“Yuh-yuh—you keep the b’ar!” he gasped +when enough of his wind returned, and a sort of +rueful grin wrinkled his leather-brown face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>The wrestlers were both in such perfect condition +that they were soon feeling as fit as ever. +Abe turned from his playful mauling of the bear +cub to speak to his late opponent. “We didn’t say, +at the start-off, whether this yere match was one +fall or best two out o’ three,” he said. “What say—want +to try another?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” replied the hunter promptly. “That’s +mighty square of you, but I reckon I know when +I’m beat. I’ve wrastled with plenty o’ good ones +an’ never been thrown till now. But I never +tackled a feller as strong as you, nor as long. All +arms an’ legs—iron legs, at that.</p> + +<p>“Wal, boys,” he cried, “what are ye—hungry? +How ’bout some b’ar steak, cooked fresh, Injun +fashion?”</p> + +<p>The sun was getting low and all of the flatboat +hands had good appetites. They went to work with +a will, therefore, brought in dry wood by the armful, +and soon were broiling the meat on green +sticks over a hot fire.</p> + +<p>It was Tad’s first taste of bear, and he was not +at all sure he liked it at the start. But soon he was +eating it like the rest, with gusto. Allen brought a +pan and some cups down from the boat, and they +finished with a round of tea.</p> + +<p>Crockett smacked his lips over the steaming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> +beverage. “Boy, howdy!” said he. “I ain’t had a +cup fer close to a month. This b’ar-huntin’ is a +good trade, but it makes ye give up a lot o’ refinements.</p> + +<p>“Ye know,” he said, and hesitated, blushing a +little, “I was up to Washington fer the last term +o’ Congress—sent up to represent the folks in this +part o’ Tennessee. But I never could git accustomed +to city ways. I’d git to feelin’ jest about +starved fer a mess o’ b’ar’s meat every once in so +often. An’ it’s the same way now I’m back home +here, roamin’ through the woods an’ the canebrake; +I git a hankerin’ sometimes fer jelly-cake +an’ tea.</p> + +<p>“Ever thought about goin’ in fer politics, Longshanks?”</p> + +<p>It was Abe’s turn to blush. “I’ve thought about +a heap o’ things,” he answered gruffly. “Politics, +fer one, because I like to make speeches an’ get a +crowd to listen to me. What I’d like to be most, +though, is a good lawyer.”</p> + +<p>Allen haw-hawed loudly at this confession, but +Davy Crockett listened with respect.</p> + +<p>“I’ll wager you’ll git thar,” he nodded. +“Though I don’t hold much with lawyers, myself. +They’re too slick—always up to some crooked +business.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>Abe warmed up at once. “That’s exactly the +reason,” said he. “I want to be a good enough +lawyer to beat some o’ the smart ones at their +own game. A good lawyer kin be a powerful lot +o’ help to folks that’s in trouble.”</p> + +<p>He settled down again in his place before the +fire, crossing his long legs and chuckling reminiscently +as he looked at Allen. “Puts me in mind of +old Jeff Slocum,” said he. “A lot of us boys saw +him lyin’ side o’ the road one blizzardy night. +He’d been thrown out o’ the tavern an hour before +an’ started fer home too drunk to stagger. +We all thought ’twas jest a log o’ wood or some +brush that the snow was beginnin’ to cover, but I +wasn’t dead sure an’ went back. Thar he lay, half +drifted over, an’ right on the edge o’ freezin’. +So I threw him over my shoulder an’ lugged him +home to his cabin. I got a fire goin’ an’ rubbed +him with snow an’ finally thawed him out, an’ +thanks to all the red-eye he’d drunk, he was ’round +in a week, right as ever.</p> + +<p>“But come summer he got in trouble again, an’ +that time I couldn’t help him a particle. Seems +like some o’ his shoats got into Newt Padgett’s +bean-patch an’ dug things up pretty general. An’ +Newt, bein’ the meanest man on the whole creek, +hauled Jeff into court. He got a judgment fer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> +more’n Jeff ever owned, spite o’ the fact that the +trouble all rose from Newt bein’ too mean to keep +his fences up.</p> + +<p>“I sure wished right then that I was a lawyer,” +Abe finished. “I believe I could have saved Jeff’s +bacon.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got the right idee,” said the bear-hunter. +“Whar the land is bein’ settled up so fast, +thar’s bound to be more an’ more law, and with +it more lawyers. An’ this country sure needs the +kind o’ lawyers that you aim to be, ’stid o’ the +other kind.</p> + +<p>“Speakin’ fer myself, I don’t keer so much +about law as I do about independence. When I’ve +got the ol’ rifle along I don’t need laws to protect +me. Here in Tennessee it’s gittin’ ’most too civilized +now. I don’t take no comfort when I shoot, +fer fear I’ll hit some one. I’ve been thinkin’ some +about goin’ up the Missouri or down Mexico way. +As long as that’s more b’ars than people, I kin +stand ’most any sort o’ country. But soon as the +folks ketches up on the b’ars, I figger it’s gittin’ +too crowded.”</p> + +<p>Crockett rose and stretched his powerful frame.</p> + +<p>“Sun’s a-settin’ an’ I’ve got ’most ten miles +to travel back to my camp,” he said. “Much +obleeged fer your company an’ fer the wrastlin’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> +lesson. If you aim to push on tonight, you’ll be out +o’ this cut within two mile, an’ it’s open river fer +quite a ways below.”</p> + +<p>They bade him farewell and saw him slip into +the tangled cane silently as an Indian, the big +dogs trotting at his heels. Then they boarded the +flatboat once more, and pushed off.</p> + +<p>Tad, searching among the gear in the <i>Katy +Roby’s</i> hold, found a light chain which he substituted +for the rope about the cub’s neck, and fastened +him to a staple amidships, with a pile of +dry grass for a bed.</p> + +<p>The little black fellow pulled comically at the +chain with his paws, tested its length by prowling +back and forth a few times, and finally curled +up in his nest for a nap. Tad left him snoring and +tiptoed forward where Abe was pulling at the +oars.</p> + +<p>The tall Hoosier worked awhile in silence, his +face somber in the gathering dusk. Then a grin +twisted the corners of his big mouth. “Lucky +thing fer me this Crockett feller didn’t take me up +on another fall,” said he. “I was closer to gittin’ +my deserts that time than I ever remember. He’d +have thrown me sure, I reckon. Golly, what a +man!”</p> + +<p>Tad stoutly pooh-poohed the idea that Davy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> +Crockett, or any other human, could take the +measure of his hero. But Abe smiled and shook +his head.</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t jest that he was strong,” he explained. +“There’s plenty o’ big, powerful men. But I never +hooked up with one that was faster on his feet or +had more grit.”</p> + +<p>Night had fallen when they reached the end of +the cut, and they could see little of the river below +except a wide, shadowy expanse of water with +indistinct lines of shore receding on either hand.</p> + +<p>“Sleepy, Tad?” asked Abe. “If ye ain’t, we’d +better keep a double look-out fer snags an’ sand-reefs. +I’m a-goin’ right on till Allen wakes up an’ +spells me.”</p> + +<p>The boy took up his position squatting in the +bow, his gaze straining into the dark ahead. There +was no noise except the lap of the hurrying river +around the flatboat’s sides and the occasional soft +creak of the tholepins. The deck heaved slightly, +with a steady, breathing motion, as Abe’s moccasins +trod backward and forward, and the long +sweeps pulled through the water.</p> + +<p>Tad, his fancy thrilled at first by the vast loneliness +around them and the sense of mystery and +adventure in their silent downward voyage, began +to feel sleepy after an hour or two. He shifted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> +his position again and again, to shake himself +awake, but his head would nod in spite of all his +efforts.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there came sounds from the left bank, +half a mile away, that made him start bolt upright, +wide awake and listening.</p> + +<p>A shout carried across the water, menacing and +sharp. There was an interval of a few seconds and +then an eager whimper reached them, followed by +a deep, bell-like tone—the baying of a hound. +Lights appeared, glimmering in jerky movements +along the shore. Another shout or two followed, +and then everything was quiet. The lights disappeared +one by one, and the desolate, brooding +dark settled once more over the face of the river.</p> + +<p>“What was it, Abe?” whispered the boy.</p> + +<p>“Dunno,” said Abe. “No way o’ tellin’. But it +sure did give me the cold creeps; didn’t it you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” shivered Tad. He was no longer sleepy. +With every sense on the alert, he watched the dim +banks and the dusky water ahead. Thoughts of the +terrible Murrell and other cold-blooded rogues of +the river crossed his mind. For nearly half an hour +he expected momentarily to see danger of some +kind develop. Then, just as he was lulling himself +into a sense of security, another startling thing +happened.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>Directly in their path ahead, Tad thought he +made out a dark object drifting with the current. +He scrambled to his knees, peering fixedly at the +spot, and Abe stopped rowing. “What d’ye see?” +asked the big oarsman in a low voice.</p> + +<p>“Just a floating log, I think,” Tad whispered, +“only I thought I saw it move.”</p> + +<p>The dark object was only a dozen yards away +now, and they could distinguish the outline of an +uprooted tree trunk. Abe was just changing the +flatboat’s course with a vigorous pull on the starboard +oar when Tad gave a sudden exclamation. +A part of the log had seemed to separate from +the main trunk and had slid off with a considerable +splash into the river.</p> + +<p>“Look!” cried Tad, pointing to the other side +of the floating snag. A dark, round object which +had been drawing rapidly away to the right disappeared +under water at the boy’s exclamation. And +though they watched intently while they passed +the log, and for many minutes after, they had no +further glimpse of it.</p> + +<p>“That must have been a man, swimmin’,” said +Abe at length. “Too big fer a muskrat or a turtle. +Didn’t look like a panther nor a b’ar. Runaway +slave, I reckon. Wal, the pore devil needn’t have +been so scairt of us.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>Allen came forward, wakened by the talk, and +heard their story. “That’s probably what the commotion +on shore was about,” he said. “You fellers +is both tired, so I’ll take her down awhile, jest +driftin’. Won’t need a look-out that way.”</p> + +<p>And Abe and Tad, going aft to their blankets, +were soundly sleeping within ten minutes.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The little bear</span> took very kindly to his new home. +He slept well and rose to stretch himself hungrily +when the first beam of sunlight came over the +brown water. Softly he padded about the half +circle of which his chain was the radius, but there +seemed to be nothing to eat within reach. Rolled +up in a blanket near by, however, he found one +of the queer-smelling two-legged creatures that +had been kind to him the day before, and being of +an inquisitive turn of mind he immediately thrust +a moist little black snout between the blanket and +the sleeper’s neck.</p> + +<p>Tad, awakened by the touch of the cub’s cold +nose, let out a squeal and rolled violently over on +to Abe, who woke in his turn, and scrambled up, +reaching for an ax.</p> + +<p>“Haw!” roared Allen. “Haw, haw, haw! Might +think the ol’ Scratch himself was arter ye! Wal, he +got ye up anyhow.”</p> + +<p>Abe and Tad rubbed their eyes and joined +sheepishly in the laughter. And the cub, after +looking at them all solemnly, returned to his investigation +of Tad’s blanket.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>“This little feller’s got to have a name,” +chuckled Abe. “He acts like he’s adopted us fer +keeps, an’ if he’s goin’ to be a full-fledged hand +we’ll have to call him somethin’.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s christen him Poke,” said Tad. “He’s +always into everything.” And Poke was his name +from that moment on.</p> + +<p>Allen had tied up to the shore after midnight +and risen to start again at dawn. Now they were +drifting steadily down the middle of a reach where +there was no immediate occasion for steering, and +Allen sat down with the others amidships at breakfast. +He was weary and cross from his vigil at the +sweep.</p> + +<p>“See here,” he demanded as Poke looked up +hopefully after his third helping of johnny-cake, +“how in Tarnation are we ever a-goin’ to feed this +brute? We ain’t provisioned fer but two hands, +an’ this b’ar eats more’n a grown man.”</p> + +<p>Abe went on calmly with his breakfast. “I didn’t +save him an’ wrastle fer him jest to throw him +back in the river,” he said. “Here, he kin have +mine.” And placing his own piece of corn-bread +in front of the greedy little bear, he rose, whistling, +to take up his morning’s labor at the bow +oars.</p> + +<p>“Tad,” he called, from the fore deck, “you’re<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> +the rightful owner of this b’ar. S’pose you git out +that hand-line an’ bait it an’ see if ye can’t save +the rations by puttin’ us on a fish diet fer a day or +two.”</p> + +<p>The boy was only too glad to try. He had done +some fishing farther up the river, but without any +notable results.</p> + +<p>“Ought to bite good, today,” said Allen, sniffing +the breeze with a knowing air. “Feels like it’s +comin’ on to rain, soon—tonight, mebbe. That’ll +bring ’em up.”</p> + +<p>Tad dropped his baited hook over the side and +sat down comfortably, prepared for a tedious wait. +But scarcely had the length of the line run out, +when he felt such a tug on the other end that it +nearly pulled him overboard. He held fast, bracing +his feet, and shouted excitedly for aid. Allen +took hold with him.</p> + +<p>“Huh,” he grunted. “Must be snagged, I +reckon. Wal, we can’t afford to lose the hook. +Nothin’ for it but pull her in.”</p> + +<p>Together they hauled the line aboard hand over +hand. There seemed to be a heavy, inert weight attached +to it.</p> + +<p>“Golly,” growled Allen, “all this work jest to +turn loose a durned ol’ water-logged root or +somethin’!”</p> + +<p>But Tad was still pulling manfully. “Look!” he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> +cried. “It’s no snag—it’s a fish—a catfish—great +jumping catamounts, what a fish! How’re we going +to land him?”</p> + +<p>Allen gave one astounded glance over the side +and dashed for the bucket-hook, a stout sapling +with an upward-forking branch at the lower end. +While Tad held the nose of the big fish at the +surface, Allen thrust down the wooden hook and +brought it up under one of the gills. “Now,” he +cried, “both together, heave!”</p> + +<p>And out of the water came a great, grizzled mud +cat, so heavy that it took all their strength to haul +him over the gunwale. The big fish thrashed ponderously +about for a moment and then lay quiet.</p> + +<p>“He’s more’n four-foot long,” estimated Allen, +“an’ he’ll tip seventy-five pound if he will an +ounce. By gum, that’s the biggest ol’ catfish I ever +caught.”</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> caught!” snorted Abe, ambling aft to +view the prize. “All the claim you’ve got on this +fish is that you’re goin’ to cook him. This is Tad’s +fish.”</p> + +<p>He looked the catch over with an appraising eye. +“Pretty fair-sized catfish for such a young one,” +he remarked. “He’s only about forty year old. +You kin tell by the whiskers. His ain’t even turned +gray yet.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>“Humph!” grunted Allen suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“’Course,” Abe went on, “you ain’t had the +opportunities for observin’ catfish that I’ve been +favored with. When I was workin’ on the Anderson +Creek ferry, up on the Ohio, there was an old +fisherman that used to set thar in his boat day +after day. He had two half-inch hemp ropes over +the side. One was his anchor rope an’ the other +was his line. He never caught any small fish because +on the end o’ this line he used the hook off +an ox-chain, baited with a half a ham.</p> + +<p>“One day he let out a holler we could hear clear +across the Ohio, an’ we saw him wavin’ his arms +an’ workin’ like all git out. Then by ’n’ by he +come a-rowin’ over our way. It was slow pullin’, +an’ the stern o’ the skiff was ’way down in the +water, with the bow half out. When he got alongside +we saw a real fish. The ol’ feller had hauled +him in till his nose was up against the stern, an’ +then lashed the rope to a thwart, an’ hit him in the +head with an ax. We helped him reach the landin’ +an’ rigged a tackle an’ fall, an’ with two teams o’ +horses we managed to git the critter on shore.</p> + +<p>“Eh? What did he weigh? Wal, now I don’t jest +quite recollect, but it was either four hundred and +eighty-five pound or five hundred and eighty-four—my +memory don’t run to figgers. The real interestin’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> +part was his age. Riveted into his tail +was a brass plate, marked with a man’s name an’ +the year 1705. Seems like this ol’ fisherman’s +grandfather had caught the fish ’way back more’n +a hundred years ago an’ marked him an’ turned +him loose.</p> + +<p>“Talk about whiskers—why, this one had a full +beard, jest as white as snow, an’ I reckon his eyes +had gone back on him in his old age, fer he wore +a pair o’ heavy-bowed spectacles.”</p> + +<p>“The fish?” asked Tad, gaping with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“No,” chuckled Abe, “the grandfather.” And +he returned to his oars.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” said Allen again, this time with a +real snort. “Whar you ever got the name of ‘Honest +Abe’ is more’n I know. Honest! Why, thar +ain’t a bigger liar from the Falls o’ the Ohio to the +Gulf o’ Mexico!”</p> + +<p>They skinned the huge mud cat and cut it in two, +putting the larger part in a cool place, wrapped +in wet weeds. Tad was just building the fire preparatory +to cooking the rest of the fish, when Abe +spoke suddenly from the forward deck.</p> + +<p>“Look astern, thar, boys,” he said. They stood +up, their eyes sweeping the river to the north. +There were the usual two or three flatboats in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> +distance and the smoke of a steamer above the +last bend. But less than a quarter of a mile behind +them, and drawing rapidly nearer, they saw a +big rowboat with oars flashing in quick rhythm +along its sides.</p> + +<p>As the craft approached, it swung out a little +to one side, and they saw that it was a good-sized +barge, rowed by six powerful negroes. Four white +men sat in the stern sheets, cradling shot-guns in +the crook of their arms. They drew up alongside +the <i>Katy Roby</i>, perhaps twenty yards distant, and +at a word of command the blacks rested on their +oars. For a moment the occupants of the two boats +studied each other in silence. The white men +aboard the barge were dressed in the elegant, careless +fashion of southern planters. Their faces were +unsmiling, very polite, very hard-eyed.</p> + +<p>One of them nodded. “We’re out after a runaway +nigger,” he said, in an even tone. “Maybe +you can tell us where he is, suh.”</p> + +<p>Abe straightened up, towering from the fore +deck like a young Goliath. His voice had the ring +of steel in it, and his speech, as always at tense +moments, was singularly free from the slipshod +backwoods dialect.</p> + +<p>“He’s not aboard here,” he answered, “and as +far as we know we haven’t seen him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>There were whispers among the men in the +barge. Then the spokesman, with another look at +Abe, made an impatient gesture to the rowers, and +the craft was speedily under way once more.</p> + +<p>“What did I tell ye last night?” said Allen, +when they were out of earshot. “That’s what all +the noise was about on shore. They must ha’ +tracked him to the river with bloodhounds. Gosh +all fishhooks, Abe! I figgered they was goin’ to +search us, sure. Did ye see them guns!”</p> + +<p>“Yep,” said Abe. “They could ha’ done it fast +’nough if they’d wanted to.”</p> + +<p>The <i>Katy Roby</i> held her course all day, proceeding +at the leisurely gait that seemed so well +suited to her buxom lines. The sky grew more and +more overcast, and by afternoon a steady drizzle +of rain began to fall. There was little to do but +stay under cover as much as possible, swap yarns, +and play with Poke, now apparently quite at home +in his new surroundings.</p> + +<p>It was during Allen’s trick at the oars, when +Tad and Abe were lying under the shelter of a +tarpaulin, that the younger boy brought up a subject +always close to the surface of his mind.</p> + +<p>“Abe,” he said, “how long ought it to take that +letter of mine to reach New Orleans?”</p> + +<p>Abe put down the tattered copy of Shakespeare’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> +tragedies he was reading. “Let’s see,” +he pondered. “That was a week ago yesterday we +went ashore, up thar. S’pose the steamboat happened +along right off the next day, like the store +feller said. That would give a week—sartin sure—that’s +time enough fer ’em to git to New Orleans, +easy. I’ll jest wager your Paw is a-readin’ that +letter an’ congratulatin’ hisself right this minute.”</p> + +<p>“Gee,” sighed the boy, “I’ll feel better when I +know for sure that he’s got it and isn’t worrying +any longer!”</p> + +<p>It was well on in the afternoon and the dismal +sky was bringing an early dusk when they sighted +the barge once more, returning upstream. It +passed fairly close, the oars still beating in brisk +time against the current. But this time there was a +fifth figure among the armed white men in the +stern. A big negro, his naked back and shoulders +gleaming darkly in the rain, crouched in the middle +of the group. They could not see his face, but +there were terror and despair in every line of his +cowering body.</p> + +<p>As they watched the boat they saw it veer over +in the direction of a small island they had passed +in midstream a mile or so above.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>“That’s whar they’ll fix him,” said Allen +grimly.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean—kill him?” asked Tad.</p> + +<p>“Not a mite of it,” the other replied. “Ye don’t +ketch them fellers throwin’ away a thousand dollars. +They’ll make him wish he hadn’t, though. The +way I’ve heard tell about it, they’ll likely start a +bonfire, thar on the island, an’ take a gunbar’l, or +mebbe a reg’lar iron made fer the job, an’ burn a +big mark on to his chest an’ arms. Arter he gits +well that brand’ll allers be on him, so the overseers +kin watch him extra keerful an’ give him a +double dose o’ the whip if he looks sideways.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Abe, sober-faced, “as fur as he’s +concerned, he’d be a heap better off dead.”</p> + +<p>They tied up to a big cottonwood on the Arkansas +side, that night, and Tad lay a long time +awake, listening to the ceaseless thud of the rain +on wet planking and dripping canvas. The thought +of the runaway negro, captured after his break +for freedom and dragged back to the torture, +seemed to haunt him. At last the monotone of the +rain was broken by a shivery squall—the cry of a +wildcat, somewhere back in the brush. Poke +roused himself with an uneasy grunt, and Tad +rolled over, pulling the blanket tighter about him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>“That you, Tad?” came Abe’s low voice. “I +can’t git comfortable, neither. That poor devil gittin’ +caught that way ’pears to have upsot me. +Well, thar ain’t much we kin do about it. Let’s go +to sleep.”</p> + +<p>And whether Abe was successful himself or not, +his suggestion seemed to be all that Tad needed, +for he dropped off at once into deep slumber.</p> + +<p>The rain continued falling steadily for the next +two days, and with it the water began to rise. They +watched it climb inch by inch as they drifted south, +till the yellow tide was swirling halfway up the +tree trunks and broadening into vast lakes in the +lower lands.</p> + +<p>It was difficult, often, to pick out the course of +the main river, for except where lines of cottonwoods +fringed the banks, it was all one dreary +expanse under the sullen beat of the rain.</p> + +<p>Everything was wet—clothes, blankets, food. +Even Allen’s banjo was temporarily out of commission. +The boys’ spirits flagged, and if it had not +been for the antics of the little bear and an occasional +story from Abe, their party would have been +glum indeed.</p> + +<p>At last, in the late afternoon of the second day, +there was a shift in the wind and the clouds began +to break, with hazy shafts of pink and gold streaming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> +through. In the midst of their jubilation, Allen, +who had the steering-oar, pointed a finger toward +the Tennessee shore.</p> + +<p>“Look,” he cried, “a steamboat landin’ an’ +houses! That’s Memphis, boys, sure as you’re +born!” And leaning heavily against the sweep, he +swung the flatboat’s bow over toward the town.