The next morning the boys were up bright and early. It was a glorious morning, and Bob accepted it as auspicious of a pleasant and prosperous trip.
Clip was in wild spirits. He was naturally vivacious and fond of change, and the prospect of the river trip made him very happy. Bob, as a practical joke, put on a grave face and said: "Clip, I don't know but I shall have to leave you at home."
"What fo', Massa Bob?" inquired Clip, his face assuming a look of dismay.
"I am afraid my mother won't be able to get along without you. There are so many things to attend to on the ranch."
"I can't do no good on the ranch," said Clip, eagerly. "I'm only a lazy, good-for-nothing nigger."
"Then I don't see how you can help me,Clip," returned Bob, his eyes twinkling as he listened to this candid confession.
"Dat's different, Massa Bob. I ain't no good on the ranch, but I'm powerful help on the river. Please take me along, Massa Bob," pleaded Clip.
"Just as likely as not you'll get lost, Clip. Besides, you might meet your old master from Arkansas."
"He won't catch dis nigger," said Clip, shaking his head, resolutely. "Please let me go, Massa Bob."
"Your arguments are so cogent, Clip, that I suppose I shall have to give in."
Instantly Clip's face was radiant. He didn't know what cogent arguments were, but as long as they had accomplished his desire he was content to remain in ignorance.
"But if you give me any trouble, Clip," Bob added, seriously, "I may have to put you ashore, and let you walk home."
Clip gave the most emphatic assurance of good conduct, and was informed that he could go.
There was much to do, even on the lastmorning, and though the boys were early risers, it was fully ten o'clock before they were ready to start.
Half an hour before this Bob had a surprise.
Sam Wolverton was seen approaching on a run, breathless and without a hat. He arrived at the landing, just as Bob was putting off in the flat-bottomed boat, with a load of provisions for the voyage.
"What on earth is the matter, Sam?" asked Bob, in surprise.
"Let me get on the boat and I will tell you."
The boat was put back and Sam jumped on.
"Now what has happened, Sam?"
"Do you see this," said Sam, pointing to his right cheek, which was stained with blood.
"What has happened to you? Did you fall and hurt yourself?"
"My uncle knocked me over and I fell against a block of wood."
"What made him attack you?" inquired Bob, indignantly.
"I don't know; he got mad with me for nothing at all. He's been in an awful temper allthe morning. Something must have happened to vex him."
Bob smiled. He could understand what had happened. Wolverton's disappointment at the failure of his villainous plan had no doubt soured him, and, like a born bully, he had vented his spite upon the poor boy who was dependent upon him.
"I wish you'd more spunk, Sam," Bob said. "He wouldn't dare to attack me in that way."
"You're stronger and braver than I am, Bob. I can't be like you. I wish I could."
"Your uncle is no more nor less than a bully. He imposes upon you because he thinks it is safe to do so. He wouldn't dare tackle me, because he knows it wouldn't be safe."
"Bob," said Sam, solemnly, "I've borne it as long as I'm going to. I am not going back to my uncle's house."
"Do you mean this, Sam?"
"Yes, I do. It's the only home I have, but I would rather go without a home than to be beaten and ill-treated by Uncle Aaron."
"I commend your pluck, Sam. I can't say I think you are doing wrong."
"I have a favor to ask of you, Bob. You are my only friend."
"What is it, Sam?"
"Let me go with you to St. Louis. It would make me happy to be with you, and I should be out of my uncle's way."
Bob paused for consideration, the proposal being unexpected.
"But suppose, Sam, I am charged with abducting you?"
"I'll take all the blame. Let me hide on the ferry-boat, and I won't show myself until you've got miles away."
"That might do," said Bob, smiling. "Perhaps it isn't exactly square, but with such a man as your uncle we must make use of his own methods."
"You will take me, then?" asked Sam, eagerly.
By this time they had reached the boat.
"Clip," said Bob, "go with Sam and hide him somewhere on the boat, but don't tell me where he is concealed. Then, if oldWolverton comes after him I can say truly that I don't know where he is."
"All right, Massa Bob," said Clip, showing his teeth.
When the contents of the boat had been transferred to the larger craft, Bob rowed back, leaving Clip and Sam together. The boat was roofed over, as already stated. Besides the bins there was a corner in which some bedding had been placed for the accommodation of the young voyagers. But it seemed difficult to find a suitable hiding-place for Sam.
