the texas door for a second, and we knowed
by that that the rascals had missed their boat, and was beginning to
understand that they was in just as much trouble now as Jim Turner
was.
Then Jim manned the oars, and we took out after our raft. Now was the
first time that I begun to worry about the men--I reckon I hadn't had
time to before. I begun to think how dreadful it was, even for
murderers, to be in such a fix. I says to myself, there ain't no
telling but I might come to be a murderer myself yet, and then how
would I like it? So says I to Jim:
"The first light we see we'll land a hundred yards below it or above
it, in a place where it's a good hiding-place for you and the skiff,
and then I'll go and fix up some kind of a yarn, and get somebody to
go for that gang and get them out of their scrape, so they can be hung
when their time comes."
But that idea was a failure; for pretty soon it begun to storm again,
and this time worse than ever. The rain poured down, and never a light
showed; everybody in bed, I reckon. We boomed along down the river,
watching for lights and watching for our raft. After a long time the
rain let up, but the clouds stayed, and the lightning kept whimpering,
and by and by a flash showed us a black thing ahead, floating, and we
made for it.
It was the raft, and mighty glad was we to get aboard of it again. We
seen a light now away down to the right, on shore. So I said I would
go for it. The skiff was half full of plunder which that gang had
stole there on the wreck. We hustled it on to the raft in a pile, and
I told Jim to float along down, and show a light when he judged he had
gone about two mile, and keep it burning till I come; then I manned my
oars and shoved for the light. As I got down towards it three or four
more showed--up on a hillside. It was a village. I closed in above the
shore light, and laid on my oars and floated. As I went by I see it
was a lantern hanging on the jackstaff of a double-hull ferryboat. I
skimmed around for the watchman, a-wondering whereabouts he slept; and
by and by I found him roosting on the bitts forward, with his head
down between his knees. I gave his shoulder two or three little
shoves, and begun to cry.
He stirred up in a kind of a startlish way; but when he see it was
only me he took a good gap and stretch, and then he says:
"Hello, what's up? Don't cry, bub. What's the trouble?"
I says:
"Pap, and mam, and sis, and--"
Then I
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