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Memphis, in</span> 1828, was little more than a raw hamlet +straggling along the river. It had a big landing-stage +for steamers and a series of smaller wharves +where the arks and keel-boats from upstream could +tie up. There were half a hundred craft of all +sorts and sizes hitched to the mooring-posts when +the <i>Katy Roby</i> drew alongside, for nearly every +flatboat crew made a stop of a day or a night at +Memphis. It was the largest town between St. +Louis and New Orleans and handled a considerable +commerce with the back country.</p> + +<p>The boys worked the boat’s nose in between +other broadhorns until they could get a rope fast, +and Allen retired to the shelter amidships to +shave and spruce himself up.</p> + +<p>“Reckon I’ll step ashore an’ see what prices +they’re offerin’ fer corn an’ pork,” he remarked, +endeavoring to part his hair with the aid of a +piece of broken mirror.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Abe, “an’ don’t fergit to take note +o’ the number o’ purty gals an’ the color o’ their +dresses. Tad an’ me, we’ll stick along here an’ +teach this no-’count Poke some new tricks.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>They cooked supper, and as Allen did not return +at dusk, they ate it, sitting together on the edge of +the fore deck. There were numerous boatmen +joking, swearing, and passing the time of day in +the craft about them. Several of the crews were +familiar to them from earlier meetings along the +river, and there was much cheerful banter about +Abe’s towering frame. He took it all with his +customary grin and gave them as good as they +sent.</p> + +<p>“Say, Hoosier,” yelled one jolly-looking, red-bearded +keel-boat man, “how long are them +shanks o’ yourn, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>“Jest the proper length,” Abe returned. +“They’re jest exactly long enough to reach the +ground.”</p> + +<p>Gradually the talk and laughter quieted down +as darkness fell. By nine o’clock the river front +was quiet except for the gurgle of the high water +sweeping past and an occasional burst of song +from roisterers in the town.</p> + +<p>Abe waited patiently until sometime close to +midnight. Then he nudged the drowsy Tad awake +and told him to mind the boat while he went ashore +after Allen.</p> + +<p>Tad succeeded in propping his eyes open for +half an hour, and at the end of that time he saw<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> +a huge, dim shape lurching along the dock. As it +reached the bow of the <i>Katy Roby</i> it became recognizable +as Abe, carrying a limp body over his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>Tad leaped up, startled.</p> + +<p>“What is it—is Allen hurt?” he whispered.</p> + +<p>“No,” Abe replied, quietly. “He’s drunk.”</p> + +<p>They took off some of his clothes and wrapped +him in his blanket. Then Abe stretched his big +arms and spat over the gunwale disgustedly.</p> + +<p>“There’s no law to stop a feller from makin’ a +fool of himself,” he remarked. “Only ye’d think +plain common sense ought to tell him.” And with +that they went to bed.</p> + +<p>Allen made a very unheroic figure next morning. +His complexion was a sort of greenish yellow, and +he refused all food with groans.</p> + +<p>“What about prices on the cargo?” Abe asked +him. “Want to stay an’ unload some?”</p> + +<p>Allen shook his head. “Too cheap,” said he. +“Let’s hold the stuff fer New Orleans an’ git thar +as soon as we kin.” Whereupon he rolled over once +more and lay in a miserable heap while Abe and +Tad made preparations for departure.</p> + +<p>They needed sugar and white flour, and before +casting off, Abe made a hurried trip up into the +town to get them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>When he came back his face was grave.</p> + +<p>“They say there’s a heap o’ damage from the +high water all along below here,” he told Tad. +“We’ll have to watch sharp and help folks out +whar we kin. An’ then I heard another piece o’ +news. They say this outlaw John Murrell is back +from up river, an’ him an’ his gang are startin’ +to make life miserable fer the planters betwixt +here an’ Natchez. The storekeeper wanted to skeer +me, I reckon. He claimed Murrell would sink a +flatboat an’ drown the crew fer a ten-dollar note. +But I don’t pay much heed to that sort o’ talk.</p> + +<p>“An’ anyhow, if he wants our ten dollars, let +him try it. I’d sort o’ like to see Mr. Murrell fer +myself an’ find out if he’s such a terrible feller.”</p> + +<p>Tad was not quite so sure he wanted to test the +notorious outlaw’s mettle, but he agreed that it +might be thrilling to get a glimpse of him.</p> + +<p>They got off before the morning was far advanced, +and soon overtook some of the other flatboats +which had started before them. Abe took a +keen delight in overhauling them, one after another, +and tossing back a gibe or two at each +vessel they passed.</p> + +<p>At length there was only one craft left in sight +ahead of them—a long, trimly-built keel-boat, with +lines that were almost graceful compared to those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> +of the <i>Katy Roby</i>. She was making good headway, +due to the efforts of a husky bow-oarsman, but +Abe’s extra-long sweeps and the tremendous +power he put into his stroke were rapidly eating +up the distance between the two boats.</p> + +<p>Just as the bow of the broadhorn drew even with +her rival’s steering-oar, another figure sprang to +the fore deck of the keel-boat. It was the big red-bearded +river-man who had asked Abe about the +length of his legs. He swung an arm in vigorous +gesture, and his voice roared out across the water.</p> + +<p>“Git down from thar, ye lousy swab,” he cried +to the oarsman. “Let somebody pull that knows a +sweep from a shovel.”</p> + +<p>The rower hastened to surrender the great, +clumsy oars and scramble down, out of the way. +And then indeed began a race! The slenderer +lines of the keel-boat gave her a slight advantage, +which Abe had to overcome by the sheer force of +his strokes. During that moment while the oars +were changing hands, the tall Indiana boy quickened +the beat of his swing and succeeded in pulling +up till he was a shade ahead of the other craft. +From this point he could watch his rival without +turning his head, while the redbeard was forced +to crane his neck in order to see what Abe was +doing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>So they went, side by side, for the best part of +a mile, the muddy water churning in yellow foam +behind them. The other four men in the keel-boat’s +crew bellowed constant encouragement to their +mate, and one of them seized the steering-sweep, +sculling from side to side to help them along. Tad +saw this maneuver and promptly matched it by +doing the same thing with the <i>Katy Roby’s</i> stern +oar.</p> + +<p>At the end of ten minutes the furious pace began +to tell on the red-whiskered rower. He was +wilting visibly, while Abe, who had been at it for +more than an hour, was still pulling as strongly as +ever.</p> + +<p>One of the keel-boat men climbed to the fore +deck and held a whisky jug to the lips of his champion. +This measure seemed to put new vigor into +him for about ten strokes. Then he stumbled and +caught a crab, and the race was over.</p> + +<p>Abe pulled far enough ahead so that there +should be no doubt about it, then waited, resting +on his oars.</p> + +<p>He was panting hard, but his grin made him +look anything but exhausted. As Tad came forward, +he mopped his forehead with his sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Son,” said he, between breaths, “don’t ever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> +let the other feller know you’re as tired as he is. +If he thinks you’re still fresh he’ll quit.”</p> + +<p>After that they drifted for a while, and toward +noon the big keel-boat dropped down abreast of +them again. The ruddy-bearded captain steered +close enough for conversation and grinned sociably +as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Whar you from?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Abe told him and came back with a similar question.</p> + +<p>“We’re bringin’ a load o’ furs down from St. +Louis,” answered the keel-boat skipper. “Ol’ Man +Carillon, he’s scairt to ship by steamboat—’fraid +they’ll blow up. So he still sends his furs this way. +More’n a thousand prime beaver skins we’ve got, +an’ plenty of other kinds besides. That’d be a +haul worth even John Murrell’s time, eh? I’ve got +two extra men in the crew jest ’count o’ him +an’ his gang.”</p> + +<p>“They tell me he’s back,” said Abe.</p> + +<p>“Sure thing,” replied the other. “He was layin’ +low fer a couple o’ months, up river, but this last +week he’s been seen ridin’ the roads on that three-stockin’ +boss o’ his—him an’ Bull Whaley an’ +Sam Jukes. That means thar’s some sort o’ devilment +a-bilin’.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>“Well,” Abe answered, “jes’ so he stays on +horseback an’ don’t come meddlin’ with river +folks, he’ll mebbe keep a whole skin.”</p> + +<p>The keel-boat left them some distance astern +while Abe was getting dinner, but later in the +day they sighted it again, and for the next forty-eight +hours the two craft were rarely more than a +few miles apart.</p> + +<p>Allen did not wake up until nearly dark, and +even then he had little stomach for the sizzling +hog meat that Abe was frying. Next morning, +however, he was feeling like himself once more, +and was even ready to brag about his experiences +ashore in Memphis, if Abe’s cutting sarcasm had +not quieted him.</p> + +<p>They went down swiftly on the flood-water, +twisting and turning through new channels, and +dashing through chutes where the river had +straightened its course and ran like a mill race. +Occasionally they saw the roofs of submerged +cabins, and once or twice, when there seemed a +chance that people might be left in them, they +stopped to see if they could be of any help. In one +house, floating with a gable end thrust up at a +crazy angle, they saw the body of a drowned +woman caught by the clothing to a window frame<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> +and trailing pitifully in the water. But aside from +that they found no human trace in all the desolate +welter of the river.</p> + +<p>On the third day after leaving Memphis they +passed the mouth of a great river—the Arkansas—a +raging tide that bore witness to heavy floods +in the back country.</p> + +<p>For miles below, the surface of the Mississippi +was littered with gruesome débris. There were +limbs of trees, parts of houses, bloated bodies +of farm animals. A huge flock of buzzards circled +and settled, on tilting black wings, and a stench +of death filled the air.</p> + +<p>Once, when Tad was perched high astern, +swinging the steering-oar, he caught sight of the +carcass of a pig a little distance off. And even as +he watched, it was suddenly yanked under, leaving +only a gurgling eddy in the stream.</p> + +<p>The St. Louis keel-boat was not far away, and +her red-bearded captain called across to Tad.</p> + +<p>“Did ye see that?” he cried. “Big alligator done +it. We’ll find lots of ’em below here.”</p> + +<p>Sure enough, as they cast off next morning +from the high bank topped with cottonwoods +where they had spent the night, a row of gnarled +gray logs below them came alive, turned with a +swish of tails, and went lumbering into the water.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>“Don’t reckon we’ll be so keen to go swimmin’, +from here down,” Abe chuckled.</p> + +<p>There were other signs that told them they had +come into the real South. Cotton plantations replaced +the woods and squatters’ farms on the +higher ground. Broad, stout levees held the river +in check for miles along the steaming bottom +lands. The weather was uncomfortably hot, even +in the scanty costumes which the boys wore. They +kept out of the sun as much as possible during +the heat of the day, but their faces, arms, and +ankles were burned the color of an Indian’s. Abe, +who had been reading <i>Othello</i>, told Allen solemnly +that he looked like the Moor of Venice.</p> + +<p>Three days after they passed the Arkansas +mouth, they sighted Vicksburg, a white town +nestled in the crook of a bend, with water above +the top of the landings and washing over the lowest +street.</p> + +<p>Allen was ready for another adventure ashore, +but Abe prevailed on him to wait.</p> + +<p>“Ye don’t figger the price o’ pork has gone up +much since we left Memphis, do ye?” said the +lanky bow-oarsman scornfully. “After the spectacle +ye made o’ yerself up thar, I should think +ye’d want to look the other way if a town so much +as came in sight.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>“That whisky must ha’ had pizen in it,” Allen +muttered. But he had very little more to say until +they had left the landing astern.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” he remarked at length, “we’ll be +down to Natchez in another day or two, an’ I +reckon we’ll need some more provisions by then. +Natchez-under-the-Hill!” He pronounced the +name of the town with a certain relish. “The +toughest landin’ on the whole river. I sure aim to +see the sights of that place.”</p> + +<p>“The toughest sight you’ll see,” said Abe +firmly, “will be the flat o’ my hand, unless you +behave yourself mighty well from here down.”</p> + +<p>The crest of the high water had passed, and +the river was gradually receding as they drifted +southward. Along the bluffs on the Mississippi +side they watched a panorama of cotton plantations, +half screened by glossy-leaved magnolias in +the gardens of the big white houses.</p> + +<p>This was a rich country—a land of fabulous +ease and prosperity, it seemed to the two Hoosiers. +Even Tad, who had seen plenty of wealth in the +Eastern cities, was amazed by the glimpses they +got of the luxurious planters’ life.</p> + +<p>Once they passed a barge trimly painted in +green and white, with cushions and trailing silks +over the stern. It was rowed by four negroes, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> +its passengers were a lovely lady in a flowered +bonnet, a big, jolly, fair-haired man, and a little +girl with golden curls.</p> + +<p>The barge stopped at a private landing where a +shining barouche with two high-headed bay horses +was waiting. Other horses, saddled and held by +negro grooms, stood near, and an elegantly +dressed gentleman and lady strolled down to the +landing to greet the visitors. The crew of the +flatboat, drifting out of sight, caught a chime of +fairy-like laughter that followed them around the +bend.</p> + +<p>“Jiminy!” sighed Allen. “This is the section +to live in, all right. Niggers to wait on ye, an’ fine +hosses, an’ summer all the year ’round!”</p> + +<p>“I dunno,” said Abe, thoughtfully. “It’s grand +fer the folks that owns the niggers, but how about +these poor whites, along the bottoms an’ back in +the brush? They ain’t as well off as you an’ your +Paw, by a long shot. The South is fine, but it’s no +country fer folks that ain’t born rich.”</p> + +<p>There were two more drowsy, uneventful days +of drifting, and then at dusk they came in sight +of Natchez. It was the beginning of an experience +that Tad was never to forget as long as he lived.</p> + +<p>There was a terrifying beauty over the river +that night. A strange green light had overspread<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> +the sky after sunset, and in it every detail of the +bank and the bluff stood out with unearthly clearness. +The air was sultry, with no hint of the breeze +that usually ruffled the water at evening. From a +reedy place, shadowed by moss-draped live oaks, +a pair of great white egrets rose and winged silently +away to the northward.</p> + +<p>They saw a church spire above the trees at the +top of the bluff, and then, low in the shadow along +the waterside, the outlines of shacks and houses, +with a swarm of flatboats moored to the levee. +A thin tinkle of music reached their ears, and as +they drew closer it resolved itself into the squeak +of fiddles and the throb of banjos.</p> + +<p>They found a place to tie their craft, down at +the lower end of the line, near the steamboat landing, +and hardly had they made the ropes fast when +a growl of thunder drowned out the music. A wind +sprang up, blowing from the south, and the sky +grew dark with scudding clouds.</p> + +<p>A sudden foreboding filled Tad. From that instant +he had a dread of Natchez-under-the-Hill.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The storm</span> struck hard, lashing the muddy water +high along the levee and tossing the broadhorns +at their moorings. After the furious wind came +rain in a deluge that drenched the boys under +their hastily erected tarpaulins. And after the +rain a pitch-black, sodden night.</p> + +<p>A few lights glowed feebly in the town, and the +music struck up again after a while, but even Allen +was too damp and dispirited to feel like going +ashore. They got a fire started on the wet +hearth, and huddling around it, finally went to +sleep.</p> + +<p>The sun was shining in the morning and all +along the water front a bustle of activity began. +Boatmen clambered across the decks of neighboring +craft to buy or sell goods or visit acquaintances. +There was a constant noise of laughing, +shouting, swearing, and fighting.</p> + +<p>The fiddles began their monotonous squeaking +once more in the levee saloons, and Allen began +to cast a restless eye shoreward, but Abe found +plenty for them all to do aboard the <i>Katy Roby</i>. +They cooked and ate breakfast, swabbed the decks,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> +and spread out their bedding to dry in the sun. +They watched a big, new steamboat, the <i>Tecumseh</i>, +swing in to the landing, her bow a bare thirty feet +from them when she made her mooring.</p> + +<p>“That’s the fastest boat on the river,” they +heard a near-by ark-captain say. “She’s got new-fangled +boilers with more steam pressure on ’em +than the <i>Amazon</i>, even. An’ they say her cap’n is +out to break all records to Louisville this trip.”</p> + +<p>From the speed with which her darky deck +hands rolled molasses hogsheads aboard, it could +be seen that some of the excitement of her race up river +had got into their blood.</p> + +<p>A group of fastidiously dressed passengers, +thronging her upper decks, looked down with +laughing interest at the scene on the landing. The +men were holding watches and laying wagers on +the time of the steamer’s departure. In less than +half an hour the last huge barrel was in place +on the forward cargo deck and the mate cried his +“All aboard,” as the negroes ran the gangplank +in. With a clang of bells the big boat’s paddles +churned the water and she backed out, wheeling +into the current.</p> + +<p>Tad, looking up a little wistfully at her gleaming +brass and freshly painted upper works,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> +watched her whole magnificent length sweep by. +And then suddenly he gripped the gunwale of +the flatboat and stared open-mouthed. For high +up on the hurricane deck, astern, he had seen a +solitary figure—a big middle-aged man with a +beaver hat and a familiar set to the shoulders. +The man was just turning to leave the rail and +he was unable to get a good view of his face, but +he was almost sure.... “Dad!” he screamed, +with all the voice he could muster, “Dad!”</p> + +<p>There had been a feather of white steam up +aloft on the <i>Tecumseh’s</i> funnel when he started to +shout, and as he launched his cry a deafening +blast of the whistle came, drowning him out.</p> + +<p>Another long-drawn hoot and two short ones +followed. Before they were finished, the steamboat +was a hundred yards away, and the man who +looked like Tad’s father had vanished down the +companionway. The boy had a great lump in his +throat as he turned away. He stumbled aft and +sat down beside Poke, blinking his eyes fast to +keep back the unmanly tears.</p> + +<p>Abe had heard him shout and now came over to +stand behind him, dropping a big hand casually +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Reckon that was your father?” he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>Tad nodded. “I couldn’t be sure,” he answered, +“but it looked a lot like him.”</p> + +<p>“Wal,” said Abe, “I know how ye feel, right +enough, but don’t take it too hard. He’ll be back +in New Orleans to meet ye. Didn’t ye tell him in +yer letter that we’d be thar next week?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” Tad replied. “Only he must be pretty +worried, or he wouldn’t be on his way up to try to +find me, now.”</p> + +<p>Allen had been up on the levee, watching the +<i>Tecumseh’s</i> departure and chatting with a crowd +of flatboat men. Now he returned with the look of +one bearing news.</p> + +<p>“Hey, Tad,” he called as he jumped aboard, +“what was the name o’ that boat that was expected +in Shawneetown—the one the postmaster +said he’d mail yer letter by?”</p> + +<p>“The <i>Nancy Jones</i>,” said Tad.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I thought,” Allen nodded. “Wal, +they tol’ me up on the bank jest now that the +<i>Nancy Jones</i> was blowed up two weeks ago in +Vicksburg bend, an’ lost with more’n half her +passengers an’ crew.”</p> + +<p>Tad’s jaw dropped. “Then—then Dad doesn’t +even know I’m alive,” he stammered. “No wonder +he’s on his way up the river.”</p> + +<p>In a few words Abe told Allen of Tad’s momentary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> +glimpse of the man on the steamer. “Now the +thing fer you to do,” said he, turning to the boy, +“is to send another letter post-haste to New Orleans, +so the folks thar kin reach him whar he’s +gone.”</p> + +<p>“I’m goin’ ashore,” Allen volunteered. “He kin +come along an’ fix up to send his letter whiles I +transact some business.”</p> + +<p>Abe looked doubtful. “All right,” he agreed +finally. But to Tad, as they prepared to leave the +boat, he whispered, “Keep an eye on him now, +an’ don’t let him go in any places he shouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>They clambered to the levee top and walked +through the thick black mud up the main street +of the lower town. It was nearly noon, and Natchez +was waking up for the day’s work. Patrons by +ones and twos were entering the various barrooms +they passed. Gambling joints were rolling up shutters +and dusting off tables. A few women, hard-faced +and heavily painted, leered at them from +doorways, and the dance-hall music droned on unceasingly.</p> + +<p>A negro teamster directed them to the post +office on a side street a few blocks from the river.</p> + +<p>“Here you are,” said Allen as they reached +the entrance, and Tad would have gone in at once +if his eye had not been caught by a notice posted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> +in the dusty window. With growing excitement he +stood before it, staring at the boldly-printed +words. What he read was this:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p class="center">To Whom it May Concern<br> +<br> +A<br> +<span class="u xxlarge">REWARD OF $5,000</span><br> +<br> +(Five thousand Dollars)<br> +will be paid for<br> +<span class="u">Information</span></p> + +<p>leading to the recovery of my son, Thaddeus<br> +Hopkins, if alive, or of his body if dead.<br> +<br> +This boy is 15 years old, of medium height<br> +and weight for his age, with light brown hair,<br> +blue eyes, and a ruddy complexion.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="u xlarge">DISAPPEARED</span></p> + +<p>from his cabin on the Steamboat <i>Ohio Belle</i>,<br> +somewhere between Owensboro, Kentucky,<br> +and the mouth of the Wabash River, on the<br> +night of April 8th, 1828.<br> +<br> +Any one having news of his whereabouts<br> +should communicate immediately with</p> + +<p class="center">JEREMIAH HOPKINS,<br> +26 St. Louis Street,<br> +<span class="indentleft">New Orleans, Louisiana.</span></p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>“Allen!” Tad gasped. “Look at this!”</p> + +<p>There was no answer. Swinging about in surprise, +he found the street behind him empty. Only +a lean yellow dog scratched for fleas in the middle +of the dusty road.</p> + +<p>Tad stared up and down the straggling rows of +houses, bewildered at his companion’s disappearance. +Then his eye lit on two saloons across the +way, and he knew at once where Allen had gone.</p> + +<p>With Abe’s parting injunction still fresh in his +mind, he darted to the other side of the street and +stood a moment in hesitation before the two doors. +There was no way to tell which place Allen had +entered except to go in himself and find out. He +decided to try the right-hand building first.</p> + +<p>The swinging half-door gave easily under his +hand, and he stepped into a square, half-darkened +room, with stained wooden tables and a long mahogany +bar. There was no one in sight, and Tad +hesitated a moment in the middle of the sanded +floor, looking about him, disappointed. Then he +caught the sound of voices and low laughter and +saw that the door leading into the rear room stood +slightly ajar. He fancied that it was Allen he +heard, laughing over having given him the slip. +Quickly he crossed the floor, pushed open the door, +and walked through.