"Where can you put me?" asked the young runaway, with a troubled look.
Clip looked about him, rolling his eyes in perplexity.
At length his face brightened, for an idea had come to him.
In one corner was an empty barrel. Some stores had been brought aboard in it, and it had been suffered to remain, with the idea that it might possibly prove of use. The particular use to which it was to be put certainly never occurred to Bob or Clip.
"Get in there, Sam!" said Clip. "OldMass' Wolverton won't look for you in there."
"But I shall be seen."
"You wait and I'll show you how we'll manage; only get in!"
Thus adjured, Sam got into the barrel, and with some difficulty crouched so that his head was lower than the top of the barrel.
"Now I'll show you," said Clip.
He took a white cloth—it was apiece of sail-cloth—and spread over the top of the barrel.
"Now old Mass' Wolverton will have sharp eyes to see you," said Clip, triumphantly.
"That may do," said Sam. "But it isn't necessary to put it on now. It will be time if my uncle makes his appearance. I'll keep out of sight in the center of the boat."
Meanwhile Bob had gone to the house to bid good-bye to his mother.
"I feel anxious about your going off on such a long trip, Robert," said Mrs. Burton.
"You forget that I am almost a man, mother. It is time for me to assume some responsibility."
"But you are only a boy, after all, Robert.Think, if anything should happen to you, what would become of me?"
"My dear mother, you may depend on my taking excellent care of myself. I don't see what risk or danger there can be in going to St. Louis. It isn't a long trip. I shall be back in less than a fortnight if all goes well."
"It will seem a very long fortnight to me, Robert."
"I have no doubt you will miss me, mother, but you forget I have Clip to look after me."
"Clip is only a poor colored boy, but I am sure he will prove faithful to you," said Mrs. Burton, seriously. "Even the humble are sometimes of great service. I am glad he is going with you."
Bob did not mention that Sam Wolverton would also be his companion, as he foresaw that the agent would not unlikely question his mother on that point.
Bob returned to the boat, and was just about to cast off, when Wolverton was seen on the bank, waving his hat and shouting frantically.
"I guess, Massa Sam, you'd better get into the barrel," said Clip with a grin.
"What do you want, Mr. Wolverton?" asked Bob, coolly, as he stood at one end of the boat and surveyed the excited agent.
"Come ashore, or I'll have you arrested," shouted the irate Wolverton.
"You are very kind, Mr. Wolverton; but I am in considerable of a hurry, and have not time to comply with your request."
"You'd better come ashore, if you know what's best for yourself."
"Please state your business! If it is anything to my advantage, I may come; but I am just ready to start for St. Louis."
"Is my nephew Sam on your boat?"
"I don't see him. Why should he be on board?"
"I suspect him of running away, the ungrateful young rascal? I thought he might be scheming to go down the river with you."
"Clip," said Bob, gravely, "has Sam Wolverton engaged passage with us?"
"Not as I knows on, Massa Bob."
"If he should, charge him fifteen dollars."
"Yes, Massa Bob," answered Clip, with a grin.
"If you wish your nephew to go to St. Louis on my boat, Mr. Wolverton," said Bob, with ceremonious politeness, "I will take him, being a friend, for fifteen dollars, excursion ticket. You can't complain of that."
"But I don't want him to go," roared Wolverton. "I tell you he has run away."
"That's very strange, considering how kindly and liberally you have always treated him."
Wolverton eyed Bob suspiciously, for he knew well enough that the remark was ironical.
"None of your gammon, young man!" he said, crabbedly. "Send Sam ashore."
"Really, Mr. Wolverton, you must be joking. What have I got to do with Sam?"
"I don't believe a word you say. I mean to search your boat."
"You had better do it at once, then, for it is time for me to start."
"But how am I to get aboard," asked the agent, perplexed.
"You might swim," suggested Bob, "or wade. The water is shallow—not higher than your neck, anywhere."
"That is nonsense. Steer your boat to shore, that I may board her."
"It can't be done, Mr. Wolverton. We can only drift down with the current."
"Then how am I to get aboard?"
"That is your lookout."
Just then Mr. Wolverton espied the flat-bottomed boat which Bob proposed to take with him. He had attached it by a line to the stern of the ferry-boat.
"Row over and take me across."
"I can't spare the time."
Wolverton was about to give vent to his wrath at this refusal, when he observed a boat approaching, rowed by a German boy named Otto Brandes.
"Come here, boy, and row me out to yonder boat," he said.
Otto paused in his rowing, and, understanding the man with whom he was dealing, he asked, quietly: "How much will you pay me, Mr. Wolverton?"
"Five cents to take me over and back," answered the agent, with some hesitation.
Otto laughed.
"I don't work for any such wages," he said.
"I'll give you ten; but be quick about it."
"Give me a quarter and I'll do it."
"Do you think I am made of money?" said Wolverton, in anger. "That is an outrageous extortion."
"All right! Then hire somebody else," said Otto, coolly.
After a fruitless effort to beat down the price, Wolverton sulkily agreed to the terms, and Otto rowed to the bank.
"Now, row with all your might," said the agent, as he seated himself in one end of the boat.
"Your fare, please," said Otto.
"I'll pay you when the trip is over," said Wolverton. "It's a poor paymaster that pays in advance."
"Then you'd better get out of the boat. Railroad and boat tickets are always paid in advance."
"I'll give you ten cents now, and the balance when I land."
"It won't do, Mr. Wolverton. I don't care much about the job anyway; I'm in a hurry to get home."
Otto lived about half a mile further down the creek.
Much against his will, the agent was obliged to deposit the passage-money in the boy's hand before he would consent to take up the oars and commence rowing.
"That rascal Sam is putting me to all this expense," he said to himself. "I'll take my pay out of his skin once I get hold of him."
Clip went up to the barrel in which Sam was concealed.
"Ol' Wolverton is comin', Massa Sam," he said. "Don't you make no noise, and we'll fool de ol' man."
In spite of this assurance, poor Sam trembled in his narrow place of concealment. Heknew that he would fare badly if his uncle got hold of him.
"How's he coming?" he asked in a stifled voice.
"Otto Brandes is rowin' him. He's in Otto's boat."
"It's mean of Otto!"
"No; he don't know what de ol' man is after."
It took scarcely two minutes for Wolverton to reach the ferry-boat. He mounted it with fire in his eye.
"Now, where is Sam?" he demanded in a peremptory tone.
"You can search for him, Mr. Wolverton," said Bob, coolly. "You seem to know more about where he is than I do."
Wolverton began to peer here and there, looking into bins of wheat and all sorts of improbable places.
Clip took a broom and began to sweep energetically. Bob could not explain this sudden fit of industry till he saw Clip slyly slip the broom between Wolverton's legs as he was hurrying along, thereby upsetting theunfortunate agent, who tumbled sprawling on the deck.
"Why, you black imp!" he exclaimed, furiously, as he picked himself up, "what made you do that?"
"Couldn't help it, Massa Wolverton! I 'clare to gracious I couldn't!" said Clip, rolling his eyes in a most wonderful manner. "Are you hurt, Massa Wolverton?"
"I most broke my knee!" growled Wolverton, as he rose and limped towards the other end of the boat. "I may be laid up for a week."
"It was de ol' broom did it," said Clip, innocently. "Never see such a broom!"
Bob had hard work to keep a straight face, as he heard Clip's odd accusation against the unoffending broom.
This accident seemed to dampen Wolverton's enthusiasm, and the pain in his knee increasing made him desirous of getting home as soon as possible. Besides, he began to suspect that he was on a wrong scent, as he had thus far found no traces of his runaway nephew. He never once noticed the barrel, over which thepiece of sail-cloth had been thrown so carelessly.
"Well, did you find Sam?" asked Bob, composedly.
"No!" snapped Wolverton.
"I seed him jest before you came, Massa Wolverton," said Clip.
"Where?" asked the agent, eagerly.
"Runnin' along the bank."
"In what direction?"
Clip pointed up the creek.
"Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"You didn't ask me, Massa Wolverton."
"Take me ashore quick!" said Wolverton to Otto.
"Hurry up, Massa Wolverton, and mebbe you'll catch him!"
Wolverton was already in the boat, and Otto was rowing him to the shore.
Clip went to the barrel and released the prisoner.
"De ol' man's gone, Sam!" he said.
"I'm glad of it, Clip. I'm almost suffocated."
"Golly, didn't we fool him!" and Clip laydown on his back on deck, and gave way to an explosion of mirth.
A minute later the rope was drawn in, and the ferry-boat started on its adventurous career down the creek.