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>A glance showed him that there were only three +men in the room, and that Allen was not one of +them. At the right of the table was a broad, thick-necked, +powerfully-built man with a tight stock +and a red, angry-looking face. Next him sat a thin, +sallow, rat-eyed fellow with a nervous affection +that twitched one corner of his mouth downward +into a sneer every second or two. The third member +of the party slouched in his chair, a long, slim +figure with a dark mustache, the upper part of +his face shaded by the broad brim of his hat.</p> + +<p>Each of the three had started slightly at the +lad’s abrupt entrance, and they now sat watching +him with hostile eyes.</p> + +<p>“I—I beg your pardon,” said Tad. “I thought +a friend of mine came in here.” And he started to +back out.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the tall man with the black mustache +was on his feet.</p> + +<p>“Wait!” he ordered in a husky voice that struck +terror to Tad’s heart. “Stay where yo’ are, suh.”</p> + +<p>But waiting was the last thing in the boy’s +mind. He had caught a glimpse of the man’s face +and his long, slim hands. It was the Wheeling +gambler who had thrown him overboard from the +<i>Ohio Belle</i>. With a sense of panic he turned and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> +darted for the door, but he never reached it. A +stool came whirling through the air and struck +him in the back of the head, and down he went, +his mind blanked out in a roaring gulf of darkness.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The next thing</span> Tad knew was a sensation of intense +physical discomfort. His head throbbed +fiercely, his wrists were chafed, and he lay, in a +very painful position, face down, across the saddle-bow +of a galloping horse. When his senses had +cleared enough for him to remember what had +happened, he tried to figure out where these desperadoes +were taking him. But all that he could +see, facing the ground, was the packed brown +earth of the roadside and the flashing green of +undergrowth beyond. He had a vague recollection +of having been carried up a long, steep hill; so he +supposed they must have climbed one of the roads +that ran up along the bluff.</p> + +<p>One other thing he noticed, and that seemed to +increase the hazards of a situation which surely +was already serious enough. As he swung, head +down, he could watch the rhythmic movement of +the horse’s legs. Both forelegs white up to the +knee—one hind leg white above the hock; three +white “stockings.” Where had he heard, in the +last few days, of a “three-stocking” horse?</p> + +<p>Then he remembered, and it came over him with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> +a sickening feeling that his life was worth very +little, indeed. For the black-haired man who had +once before tried to kill him and who now had +him prisoner could be none other than the terrible +John Murrell himself.</p> + +<p>There were two other horses, one behind them +and one ahead. Occasionally one of the riders +would speak in a guarded voice, but for the most +part they rode hard and in silence.</p> + +<p>It might have been only half an hour that they +traveled, after Tad regained consciousness. If so, +it was the longest thirty minutes he had ever spent +in his life.</p> + +<p>At last, when it seemed as if he must cry out +with pain if he were jolted any farther, his captor +pulled the big horse, lathered and champing, +to a stop.</p> + +<p>Without ceremony he caught Tad by his shoulder +and dropped him in a heap on the ground. The +boy was helpless, his ankles and his wrists bound +tightly. But his brain was still working, and after +the first moment of relief he began looking around, +to see, if possible, where he was.</p> + +<p>Dense brush and tall trees flanked the narrow, +grassy track on both sides, and there was no view +that would show him how far they had come from +the river.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>The riders had stopped in front of a house that +stood at the left of the road—a high, bleak frame +building, with no trees in front to soften its harsh +outline. The shutterless windows leered down like +evil eyes on the unkempt, desolate dooryard. An +unnatural silence hung about the premises. There +was no singing of birds, and in the flat gray light +of a cloudy noonday, the whole atmosphere of the +place seemed lonely and sinister beyond compare.</p> + +<p>The riders dismounted and talked together for +a moment.</p> + +<p>“Here,” said the tall leader at length, “we +can settle all that presently. You ride back down +the road, Sam, and you, Bull, keep watch up the +other way till I get him out of sight.”</p> + +<p>Tad heard the names with a shudder. He had +guessed right, then. Bull Whaley and Sam Jukes +were the chief lieutenants of the famous outlaw. +He had heard of them and their cruelty from the +keel-boat hands on the river.</p> + +<p>Murrell stood looking down at him for a moment, +an ironical smile twisting his pale face.</p> + +<p>“I see you recall our havin’ met before, suh,” +he said with his polite Southern drawl. “That’s +as it should be, fo’ you are goin’ to be my guest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> +fo’ a while. We’ll see, now, if there are any quarters +ready to receive you.”</p> + +<p>He put two fingers between his lips and gave a +singularly piercing whistle, so shrill that it hurt +Tad’s eardrums. In a few seconds the house door +opened, and a gigantic negro, in the rough clothes +of a field hand, ran down the steps.</p> + +<p>Murrell looked from Tad to the huge negro and +back at Tad again. He seemed to relish the situation. +“This,” he explained to the boy, “is Congo, +my bodyguard. He was the son of a great African +chief, and when they brought him off the slave ship +he killed four men. They tortured him so that he +will never hear or speak again. But I rode by at +the right moment and saved him from death. At a +sign from me he would pick you up now and tear +you into forty pieces.”</p> + +<p>The giant black seemed to sense what his master +was saying, for he flexed his mighty fingers, and +his sides shook with a great, silent laugh. Tad, +looking into that cavernous mouth, saw that there +was no tongue back of the gleaming white teeth, +and the negro’s ears had been cropped and mutilated +in horrible fashion.</p> + +<p>Murrell gestured toward the house and led the +way to the steps, and Congo picked the boy up as +easily as if he had been a baby. Through the doorway<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> +and along a narrow hall he carried him, and +then at another signal from Murrell, he climbed +with him up a flight of steep, rickety stairs. Opening +a door at the top, he flung his burden down, and +stood awaiting the further commands of his master.</p> + +<p>Murrell nodded. When the negro had gone out, +he stooped and dragged Tad a few feet into a shadowy +corner. Here he picked up a heavy iron fetter +attached to a three-foot chain, and clasped it +around one of the boy’s ankles. With a brass key +taken from his pocket, he secured its ponderous +lock.</p> + +<p>“That and our hospitality,” he chuckled, +“ought to be plenty to keep you here. I’ll let you +have the use o’ yo’ hands to keep the fleas from +bein’ too familiar.” So saying, he whipped out a +clasp knife and cut the cords that had bound Tad’s +wrists and ankles. And with an exaggerated bow +he went out, closing the door after him.</p> + +<p>When the sound of his footsteps had died away +at the bottom of the stairs, Tad raised himself to +a sitting posture and looked about at his prison. +In what he saw there was nothing to lighten the +gloom of his desperate situation. The room was +a long, narrow garret, lighted only by one window, +at the farther end. Yellow, mildewed plaster was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> +dropping off the walls in flakes. The floor was a +mass of filth. Around him in the corner where he +sat were dirt and grease and foul-smelling rags, +and the whole place had a close, sickly odor that +nauseated him.</p> + +<p>But Tad was not one to give up easily. He had +a stubborn sort of courage that rose to occasions +of this kind. And when he had conquered his first +feeling of illness, he set himself to test every +possible avenue of escape.</p> + +<p>The chain attached to his ankle-iron was heavy +and strong—a trace-chain from a wagon, he +judged. At the other end it was fastened to a huge +iron staple, driven solidly into one of the timbers +of the floor. A tug or two convinced him of the +utter futility of trying to pull it out. The fetter, +he was quite certain now, had been designed to +hold big, powerful men—the stolen slaves who +were said to be the special prey of Murrell and +his outlaw gang.</p> + +<p>When he felt of the leg-iron itself, it seemed +large and loose about his ankle, though much too +small to allow his heel to pass through. His fingers +moved over the surface of the fetter and paused +suddenly in a deep, rough notch at the back, near +the hinge. With trembling hands he turned it as +far as he could and peered down at it through the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> +dim half-dusk. At some time or other the iron had +been partly cut through by a file.</p> + +<p>Tad’s pulses leaped as he made this discovery. +For a moment he thought he might finish what had +been so well begun by some earlier prisoner. But +as he searched about the floor in his corner he +realized that there was nothing in sight that could +possibly be used as an abrasive.</p> + +<p>The afternoon dragged by with sickening slowness. +The heat of the garret nearly suffocated him, +and there was nothing to do but fight the flies and +wait—for what, he did not know.</p> + +<p>An intermittent drone of voices could be heard +in the room downstairs. Gradually they grew +louder—as the bottle was passed, Tad supposed—and +he could even catch occasional words. Perhaps +he would be able to overhear some of their plans. +Crawling as far as the chain would permit, he +stretched full length on his stomach, and laid an +ear to the floor. As he did so, one of the boards +moved a trifle under his hand. He touched it again +and found it loose. By working his finger nails into +the crack at one end he was able to lift it. The +board was a short one that had been put in as a +filler between two longer pieces. When Tad put +his head down over the hole there were only thin +lath and plaster between him and the room below.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>Lying still and listening, he could now catch +quite distinctly the louder parts of the conversation. +There was a deep, angry voice which he recognized +as that of Bull Whaley, and a thin whine +that he thought must come from Sam Jukes. Murrell +himself seemed to be saying very little.</p> + +<p>“But five thousand dollars, man—why, that’s +the price of four or five good cotton niggers!” +Whaley was roaring. “Don’t the notice say ‘dead +or alive’? He’s supposed to ha’ been drowned, +ain’t he? Well,” he finished triumphantly, “we +kin fix that part of it easy enough.”</p> + +<p>“That’s too risky,” Jukes answered. “They’d +be pretty sure to look into it if he was brought in +dead. What I say is, let him be rescued by one of +our New Orleans men. The boy won’t ever suspect, +an’ his old man will be so thankful that he +was delivered out o’ the hands of the ruffians—meanin’ +you, Bull—that he’ll pay the five thousand +without a whimper. Let’s see, now, LeGrand +would be the chap to put it through. He’s a good +Creole an’ stands well with the police.”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” Whaley grunted. “An’ what’d LeGrand +want for the job? Half the reward, if I +know him. No, sir, take him in dead, I says. There’s +more in it fer us that way.”</p> + +<p>Then Tad heard the husky drawl of the chief.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>“Neither one of yo’ ideas is wu’th the powder to +blow it up, gentlemen,” he said. “You’re used to +makin’ small plans an’ takin’ small pickin’s. Five +thousand dollars is all either of you can see in this. +I aim to get fifty thousand.”</p> + +<p>His words evidently left his hearers dumfounded. +For a moment there was no sound. Then—“<i>Fifty</i> +thousand!” both exclaimed together.</p> + +<p>“That was what I said,” Murrell returned. +“This man Hopkins has offered a reward of five +thousand. That means he is rich. He could scrape +up, on his credit, all of fifty thousand dollars, +and that is the sum I shall ask him to pay fo’ the +safe return of his son.”</p> + +<p>“Hold him fer ransom, eh?” said Whaley with +a chuckle. “You win, Jack. I reckon if you sign +the letter, they’ll know they’ve got to pay or +they’ll never see him again.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s the plan, right enough,” Jukes put +in. “We’ll have to fix up a good place for ’em to +bring the money, though, so we can watch out for +tricks.”</p> + +<p>“As to that,” said Murrell, “I’ve worked out +all the details. You know that island—” And here +he dropped his voice too low for Tad’s ears. The +rest of the conversation was evidently held in an +undertone, heads close together over the table, for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> +try as he would, the boy could catch only a stray +word now and then.</p> + +<p>The sun had evidently broken through the +clouds, for a slanting beam came through the cob-webs +of the room’s one window, which opened toward +the west. And this feeble ray of light chanced +to fall just inside the edge of the opening in the +floor. It was a lucky chance for Tad. Glancing into +the hole as he was about to crawl away, he saw +something that made his heart jump into his +throat. Quickly he reached down and brought it up +into the light—a big, three-edged file.</p> + +<p>The hole in the floor must have been the secret +hiding-place used by that other prisoner, who had +been taken away before his work on the fetter was +finished.</p> + +<p>Eagerly Tad felt the edges of the file. It was +still sharp. He was just moving to a position where +he could get at his ankle-iron when a step sounded +on the stairs, and he had barely time to replace the +tool in the aperture and cover it with the board. +As he crawled back to his rags in the corner the +door was opened and the giant slave, Congo, came +in.</p> + +<p>The negro set down a plate on which were some +thick slices of buttered bread and a tin cup full +of coffee. Tad waited for him to go, but he pointed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> +down at the food and evidently expected to stay +until it was finished. The boy had very little appetite, +in spite of having tasted nothing since breakfast. +He did manage, however, to eat two pieces +of bread and gulp down the strong black coffee. +Then an idea came to him. He had been wondering +how he was to file his leg-iron without making too +great a noise. If he could save the butter on the +remaining piece of bread he might use it as a +lubricant.</p> + +<p>Picking up the slice he pretended to take a +mouthful, meanwhile pushing the plate and cup +toward Congo. The giant black stooped, picked +them up, and stood for a moment grinning that +terrible grin of his. Then he drew a forefinger +slowly across his throat and rolled up his eyes till +only the whites showed, in a ghastly pantomime of +death. With this little token of farewell, he slipped +through the door and bolted it on the outside.</p> + +<p>Tad wasted no time in worrying over the meaning +of the negro’s signs. As soon as the footsteps +had reached the bottom of the stairs he crept to his +loose board and took the file from its hiding-place. +In the fading twilight he could barely see the notch +in the fetter, but it was easy to find by touch, and +he soon turned it into a position where he could +move the file back and forth comfortably. By rubbing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> +a little butter along the cutting edge, he found +that the noise was scarcely audible—certainly too +slight to be heard on the first floor.</p> + +<p>For the best part of an hour he worked, stealthily +but with hardly a moment’s rest. He could feel +the notch in the iron growing deeper. It must be +two-thirds of the way through, he thought. And +then catastrophe overtook him. He was just reaching +for the piece of bread, to get more butter, when +suddenly it was snatched from under his hand. +The biggest rat he had ever seen had seized it and +scurried away across the floor.</p> + +<p>Tad was more than startled. For a moment his +nerves were shaken, and he sat there trembling +with weariness and fright. Then the ridiculous side +of the situation struck him and he rocked back and +forth with smothered laughter. When the spasm +was over he tried to work on the fetter again and +found that the scraping of the dry file was becoming +more and more noisy. Saliva would quiet it +for a stroke or two, but it dried too quickly. At +last he gave up the effort. He put the file away, +dropped the board back in place and curled up +exhausted in his corner, wishing desperately for +his snug blanket aboard the <i>Katy Roby</i>.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">There may</span> have been worse nights in history than +the one Tad spent in that garret, but in all his +experience he never was to know a longer or more +nerve-racking one.</p> + +<p>Rats scampered everywhere, in the walls and +up and down the floor. He could hear them gnawing, +squealing, fighting all about him.</p> + +<p>Once or twice, when he drowsed off for a moment, +their furry bodies brushed against his skin, +waking him with a start. He had heard of rats +attacking men in places like this. What if one of +them should bite him there in the dark? He sat, +tense and waiting, for hours on end, and shook his +chain and thumped his hands on the floor to keep +them away.</p> + +<p>The lesser vermin in the rags about him were +not so easily frightened off. He had discovered, almost +as soon as he was put in the room, that Murrell’s +mention of fleas was more than idle chatter. +Now, under cover of the darkness, they came in +swarms to feast upon him. In a way, perhaps, they +were a blessing, for they gave him little time to +dwell on his graver troubles.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>Nevertheless he was haunted all night by the +thought of Abe’s distress. What had the big flatboatman +thought of him when he failed to return +at noon? Allen, doubtless, had stayed ashore drinking +and enjoying himself, and Abe must have felt +that Tad had betrayed his trust. At least so the +boy pictured it to himself. Then he realized that +the long-shanked Hoosier would be far more concerned +with finding him than with blaming him. +Just what would Abe do, he wondered. For he was +positive that he would do something. Murrell and +all his gang went armed to the teeth. If Abe should +run afoul of some of them he would almost certainly +be killed. Tad thought of the strong, homely, +kindly face of his big friend and came near sobbing.</p> + +<p>At last, toward dawn, he was too weary to fight +the fleas, and hardly cared whether the rats bit +him or not. Tumbled in a heap on the floor, he slept +the sleep of sheer exhaustion.</p> + +<p>The reflected light of a bright morning sun was +in the room when he awoke. A clatter of pots and +pans and an odor of cooking came up from below. +Presently he heard boots thumping and the scrape +of chairs and knew that the outlaws were sitting +down to breakfast.</p> + +<p>Rubbing his eyes, he looked about the dirty room<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> +and saw that there was a little heap of iron filings +on the floor where he had worked. Hastily he lifted +the loose board and swept the tell-tale gray dust +into the hole. He was none too soon, for a moment +later he heard the pad of bare feet outside, and +the sliding of the bolt on his door. Congo entered +bearing his breakfast.</p> + +<p>The meal this time was an unappetizing kind +of cornmeal mush without milk. Tad had hoped +to get some more butter. He hid his disappointment, +however, and ate as much of the stuff as he +could, knowing that he would need all his strength +if he was ever to escape. There was also a cup of +water which he drank eagerly.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, Congo took the bowl and +cup and paused in the doorway as before to grimace +at him. This time the huge negro changed his +gesture. With one hand he made the sign of a +noose about his neck, winding up behind his left +ear with a horrible jerk of the head and more +silent laughter.</p> + +<p>Tad, with a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach, +wondered what other varieties of sudden +death he would see illustrated before he left that +filthy place.</p> + +<p>The morning was well along—it must have been +after ten o’clock, Tad thought—when there was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> +sound of heavy hoofs galloping up the road, and +several riders dismounted in the yard. The boy +could hear them swearing at the horses and then +greeting Murrell and his companions as they approached +the door.</p> + +<p>These newcomers seemed to be members of the +outlaw gang, for they spoke freely of Tad’s capture +and asked the chief what he planned to do +with his prize. As they came into the room below, +one of them was roaring with laughter. Tad took +up the board in order to hear better and found he +could make out nearly everything that was said.</p> + +<p>“But the blankety-blankedest thing I ever saw, +suh,” one of the new men was remarking, “was +this big Hoosier broadhorn steerer comin’ up the +Main Street. Seven foot if he was an inch—yes, +suh, I’m not exaggeratin’ a particle—seven foot +tall! He marches up to the first saloon he sees and +asks the bar-keep if he knows anything about a +boy that’s missin’. The man gives him some sort +of a sassy answer, and next thing he knows this +long-legged river hand has grabbed him by the +neck and flung him out in the middle of the road.</p> + +<p>“Fight? No, there was no fight. The Hoosier +just goes along and leaves him there. At the next +place the same thing happens, only the bartender +saves his skin by apologizin’ mighty quick when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> +he sees that long arm comin’. So it goes all the way +up the street.</p> + +<p>“Finally he gets to Nolan’s place. By this time +there’s quite a crowd of flatboat and keel-boat men +followin’ along to see the fun. An’ drinkin’ at Nolan’s +bar is some ark hand that pipes up and says +yes, indeed, he saw the boy. He was bein’ carried +off by three men on horseback, ridin’ hell-for-leather +up the South Bluff road.</p> + +<p>“‘What did they look like?’ asks Longshanks, +and the fellow tells him that the one holdin’ the +boy was tall and rode a big sorrel horse with three +white stockin’s.</p> + +<p>“At that, half the river-men in the crowd shout +‘Jack Murrell,’ and there’s a grand howdy-do. +The big Hoosier tries to find out where you’d be +likely to take the boy, but of course no one knows +a thing.</p> + +<p>“I understand he’s gone up to Natchez-on-the-Hill +this mornin’, to try to raise a posse.”</p> + +<p>Tad heard Murrell’s lazy laugh. “Huh,” said +the leader, “he won’t get far there. What say, +Carson, want to have a look at the youngster?”</p> + +<p>There was a sound of boots that warned Tad +to put the board back in position. He crawled back +into the corner where the shadows were deepest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> +and turned the filed place in the fetter carefully +under his ankle.</p> + +<p>When the door opened he sat there sullen-faced, +picking at the ragged edges of his shirt sleeve with +listless fingers.</p> + +<p>Murrell was accompanied by a big, florid young +man in the dapper dress of a planter, who slapped +the dust from his boots with a riding-whip as he +stared down at the boy.</p> + +<p>“Haw, haw! Fifty thousand—for that?” he +laughed. “Here, step up, boy, and let’s have a +look at you!” And he flicked the stinging lash of +his whip into the lad’s neck. A sudden flush spread +over Tad’s face, but he sat perfectly still. Angrily, +Carson threw up his arm for a full stroke, but +Murrell detained him with a sharp word.</p> + +<p>“Careful,” he said. “He’s mine, you know.” +For a moment Carson faced the cold gleam of the +chief’s eyes. Then his own eyes dropped. He gave +an uneasy laugh and turned toward the stairs, and +after another glance at Tad, Murrell followed him.</p> + +<p>The time dragged by interminably. Buzzing +flies made the daylight hours seem as unbearably +long as the night had been. Sometime in the afternoon +the boy dozed off and was finally awakened +by the arrival of his supper. To his joy there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> +bread and butter. He was so hungry that there +was a real temptation to gobble all of it, but he +saved the last piece, pretending to eat it, as before.</p> + +<p>Just as Congo stooped to pick up the plate, there +came that ear-splitting whistle that Tad had +heard once before, and the big negro leaped as if +he had been shot. Without even a backward look +he slipped through the door, fastened it, and hurried +down the stairs.</p> + +<p>Other horsemen had arrived, it seemed. Tad +heard strange voices below, and after removing +the board caught Murrell’s answer.</p> + +<p>“If they do come, it will be in daylight,” he +was saying. “We’ll have to run him back to a safer +place in the morning, and lie low for a few days.”