Bob was accustomed to rowing, but navigation with the ferry-boat presented a new and interesting problem which he was eager to solve. A steering apparatus had been rigged up at the stern, which was found strong enough for the purpose required. Bob took his place at the helm in starting, and managed for the first hour to regulate the direction of his craft. By that time they came to a place where the creek widened considerably, and the boat showed a disposition to whirl round in an eddy. This difficulty, however, was overcome by practice, and Bob began to acquire confidence in himself as a navigator. But it was evident that he could not remain at the helm all day.
"Come here, Clip," he said; "I want you to rest me in steering."
Clip took his place, but his first attemptsproved discouraging. He was inclined to steer in just the reverse direction, and twice came near running the boat ashore.
"What are you about, Clip?" demanded Bob, in excitement. "Don't you see you are running the boat ashore?"
"I done just like you, Massa Bob," protested Clip. "De boat acts contrary; never see such an ol' boat."
"It is you that are contrary, Clip. You don't do as I tell you."
"I 'clar to gracious I did, Massa Bob. I can't never learn to steer."
In fact, Clip, who was naturally lazy, found it very irksome to stand at the helm, and much preferred going here and there on the boat and surveying the scenery on either bank. He hoped that his incompetence would save him from the task. But his dream was rudely disturbed.
"If you can't take your turn in steering, Clip," said Bob, "you won't be of any use to me. I shall have to send you home, and get along with Sam's assistance."
"Oh, don't send me home, Massa Bob!"exclaimed Clip, in alarm. "I'll try—'deed I will."
"I'll try you a little longer, Clip," said Bob; "but you must not blame me for sending you back, if it is necessary."
No better argument could have been used to insure satisfactory work from Clip, who was naturally careless, and inclined to shirk work. Nevertheless, Bob felt glad that he had another assistant in Sam Wolverton, who proved to possess all the qualities which Clip lacked.
When it was one o'clock, Clip began to show signs of distress.
"I'm pow'ful hungry, Massa Bob," he said, in a pleading tone.
"So am I, Clip," returned Bob, with a smile. "I will see if I can't do something to relieve you."
He had brought from home a basket of sandwiches and a gallon of milk. To these the boys did ample justice, displaying even more appetite than usual. This was not surprising, for they had worked hard, and this in the open air.
"Sam," said Bob, "I can't hope to supply you with all the delicacies you would get at home, but I hope you'll make it do with our humble fare."
Sam smiled.
"All the delicacies on Uncle Aaron's table wouldn't spoil anybody's digestion. I like my dinner to-day better than any I've eaten for a long time. I don't know what uncle and aunt would say if they could see me here."
"De ol' man would be wild," said Clip, with a guffaw.
"I expect he would, Clip. He isn't fond of me, but he doesn't want to lose me. He will have to do his own chores now, for I don't believe he can get a boy to work for him."
About six o'clock in the afternoon, having arrived opposite a town which I will call Rushford, Bob decided to tie up for the night. He and Clip went on shore, leaving Sam in charge of the boat. He did not dare to leave it unguarded, for the cargo, according to his estimate, was worth not far from three thousand dollars.
He took the opportunity to enter arestaurant, where he bought Clip and himself cups of coffee, and ordered a fresh supply of sandwiches made up, which he arranged to have delivered at the boat early the next morning.
"I don't mean that we shall starve, Clip," he said.
Clip showed his teeth.
"Dat coffee's awful good, Massa Bob," he said.
"Yes, but we can't make it on board the boat. I shall have to depend on getting it at the villages on the way."
"How far are we from home, Massa Bob?"
"Well thought of, Clip. I will inquire."
He asked the keeper of the restaurant the distance to Carver.
"I don't know, but I think my waiter comes from that neighborhood. Sam, how far away is Carver?"
"Forty miles," answered Sam promptly.
"I thought it had been more. We have been eight hours coming on the river."
That is because the river (they had left the creek fifteen miles up) was winding in its course.
On the whole, however, Bob decided that it was very fair progress for the first day, and that only about two-thirds of the time.
Rushford was a town of fifteen hundred inhabitants, and presented as busy an appearance as a town three times the size in the East. Clip, who was fond of variety, was reluctant to return to the boat, but Bob said:
"We must relieve Sam, and give him a chance to come ashore and get some coffee. You come with him, and show him the restaurant."
This arrangement suited Clip, who liked as much variety and excitement as possible.
On returning to the boat Bob was somewhat surprised to find his young lieutenant in conversation with an old lady dressed in antediluvian costume. She had a sharp face, with an eager, birdlike look, and seemed to be preferring a request.