</p> + +<p>The boy’s heart sank. Tonight, it seemed, was +his last chance. If he did not get away before +morning he was to be taken off to some new +stronghold where there would be even less hope +of escape.</p> + +<p>Quickly he took the file out of the hole and set +to work. Before darkness had completely fallen he +could see that another hour’s labor would sever +the broad iron ring. He rested a few minutes and +then went on, pushing the file steadily back and +forth. This time he took no chances with his bread<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> +and butter, but kept it tucked away in the bosom +of his shirt.</p> + +<p>From the noise in the room below he judged that +there must be five or six men at least gathered +about the table. They seemed to be playing cards +and drinking, for he heard frequent orders for +rum punch shouted at a servant they called Juba.</p> + +<p>What game they were playing he could not tell, +but the stakes must have been high. A loud voice, +made thick by many potations, reached the boy +distinctly through the garret floor,</p> + +<p>“You goin’ to stick along, Murrell?” the voice +was saying. “You goin’ to stick? Gettin’ in pretty +deep, ain’t you? That’s fifteen hundred you owe +me now. All right, I’m raisin’ it two hundred +more. What d’ye say—want to put the boy up? +Eh? That gilt-edged prisoner o’ yours? I aim to +back these cards all night; so you better unlimber +some cash or else put up the boy.”</p> + +<p>Tad bent harder to his work, and the sweat +streamed from his face as he filed. If they were +making him a stake in their game and the cards +went against Murrell, his new owner might come +up at any moment to claim him. The file was almost +through. He gave it a last stroke or two, and +the fetter fell open with a sudden clank of metal.</p> + +<p>Holding his breath, the boy waited to see if they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> +had heard, but it appeared that all in the lower +room were too absorbed in what was going on +there to notice any such trifling sound. With all +possible care he lifted his ankle out of the broken +clasp and stood up, feeling an exhilarating sense +of freedom.</p> + +<p>Cautiously, in the darkness, he moved across the +room. The door was secured on the outside, as he +had expected. He left it and turned toward the +window, treading very softly and testing each +board with his bare toes.</p> + +<p>There had been a momentary lull in the voices +downstairs. Now, with startling suddenness, some +one ripped out an angry oath, and there was a +commotion of chairs being pushed back. Two pistol +shots rent the air, close together, and then all +was quiet again except for a single low groan.</p> + +<p>Tad stood still, trying to control the shaking of +his knees.</p> + +<p>“He’s dead,” came the heavy voice of Bull +Whaley. “Well, we can’t leave him here. Come, +give me a hand, some one.”</p> + +<p>The house door opened and closed again, and +then there was a short, ugly laugh, followed by a +call for Juba and another round of drinks. Tad +tiptoed forward to the window.</p> + +<p>Where he had feared to find a complicated system<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> +of fastenings, there was only a big square nail +driven part way into the frame above the lower +sash. It was solidly imbedded in the wood, but by +moving it up and down until it had a trifle of play, +he was able at last to pull it out with his fingers.</p> + +<p>To the boy’s relief, the sash was loose enough to +raise without too much effort. He lifted it an inch +at a time, easing it past the squeaks, and braced it +open with a two-foot length of stick which had +been lying on the sill.</p> + +<p>A young moon, partly obscured by clouds, shed +a faint light over the dooryard. Tad could see the +ground, fifteen feet below, with a tangled mass of +rank weeds growing against the house. A score of +yards beyond was the road, and then woods, black +and dense, stretching away to the west. A little +night breeze came in the window with refreshing +coolness.</p> + +<p>Tad stood there for a while, wondering what +time of night it was and how late it would be +before the outlaws went to sleep. He was afraid +they might stay a long time over their liquor. +Climbing down past the window of the room in +which they sat seemed a foolhardy plan, but Tad +grew restless at the thought of a long wait.</p> + +<p>At last he decided to go back to his hole in the +floor and listen to their talk. Treading lightly but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> +swiftly, he retraced his steps. The garret was as +dark as pitch, but he believed he knew his way. +He must be nearing the place now. And even as +this thought crossed his mind he stepped directly +into the opening. There was a crackle of breaking +lath and a crash of plaster, and Tad’s foot went +through the ceiling of the room beneath. He withdrew +it instantly and stood there trembling, his +heart pounding with terror and with fury at his +own clumsiness.</p> + +<p>A sound of startled swearing came from below, +and through the aperture he caught a glimpse of +flushed faces staring upward. For a long moment +they stood so. Then the faces disappeared and +there was a rush of feet through the hallway +leading to the stairs.</p> + +<p>Only one course lay open for Tad, and he took +it. Darting across the garret, he scrambled +through the window and let himself down, his +hands gripping the sill, till his feet touched the +ledge above the ground floor window. Would they +see him? He had no way of telling how many had +stayed in the room below. But he could already +hear shouts at the top of the stairs, and some +one was fumbling at the bolt.</p> + +<p>With a deep intake of breath the boy let go +one hand, swung outward and jumped.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The ten-foot drop</span> to the ground jarred Tad from +head to toe but did not really hurt him. He was +up in an instant, and without even a backward +glance at the house he made for the trees across +the road. As he started to run he tripped over +something bulky in the grass and saw with a shudder +that it was the body of the man called Carson, +still and cold, a ray of moonlight falling on his +white, upturned face. Tad sped onward, cleared +the road in a long leap, in order to leave no track +in the dust, and plunged into the brush on the +farther side. The dark wall of leaves closed behind +him, and he knew that for the moment at +least he was beyond the outlaws’ reach, but he +did not slacken speed. Tumbling over fallen logs, +diving headforemost through thickets, dashing +forward wherever an opening showed between the +tree trunks, he kept on. Weak as he was from +scanty food and lack of sleep, he must have traveled +a good half mile through the woods before +he fell, too exhausted to pick himself up.</p> + +<p>For a long time he lay there, panting, till the +vast ache inside his ribs grew less painful and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> +finally departed. Then at last he rose on wobbly +legs and went forward. When he was a prisoner in +the outlaws’ garret he had made no definite plans +beyond escaping from the house. But now he saw +quite clearly that some sort of intelligent planning +would be necessary if he wanted to avoid getting +lost or recaptured.</p> + +<p>To reach the river was his first problem. If +he could strike the bank he was sure he could find +Natchez, somewhere a few miles to the north. So +he went on, searching for a more open space where +he might get his bearings.</p> + +<p>For what seemed like an age he plowed through +dense timber, where he could see only an occasional +gleam of moonlight, much less a recognizable +star. But finally the trees opened out in front +of him and he found himself in the edge of a small +clearing, full of stumps and brush, but giving a +clear view overhead. A few clouds still covered +part of the sky, but he made out the Dipper, and +following the two pointers, located the North +Star. It was ahead of him and a little to the right, +so that he knew his general direction had been +good. What he wanted now was to bear toward the +left, shaping a westerly course, and so reach the +river bluffs.</p> + +<p>At the farther side of the clearing he struck<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> +into what seemed to be a wood path leading westward. +Rough as it was, he found he could walk +along it with much less difficulty than through the +trackless brush, and as long as it continued fairly +straight he had no fear of losing his direction.</p> + +<p>For more than a mile he followed this trail, and +came at length to a narrow little valley where the +path led off to the right along the brink of the +ravine. As he paused, undecided, a faint sound of +water came to him from somewhere below in the +undergrowth. He had been desperately thirsty for +hours. In a moment he had scrambled down the +bank and was bending above a shallow little +stream. Down he went on hands and knees and +drank his fill of the clear, cold water. And then, +just as he was getting to his feet, there came a +sound that fairly froze his heart with fear. Still +far off, it was, but unmistakable—the deep, bell-like +baying of a hound.</p> + +<p>Until that moment Tad had not thought of dogs. +Yet it was natural enough that Murrell should +have them. In his trade of slave-stealing, he must +often find use for bloodhounds.</p> + +<p>The muffled note rang out again. Was it nearer +this time? On his trail—<i>his</i> trail! They were after +him with dogs! For an instant Tad felt the panic +terror that makes the hunted rabbit run in circles.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> +His only impulse was to rush off blindly, somewhere—anywhere.</p> + +<p>Then some measure of sense returned to him +and he began thinking, swiftly. Up to that point +the scent would be fresh and strong, easily followed. +His pursuers would make far better time +than he had made, thrashing through the brush. +From now on he must baffle them, or he was lost.</p> + +<p>The stream was hardly more than a rivulet, a +few feet wide, but it offered him his only chance to +cover his scent. Plunging in, he found it less than +knee-deep, with a fairly smooth, sandy bottom. +He followed it downstream, wading fast, and keeping +an eye on the direction it was taking, when the +leaves overhead permitted a view of the stars.</p> + +<p>Once or twice he had to climb out to get around +fallen trees, and this gave him an idea. Wherever +there was a likely opening on either bank, leading +away from the stream, he left the water, ran a few +steps into the woods and returned, as nearly as +possible in the same tracks. Then he waded on with +all the speed he could muster.</p> + +<p>Occasionally the wind bore to him the cry of +the hound, sometimes clearer, sometimes fainter, +but always a sound that chilled his blood.</p> + +<p>Tad had long since passed the winded stage. +He went on steadily, his breathing a succession of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> +gasps that no longer seemed to hurt, a deadness +in his legs and a queer ringing in his ears. He had +no idea how long he had been running so, when +suddenly the brook deepened and his numbed +senses were shocked wide awake by a plunge into +cold water.</p> + +<p>He realized, as he floundered up again, that the +sky overhead was open. He was standing up to his +neck in a broad marshy pool that stretched away +to left and right for a long distance. Under the +ghostly moon it lay dark and mysterious, wholly +silent except for the muffled plash of a heron hunting +frogs. Like every boy, Tad had a horror of +swimming in strange water at night. He stood +there, shivering, trying to make up his mind. The +opposite bank was not so far away, but sluggish +ponds ... water moccasins....</p> + +<p>The bay of the bloodhound came to him again, +unexpectedly close this time. He waited no longer +but threw himself forward, swimming with all his +might. The pool was only thirty or forty yards +across at this place, and in a few strokes he was +halfway over. Then a vicious cramp caught at the +big muscles in the back of his thigh—twisting him +with pain till he almost went under. He managed +to straighten the leg and struggled on, kicking +only with the other, till he felt ooze under his toes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> +and crawled out somehow through slimy reeds and +lily-pads to the soft black earth of the bank.</p> + +<p>There for a while he lay, his exhaustion so complete +that he scarcely cared what happened. Both +his legs were cruelly knotted with cramps, and his +whole body ached with weariness. Rest he must +have if he were ever to reach the river. He crept +a little farther into the reeds and lay on his back, +staring up at the stars and listening to the intermittent +baying of the hound.</p> + +<p>At last the cramps left him and he thought he +had recovered his wind sufficiently to go on. But +just as he was rising to his knees there came a +thrashing in the underbrush near the mouth of +the brook and he heard men’s voices. A light +breeze was blowing across the pond from them +to him so that he caught some of the words plainly.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with ol’ Red-eye—lost the +scent again?” came Bull Whaley’s panting bass. +And as if in answer the bloodhound spoke—a full-throated, +menacing challenge that fairly lifted the +hair on Tad’s head. Through the screening reeds +he could see the beast on the other side of the +pool, gray and gigantic in the moonlight, its long +ears trailing the ground as it nosed here and +there along the bank.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_154a"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_154a.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">HE COULD SEE THE BEAST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF +THE POOL</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Behind, in the shadow, was the broad, squat +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>figure of Whaley, and another man whom Tad did +not recognize was holding the hound’s leash.</p> + +<p>A stream of profanity came from this second +man. “Lost him!” he growled. “Must have swum +across. What d’ye say—want to send the dog +over?”</p> + +<p>“No use,” returned the other. “The boy’s most +likely a long ways off by now. An’ even if Red-eye +got over without bein’ bit by a snake, I wouldn’t +foller him. The nearest place to cross is Cordle’s +Bridge, a mile away. What I say is we’d best +git back to the horses an’ make it down to the +river road in a hurry. We’d ought to head him +off there, sure.”</p> + +<p>They stood there arguing for a while, then +turned back into the woods, dragging the huge, +unwilling hound. And Tad, feeling that he had +at least a momentary respite from pursuit, started +toward the setting moon once more.</p> + +<p>The rest had helped both his legs and his courage. +Now that he knew how the outlaws expected +to capture him, he believed he had a chance to +outwit them, while if he had not overheard their +plans, he might have walked straight into their +ambush on the river road.</p> + +<p>The shore of the pond was fringed with a sparse +growth of saplings and brush, through which Tad<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> +made his way without much difficulty. Beyond it +he could catch glimpses of a broad open space, +gleaming palely in the moonlight. At first he +thought it was water—a larger pond, perhaps—and +his heart sank at the idea of having to swim +again. But when he reached the edge of the trees +he saw that what lay before him was a great cotton +field, white with opening bloom. Easily half a +mile wide, it stretched back to the north and east +so far that his eyes lost it in the moonlit haze.</p> + +<p>Crossing the waist-high cotton was dangerous, +Tad knew. He veered to the left, skirting the end +of the field, and at its farther corner came on a +well-defined path leading into the woods. It bore +a little north of west, in the direction he wished to +follow, and he could see from the grass and brush +in the track that it was little used. After a careful +scrutiny of the cotton field for pursuers, he went +forward along the path as fast as his weary legs +would carry him.</p> + +<p>Once the whir of a rattler, behind him, made +cold chills run down his spine and gave speed to +his feet. And half a mile farther on he was frightened +almost out of his wits when a partly-grown +razor-back boar leaped up, grunting, from its bed +beside the path, and dashed off into the woods.</p> + +<p>When the moon set, Tad had no choice but to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> +stay where he was and rest. He tried to feel his +way along in the inky dark, but after he had +stumbled against trees and nearly lost the path, +he gave it up. There were still two or three hours +till dawn, and he was very tired. A few yards off +the path he found a place where he could sit, with +his back against a tree. And in thirty seconds he +was asleep.</p> + +<p>Fortunately the cramped position he was in +woke him before daylight and he staggered up, +stiff and sore, but with his strength renewed. A +faint grayness was beginning to show through the +trees, so that now he had no trouble in following +the path. He had a feeling that the river could +not be far off.</p> + +<p>A moment later the cheerful blast of a steamboat +whistle sounded, close at hand. Tad’s heart +pounded with joy, and he pushed forward almost +at a run. Within a hundred yards he came to a +place where he could glimpse the road, brown and +dusty in the increasing light, bending south along +the crest of the bluff.</p> + +<p>He abandoned the path and cut into the brush, +striking northward with the highway and the river +below on his left. He was looking for a good place +to cross the road and make the descent of the +bluff. Just as he thought he had found such a spot,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> +and was preparing to leave the shelter of the undergrowth, +his ears caught a faint clink of metal. +He crouched where he was, waiting. Soon the +sound was repeated, and with it he heard the musical +jingle of a bridle chain. Then came a man’s +voice, muffled, quieting a restless horse, and a moment +later he heard the soft thud of hoofs on +grass.</p> + +<p>Three mounted men came down the road from +Natchez, riding silently in single file, their lathered +horses at a walk. They were wrapped in +cloaks and their hats were pulled low over their +faces, but Tad knew them. The leader rode a big +sorrel with three white legs.</p> + +<p>Almost opposite Tad they pulled up and talked +in low tones for a minute. He could not hear their +words, but their gestures were short and angry. +Hunched there in their saddles, they looked like +ruffled birds of prey.</p> + +<p>The leader jerked his horse around, motioned to +one of the riders to stay where he was, and with +the other at his heels, set off down the road. The +man who remained looked after them grouchily +for a moment, then swung down from his horse, +pulled the reins over his arm, and sat down with +his back against a stump.</p> + +<p>As quietly as he knew how, Tad crawled back a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> +dozen yards or more into the woods. When he was +sure the rank growth screened him completely, he +got up and started northward again, fairly holding +his breath in his effort to make no noise.</p> + +<p>After a while he knew he was out of earshot of +the watcher by the road and could move faster. +The sun rose, bringing beauty to the woods. He +heard negroes singing, and soon a big mule-cart +creaked by, with half a dozen plantation hands on +their way to the fields, and a white overseer riding +abreast. Birds made a background of music for +all the other sounds of the waking day.</p> + +<p>Tad passed a bend in the road and worked himself +down into the bushes that fringed the ditch +beside it. He looked long and listened carefully in +both directions. Then with his heart in his mouth, +he made the dash for the opposite side. Three seconds, +and it was done. The brush whipped shut +behind him. He waited a little to see if any one was +in pursuit, then turned and pushed his way +through the tangle of vines and creepers that +crowned the edge of the bluff.</p> + +<p>There, a hundred feet and more below, was the +vast, muddy tide of the river that had made him +feel so lonely and depressed three short weeks ago. +How he welcomed it now! Spread out in a great +sunlit panorama, he saw the little arks and keel-boats<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> +go gliding down, no bigger than chips on +the yellow flood. And those tiny black figures, like +ants, that worked at the sweeps or sat about the +breakfast fires—those were his friends. He belonged +to their brotherhood now. Old Trader Magoon +and the jolly red-bearded captain from St. +Louis, big, brave, awkward, kind-hearted Abe, and +even Allen, with his human failings—they would +all fight for him.</p> + +<p>Something like a sob rose in his throat, and he +had to choke it back. What was the matter with +him anyway? It must be hunger. He remembered +that he hadn’t eaten much for two days. Well, it +was time he was moving.</p> + +<p>With another look around, to make sure no one +watched him from the road, he started scrambling +down the face of the bluff.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">As he descended</span>, Tad could see the levee, below, +and half a mile to the northward the huddled +houses of Natchez-under-the-Hill. There was the +big steamboat landing, piled with freight, and beyond +it the swarming flatboat fleet, so close, now, +that he almost fancied he could pick out the little +<i>Katy Roby</i> at her moorings.</p> + +<p>Clinging by roots and creepers, sliding from one +grass tuft to the next, the boy went swiftly down. +At the foot of the steep slope was a narrow marshy +tract hemmed in by the levee. There was no road +except the footway along the levee top, but a few +shanties were scattered here and there—the cabins +of free negroes, Tad thought—and among the evil-looking +pools of green water, paths ran from one +clump of great mossy live oaks to the next. He +followed one of these, skirting a stagnant pond +where the whole surface was covered with a weedy +scum. An alligator moved lazily, thrusting up its +long snout within a yard of Tad’s heel, and great +swarms of mosquitoes rose on all sides to meet +him. He broke into a run.</p> + +<p>Beyond the first clump of trees he passed the +door of a squalid shack where dogs yapped at his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> +heels and a frightened black woman wrapped her +skirts about a child that screamed when it saw +him. After he had driven the curs away with a +stick, he went on more slowly. The morning was +growing hot, and a desperate thirst possessed him. +He thought of stopping at one of the negro cabins +and asking for a drink, but the sight of the unspeakable +filth around them decided him against +it. After all, he was almost there. He could stand +another ten minutes.</p> + +<p>As he neared the town, the path ran through a +dense clump of scrub willows that reached from +the levee almost back to the foot of the bluff. +Tad prudently slipped into this willow thicket as +he drew close to the landing, and squirmed forward +till he could command a view of the big +dock, the street, and the flatboats beyond. His first +glance told him it was lucky he had reconnoitered. +For in addition to the handful of negroes who were +rolling bales and barrels in the sleepy sunshine, +he saw three horses tied to the rail before a corner +tavern, and three men with hats pulled low over +their faces, lounging in the shadows. One sat on +the tavern veranda, watching the street. One patrolled +the landing in leisurely fashion. And one +stood idly under a tree with his eye on the movements +of the flatboatmen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>If Murrell was one of them—and Tad thought +the tall figure on the landing was he—he had +changed horses since daybreak. The famous three-stocking +sorrel was not among the mounts at the +hitching-rail.</p> + +<p>All this was a blow to Tad’s hopes. Where he +had expected to reach the haven of the <i>Katy Roby</i> +in another moment or two, he saw that he might +now have to wait for hours. His thirst was becoming +almost unbearable. The whole inside of his +mouth and his tongue felt parched and swollen. +Mosquitoes in myriads came to sing their shrill +refrain around his head, and other pests, he knew, +would soon discover his hiding-place.</p> + +<p>At last he could stand the torture of sitting still +no longer. He got to his feet, peering through the +willow branches. There, not a hundred yards away, +he could see Allen standing on the forward deck +of the flatboat, smoking his pipe and looking up +the town’s main street as if he were waiting for +some one.</p> + +<p>If only he could signal him in some way! But +there were the three grim watchers—desperate +men, as Tad knew—who would not hesitate to use +their pistols with a fifty-thousand-dollar prize in +sight. It might cost his friends their lives if he +showed himself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>He had thought of swimming under the landing, +but there would still be a sixty-foot stretch of +water to cross under the hawk eyes of that tall +man, slouching in the shade of a pile of boxes. +Still, he reflected, he could hardly be worse off +in the water than dying a slow death by thirst +and mosquitoes here.