"Here's the captain; you can ask him," said Sam, who seemed much relieved by the return of Bob.
"Ishethe captain?" asked the old lady. "Why, he's nothin' but a boy!"
"He's all the captain we have," answered Sam.
"Be you in charge of this boat?" asked the old lady.
"Yes, ma'am. What can I do for you?"
"I want to go down to St. Louis," said the old lady, "and I thought maybe you might find room for me."
"But, ma'am, why don't you take passage on a river steamer?"
"They charge too much," said the old lady. "I hain't got much money, and I s'pose you wouldn't charge me much. Are you any acquainted in St. Louis?"
"No, ma'am."
"I thought maybe you might know my darter's husband. He keeps a grocery store down near the river. His name is Jeremiah Pratt, and my darter's name is Melinda Ann. I want to give 'em a surprise."
"I never met the gentleman."
"When do you start?"
"To-morrow morning about half-past seven o'clock."
"Can't you put it off till eight? I've got topack my trunk over night, and I've got to eat a bit of breakfast to stay my stummik. How much do you charge? I'd be willing to pay you seventy-five cents."
"How much do the steamboats charge?" asked Bob.
"I think it's six dollars, or it may be seven. That's too much for a poor woman like me."
"I think you will have to pay it, madam, for we have no accommodation for passengers on our boat."
"Oh, I ain't a mite particular. You can put me anywhere."
"I suppose you wouldn't be willing to get into a grain bin?"
"Oh, now you're jokin'. Where do you sleep yourself?"
"On a mattress on the floor; that wouldn't be suitable for a lady like you. Besides, we have no separate rooms."
"Then you can't take me, no way?" asked the old lady, disappointed.
"I am afraid not, madam."
"You're real disobligin'. I don't see how I am to get to St. Louis."
"I am sorry I can't help you."
The old woman hobbled off in evident anger. Bob heard afterwards that she was a woman of ample means, fully able to afford steamboat fare, but so miserly that she grudged paying it.
"Now, Sam," said Bob, "Clip will show you the way to a restaurant where you can get a hot cup of coffee and a plate of meat, if you desire it."
While the boys were gone, Bob received a visitor.
Fifteen minutes after Sam and Clip had left him Bob's attention was drawn to a man of somewhat flashy appearance, who, while leaning against a tree on the bank, seemed to be eying him and the boat with attention. He wore a Prince Albert coat which was no longer fit to appear in good society, a damaged hat, and a loud neck-tie. His eyes were roving from one point to another, as if he felt a great deal of interest in Bob or the boat. Our hero was not favorably impressed with this man's appearance.
"I wonder what he sees that interests him so much?" he thought.
"I say, young man, is this here boat yours?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Bob, coldly.
"What have you got on board?"
Bob felt under no obligation to answer, butreflecting that there was no good excuse for refusing, he said, briefly: "Wheat."
"Humph! How much have you got?"
This clearly was none of the questioner's business, and Bob replied by another question:
"Do you want to buy?"
"I don't know," said the stranger. "What do you ask?"
"I can't say till I get to St. Louis."
"How much do you calc'late to get?"
"Two dollars and a quarter," answered Bob, naming a price beyond his expectations.
"Ain't that a high figger?"
"Perhaps so."
"Come, young feller, you don't seem social. Can't you invite me aboard?"
"I don't think you would be paid for coming," said Bob, more and more unfavorably impressed.
"Oh, I don't mind. My time ain't valuable. I guess I'll come."
The stranger stepped across the gang-plank, which Bob had laid from the boat to the shore,and entered without an invitation. Bob was tempted to order him off, but the intruder appeared much stronger than himself; and while he was alone it seemed politic to submit to the disagreeable necessity of entertaining his unwelcome visitor.
The latter walked from end to end of the boat, examining for himself without asking permission, or appearing to feel the need of any. He opened the bins and counted them, while Bob looked on uneasily.
"I say, young feller, you've got a smart lot of wheat here."
"Yes," said Bob, briefly.
"Got a thousand bushels, I reckon?"
"Perhaps so."
"And you expect to get two dollars and a quarter a bushel?"
"Perhaps I shall have to take less."
"At any rate, you must have two thousand dollars' worth on board."
"You can judge for yourself."
"I say, that's a pile of money—for a boy."
"The wheat doesn't belong to me."
"Who owns it, then."
"My mother."
"What's your mother's name?"