</p> + +<p>Very quietly he made his way through the willows +to the levee. The piling of the dock rose close +by—almost close enough to touch. On his stomach, +he crawled over the top of the embankment and +slid like a muskrat into the yellow water beyond. +In a few quick strokes he was under the landing +and hidden from view.</p> + +<p>He held on to one of the big cypress piles and +gulped a swallow or two of river water to take the +edge off his thirst. Then he made his way forward +under the shadowy planking of the wharf.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a shout, somewhere above, +and a pounding of many feet that went by over +his head, shaking dust down through the cracks. +He stayed where he was, his heart beating fast. +Then there came the loud blast of a steamboat +whistle, and he understood the reason for the +stampede.</p> + +<p>Alternately swimming and stopping to listen, +he made his way to the outer end of the wharf.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> +There, holding to one of the great clumps of mooring +piles, he watched the slim white prow of the +pride of the river—the <i>Natchez</i> herself—come +sweeping in to the landing. With a swiftness at +which he marveled, the great paddles swung her +into position, and amid the shouts of deck hands +he heard the heavy cable drop with a crash on +the planks over his head. In another moment the +big steamer was moored, side-on to the wharf, and +the gangplanks were run out. The steady rumble +of loading began.</p> + +<p>From where Tad was he could see forward under +the broad overhanging deck of the <i>Natchez</i> to +the low patch of daylight at her bows. And as he +looked, an idea came to him. He remembered how +the forward end of the <i>Tecumseh</i>, jutting well +beyond the landing, had seemed to be almost +within arm’s reach of the flatboat, that first morning +in Natchez. Under the shelter of the steamer, +he could get many feet closer to his goal without +being seen.</p> + +<p>He let go of the post to which he had been +holding, and swam out under the boat’s deck. It +was like being in a long, low-roofed, watery tunnel. +The deck was only two or three feet above +the level of the river and was built out from the +hull a good ten feet. It was shored up by a row<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> +of diagonal braces, and to these Tad clung, pulling +himself slowly along. When he reached the end of +the wharf he could see that his hopes were at least +partly justified. The steamer’s prow extended at +least thirty feet nearer to the moored flatboats, +and he was certain that for the best part of that +distance he would be well hidden from eyes on the +landing.</p> + +<p>Keeping as far as possible under the projecting +shelf, he pulled himself forward by the bracing +timbers. Finally he came to a point where the deck +narrowed rapidly toward the bow and no longer +afforded any cover. As nearly as he could judge, +about fifteen yards still separated him from the +<i>Katy Roby</i>. He was close enough to see every +homely plank and seam of the little craft, even to +the familiar marks of Abe’s mighty ax on the hewn +corner posts.</p> + +<p>A sudden fear seized him now—a fear that Abe +or Allen might appear at the gunwale and see him. +That would be dangerous, he knew.</p> + +<p>Obviously, he could not stay where he was. +Something had to be done, and done at once. With +desperation in his heart, the boy again measured +the distance to the flatboat, then drew a deep +breath, and took off from the steamer’s side in a +long plunge. He had swum under water many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> +times before, but never when he was so tired, or +with so much at stake.</p> + +<p>Five strokes he took—ten—twelve, with his +lungs ready to burst for air—thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen—he +<i>must</i> come up—seventeen—eighteen, +and his hand touched planks! He was +there, safe under the flatboat’s counter. For a moment +he lay with mouth and nose just out of water, +gasping in the breaths he so sorely needed. A +stray end of rope, hanging from the stern, gave +him something to hold on to.</p> + +<p>From the tall, white <i>Natchez</i> there came a +jangle of bells and a thrashing of the water as +her paddles turned over. This was Tad’s chance. +All eyes would be on the steamer for the next +minute or two. He took a firm grip on the rope and +went up with a kick of his feet. At the gunwale +he had just strength enough left to fling up a leg +and pull himself over. Five seconds later he rolled +over the edge of the after deck and dropped without +ceremony into the middle of Allen’s preparations +for dinner.</p> + +<p>If Tad had not instantly signaled him to silence +it is certain that the <i>Katy Roby’s</i> cook would have +yelled aloud in terror. As it was he toppled over +backward on the planking and sat there looking +comically pale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>“Great—hallelujah—fishhooks!” he choked out, +at last. “I shore never looked to see your face +ag’in, boy! How in Tarnation did ye git away?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you—pretty soon,” grinned Tad, still +too weary to talk. “Where’s Abe?”</p> + +<p>“Up thar in the town—Natchez-’top-o’-the-Hill,” +said Allen. “He’s been tryin’ to git ’em to +send a sheriff’s posse arter you. But gosh, boy, +look at them feet!”</p> + +<p>Tad was bleeding from half a dozen cuts and +bruises that he had got in the course of his flight. +Until now he had not even noticed them. His shirt +was in tatters, and even the stout homespun trousers, +in addition to being heavy with mud and +water, had been torn in several places. Gaunt with +hunger and fatigue and wet as a drowned kitten, +he looked little like his usual sturdy self.</p> + +<p>But Poke knew him. The gangling baby bear +stretched his chain as far as it would go and licked +with a warm pink tongue at Tad’s face. Chuckling +with delight, the boy rolled over to scratch his +pet’s inquisitive round ears. And at that moment a +long shadow fell across the deck and they heard +the tread of moccasined feet.</p> + +<p>Abe, still frowning and preoccupied with the +business that had taken him ashore, dropped down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> +from the fore deck and almost stepped on Tad +before he saw him.</p> + +<p>“Wal, I’ll be—” he began. But his vocabulary, +for once, was totally inadequate to the occasion.</p> + +<p>“Quick, Abe!” Tad implored him. “Get down +here out of sight, if you’re going to look like +that. There’s three of Murrell’s men watching on +the landing.”</p> + +<p>The big Hoosier crouched obediently, but Allen +started up with an oath. “Whar’s that gun o’ +mine?” he asked in a belligerent tone.</p> + +<p>“Hold on,” said Abe. “Don’t be a dum fool, Allen. +This is no time to git mixed up in a fight. Now +we’ve got Tad back, our job is to take him out o’ +here safe. Let’s see, now—Tad, you’d best crawl +in under the edge o’ that tarpaulin, jest in case o’ +trouble.</p> + +<p>“Allen, you act unconcerned-like, an’ go on gittin’ +some dinner together. I’m goin’ to shove off. +Wait, now, till I git to lookin’ glum ag’in.”</p> + +<p>With a comical effort, he twisted his gaunt face +into a heavy frown.</p> + +<p>“That ought to fool ’em,” he muttered, and +stood up, with a dejected stoop to his shoulders. +Slowly he mounted the forward deck, swung over +in a long stride to the next craft, and so reached<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> +the mooring-stakes along the levee. As he cast off +the rope and proceeded slowly to coil it over his +arm, a keel-boat man hailed him, three or four +boats away.</p> + +<p>“What’s up, Longshanks? Gwine to leave without +the youngster?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Abe shrugged his shoulders. “’Tain’t no use to +try any more,” he replied, gloomily. “They’re all +afraid to move, up in the town. I reckon we might +better be gittin’ our cargo to market.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” agreed the other, and spat over the +rail. “It’s tough luck, though. ‘Good-by, five thousand +dollars,’ eh?”</p> + +<p>An angry blaze lit Abe’s gray eyes. He started +to speak, then changed his mind. Dropping the +coil of rope on the fore deck, he picked up one of +the rowing-sweeps and planted it on firm bottom. +Then with a heave of his mighty shoulders, he +drove the <i>Katy Roby</i> straight out from the levee.</p> + +<p>As the current caught them they were swung +close to the corner piles of the wharf. Abe put his +oars in the chocks and began rowing, strongly but +without haste.</p> + +<p>“Keep hid, now,” came Allen’s whisper. +“Thar’s a feller watchin’ us up thar on the +landin’. Big, tall feller with his hat over his eyes.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> +’Pears like he’s mighty interested in what we’ve +got aboard.”</p> + +<p>“Wal,” he called out derisively, “think ye’ll be +able to reco’nize us next time?”</p> + +<p>There was no answer from the man on the +wharf.</p> + +<p>“Allen,” said Tad, when they had dropped the +landing well astern, “do you know who that was +you hailed? I do. It was Jack Murrell.”</p> + +<p>Allen’s face went pale. “No-o!” he said, in an +awe-stricken whisper. “You don’t tell me—<i>Murrell</i>!”</p> + +<p>“He’ll recognize you, all right,” Tad could not +help chuckling. “He never forgets a face.”</p> + +<p>But as the boy rose from his place under the +tarpaulin and looked astern, he wondered if perhaps +his jest had been ill-timed. At the hitching-rail +in front of the water-front saloon he could see +three men mounting their horses. They turned, +in a swirl of dust, as he watched, and spurred away +up the town’s main street toward the bluff. And +wherever they were going, they evidently meant +business.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Tad kept</span> his misgivings to himself as the flatboat +voyaged southward. Both of his companions were +so genuinely happy over his safe return that +nothing else really seemed to matter. They fed +him and pampered him, dried and mended his +clothes, and treated him in general like a long-lost +brother.</p> + +<p>Tad responded with a full heart. He ate the +feast of corn-bread, bacon, and coffee that Allen +prepared, and had no need to feign an appetite. +And to the delighted ears of his companions he +unfolded, bit by bit, as his strength returned, the +tale of his capture and escape.</p> + +<p>When he described how he first happened to run +afoul of the outlaws he saw Allen redden uneasily, +and the baleful glance that Abe turned on the son +of his employer told Tad how deeply the matter +must have been discussed.</p> + +<p>He went on to tell of the ride, of the lonely house +in the woods, and of the great black deaf-mute who +was Murrell’s servant.</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard o’ him,” put in Allen, his eyes wide<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> +with excitement. “Some ark hand from up the +Yazoo said he’d done caught a sight of him once. +Most o’ the keel-boat men, though, say they’re +sartin he ain’t no nigger at all, but some sort of +a gorilla.”</p> + +<p>Tad did not laugh. The horror of those silent +visits that Congo had paid him was still too fresh +in his memory.</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered. “He’s a man, all right. +But, gosh! I believe I’d <i>rather</i> have a gorilla after +me than that big black devil. Ugh!” And he shivered +a little in spite of the noonday heat.</p> + +<p>He told them of the arrival of the strangers at +the house, and how he had heard their talk of +the doings in Natchez.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I was afeared of,” said Abe, with +a nod. “Every move I made in the town, I had a +feelin’ there were spies a-watchin’. I was sure that +if we did git a posse together, they’d have wind of +it long ’fore we got thar. An’ added to that, all +the head folks in Natchez were either scairt o’ +Murrell or else in cahoots with him. I didn’t +rightly know whar to turn next.”</p> + +<p>The tall lad’s voice grew gruff, and he shook his +head as he looked at Tad. “That shorely was a +mean two days,” he said.</p> + +<p>“All over now, though,” replied the boy, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> +an understanding grin. And he went on with the +recounting of his adventures.</p> + +<p>Sometime past the middle of the afternoon they +were running eastward on the outer edge of a +great ox-bow bend where the strong current bit +deep into the Mississippi side. Floating swiftly as +they were, with the bank only sixty or seventy +yards away, Abe was rowing, and Allen was at the +steering-sweep watching for possible snags. Suddenly +Abe pointed at the top of the bluff, high +above them and a little distance upstream.</p> + +<p>“Look a’ thar!” he exclaimed. “They’re out o’ +sight now, but you’ll see ’em in a jiffy past that +clump o’ trees.”</p> + +<p>Tad watched with all his eyes, and even Allen +turned to look where the big fellow was pointing. +But the seconds passed and nothing happened.</p> + +<p>“Ye’d ought to have a sunshade,” the steersman +remarked solicitously. “This heat’s makin’ +ye see things.”</p> + +<p>Abe frowned in puzzlement. “It beats me,” he +said. “I’d ha’ sworn I saw three men on horseback, +gallopin’ along that road on the bluff. What +the ’Nation do ye s’pose become of ’em?”</p> + +<p>“Probably thought that long arm o’ your’n was +a gun aimed at ’em,” Allen suggested. But Tad +was less inclined to take the incident as a joke.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> +He approved Abe’s judgment that evening when +the lanky oarsman pulled over toward the western +shore.</p> + +<p>“I sort o’ feel the need of a change o’ climate,” +was Abe’s comment. “Reckon we’ll find the night +air a bit healthier over here in Louisiana.”</p> + +<p>Weary as he was, Tad fell asleep ten minutes +after supper was over and never opened his eyes +again until the smoke from the breakfast fire blew +into them next morning. But he knew without being +told that his two friends had stood guard by +turns, all night.</p> + +<p>“With a good start this mornin’,” said Abe, +cocking an eye at the rising sun, “we’d ought to +be ’most a hundred mile from Natchez by nightfall. +I reckon we made thirty-five yesterday. Suits +me to git as far away from that ’ar town as we kin—an’ +as fast.”</p> + +<p>The rest of the crew being in complete agreement +with this idea, they finished breakfast in a +hurry and were soon spinning downstream again. +By noon they had put another thirty miles between +them and the scene of Tad’s capture, and all of +them began to breathe easier. But in his desire to +add to the <i>Katy Roby’s</i> speed, Abe pulled a trifle +too hard on one of the forward sweeps, and the +deeply-worn handle broke with a snap.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>There was nothing to do but land and make a +new one. Abe took the stern oar and swung over +to the Louisiana bank. After they had tied up it +took the two flatboatmen the best part of an hour +to find the kind of tree they liked in this unfamiliar, +half-tropical forest. When at last they had +chosen a good-sized sapling, Abe whetted his ax +and hewed swiftly away, first shaping a blade at +the butt of the log, then cutting a long, rough +handle out of the straight-grained center. Finally, +with his clasp knife, he smoothed up the inequalities +along the shaft, and before sunset they had a +new oar as good as the old one.</p> + +<p>Tad, looking out across the river while the +others worked, saw what he took at first for a log +drifting down rapidly along the Mississippi side. +It was not until he caught the flash of a paddle +that he realized it was not a log but a dugout +canoe. Once, when the little craft was silhouetted +for a moment against a lighter background, he +made out a single dark figure paddling strongly +in the stern. The next instant the canoe vanished +past the end of an island.</p> + +<p>If Tad had not been nervously keyed up by what +he had been through, it is probable he would +hardly have noticed the occurrence. Canoes were +not very common along the lower river, but he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> +had seen them occasionally, manned by Indians or +white trappers, coming down from the smaller +streams.</p> + +<p>It was not the craft itself but something swift +and furtive in the motions of the paddler that gave +the boy an odd feeling of uneasiness. However, he +did not even mention the canoe to Abe and Allen, +for he was a little ashamed of his vague fears.</p> + +<p>When the oar was finished they pushed on for +another hour or two, and Abe was in favor of +making up the time they had lost by traveling part +of the night. But the sky, which had been clear +most of the afternoon, had started to cloud up at +sunset and was now heavily overcast.</p> + +<p>“She’ll be black as yer hat in another hour,” +Allen counseled. “With no moon to help, ye’ll +never be able to steer betwixt all these islands.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Abe agreed grudgingly. “But we’ll +have to make it watch an’ watch ag’in tonight, if +we tie up here.”</p> + +<p>Though Allen could see little sense in this precaution, +he finally consented, provided he could +take the first turn, and they made their mooring +for the night. Tad offered to stand one guard, but +the others would not hear of it. Probably he would +have made a poor watchman, for as it turned out +he slept again like a log from dark to daylight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>“What d’ye say <i>now</i>?” Allen called cheerfully +from the breakfast fire next morning. “Not a +sound all night. We jest wasted four hours o’ sleep +apiece.”</p> + +<p>But Abe, who had gone ashore for more wood, +did not reply. He was stooping over something on +the ground, examining it intently.</p> + +<p>“Come here a minute,” he said, finally, and +both the others went to join him, sensing a discovery +of some kind.</p> + +<p>His face wore a curious expression when he +looked up. “If I was a real crackajack at this sort +o’ thing,” he said, “I’d tell ye jest when this yere +was made, an’ by what. The way things are, I kin +only guess.”</p> + +<p>He was kneeling before a little bare patch of +black earth. At first Tad thought there was nothing +there. Then he got down beside Abe, and when +he peered closely he saw, very faint across the +firm surface, the print of a naked foot.</p> + +<p>Allen whistled softly. “Big b’ar, ain’t it?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“Look again,” said Abe, laconically.</p> + +<p>The track was long and immensely broad, and +the impressions of all five toes were visible at the +end farthest from the river. But Tad, even with his +slight knowledge of woodcraft, knew that a bear +track would show the claw-points beyond the toes.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_178a"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_178a.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">HE SAW THE PRINT OF A NAKED FOOT</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>“It’s a man, isn’t it?” he said, almost in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>“If it’s a man,” Abe answered slowly, “he’s +got the biggest foot I ever hope to see. It’s as long +as mine, an’ most half ag’in as wide. What’s more, +I should say he’d never had a pair o’ shoes on in +his life. Look at them splay toes.”</p> + +<p>Tad saw that the print of the great toe was separated +by a full inch from that of the second.</p> + +<p>“Who—who do you think made it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Abe considered a moment. “I think it was a nigger,” +he said. “Most likely a runaway slave, but +anyhow a mighty big feller—one o’ the biggest. +What I really want to know, though, is when he +come by here. If ’twas last night it must ha’ been +in the first few hours, ’cause—”</p> + +<p>“No, sirree!” Allen spoke up indignantly. +“Everything was quiet ’round yere in <i>my watch</i>—outside +o’ the noise you made snorin’.”</p> + +<p>Abe grinned. “Wal,” said he, “thar’s no way +I know of to settle it. An’ he didn’t do us much +harm that I can see. The sensible thing fer us to +do is head south an’ leave him.”</p> + +<p>With a last look at the mysterious footprint, +they boarded the <i>Katy Roby</i> once more and shoved +out into the current, eating breakfast as they went.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>“Anyhow,” said Allen, casting a sidelong look +at the landing-place, “he was headed away from +us when he made that track.” He took a mouthful +of bacon, and then—“I hope he keeps on goin’,” +he chuckled.</p> + +<p>None of them felt very talkative that morning. +They took their turns at the oars and tiller and +kept the flatboat moving at her best speed, which +now averaged four to five miles an hour. The current +was perceptibly slower as they went farther +south, and the channel seemed deeper, with fewer +sand-bars. There were numerous jungle-clad +islands, however, and in some of the narrow cuts +through which they passed, the giant creepers and +the long festoons of Spanish moss came trailing +across the deck with a cool, slithery sound.</p> + +<p>At noon they came into the head of a long open +reach, and Abe stopped rowing to mop his sun-burned +forehead.</p> + +<p>“Whew!” he breathed. “Hotter’n corn-hoein’ +time up home. It takes somethin’ to make me +sweat, too. Wal, we don’t have to work so hard +from now on. Let’s see—” he did some counting on +his fingers—“we must be ’most a hundred an’ ten +mile below Natchez right now. We’ll be down to +Baton Rouge ’fore night, an’ I’m told thar’s good +landin’s all along the Sugar Coast, below thar.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>They had left the region of pine forest behind +them now and had come fairly into the heart of old +Louisiana. On both sides of the river were the +great Creole plantations with their stately white +houses and stately French names. Sometimes +when the flatboat ran close inshore, they caught +intimate glimpses of lovely formal gardens and +verandas gay with laughing girls.</p> + +<p>Allen, staring open-mouthed at these creatures +of a different world, turned to Abe at length with +a wag of the head.</p> + +<p>“By the ol’ jumpin’ sassafras,” he said, “I +b’lieve Tad was tellin’ us the truth ’bout wearin’ +shoes, back east. Did ye see them two women-folks +jes’ now? White stockin’s <i>an’</i> slippers on, right in +the heat o’ the summer!”</p> + +<p>They went past the town of Baton Rouge, late +that afternoon. Tad remembered, as he saw the +landing and the stores, that his letter to his father +had never been sent, and asked if he might land.</p> + +<p>“Sure ye kin,” said Abe. “But we’ll be in New +Orleans ourselves in another two days—maybe as +quick as the mail. Why not wait an’ surprise yer +Pappy, now?”</p> + +<p>This suggestion met a ready response from Tad. +He could picture that meeting very clearly, and +although he would not postpone his father’s happiness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> +even by a day if he could avoid it, the idea +of a surprise appealed to him.</p> + +<p>They came, in the falling dusk, to a low wooden +landing-stage built out from the levee. There was +no house in sight except a long, roofed storage +shed with a few empty molasses barrels piled beneath +it, but a white-painted sign bore the inscription, +“La Plantation de Madame Duquesne.”</p> + +<p>Abe ran the broadhorn in alongside the dock and +made fast to a post.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t ask fer a snugger place to tie up than +this, could ye?” he asked. “Tad, you run up thar +in the cane a ways, an’ cut us some sugar sticks +to chaw. Allen an’ I’ll git the wood an’ water an’ +start supper.”</p> + +<p>Taking the short hand-ax, the boy followed the +top of the levee for a little distance and turned in +along a raised wagon-track that led back into the +tall cane. He went on till he found some pieces that +suited him, cut half a dozen lengths with the ax, +and shouldering the bundle, started back toward +the river.</p> + +<p>He had almost reached the levee when there +was a sudden movement in the thicket behind him, +a crashing of the cane and a sound like the thud of +feet.</p> + +<p>Tad did not even wait to glance over his shoulder<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> +but made a leap for the levee and ran along it +toward the boat with all his might. When he got to +the landing he looked back. There was no sign nor +sound of a pursuer. The peaceful calm of evening +lay over the river and the shore.</p> + +<p>“Who were ye racin’ with?” asked Allen jocosely.</p> + +<p>Tad recovered his breath and told them in a few +words what he had heard. His face was still pale, +and he felt a trifle shaky, but he tried to laugh it +off.</p> + +<p>“I guess it was nothing to be afraid of,” he +said. “Maybe it was a cow.”</p> + +<p>“Or a rabbit,” said Allen. “They make a mighty +loud noise sometimes, in the woods.”</p> + +<p>Abe shook his head. “Sounds more like a b’ar, +to me,” he put in. “Or it might even be a panther. +At any rate it wouldn’t do a mite o’ harm to have +a fire on the levee tonight. That’d keep the skeeters +away as well as the varmints.”</p> + +<p>They gathered more wood, and after supper +built a slow-burning fire of half-green chunks on +the levee, close to where the boat was moored.