"I have answered all the questions I am going to," said Bob, indignantly.
"Don't get riled, youngster. It ain't no secret, is it?"
"I don't care about answering all the questions a stranger chooses to put to me."
"I say, young chap, you're gettin' on your high horse."
"What is your object in putting all these questions?"
"What is my object?"
"That is what I asked."
"The fact is, youngster, I've got a ranch round here myself, and I've got about five hundred bushels of wheat I want to market. Naturally I'm interested. See?"
Bob did not believe a word of this.
"Where is your ranch?" he asked.
"About two miles back of the town," answered the stranger, glibly. That lie was an easy one. "I'm thinkin' some of runnin' down to the city to see if I can't sell my wheat in a lump to some merchant. Mebbe I couldstrike a bargain with you to carry me down."
Bob had even more objection to the new passenger than to the old lady, and he answered stiffly:
"I have no accommodations for passengers."
"Oh, I can bunk anywhere—can lie on deck, on one of the bins. I'm used to roughin' it."
"You'd better take passage by the next steamer. This is a freight boat."
"There ain't anybody but you aboard, is there?"
"Yes; I have two companions."
The stranger seemed surprised and incredulous.
"Where are they?" he asked.
"Gone into the village."
The visitor seemed thoughtful. He supposed the two companions were full-grown men, and this would not tally with his plans. This illusion, however, was soon dissipated, for Sam and Clip at this point crossed the gang-plank and came aboard.
"Are them your two companions?" asked the stranger, appearing relieved.
"Yes."
Sam and Clip eyed him curiously, expecting Bob to explain who he was, but our hero was only anxious to get rid of him.
"Then you can't accommodate me?" asked the man.
"No, sir; but if you'll give me your name and address, I can perhaps sell your crop for you, and leave you to deliver it."
"Never mind, young feller! I reckon I'll go to the city myself next week."
"Just as you like, sir."
He re-crossed the plank, and when he reached the shore took up his post again beside the tree, and resumed his scrutiny of the boat.
"What does that man want?" asked Sam.
"I don't know. He asked me to give him passage to St. Louis."
"You might make money by carrying passengers," suggested Sam.
"I wouldn't carry a man like him at any price," said Bob. "I haven't any faith inhis honesty or respectability, though he tells me that he owns a ranch two miles back of the town. He came on the boat to spy out what he could steal, in my opinion."
"How many days do you think we shall need for the trip, Bob?" asked Sam.
"It may take us a week; but it depends on the current, and whether we meet with any obstructions. Are you in a hurry to get back to your uncle?"
"No," said Sam, his face wearing a troubled look. "The fact is, Bob, I don't mean to go back at all."
"You mean dat, Massa Sam?" asked Clip, his eyes expanding in his excitement.
"Yes, I mean it. If I go back I shall have to return to my uncle, and you know what kind of a reception I shall get. He will treat me worse than ever."
"I am sure, Sam, my mother will be willing to let you live with us."
"I should like nothing better, but my uncle would come and take me away."
"Would he have the right?"
"I think he would. He has alwaystold me that my poor father left me to his charge."
"Do you think he left any property?"
"Yes; I feel sure he did; for on his deathbed he called me to him, and said: 'I leave you something, Sam; I wish it were more; but, at any rate, you are not a pauper.'"
"Did you ever mention this to your uncle, Sam?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"It seemed to make him very angry. He said that my father was delirious or he would never have said such absurd things. But I know he was in his right mind. He was never more calm and sensible than when he told me about the property."
"I am afraid Sam, your uncle has swindled you out of your inheritance."
"I think so, too, but I can't prove anything, and it won't do to say anything, for it makes him furious."
"What does your aunt say?"
"Oh, she sides with Uncle Aaron; she always does that."
"Then I can't say I advise you to return to Carver, although Clip and I are sure to miss you."
"'Deed I shall, Massa Sam," said Clip.
"I think I can pick up a living somehow in St. Louis. I would rather black boots than go back to Uncle Aaron."
"I am sure you can. Perhaps some gentleman will feel an interest in you, and take you into his service."
"I want to tell you, Bob, that Uncle Aaron hates you, and will try to injure you. You will need to be careful."
"That's no news, Sam. He has shown his dislike for me in many ways; but I am not afraid of him," the boy added, proudly.
At nine o'clock the boys went to bed. They were all tired, and all slept well. It was not till seven o'clock that Bob awoke. His two companions were asleep. He roused them, and they prepared for the second day's trip.