</p> + +<p>Tad gave Poke a piece of sugar cane to worry, +and watched the delighted little bear suck the +sweetness out of the stick as if it had been a +bottle. They all chewed on the succulent joints of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> +cane till the dark had settled over the river. Then +with the usual good-nights they spread their +blankets and turned in.</p> + +<p>“It’s hot tonight,” Abe yawned. “I’m goin’ to +give you boys more room.” And so saying, he took +his bed up to the raised deck forward.</p> + +<p>In two minutes everything was quiet, aboard. +But Tad did not sleep. He was thinking of the +footprint they had found that morning, and of the +noise in the cane. In spite of all the reassuring +things he could tell himself, the thought persisted +in his mind that it was not a cow he had heard—nor +a bear—nor even a panther. It was a man.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sleep overcame</span> Tad at last, but when it did it was +a strange, restless slumber, full of dreams.</p> + +<p>He seemed to be running, leaden-footed, down +the bed of an interminable brook, where at every +step the deep, black mud sucked horribly at his +heels. He struggled forward, his heart almost +bursting with effort, and always behind him he +could hear the fierce, wild baying of dogs.</p> + +<p>The black swamp grew firmer about him, and +there in the surface of the mud he saw a huge +track, broad, misshapen, with a great toe that +looked half like a thumb. And suddenly the cry of +the hounds ended in a whimper, and he was fleeing +from a pack of huge black stooping shapes that +ran through the woods on their hind legs—more +silent—more terrible than dogs.</p> + +<p>He rushed on, stumbled, tried to get up, and +found that all the strength had run out of his body. +His pursuers were close upon him now, enormous +in the dark, their long arms stretched to seize him. +He tried to cry out, but no sound would come +from his throat. Then through the fringes of his +dream he heard Poke give a frightened squeal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> +that turned into a growl, and there was a low, +startled oath somewhere close by. And suddenly +Tad found himself awake.</p> + +<p>He was sitting upright on his blanket in the +flatboat, clutching what he realized was the handle +of the ax. Above him, black against the red glow +of the fire, loomed a vast ape-like figure, and there +were half a dozen others moving on the levee and +in the boat. He found his voice, then.</p> + +<p>“Abe—Allen!” he screamed, and bounded back +against the gunwale, lifting the ax as he rose. One +swift blow, shortened and cramped by his position, +was all he had time to deliver. Then his adversary +was upon him with great, smothering +paws that gripped his wrists and almost cracked +the bones. The ax dropped from his hand, but he +continued to struggle, kicking, twisting, fighting +for time. And when he looked up he saw the moon +flash on the white, grinning teeth of Congo, the +deaf-mute.</p> + +<p>There was a roar and a crash in the fore part of +the boat. Abe was in the fight. He had laid hold of +a four-foot oak log and was swinging it at the end +of his long, powerful arms like a cudgel. “Allen, +bring the guns!” he yelled, and leaped forward, +tiger-like, upon the attackers.</p> + +<p>Two of them went down under his rain of blows.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> +Three others closed on him savagely, striking with +fists and knives, and for a second Tad could see +only a struggling tangle of bodies on the landing. +Then Abe rolled free and bounded to his feet once +more. He was still swinging the great club, and +he put all his sinewy young strength into every +smashing blow. His wrath was terrible to see. +Never in his life had he fought as he was fighting +now. The black marauders broke and fled, stumbling, +before that onslaught, and Abe followed, +giving them no quarter.</p> + +<p>All these events had taken place in the space of +a few seconds. Still gripping Tad by the wrists, +Congo had watched the swift, decisive battle between +his confederates and the tall white boy. As +they gave ground, he bared his teeth in a hideous +snarl of fury. But he had his own work to do. The +instant the landing was clear, the giant African +seized Tad about the middle, swung him up under +one huge arm, and sprang for the shoreward side +of the boat. Locked in a death struggle with still +another negro, Allen could give him no assistance. +The boy caught at the gunwale as they went up, +and clinging desperately with hands and feet, held +his captor back for a second or two. Then his grip +was wrenched loose, and the big black scaled the +landing and started with him across the levee.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>They were almost in the edge of the cane when +Tad heard a thud of feet behind them. With a +hoarse indrawing of breath, Congo turned at bay. +Still clutching his prisoner with his left hand, the +deaf-mute raised his tremendous right arm to demolish +the pursuer.</p> + +<p>It must have been a long time before he used +that arm again. Abe, coming in on the run, struck +downward swiftly, savagely, with the great oak +cudgel. Under that crushing impact the bones +parted with a dull crack, and Congo staggered, +dropped Tad, and scuttled into the cane, the +broken arm dangling horribly at his side.</p> + +<p>The breath had been squeezed half out of the +boy, but as he rose he managed to gasp “Allen!” +and pushed Abe in the direction of the boat.</p> + +<p>Allen, it seemed, had taken care of himself. He +had been getting the better of the encounter when +his antagonist had seen the others in flight and +had jumped overboard and swum for it.</p> + +<p>One half-naked black still lay on the levee, +moaning piteously. He had fallen a victim to Abe’s +first attack, and there was an ugly bruise on his +head. The fire went out of the big backwoodsman’s +eye as he came to the side of the wounded negro. +Stooping, he carried him to the landing, washed +his broken crown, and wrapped about his head a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> +bandage made of a piece of his own torn shirt.</p> + +<p>Gradually the man returned to full consciousness, +and his groaning was quieted.</p> + +<p>“We-all b’longs on de plantation above yere,” +he said, in response to Abe’s questioning. “A +white man done promise he gwine git us free if we +he’p dat Congo nigger ketch de young white boy.”</p> + +<p>Abe looked at him grimly. “Kin you walk?” he +said. The darky got painfully to his feet and stood +looking at the tall young Hoosier in a palsy of +terror.</p> + +<p>“What we’d ought to do is tie ye up an’ take +ye on down to N’Orleans to jail,” said Abe. “But +in this fersaken country I s’pose they’d skin ye +alive, down thar, an’ that don’t seem hardly fair, +either. Go on—march yerself back whar ye belong, +an’ git thar quick, ’fore they find out ye’re +gone.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the negro stared at him, goggle-eyed +with wonder. Then he was off, running up the +levee as fast as his shaky legs could take him.</p> + +<p>“Wal,” said Allen, feeling of a barked elbow, “I +reckon none of us is very sleepy right now.” He +went to the fire and threw on dry wood, poking it +till a bright blaze sprang up. “Great wallopin’ +catamounts, Abe, but you sartin did give ’em what-for!” +he chuckled. “Next time you aim to start a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> +ruckus like that, I want to be sure I’m on your +side.”</p> + +<p>The big youngster ambled into the circle of firelight. +“You know me better’n that, Allen,” he +grinned. “You never saw me <i>start</i> a fight in my +life. But I figger when you do have to defend yerself, +it pays to go after the other feller hard +enough to put the fear o’ the Lord in him.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the boy by his side. “How about +ye, Tad—all right?”</p> + +<p>“Fine,” said Tad, “but say—how about yourself?” +He seized his big friend by the arm and +swung him half around in the firelight. “Didn’t +you know you were bleeding?”</p> + +<p>Abe put up a hand to his face and brought it +away red and dripping. A deep gash over his right +eye was bathing the side of his head and neck +with blood.</p> + +<p>“Huh!” he laughed, “I didn’t even know I had +that one. I’ve been thinkin’ all this time it was +sweat I was tastin’. Must ha’ got cut with a knife +in that fracas with the three of ’em, here on the +landin’.”</p> + +<p>He went down to the river and dipped his head +in the water, after which Tad applied a tight +bandage, and the bleeding soon stopped.</p> + +<p>“Wal,” said Allen, “I don’t reckon they’ll be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> +back, but I ain’t sleepy enough to turn in jest yet. +What say we mosey along a few miles?”</p> + +<p>“Suits me,” Abe replied, “only before we go +thar’s one thing I want to look at.”</p> + +<p>He selected a fat pine knot from the fire, and +holding it as a torch to light his steps, walked +slowly back to the edge of the cane, where Congo +had vanished. They saw him stoop as if searching +for something. Then he called to them. Looking +where he pointed in the soft black earth, they saw +a track—deep, gigantic, splay-toed—the same footprint +that had puzzled them that morning.</p> + +<p>“That’s the feller,” said Abe. “You’ve seen him +before, I reckon, Tad. Wasn’t that Murrell’s nigger?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Tad, “he must have followed us all +the way down from Natchez.”</p> + +<p>“But how in time did he keep up with us?” +asked Abe. “He couldn’t ha’ been aboard of a +boat, could he?”</p> + +<p>Tad told them of the canoe he had glimpsed, +stealing between the islands when Abe was making +his oar.</p> + +<p>The big flatboatman nodded. “That was him, +right enough,” he said. “Only next time, Tad, +don’t be scairt to come right out with what you +think. We might have saved ourselves a heap of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> +exercise tonight if we’d known they was layin’ +for us.”</p> + +<p>“Wonder if he planned to paddle clear back to +Natchez with Tad in the dugout,” said Allen as +they went back across the levee.</p> + +<p>“No,” Abe answered, thoughtfully. “I b’lieve +it was three of Murrell’s gang that I saw gallopin’ +down the bluff road that afternoon. Most +likely they’re waitin’ somewhere close, maybe in +Baton Rouge, fer this tongueless, earless devil to +bring Tad in. Let’s drift along.”</p> + +<p>They put out their fire, went aboard the broadhorn, +and cast off the mooring-lines, glad to see the +last of Madame Duquesne’s plantation.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Five or six</span> miles below, they sighted a tiny, tree-clad +island in midstream, and there once more +made the boat fast. This time nothing interrupted +their slumbers. They were under the west bank of +the island, sheltered by overhanging branches, and +the sun was high in the sky before they woke. It +was the merry singing of a crew of river-men, +floating past on their broad raft of steamboat fuel, +that roused Tad. He sat up, saw that the morning +was already well along, and gave Allen a dig in +the ribs.</p> + +<p>“Ahoy, you lubbers!” he cried. “Roll out! It’s +nearly noon.”</p> + +<p>He built the breakfast fire, washed himself, and +went over to give Poke his morning greeting. As +he started to maul the cub playfully, he saw him +wince. The little bear limped and held up one +forepaw in apparent pain. Looking closer, Tad +found that it was bruised, as if it had been trodden +on.</p> + +<p>“Look at this, boys,” he called. “Here’s the +real hero of the fight.” And he told how Poke’s +growling had first awakened him in the night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>“A mighty good little b’ar,” said Abe approvingly. +“If that big-footed Congo stepped on him, +though, he’s lucky he didn’t have his whole leg +squashed.”</p> + +<p>Allen produced some bacon fat which was +rubbed on the wound and which Poke at once set +about licking off. After that he seemed to feel +much better, and soon was his own droll self again.</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, Abe bent his back to the oars, +and they soon overhauled the wood-raft which had +passed them. As the flatboat came alongside, one +of the raft-men strolled over to the edge of the +logs and hailed them. He was a tall, rangy Tennesseean +in homespun.</p> + +<p>“Big doin’s in Baton Rouge las’ night,” said he, +shooting a dark stream of tobacco juice into the +yellow current.</p> + +<p>“So?” replied Abe. “We tied up down river +here a ways, an’ slept peaceful.”</p> + +<p>“Hum, ye don’t look it,” said the raft-man, casting +an eye at the red-tinged bandage around Abe’s +head. “I figgered maybe you-all was in the fight.”</p> + +<p>“What fight?” asked Allen.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t ye heard? Why, it seems there was a +bunch o’ river-men in Sancho’s bar, down by the +levee, an’ Jack Murrell an’ two of his gang come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> +in an’ ordered drinks. Pretty soon somebody spotted +’em, an’ a row started. Murrell an’ his men +shot their way out, an’ they’d ha’ got clean away, +only their hosses took fright and begun rarin’ +around. ’Fore Bull Whaley could git mounted +somebody put a knife in him—killed him dead. An’ +they grabbed Sam Jukes, too, an’ put him in the +lock-up. Murrell had his luck with him, same as +usual. He gits on that ol’ three-stockin’ hoss o’ his +an’ goes a-sailin’ off up the north road, belly to +the ground. He ain’t got as many friends in Baton +Rouge as he has up river.”</p> + +<p>“He’s got plenty in Natchez,” Abe replied. “If +he don’t break his neck on the way, he’ll be safe +enough up thar.”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” laughed the raft hand. “Break his +neck? Not him! He was born to be hung.”</p> + +<p>They discussed the weather, the state of the +river, and General Jackson’s chances in the coming +presidential election. Allen traded a peck of +potatoes for some pipe tobacco, and they were +about to pass on, when the raft-man introduced a +new topic.</p> + +<p>“Did ye see them notices stuck up around +Natchez an’ Baton Rouge?” he asked. “Five thousand +dollars reward fer findin’ some boy that’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> +lost. A lad ’bout the size an’ looks o’ the one you +got thar, I should say.” He cast a keen glance in +Tad’s direction.</p> + +<p>Tad grinned and stood up, stretching, so that +his ragged clothes and sunburnt legs and arms +became visible.</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” he remarked. “Some rich city kid +from back east, wasn’t he?”</p> + +<p>If the Tennessee man had had any suspicions, +they were allayed. He nodded. “Some feller was +tellin’ how a broadhorn steerer from up the Ohio +had done got hold o’ the boy an’ was boun’ to git +the reward,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Humph,” grunted Abe, noncommittally, and +dug deep with the oars. The <i>Katy Roby</i> went lumbering +downstream, leaving the raft astern.</p> + +<p>“So long,” called Allen and Tad. “See you +in New Orleans.”</p> + +<p>“Gosh,” chuckled Allen as they drew out of +earshot. “You sure fooled him that time, son. In +that rig I doubt if yer own Pappy’d know ye.”</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the late start, Abe had put +twenty miles behind them by the time Allen announced +that the noon meal was ready.</p> + +<p>He stretched his big arms wearily and wiped +away the sweat that was streaming out from beneath +his piratical-looking bandage.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>“Wal,” he said, as he sat down, “I promised +Tad I’d git him to New Orleans ’most as soon as +the mail, an’ you noticed no steamboats have +passed us yet.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry,” said Allen. “They will. I jest +heard one whistlin’ up above the bend, four or five +minutes ago.”</p> + +<p>Sure enough, before Abe had swallowed the last +of his tea, they heard a loud blast close astern, +and one of the stately white river steamers came +plowing down the channel. Allen jumped to the +sweep and Abe to the bow oars, and they had +barely time to swing the <i>Katy Roby</i> over toward +the right, when the nose of the big craft went +sweeping by.</p> + +<p>Abe held the flatboat on her course as the wash +from the paddles rocked her. Then he turned, leaning +on his oars, and watched the steamer bear +away to the east, rounding a bend.</p> + +<p>“Maybe she won’t beat us by so much, at that,” +said the big rower with a laugh. “I’ve got a sort +of an idee that that narrow cut, ahead thar, will +save us a few miles.”</p> + +<p>Instead of following the steamboat around the +curve of the main river, Abe steered straight for +the mouth of the cut, where a channel a hundred +feet wide led between low banks of willow. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> +current flowing through this cut was not as rapid +as they had found it in some of the chutes farther +north, and Tad remarked on the fact.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it’s just because the whole river +moves slower down here near the Gulf,” he said.</p> + +<p>Abe made no reply but pulled steadily forward +between the close banks rank with tropical vegetation. +For a mile or more the cut ran fairly +straight. Then it began to twist disconcertingly, +first west, then north, then west and south again.</p> + +<p>Big live oaks and dark, mysterious-looking cypresses +began to appear along the shores. The +water, instead of having the yellow hue they had +seen for the last thousand miles, was a dark brown, +but clear enough to see the snags and weed-clumps +two or three feet below the surface.</p> + +<p>Rounding still another bend, they came suddenly +on a wide reach, unlike any section of the river +they had yet encountered.</p> + +<p>Enormous trees shut it in on both sides with +high, thick walls of green. There were flowering +vines twining high into the branches of these +trees, and in some places the vermilion-tinted blossoms +glowed like a flame against the dark background.</p> + +<p>Along the shores, in the edge of the stream, +grew other flowers—solid masses of pink and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> +purple water hyacinths, like low islands of bloom. +A little breeze came up the reach from the south, +and Tad saw a section of one of these islands detach +itself and go drifting up the channel like a +gay-colored pleasure barge.</p> + +<p>A blue heron almost as tall as a man looked up +from his frog-hunting and rose on great silent +wings, flapping away to the depths of the cypress +swamp. There were no songs of birds to break +the funereal stillness. Even the water was still. If +it had any movement, it was so sluggish that the +eye could hardly detect it.</p> + +<p>Abe had stopped rowing and stood on the fore +deck looking about him. The quietness affected all +of them strangely. They felt like speaking in +whispers.</p> + +<p>“Gosh,” murmured Allen, “ain’t it purty here! +Spooky, though.”</p> + +<p>“It’s purty, right enough,” Abe answered. +“But it’s not the Mississippi. We’ve got into a +slack-water, somehow.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a fact,” said Allen. “It don’t seem +quite like the river, does it? Jiminy Pete! Look +a’ thar! They’s more alligators in this place than +catfish in our creek back home.”</p> + +<p>The roaring challenge of a bull ’gator came +from down the reach, and others answered all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> +along the bank. Shattering the quiet of the place +and reëchoing from the tall cypresses, the sound +was almost terrifying in its intensity. Hardly had +it died away when the boys heard the report of a +gun, close at hand, and a puff of blue smoke drifted +out from behind a little point.</p> + +<p>Allen would have rushed under the shelter to get +his own fowling-piece, but Abe held up a warning +hand.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” he said in a low voice. “That wasn’t +meant fer us. Here he comes, now.”</p> + +<p>Past the point there shot a long, low dugout +canoe. A man knelt a little aft of the middle, driving +her along with short, quick paddle strokes. +As he caught sight of the broadhorn he paused +with paddle lifted, as if in astonishment. Then he +changed his course and came slowly toward them.</p> + +<p>They saw as he approached that he was a handsome +young fellow, with olive skin and long dark +hair—a typical Creole of the river parishes. In +the canoe just in front of him lay a fine silver-mounted +shotgun, and beside it they saw the snowy +white plumage of an egret.</p> + +<p>“Howdy, friend,” said Abe. “Could you tell us +about whar we might be, now?”</p> + +<p>The youth looked them over calmly and a trifle +patronizingly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>“I thing you come from up the big riv’,” said +he. “<i>Mais</i>, you done los’ the way, huh? You mus’ +come t’rough the cut. Dat ain’ righd. The Mississip’, +she make a beeg ben’. This w’ere you are, it is +Bayou Tante Lisette.”</p> + +<p>“Thank ye,” said Abe. “I reckon that means +we’ve jest got to pull back.” He dipped deeply +with the starboard oar and swung the blunt nose +of the flatboat around.</p> + +<p>“Adieu,” said the Creole with a grave little +bow, and turned his canoe down the bayou, in the +opposite direction.</p> + +<p>Around the tortuous bends Abe retraced his +course. It was hard rowing, and he had very little +sympathy from the rest of the crew.</p> + +<p>“Seems to me,” snickered Allen, “I recall a +feller up near the Wabash mouth that got a smart +answer when he asked whar’bouts he was. Pore +devil of a mover, he was, too, with a hull family o’ +kids—not a tip-top, high-rollin’ river hand like +you.”</p> + +<p>Abe grinned good-naturedly. “That was up in +God’s own country, whar I knew a thing or two,” +he answered. “We all make mistakes when we git +in a strange place. But you kin gamble on it, I +won’t make this one twice.”</p> + +<p>The afternoon was half gone when they got back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> +into the main river. Tad had translated the French +name of the picturesque backwater into which they +had blundered, and Allen made frequent remarks +about Abe’s excursion to “Aunt Lizzie’s Bay,” as +he called it. The long-legged Hoosier stood it for +a while in silence, then made a casual reference to +Memphis and Natchez that effectually silenced his +tormentor. Abe had been rowing almost without +a stop since morning and as soon as they reached +the broad yellow flood of the Mississippi once +more, he turned the oars over to Allen.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad, as a matter o’ fact, that we got in +thar,” the big backwoodsman told Tad, as he sat +down to rest. “Fer years I’ve heard tell, from the +men on the river, about these bayous that go stragglin’ +off from the big channel an’ wander through +the swamps into the Gulf. Now I’ve seen one, +which I most likely never would, if we hadn’t lost +our way.”</p> + +<p>After supper Abe mounted the fore deck again, +and they pushed on steadily until dusk fell. There +was a small landing with two or three houses in +sight on the west bank, and to it they directed their +course. Other flatboats were moored along the +levee. As Abe tied up close to them, he hailed the +occupants of the nearest craft.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>“How fur do ye figger it is to New Orleans?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“Not more’n twenty-five mile,” the other flatboat +hand replied. “We aim to make it by noon.”</p> + +<p>They spread their blankets and said their good-nights. +Tad could not go to sleep at first for thinking +of the morrow. Only a half-day’s journey to +New Orleans and his father! For the twentieth +time his eager mind anticipated their meeting. +Would he be recognized? Allen had said even his +own Pappy wouldn’t know him, but he had no fear +of that. Tad could guess at Allen’s thoughts as he +lay there on the verge of sleep. They would be full +of the Creole girls and the pretty quadroons, and +what a dashing figure he would cut amongst them +in his store clothes.</p> + +<p>And Abe—what was he thinking, rolled in his +blanket on the forward deck, under the stars? Not +about girls. Tad knew him well enough to be sure +of that. The big young river-man had ideas, queer, +searching ideas about people—all sorts of people, +rich and poor—about niggers, even—and about +right and wrong. He wrestled with them just as he +had wrestled with the Tennessee bear-hunter, long +and hard, until they were down.</p> + +<p>Tad had some inkling of what this trip meant to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> +him—getting out of the little backwoods world +where he had been raised, and seeing the great +valley and the cities of the South. He thought a +lot of Abe. He liked the big, homely, raw-boned +youngster better than any friend he had ever had. +He hoped his father would like him, too. Perhaps +he could give him a good job in the New Orleans +office. Perhaps ... but sleep overtook Tad in the +middle of his perhapsing, and he was kidnapped +over the border into dreamland.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Tad was roused</span>, as he had been on that eventful +morning in the Ohio, nearly four weeks earlier, by +Allen’s voice raised in song:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Hard upon the beach oar—</div> +<div class="indent">She moves too slow!</div> +<div class="verse">All the way to New Orleans,</div> +<div class="indent">Lo-o-ong time ago-o!”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>It was barely daylight; yet the breakfast fire +was snapping merrily, and Abe was busy preparing +for a start. As the boy washed himself, he +saw signs of similar activity on board the other +broadhorns, and by the time they were finishing +the morning meal, one or two of the craft had +already taken their departure.</p> + +<p>Abe sent a loud challenge after them as he cast +loose the mooring-line, and in another thirty seconds +he was boiling along in their wake. It was a +brisk morning, with a little breeze from down +river ruffling the water. Everybody’s spirits were +high, and for the next half hour all the rowers put +the best they had into the race. By the end of that +time Abe’s brawny strokes had carried the <i>Katy +Roby</i> so far into the lead that there was no longer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> +any hope of catching her, and the other boats settled +down to their normal gait.</p> + +<p>Not so Abe. He kept a wrinkle of foam under the +flatboat’s square bow for two hours without a let-up. +When at last he snatched a moment’s rest, he +explained his haste to Tad.</p> + +<p>“You’ve eaten your last meal o’ hog meat an’ +johnny-cake fer a spell, son,” said he. “I aim to +git you down thar in time fer you to have a civilized +dinner with your Paw.”</p> + +<p>In spite of the boy’s remonstrances, his big +friend kept up the pace. And sure enough, by a +little after ten o’clock they came in sight of the +upper outposts of the city.</p> + +<p>Along the left bank the vegetable gardens gave +way to scattered hovels, and they in turn to houses—streets +of them—closely built, all sheltered behind +the broad rampart of the levee. Then came +the steamboat landings, and all three of the <i>Katy +Roby’s</i> crew stared in open-mouthed wonder at +the ranks of tall stacks and the glistening white +and brasswork of more than thirty steamers +moored there, noses in to the bank.</p> + +<p>Even along the water fronts of New York and +Philadelphia, Tad had never seen such swarming +activity as he witnessed here. Hundreds of blacks +toiled in the sun, rolling molasses barrels and cotton<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> +bales. Directing them were sharp-faced Yankee +merchants and brawny steamboat mates, with an +occasional soft-spoken Creole or gesticulating +Spaniard.</p> + +<p>Anchored in the curving channel of the river +were sailing-ships, big and little, flying the flags of +all the world. There were heavy British merchantmen, +Dutch and Danish brigs, fast-sailing, tall-masted +ships from Boston and New York and Baltimore, +French barques, trim West Indian schooners, +and slovenly little lateen-rigged boats from +the bays and inlets along the Gulf.</p> + +<p>And then Tad saw the flatboat fleet. For the better +part of a mile they lay along the levee, four, six—sometimes +ten deep—a solid mass of keel-boats, +broadhorns, and scows. It was impossible to count +them, but there must have been not less than four +or five hundred in sight. And the noise that rose +from them was terrific, as newcomers hailed each +other and fought for places.</p> + +<p>“Whew!” said Abe in some dismay. “Thicker’n +ants at a camp-meetin’ picnic, ain’t they? How in +time are we goin’ to git nigh this town?”</p> + +<p>At that moment, almost opposite the <i>Katy +Roby’s</i> bow, a keel-boat was working its way out +of the tangle of craft, and Abe backed water and +stood by, ready to enter the space she was about to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> +leave. By skillful jockeying he worked the nose of +the flatboat into the hole and succeeded in getting +in until only one broadhorn separated them from +the shore.</p> + +<p>The stout Kentuckian who owned her looked the +newcomers over without any signs of welcome.</p> + +<p>“Hyah you-all come a-crowdin’ in,” he grumbled, +“an’ next I s’pose you’ll want to fasten yo’ +worm-eaten tub on to mine. Is that so?”</p> + +<p>“I’m askin’ you,” grinned Abe. “Will you do +us that favor?”</p> + +<p>The Kentucky man eyed the big Hoosier from +his worn moccasins to his rugged, fighting face +still topped by the blood-stained bandage.</p> + +<p>“I reckon so,” said he, and grinned in his turn. +“Whar’bouts you from?”</p> + +<p>While Abe was telling him he passed the <i>Katy +Roby’s</i> line across the deck of the other boat and +took a hitch around one of the mooring-posts on +shore.</p> + +<p>“I was born in your state, myself,” Abe told the +Kentuckian. “My Paw moved us across the river +when I was seven.”</p> + +<p>“Too bad—too bad!” commiserated the stocky +flatboatman. “Still, it’s somethin’ to have come +from Kentucky, even if you had the misfortune +not to stay thar.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>He offered Abe a drink from his jug of red-eye, +and when it was politely declined he seemed surprised, +but not offended. From that time on he regarded +the Hoosier crew as friends and allies.</p> + +<p>“Now then, Tad,” said Abe when all was snug, +“we’ll go straight ashore an’ see if we kin locate +your Pappy’s office. Allen’ll take keer of the cargo +fer a spell, won’t ye, Allen?”</p> + +<p>The young man in question appeared sheepishly +from under the tarpaulin, with his razor and brush +in his hand. “Sure,” he answered. “I jes’ thought +I’d shave me up a little, first off, so when I go +ashore I kin talk to the commission merchants +’thout lookin’ too much like a backwoods jay.”</p> + +<p>Abe and Tad scrambled across the Kentucky +broadhorn and stepped out on the wide, sun-baked +levee top. Behind them the water, high with the +April freshets, was a good ten feet above the level +of the streets to which they now descended. It gave +Tad a queer feeling of insecurity to see the twin +stacks of the steamers standing high above the +church steeples. But that was only a momentary +fancy. His attention was centered on his present +errand, and he whistled merrily as he hurried +along beside Abe.</p> + +<p>The towering young Hoosier’s strides ate up +distance surprisingly, and they were soon well into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> +the business section of the city. Tad asked a Creole +shopkeeper, in good French, where they might find +the Rue St. Louis, and was told, in funny but understandable +English, that it was the next street +but one. Going forward as directed, they quickly +found not only the street but the number they +wanted. It was a large, severe-looking building of +three stories, with none of the pretty tracery of +iron balconies that adorned so many of the +houses.</p> + +<p>The two lads entered the public hallway and +climbed the stairs to the second floor. Tad felt a +joyous pounding under his ribs at the sight of the +name <span class="allsmcap">JEREMIAH HOPKINS</span> lettered on the door. He +opened it with trembling fingers and entered, Abe +following at his heels.</p> + +<p>To his disappointment, his father was nowhere +in sight. At the rear of the room a big desk and +chair stood—vacant. Two or three clerks sat on +tall stools, scribbling away at their ledgers. A +dapper young secretary with a small mustache and +a supercilious air came forward to the rail.</p> + +<p>“I’m Thaddeus Hopkins,” said Tad. “Isn’t my +father here?”</p> + +<p>The man seemed not at all impressed. He +stroked his chin with one hand and smiled cynically.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>“So you’re the boy himself, eh?” said he. +“Let’s see, you’re the third—no, the fourth—that’s +been here, and you aren’t the likeliest-looking +one of the lot, at that. You’ve come for the +reward, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“No,” Tad replied, somewhat nettled by the +fellow’s attitude. “I haven’t come for any reward. +I’ve come to see my father. Where is he?”</p> + +<p>The secretary scowled. “Now see here,” said +he, “don’t give me any more of your impudence, +or I’ll have you arrested. Mr. Hopkins went up +river some days ago—to follow up an important +clue,” he added weightily, as if to settle the matter.</p> + +<p>Abe looked at Tad and grinned, and seeing him, +the young man with the mustache flew into a rage. +“Get out of here!” he cried. “Get out at once, before +I call the police. And if I catch you in here +again I’ll use a cane on you!”</p> + +<p>Tad’s sense of humor got the better of his wrath, +at that. He stopped short of the hot answer he had +started to make, and laughed, with Abe, at the +sheer ridiculousness of the affair. They went +slowly to the door. On the threshold Tad turned +and looked once more at the secretary, who was +now fairly purple with indignation.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the boy, trying to hold back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> +his laughter, “you’d better keep that cane handy, +because we’ll be back.” And he closed the door +quietly in the face of the sputtering clerk.</p> + +<p>When they reached the street once more, Abe +looked at Tad with a droll expression and shook +his head.</p> + +<p>“I can’t rightly blame the feller,” he chuckled. +“I never thought how we were goin’ to look, an’ +you wouldn’t be taken fer any swell Easterner, ye +know.”</p> + +<p>Tad glanced down at his costume. It was the +first time he had even thought about his appearance +for weeks. And as he realized how he must +have looked to the dapperly attired young underling +in his father’s office, he burst into another +shout of merriment.</p> + +<p>His shirt was in rags, with one sleeve torn out +entirely at the shoulder. The butternut breeches of +Abe’s purchase had stood up better under hard +service, but even they were tattered in several +places, and very dirty. His bare feet and legs still +showed the marks of the many scrapes and +scratches he had got in his adventure with the +outlaws. And he knew that his skin, tanned to the +color of an Indian’s, and his uncombed thatch of +hair, must give him anything but a prepossessing +appearance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>“I reckon what ye really need,” said Abe, “is a +bran’ new suit o’ store clothes, an’ a hair-cut. +Then maybe some stockin’s an’ shoes an’ a necktie +might help. ’Bout twelve dollars an’ a half in gov’ment +notes, an’ you’d be the real Tad Hopkins +ag’in, ’stead o’ jest a plain, ornery little river-rat. +The only question now is, whar are we a-goin’ to +git that much cash? Speakin’ fer myself, jest at +the present moment I haven’t got even one lonesome +cent. Looks like I’d have to break my promise +an’ take ye back to eat aboard the boat ag’in.”</p> + +<p>They wandered through the hot streets, picturesque +but smelly, and came at length to the levee +market, where long rows of booths under brightly +striped canopies displayed eatables of every sort. +There were rice and green corn, ginger, all kinds +of berries, oranges and bananas, live fowls tied in +threes and hanging by their legs, quail and other +game, fish and shrimps from the Gulf, and craw-fish, +sold by wrinkled old Choctaw Indian women.</p> + +<p>At some of the stalls mulattoes held up chocolate +in big steaming cups, and from others came +the delicious odor of hot rice and gumbo.</p> + +<p>“Hm,” said Abe, “’twon’t do to hang ’round +here very long. I’m commencin’ to git mighty hungry.”</p> + +<p>They threaded their way through the crowds of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> +Creole housewives with their black servants carrying +market baskets, and emerged in front of a long +warehouse opening on the levee near the steamboat +landing.</p> + +<p>Before this warehouse stood a two-horse dray, +partly loaded with barrels and boxes, and around +it were three negroes apparently waiting for something. +A well-dressed, elderly white man fumed +up and down meanwhile, and expressed his opinion +of the colored race in no uncertain terms. As +Tad and Abe drew near, he addressed his remarks +to them.</p> + +<p>“Look at this,” he snorted. “For fifteen minutes +these good-for-nothing niggers of mine have +been standing around waiting for some one to +fetch a plank so that they can roll a barrel of indigo +on to this wagon. The <i>Maid of Camberwell</i> +sails on the next tide, and we have to haul the +goods a mile to where her lighter is moored. If +these blankety-blank sons of Ham were worth +their salt, they could hoist the barrel up by hand, +and I’d have some chance of making this ship. The +next cargo for Liverpool may not go out for a +month.”</p> + +<p>Abe strolled up to the huge blue-stained barrel +and tipped it a little with his hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>“How much is it worth to you to git it loaded?” +he asked the owner.</p> + +<p>“How much! I’d give a dollar to have that indigo +on the dray,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Abe, “that’s a bargain.”</p> + +<p>He rolled the barrel up to the rear of the wagon, +spat on his hands, placed his feet carefully and put +his arms, back, and knees into a single mighty +heave. With a resounding thump, five hundred +pounds of indigo landed on the tailboard and were +rolled forward to stand beside the rest of the load.</p> + +<p>Abe dusted off his hands and jumped lightly to +the ground. He was not even breathing hard.</p> + +<p>The merchant was still standing in the same +spot, open-mouthed with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Great heavens, man!” he stammered, when he +could find words. “Why, it’s amazing, sir—astounding! +I can’t believe my eyes! Here—” and +he thrust a hand into his pocket—“I’ll be better +than my word. Here’s a two-dollar note.”</p> + +<p>Abe hesitated. “I ’greed to do it fer one,” he +said. “Still, if you mean it, I’ll accept your offer. +The boy, here, an’ I—we kin sure use it.” He took +the bill, thanked the merchant, and they went on.</p> + +<p>“Tad,” grinned the long-shanked Hoosier, as +he gave the boy’s arm a squeeze, “by the sun an’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> +by my in’ard feelin’s it ’pears to be past noon. I +vote we head straight fer one o’ those rice an’ +gumbo places.”</p> + +<p>They retraced their steps and were soon served +with bowls of the savory stuff, ladled out of a huge +copper pot by a motherly-looking quadroon +woman.</p> + +<p>Tad smacked his lips. “Mm, tastes good, doesn’t +it?” he said. “How much did it cost?”</p> + +<p>“Four cents apiece,” Abe answered. “We could +live ashore quite a spell on our two dollars, +couldn’t we? Golly! Two dollars! That’s the easiest +money I ever made. Why, think—it’s the same +as a whole week’s pay navigatin’ the <i>Katy Roby</i>!”</p> + +<p>They bought half a dozen oranges as a special +treat—Abe had never eaten one in his life—and +went back to the place where their flatboat was tied +up.</p> + +<p>Allen looked up in surprise from the pans he +was washing. “You back, Tad?” he exclaimed. +“I figgered nex’ time I saw you, it would be in one +o’ them shiny two-hoss carriages with a brass-buttoned +nigger up in front.”</p> + +<p>They related the happenings of the morning, +and Allen roared with laughter. “Wal,” said he, +“we’re bound to stay here fer a couple more days +anyhow. None of the commission men kin handle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> +the cargo short o’ that time. An’ you’re welcome +to sleep on board here as long as you’ve a mind +to.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Tad, “I guess I’ll have to do +that, until Dad comes back from up river.”</p> + +<p>While he was ashore Allen had left the boat under +the guardianship of their neighbor, the Kentucky +man. “I don’t see him anywheres around +now,” said he, “but you folks don’t need to stay +here. I’ll watch the stuff this afternoon, an’ then +you kin take charge after supper. Reckon I’d +rather go ashore in the evenin’, when it’s cooler, +anyway.”</p> + +<p>Abe and Tad laughed at him, but they were glad +to fall in with his idea, for both of them wanted to +see the town. They made such repairs as they could +to their clothes, and Abe hauled out from some +hiding-place a treasured old coonskin cap.</p> + +<p>“This’ll keep the sun off my head,” he explained, +“an’ I reckon in the city it looks better’n +no hat at all.”</p> + +<p>Tad tried to reason with him, but it was to no +purpose. Abe topped off his six feet four of homespun +shirt, buckskin breeches, and moccasins with +the moth-eaten fur cap, and they set forth.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XX</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">New Orleans</span>, in that spring of 1828, was as +strange and fascinating a place as ever two boys +wandered through on a sunny afternoon.</p> + +<p>It was a big town—big even to the eyes of Tad, +who had seen other cities. Fifty thousand people +lived in it, and there were usually two or three +thousand sailors from the ships in port besides +perhaps five thousand wild, roistering river-men +jostling through the streets.</p> + +<p>With half the commerce of the vast Mississippi +Valley pouring through it, New Orleans was growing +and spreading like one of its own rank tropical +weeds. It had swept past the walls and moats +of the old French-Spanish city years before, and +now its newer sections filled most of the crescent-shaped +bend above the original town.</p> + +<p>It was along the levee of this new part of the +city that the flatboat fleet was moored, and the +first mile that Abe and Tad traversed was through +raw, fresh-built streets that had little of the picturesque +about them. Only here and there ancient +French houses, set among great trees, showed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> +where the country estates of rich Creoles had once +stood.</p> + +<p>But when they crossed Canal Street they found +themselves breathing a different atmosphere. +There was none of the bustling newness of the +American quarter. The houses, large and small, +had cozy walled gardens and shady balconies, and +even the flagstones seemed to drowse in the warm +sunshine.</p> + +<p>From this residential district they bore southward +again and came to a region of old shops, old +offices, and here and there a venerable church or +public building.</p> + +<p>There seemed to be few people stirring at this +time of day in the more ancient part of the city. +But as they neared the water front they found the +streets busier.</p> + +<p>At one place in particular a crowd seemed to be +collected. It was a ramshackle old hotel building +with a driveway leading to an inner courtyard. On +the sidewalk before the building and passing in +and out were little knots and groups of men, talking +and smoking Havana cigars. By far the larger +number of these men were prosperous-looking +planters from up and down the river and the outlying +parishes. They were easily distinguishable +by their broad-brimmed felt hats and riding-boots,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span> +and by their talk, which was of crops and horses +and negroes—mostly of negroes.</p> + +<p>Two or three printed posters were tacked up on +the wall of the building, and Tad strolled over to +read them. One said:</p> + +<p>“Runaway—a bright mulatto boy named Cassius, +about eighteen years old, strong and large. +Will probably head north, as he was Kentucky +raised.”</p> + +<p>Another advertised: “For sale, a mighty valuable +woman, twenty-five with three likely children. +A bargain for the lot.”</p> + +<p>The third and largest poster was what particularly +attracted Tad’s attention, however. As he finished +reading it he beckoned to Abe. It said:</p> + +<p>“On these premises, every Tuesday and Saturday +afternoon, will be held regular auctions of +negroes. We have now on hand a large, well selected +stock of field hands, house boys, cooks, seamstresses, +etc., and will sell as low as any house in +New Orleans. Fresh arrivals keep our stock in +prime condition at all times, and we have our own +jail and yard for boarding them.”</p> + +<p>“Abe,” Tad asked, “isn’t this Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see, so ’tis,” responded Abe. “Want to +go in?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>Tad hesitated. “Not much,” said he, “and yet +it’s one of the things to see in New Orleans.”</p> + +<p>Abe led the way through the driveway into the +courtyard. The throng of planters and city men +inside made way grudgingly for the tall young +backwoodsman in his outlandish costume, and Abe +edged forward until he reached a place where both +Tad and himself had a view of the auction platform.</p> + +<p>The auctioneer was a big, red-faced, jolly-looking +man who spoke in a loud voice and was given +to coarse jokes when he found the bidding too +slow to suit him.</p> + +<p>On the ground beside the block stood a row of +eight or ten negroes awaiting their turn to be sold. +Occasionally one of the planters would go up to a +slave, poke him in the ribs, feel of his arms and +legs and look him over much as a buyer of cattle +would do. In the group of negroes Tad saw a bent +old woman with gray hair, one or two handsome +young mulatto girls, a smart-looking saddle-colored +boy with the manners of a Virginia-bred +house servant, and half a dozen coal-black Guinea +negroes, scantily clothed in dingy cotton. On the +faces of these last there was a wild, stupid, frightened +look, quite different from the lazy good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> +humor that Tad had always associated with their +race. When he looked closely he saw that one staggered +a little as if from weakness, and on the +ankles of three or four he could make out raw, new +scars—chain and fetter scars.</p> + +<p>Abe had seen them, too. “They’re just off the +slaver,” he whispered. “Smuggled in through the +bayous—bet they haven’t been ashore more’n a +week. Look at that pore devil that’s sick!”</p> + +<p>The auctioneer had one of the young mulatto +women on the block now. He pinched her sportively, +chucked her under the chin, and made some +ribald remark heard only by the men just below +him. Then he brought down his gavel with a +thump.</p> + +<p>“Well, gents, what am I offered?” he inquired +genially. “A thousand dollars as a starter +wouldn’t be a bit too much for this wench. They +don’t come no better built. A mite broad in the +shoulders perhaps, but that’s what a good house-work +nigger needs. Look her over, now. Take yo’ +time. Now, who’ll offer a thousand? No? Not yet, +eh? Well, start her at five hundred, then. What +d’ye say? Will the tall gentleman in the fur cap +make it five hundred for this prime yaller gal?”</p> + +<p>There was a titter in the crowd, but Abe remained +silent and impassive while the bidding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> +went forward. Only Tad, looking up at him sidewise, +could see a hard white ridge under the +tanned skin of his jaw.</p> + +<p>The girl was sold at last, and the auctioneer replaced +her with the feeble old grandmother, who +was poked and prodded into straightening her bent +back a trifle and stepping briskly about on the +block.</p> + +<p>“Now here’s one that’s a bargain,” began the +loud, droning voice of the seller. “There’s three or +four years of good hard work under her black hide +yet. Now I’ll take a starting offer of forty dollars. +Who’ll say forty?”</p> + +<p>Abe nudged the boy at his side. “Come on,” he +muttered. “I can’t stand any more of this.”</p> + +<p>Once outside, the tall young river-man took off +his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead +with his sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Tad,” he said, almost fiercely, “it’s all wrong—this +whole slavery business—as wrong as murder. +Let’s get away from that place.”</p> + +<p>He was sober and silent as they crossed Jackson +Square, the old Place d’Armes of the Creoles, and +it was not until they had walked up the levee for +some distance and were nearing the flatboat moorings +again that his old good humor returned.</p> + +<p>“Golly,” he marveled. “Aren’t they a sight?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> +I bet ye could walk a mile on nothin’ but boats an’ +never wet a toe.”</p> + +<p>They found Allen ready to set forth on his evening’s +adventure. He was attired in all his finery +and had his hair slicked down so that it shone.</p> + +<p>“What the Sam Hill is that on yer head?” asked +Abe. “Lard?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Allen proudly, “that’s genuwine +b’ar’s grease. I borrowed it from a Tennessee +man—third boat up.”</p> + +<p>“Say, speakin’ o’ b’ars,” said Abe, “whar’s +that good-fer-nothin’ Poke?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” Allen replied, a trifle shamefacedly, “he +done pulled his staple an’ walked off ’fore I could +ketch him. He was clear up on the levee an’ +headin’ west, last sight I had of him.”</p> + +<p>Abe looked at him with withering scorn. “You +must ha’ taken a lot o’ care o’ the boat,” said +he. “It’s a durn wonder the pork an’ provisions +didn’t climb out o’ the hold an’ walk off, too.”</p> + +<p>These and other sarcastic remarks made Allen’s +supper uncomfortable, and he was in a hurry to +leave as soon as it was eaten.</p> + +<p>Abe and Tad watched the young Hoosier dandy +depart down the levee, then set to work straightening +up the boat. They enjoyed the cool evening +breeze for a while, and when the first stars appeared,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> +they spread their blankets and went to +sleep.</p> + +<p>What time Allen returned they did not know, +but he was there in the bed next morning, far too +drowsy to do more than open one eye when they +called him to breakfast.