About noon the next day, while Clip was at the helm, there was a sudden jolt that jarred the boat from stem to stern, if I may so speak of a double-ender ferry-boat.
Bob and Sam, who had been occupied with re-arranging some of the cargo, rushed up to the colored pilot.
"What on earth is the matter, Clip asked Bob.
"'Clare to gracious, I dunno, Massa Bob," asseverated Clip.
Bob didn't need to repeat the question. Clip had steered in shore, and the boat had run against a tree of large size which had fallen over into the river, extending a distance of a hundred feet into the stream. Of course the boat came to a standstill.
"What made you do this, Clip?" said Bob, sternly.
"Didn't do it, Massa Bob. Ol' boat run into the tree himself."
"That won't do, Clip. If you had steered right, there would have been no trouble."
"I steered just as you told me to, Massa Bob."
"No, you didn't. You should have kept the boat at least a hundred and fifty feet from the shore."
"Didn't I, Massa Bob?" asked Clip, innocently.
"No. Don't you see we are not more than fifty feet away now?"
"I didn't get out and measure, Massa Bob," said Clip, with a grin.
"Now, own up, Clip, were you not looking at something on the bank, so that you didn't notice where you were steering?"
"Who told you, Massa Bob?" asked Clip, wondering.
"I know it must be so. Do you know you have got us into trouble? How am I going to get the boat back into the stream?"
Clip scratched his head hopelessly. The problem was too intricate for him to solve.
"I think, Clip, I shall have to leave you over at the next place we come to. You are more bother than you are worth."
"Oh, don't, Massa Bob. I won't do so again. 'Deed I won't."
Bob didn't relent for some time. He felt that it was necessary to impress Clip with the heinousness of his conduct. At length he agreed to give him one more chance. He had to secure the services of two stout backwoodsmen to remove the tree, and this occasioned a delay of at least two hours. Finally the boat got started again, and for the remainder of the day there was no trouble.
Towards the close of the afternoon they reached a place which we will call Riverton. It was a smart Western village of about two thousand inhabitants. Bob and Sam went on shore to get some supper, leaving Clip in charge.
"Now, Clip, you must keep your eyes open, and take good care of everything while we are gone," said Bob.
"All right, Massa Bob."
About ten minutes after the boys went awayClip was sitting on a barrel whistling a plantation melody, when a slender, florid-complexioned young man stepped aboard.
"Good-evening, sir," he said, removing his hat.
"Evenin'," answered Clip, with a grin. He was flattered by being addressed as "sir."
"Are you in charge of this boat?"
"Yes; while Massa Bob and Sam are gone ashore."
"Are they boys like yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you three all that are on board—I mean all that man the boat?"
"Yes, massa."
"Where are you bound?"
"To St. Louis."
"Do you think they would take me as passenger?"
Clip shook his head.
"They won't take no passengers," he answered. "An ol' woman wanted to go as passenger, and another man" (Clip was unconscious of the bull), "but Massa Bob he said no."
"Suppose I make a bargain with you," said the man, insinuatingly.
"What you mean, massa?" asked Clip, rolling his eyes in wonderment.
"Can't you hide me somewhere without their knowing I am on board?"
"What for I do dat?" asked Clip.
"I'll make it worth your while."
"What's dat?"
"I'll give you five dollars."
"For my own self?"
"Yes; for yourself."
"And I won't have to give it to Massa Bob?"
"No; you can spend it for yourself."
"But Massa Bob would find out to-morrer."
"If he finds out to-morrow I shan't mind."
"And you won't take back the money?"
"No; you can keep the money at any rate."
"Where's the money?" asked Clip, cautiously.
The stranger took out a five-dollar gold piece, and showed it to Clip. Clip had seen gold coins before, and he understood the value of what was offered him.
"Where can I put you?" he said.
"We'll go round the boat together, and see if we can find a place."
The round was taken, and the stranger selected a dark corner behind a bin of wheat.
"Will Massa Bob, as you call him; be likely to look here?"
"No; I reckon not."
"Have you got anything to eat on board which you can bring me by and by?"
"I'm goin' on shore soon as Massa Bob gets back. I'll buy something."
"That will do."
The stranger ensconced himself in his hiding-place, and soon after Bob and Sam returned.
"Has anybody been here, Clip?" asked Bob.
"No, Massa Bob," answered Clip, solemnly.