</p> + +<p>They heard church bells tolling in different +parts of the city and remembered that it was Sunday +morning. That was the only indication of the +day, for as the town awoke there was anything but +a Sabbath calm in the air.</p> + +<p>All the saloons, dance halls, and gambling-places +along the water front were open for business, and +the thousands of river-men and sailors thronging +the levee brought them plenty of it. Above the din +of shouting, fighting, and merry-making, Abe had +to talk loud to make himself heard.</p> + +<p>“Allen won’t want to go ashore again fer a +spell,” he said. “We kin leave the boat to him an’ +go lookin’ fer that cub o’ yours.”</p> + +<p>Tad, who had been considerably cast down by +the loss of his pet, was eager to follow Abe’s suggestion. +They took their way along the water front, +asking people they met if they had seen the little +black bear. For the most part the question was +greeted with jeers or with blank astonishment. +But once they encountered a half-drunken raft<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> +hand who testified somewhat hazily to having seen +not merely one bear but a pair of them, dragging +chains after them, and moving in the direction of +the steamboat moorings. And a voluble Creole in +a little tobacco shop told them that a bear “so +beeg as a cow” had looked in the door at him, +growled, and passed on.</p> + +<p>“That b’ar knows what he’s about,” chuckled +Abe. “He aims to travel back to Tennessee by +steamboat—that’s sartin.”</p> + +<p>A little farther on they asked their question of +a British sailorman, and he nodded and pointed +up the nearest street.</p> + +<p>“Aye,” said he, “that must be the one they +caught this mornin’ and are goin’ to bait with +dogs. There’s a bit of excitement up at the public +’ouse yonder. Perhaps they’ve started already.”</p> + +<p>As the two lads hurried forward, they saw that +the “bit of excitement” had more the look of a +general street fight.</p> + +<p>A crowd of fifteen or twenty ark hands, all riotously +drunk, were milling about a smaller group +that seemed to be made up chiefly of steamboat +men. In the center was a short, sturdy Irishman, +with his blue cap cocked at a pugnacious angle and +the joy of battle in his blue eyes. Tad would have +recognized that freckled face anywhere. It was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span> +Dennis McCann, the mate of the <i>Ohio Belle</i>. And +crouched between his bowed seaman’s legs was +little black Poke.</p> + +<p>Already fists were flying, and matters looked +bad for the steamboat men when Abe hit the +fringe of the mob like a tornado, with Tad right +at his heels. Some he knocked down with his fists, +some he flung out of his path, and those who came +back for more were treated to a double dose. The +vicious flank attack confused the backwoodsmen, +and before they could rally, the steamboat crew +were pummeling them from in front. In a moment +the battle had turned into a rout. Some ran down +the street with the victors at their heels, and others +took refuge in the saloon.</p> + +<p>“Here,” panted Abe to McCann, “let’s take the +b’ar an’ git out o’ this ’fore they git together +ag’in.”</p> + +<p>To the little Irishman, who had been slugging +away blindly in the middle of the mêlée, all wearers +of buckskin and homespun were enemies.</p> + +<p>“An’ who the divil might you be?” he growled, +bristling.</p> + +<p>“Hold on,” interposed Tad. “Don’t you know +me? You gave me breakfast on the <i>Ohio Belle</i> a +month ago.”</p> + +<p>McCann’s eyes bulged. “Sure an’ it’s the lad<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> +that disappeared!” he cried. “It’s himself that’s +in it, the saints be praised! Come to me, b’y, an’ +let me look at ye!”</p> + +<p>He wrung Tad’s hand with both of his, and then +gripped Abe’s big fist when the backwoods youth +was introduced as a friend.</p> + +<p>“So the little cub here is yours?” said McCann. +“Begorra, he come a-strayin’ past our moorin’ +last night, an’ thinks I, we’ll have a mascot aboard +the <i>Ohio Belle</i>. So I catches him, an’ ties him to a +beam. But this mornin’ he was gone again, an’ +when I come ashore I seen a bunch o’ these roustabouts +gettin’ ready to murther him with dogs. +So I steps in an’ grabs him, an’ that’s that. But +come on board the boat with me now, an’ tell me +how it comes ye’re not restin’ this minute at the +bottom o’ the Ohio.”</p> + +<p>They followed the mate to his cabin on the +steamer, and Tad had his first chance to unfold +the long tale of his adventures. As he described +how he was held prisoner by the outlaws, McCann +rose and paced the room.</p> + +<p>“Begob,” said he, “an’ it’s sorry I am that I +didn’t know the man Murrell was aboard. Think o’ +the grand chances I had to bash him with a belayin’-pin. +An’ him cleanin’ out the gamblers with the +money he robbed you of!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>Tad concluded his story by telling of the treatment +he had received at his father’s office.</p> + +<p>“Mr. McCann,” Abe put in, “I reckon you +might be able to identify the lad. They seem powerful +hard to satisfy, but they sure ought to take +your word.”</p> + +<p>“Faith, an’ I’ll try,” said the steamboat man. +“I’ll go with ye tomorrer mornin’ whin the office +opens. But I’ve got the afternoon off today. I’ll +take ye ’round the town.”</p> + +<p>And when they had been all over the <i>Ohio Belle</i> +and Tad had shown Abe the stateroom where he +had slept and the rail over which he had been +thrown, they left Poke securely chained, and +started forth with the little Irishman as their +guide.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXI</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dennis McCann</span> knew a lot about New Orleans. +He had been spending days exploring the town +every time he got into port, and there were few +corners into which he had not penetrated. He took +Tad and Abe a good ten miles that Sunday afternoon, +and Tad, at least, was footsore before they +finished.</p> + +<p>First the mate of the <i>Ohio Belle</i> led them northward +and eastward through the hot streets to +the green flats at the rear of the town. As they +went they were joined by other groups bound in +the same direction, and soon they found themselves +part of a huge throng, all moving steadily +out toward the Congo Plains.</p> + +<p>Rising above the dust of the crowds, they saw +the rough timber amphitheater of the bull ring, +and near it the gaudy-hued canvas of a huge tent. +There was no bullfight scheduled for that day, but +Cayetano’s famous circus was in full swing.</p> + +<p>Pushing forward with the throng, they entered +the big top, where snake-charmers and sleek-skinned +yellow dancers vied for attention with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span> +two-headed calves, fat ladies, and real wild animals +in cages.</p> + +<p>The latter appealed most to Abe. He had read +of lions in <i>Æsop’s Fables</i>, but never had he beheld +one nor heard one roar, and Tad laughed to +see the six-foot Hoosier jump and shiver when +that bass thunder sounded behind him.</p> + +<p>When they had finished with the circus, McCann +led the way to another marvel—the roadbed of the +New Orleans and Pontchartrain Railway which +was to connect the city with the lake on the north.</p> + +<p>This was to be one of the first steam railroads +in the world, and Abe and Tad looked with awe on +the preparations for it. People even said that with +a steam engine on wheels, such as the owners proposed +to run, you could pull half a dozen big +wagons at once along level rails!</p> + +<p>“As strong as six teams of horses, Abe! Do you +believe that?” asked Tad.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the backwoodsman, “reckon I do, +after seein’ a steamboat work. But when they tell +me this thing is <i>faster</i> than horses, I’ll admit I’m a +leetle bit doubtful.”</p> + +<p>They came back in the cool of the early evening +and strolled along the levee above the town +to the park-like drive where a long parade of carriages +wound among the China trees. Planters and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span> +their wives, aristocratic Creole families, and the +beautiful women of the free quadroon caste went +smiling by, behind their smartly trotting horses.</p> + +<p>From a little lake a flock of pelicans rose on +heavy wings and flapped away across the sunset +to their nests. Fireflies began to twinkle in the +gathering dusk. A guitar was strumming softly +near by.</p> + +<p>“Golly,” murmured Tad, “I shouldn’t wonder +if Heaven must be something like this!”</p> + +<p>Abe’s face was overspread by a grin. “Only,” +said he, “in Heaven the folks have wings, an’ the +mosquitoes don’t.” And he emphasized his remark +by slapping himself on the back of the neck.</p> + +<p>They strolled back through a summer night that +was breathlessly hot in the narrow streets and +cooled by a little breeze along the levee.</p> + +<p>“Huh,” mused Abe. “Here it’s actin’ like mid-July, +an’ in a couple o’ weeks I’ll be back in May +again, with the trees jes’ comin’ into full leaf an’ +the lilacs hardly done bloomin’ in the dooryards.”</p> + +<p>“When’ll ye be leavin’?” asked McCann. +“We’ve got ’most a cargo now, an’ if ye were +ready by tomorrer, say, I might get ye a berth an’ +a chance to earn yer board loadin’ wood fer the +engines.”</p> + +<p>Abe thanked him. “First of all,” said he, “I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> +want to see Tad out o’ this scrape. An’ second, +I’ve got to keep my partner, Allen Gentry, from +gittin’ <i>into</i> one, when he sells his goods. After that +I’d be pleased to ship with you.”</p> + +<p>As they parted from McCann at the gangplank +of the <i>Ohio Belle</i>, the little Irishman pointed to +Poke, snoring comfortably at the end of his chain +on deck.</p> + +<p>“See,” he laughed, “the little spalpeen is right +at home. I’ll give ye three dollars fer him.”</p> + +<p>Tad considered a moment. He could hardly hope +to keep the cub with him, either in the city or at +school, while with McCann he knew the little bear +would be in good hands.</p> + +<p>“Right,” he answered regretfully, and the +transaction was completed, then and there. As the +boy trudged along at Abe’s side, he pulled the +money out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Here,” said he, “this’ll pay for those pants, +Abe. And anyway, the bear was really yours. You +saved his life and then wrestled for him.”</p> + +<p>“No sech of a thing!” said Abe warmly. “That +b’ar b’longed to you.”</p> + +<p>But Tad was adamant, and his big friend finally +took the money, on condition that he should buy +them both a supper out of it. Accordingly they +stopped at the next tavern and ordered a meal.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span> +The table at which they sat was at the rear of the +sanded floor near one end of the bar. A cosmopolitan +throng of sailors and up-river men were drinking +and quarreling noisily along the mahogany +rail, and Tad watched them while Abe picked the +bones of his fricasseed chicken.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, in the crowd, he caught sight of a +familiar back and saw a hand filled with banknotes +waving in the air.</p> + +<p>“Quick, Abe!” said the boy. “Isn’t that Allen +with all that money?”</p> + +<p>The long-shanked backwoodsman turned, pushing +back his chair, and looked where Tad was +pointing. At that moment a big German sailor +reached over the heads of the eager fellows who +surrounded Allen, seized his wrist with one hand, +and snatched away the bills with the other. It was +all done so quickly that none of the men at the bar +knew what had happened, and Allen was left +speechless, his empty fingers clawing at the air.</p> + +<p>Then Abe entered the picture. In three long +strides he reached the sailor, who was just edging +toward the door. The man’s back was toward +him. Abe caught him by the shoulder with iron +fingers and jerked him around. And almost in the +same motion he drove a solid smash to the fellow’s +chin with his right fist.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>The sailor lost his balance, staggered back a +step or two, and toppled to the floor. Quick as a +flash Abe was on top of him, gripping his wrists +in those big, horny paws of his. With an anguished +groan the German let go of the roll of money, and +Abe, picking it up, jumped to his feet. As he did so +an empty bottle whizzed past his head, and half a +dozen sailormen charged toward him from all +parts of the room. Instantly pandemonium was let +loose. With wild yells of delight the river-men, +always ready for a fight, set upon the deep-water +sailors, and in ten seconds the place was filled with +fiercely struggling groups.</p> + +<p>Abe stuffed the bills into the breast of his +shirt and battled his way toward the door, where +Tad was already waiting for him. In a moment +Allen broke through the mob in front of the bar +and joined them. His “store clothes” were disheveled, +and one eye was nearly closed by a rapidly +swelling bruise.</p> + +<p>“Run—run!” he panted, and dodged down an +alley with the two others following him. Not until +they had zigzagged through the dark for two +blocks and were out on the open levee front did +Allen settle down once more to a walk.</p> + +<p>“Great shiverin’ snakes!” he gasped, “I was +glad to git clear o’ that place! Did ye see ’em start<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> +to pull their knives? Why, thar was enough dirks +an’ daggers out to slaughter a regiment.”</p> + +<p>Silently Abe handed the crumpled banknotes +back to their owner. A few steps farther he +stopped. “You boys wait here,” he said. “I forgot +somethin’, but I’ll be right back.”</p> + +<p>Dumfounded, they watched him stride along the +levee in the direction from which they had just +come.</p> + +<p>“Whar in Sam Hill kin he be goin’?” muttered +Allen. They waited with growing nervousness for +several minutes. And just as Tad was starting to +see what had happened, he reappeared.</p> + +<p>“Where were you, Abe?” the boy asked.</p> + +<p>“I’d clean forgot to pay fer our supper,” Abe +replied. “Things had quieted down thar a mite, +but one pore feller was bleedin’ terrible. Cut +pretty bad, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Wal,” said Allen, looking at him, pop-eyed, “if +you ain’t the gol-durnedest!”</p> + +<p>“How’d you come to have all that money?” inquired +Abe. “Must have sold the cargo, didn’t +ye?”</p> + +<p>Allen nodded. “A man come along the levee this +afternoon offerin’ scandalous low prices fer flour +an’ pork. I was gittin’ sick o’ waitin’; so I dickered +with him. I got him to raise his figger a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span> +little, an’ he ’greed to take the boat, too. Anyhow, +Father’ll be satisfied.”</p> + +<p>“He won’t if you go in any more saloons an’ git +it stole,” said Abe. “I reckon on board a steamboat +is the safest place fer you an’ me.”</p> + +<p>They returned to the <i>Katy Roby</i>, now empty +save for their blankets and personal belongings, a +few cooking utensils, and a small pile of firewood.</p> + +<p>“The old gal looks sort o’ lonesome, don’t she?” +said Abe. “Wal, her timbers’ll make a stout shanty +fer somebody. There’s not a cross-grained stick in +her hull. I know, because I cut an’ trimmed ’em +myself.”</p> + +<p>The other two were silent, for they also felt a +twinge of homesickness at the idea of leaving the +craft. Tad stretched out on the bare planking, +ready for sleep after his miles of barefoot exploration. +Soon he dropped off, in spite of the raucous +chorus of drunken river-men returning to their +boats, and it was to bright morning sunlight that +he next opened his eyes. Abe was busy preparing +some odds and ends of food for breakfast, while +Allen sat back and plucked at his banjo strings. +It was the old tune of “Skip to my Lou” that he +was singing, but he had invented some new verses. +Two of them were:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="first">“N’Orleans gals, you’re feelin’ blue,</div> +<div class="verse">N’Orleans gals, you’re feelin’ blue,</div> +<div class="verse">N’Orleans gals, you’re feelin’ blue,</div> +<div class="verse">Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="first">“We’re bound to say good-by to you,</div> +<div class="verse">We’re bound to say good-by to you,</div> +<div class="verse">We’re bound to say good-by to you,</div> +<div class="verse">Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.”</div> +</div></div></div> + +<p>He rolled his eyes sentimentally as he sang, and +Abe chuckled over the frying-pan. “Wait till he +gits back to Gentryville!” he said. “Folks up thar +will git the idee that the whole valley’s littered +up with the hearts he’s broke.”</p> + +<p>When breakfast was finished, Abe rolled up his +ax and one or two other things he owned in his +blanket, tied it with a rope, and laid it to one side.</p> + +<p>“Now, Tad,” said he, “we’ll go an’ rouse out +this man McCann, so he kin tell that lunkhead in +your father’s office who you are.”</p> + +<p>They took their way along the levee in the direction +of the steamboat landings. When they had +covered a little over half the distance, they saw a +two-horse carriage coming rapidly toward them, +and as it drew close, Abe pulled Tad out of its +path behind a pile of baled cotton. Thus it was +not until the carriage had gone past that the boy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> +had a good look at its occupant. He was a big-framed +man of middle age, in a beaver hat that +looked travel-stained. His head and shoulders were +bowed slightly as if by a burden.</p> + +<p>Tad seized Abe’s arm. “That was my Dad!” he +said. “He’s on his way to the office from the boat. +Come on!”</p> + +<p>Quickly they turned and followed the carriage +toward the older section of the town. A few minutes +of alternate running and walking brought +them to St. Louis Street, and at the curb, sure +enough, they saw the carriage drawn up.</p> + +<p>They went into the building and up the stairs, +two at a time. The door of the office stood ajar. +Tad entered first. There at his desk on the other +side of the room sat his father, looking so gray +and sad and careworn that Tad felt a great lump +in his throat at the sight. He tried to shout +“Dad!” but all that came was a choking sound.</p> + +<p>The officious young secretary advanced from his +corner with what was intended for a threatening +scowl, but Tad paid no attention to him. Then +Jeremiah Hopkins must have sensed that something +was happening, for he looked up wearily +from the papers in his hands and saw a boy at the +gate—a ragged, barefoot youngster, brown as an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> +Indian, with a mop of sandy hair and a mouth +that grinned broadly while his eyes blinked back +something suspiciously like tears.</p> + +<p>“D-don’t you know me, Dad?” said the boy. +And then Jeremiah Hopkins ran toward him and +they caught each other in a bear-like hug.</p> + +<p>The father’s heart was too full for words, but +he held the lad at arm’s length and looked at him +as if he could never get enough of the sight.</p> + +<p>Tad’s power of speech came back to him first, +and he talked in happy, jumbled sentences, trying +to tell everything at once.</p> + +<p>“I wrote to you, Dad,” he said, “but, you see, +you never got my letter because it was blown up. +It was on the <i>Nancy Jones</i>. But it’s too bad you +worried so about me. I was all right. Abe, here, +was taking care of me, and— Come, I want you to +meet him. Abe—”</p> + +<p>But the young husky from Indiana was gone. He +had slipped out quietly as soon as he saw his friend +safe in his father’s arms.</p> + +<p>Tad ran down the stairs and looked up and +down the street, but the lanky figure was nowhere +in sight. Distressed, he returned to his father. +“We must find him,” he said. “You’ve got to +know Abe, because he’s the best friend I ever had. +Why, he saved my life!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>The young secretary, very crestfallen, came forward. +“I—I think he went toward the levee, sir,” +said he.</p> + +<p>“You should have asked him to wait,” the merchant +answered curtly. “We’ll go in search of him +directly, Tad, my boy. But first come and get some +clothes on.”</p> + +<p>They got into the carriage and were driven, despite +the boy’s protestations, to Mr. Hopkins’ +hotel, where the clothes found in the stateroom on +the steamboat had been taken. In a few minutes +Tad was dressed once more in the garb of civilization.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said he, “tell the coachman we want to +go to the flatboat moorings as fast as he can +drive.”</p> + +<p>Through the streets and along the levee they +rumbled and drew up at last where Tad pointed +to the <i>Katy Roby</i>, tied up in the middle of the +swarming river-craft. But Abe and Allen were +nowhere to be seen.</p> + +<p>The stout Kentucky man sat on the rail of his +boat, near the levee, and spat judicially into the +river before he answered Tad’s eager query.</p> + +<p>“No,” said he, finally. “They ain’t here. They +done picked up their blankets an’ stuff an’ put out +fer the steamboat landin’ some while back. Said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> +they was goin’ to go on the <i>Ohio Belle</i> if they got +thar ’fore she sailed.”</p> + +<p>Hurriedly the Hopkinses, father and son, +climbed back into the carriage, and the coachman +used his whip as they galloped toward the smoky +forest of steamboat stacks.</p> + +<p>“She’s not gone yet,” cried Tad. “I can see +her.”</p> + +<p>But just then there came a long, deep whistle-blast, +and one of the great white steamers began +to move slowly away from the levee side. The carriage +rolled up to the landing, and the coachman +pulled the rearing horses to a stop. As Tad jumped +out he saw a tall, awkward youth in homespun +and deerskin waving to him from the forward rail +of the upper deck.</p> + +<p>“Abe,” he cried, “wait! wait!”</p> + +<p>“Come back!” shouted his father, “I want to +give you the reward.” And he held up a fat black +wallet.</p> + +<p>One of Abe’s quaint grins overspread his +homely face. “No,” he called back. “He was a +good hand an’ earned his keep.”</p> + +<p>Tad ran forward to the edge of the levee and +cupped his hands about his mouth. “Abe,” he +yelled, “what’s your last name? I want to write +to you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>“Lincoln,” the backwoods boy replied. “Jest +send it to Gentryville. They’ll see that I git it.”</p> + +<p>Then with a clang of bells and a great splashing +of foam as her paddles beat the water, the <i>Ohio +Belle</i> swung out into the current and headed upstream. +And the last thing Tad saw was Abe picking +up the little bear, Poke, in his arms, and waving +one of the cub’s black paws in a comical +good-by.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p class="ph1"><i>other books by STEPHEN W. MEADER</i></p> + +<p class="center">THE BLACK BUCCANEER<br> +DOWN THE BIG RIVER<br> +LONGSHANKS<br> +RED HORSE HILL<br> +AWAY TO SEA<br> +KING OF THE HILLS<br> +LUMBERJACK<br> +THE WILL TO WIN AND OTHER STORIES<br> +WHO RIDES IN THE DARK?<br> +T-MODEL TOMMY<br> +BAT<br> +BOY WITH A PACK<br> +CLEAR FOR ACTION<br> +BLUEBERRY MOUNTAIN<br> +SHADOW IN THE PINES<br> +THE SEA SNAKE<br> +THE LONG TRAINS ROLL<br> +SKIPPY’S FAMILY<br> +JONATHAN GOES WEST<br> +BEHIND THE RANGES</p> +</div></div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/endpapers.jpg" alt="end papers"></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> +<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> + +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> + +<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> +</div></div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75520 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75520-h/images/cover.jpg b/75520-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..64486c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75520-h/images/coversmall.jpg b/75520-h/images/coversmall.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3934e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/images/coversmall.jpg diff --git a/75520-h/images/endpapers.jpg b/75520-h/images/endpapers.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3de70aa --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/images/endpapers.jpg diff --git a/75520-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/75520-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8500f08 --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/images/frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/75520-h/images/i_058a.jpg b/75520-h/images/i_058a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..289261c --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/images/i_058a.jpg diff --git a/75520-h/images/i_154a.jpg b/75520-h/images/i_154a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c39a09 --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/images/i_154a.jpg diff --git a/75520-h/images/i_178a.jpg b/75520-h/images/i_178a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab7cd89 --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/images/i_178a.jpg diff --git a/75520-h/images/title.jpg b/75520-h/images/title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b70dd2c --- /dev/null +++ b/75520-h/images/title.jpg |