Poor Clip's moral convictions were rather obtuse, and a lie did not impress him as seriously wrong.
"What have you been doing while we were away?"
"Nothin', Massa Bob."
"That's what you like best to do, Clip, isn't it?"
"Dat's where you're right, Massa Bob. Yah, yah!"
"Well, you can go to your supper, Clip. Here's some money."
"All right, Massa Bob."
Clip did not seem in any great hurry to go. He was rather afraid that Bob and Sam would explore the boat while he was away. Finally he walked away with slow steps, looking back from time to time.
"What's got into Clip?" said Bob, wonderingly.
"I guess he isn't hungry," answered Sam, with a laugh.
Ten minutes later Bob's attention was drawn to a crowd of men and boys who were approaching the boat. He naturally wondered what was the object of the assemblage.
The leader called out to Bob, when he had approached sufficiently near:
"I say, boy, have you seen anything of a man with dark hair, florid complexion, wearing a light suit, running along the bank?"
"No, sir. Why?"
"A man of that description has stolen asum of money from a dry-goods store in the town. He was seen running in this direction. We thought you might have seen him."
"No, sir; I have seen nothing of such a man."
Bob little dreamed that the thief in question was concealed at that moment within twenty-five feet of where he was sitting.
The man who had addressed Bob eyed him sharply on receiving his negative answer.
"It is a pretty serious thing to connive at the escape of a criminal," he said.
"That remark does not affect me, sir. I know nothing of any criminal. If I had seen him I would tell you."
Bob talked so frankly and honestly that it seemed impossible to doubt his word. The leader of the pursuing party turned to consult with a friend.
"The boy seems straightforward," he said. "What do you think?"
"I agree with you. Still, the man was seen to run in this direction."
The first questioner was the one most concerned in the capture of the guilty party, for it was his store that had been robbed.
"Have you been here all the time?" he asked, turning once more to Bob.
"No, sir; my friend and I have been to the village to get supper."
"Did you leave no one on board?"
"Yes, sir; a colored boy in my service—a boy named Clip."
"Did he mention having seen any suspicious party, or any man who seemed to be running away?"
"No, sir."
"Where is he? I would like to speak with him."
"He has gone to the village to get his supper."
If Clip had been present he would no doubt have been questioned, but as he was absent the party of investigation did not think it worth while to wait.
"That's rather curious, Sam," said Bob, when they were again alone. "We were suspected of screening a criminal."
"I wouldn't give much for the fellow's chance of escape. They are evidently determined to catch him."
These words were all distinctly heard by the man in hiding.
"I was lucky to fall in with the little nigger," he reflected. "Them boys would have refused to help me. They would give me up now if they knew I was on board. I must be careful."
Clip came back at the end of half an hour. If Bob had taken notice of him, he would have noticed that the boy's pockets bulged out as if crowded with articles. But he had no especial reason for suspecting Clip of any underhand proceeding, and sat with Sam talking about home matters, leaving his young colored servant to his own devices.
Clip was faithful to his trust. He had agreed to take care of his concealed passenger, and he was determined to do so.
As soon as he could do so without observation, he went to the man's hiding-place and poured out the contents of his pockets. There were some buns and small rolls and a few round cakes.
"Will they do you, mister?" he asked, in a low voice.
"Yes; but I'm terribly thirsty. Have you got any whisky aboard?"
Clip shook his head.
"We ain't got no 'toxicating liquors," he answered.
"Can you bring me a glass of water?"
"I'll try. If you'd let me tell Massa Bob you were on board, I guess he'd give you some milk."
"Milk be—hanged! No, I'll make it do with water. Don't you tell this Bob, on any account, that I am here!"
"All right, massa!" answered Clip; but he was getting more and more puzzled. "Are you goin' to stay in dat place all night?"
"Yes."
"You'll find it mighty uncomfor'ble. If Massa Bob knew you was here—"
"He is not to know, do you hear?" said the other, impatiently.
"All right, massa! You know best."
"Of course I know best."
By this time Clip was missed.
"Where are you, Clip?" asked Bob.
"I'm jist loafin' around, Massa Bob," said Clip, a little startled.
"There's something strange about you to-night, Clip; I don't understand it."
"I'm thinkin' of old times down in Arkansaw, Massa Bob."
"Would you like to be there now, Clip?"
"No, Massa Bob, I'd rather live with you and your mudder. My ol' massa use to give me plenty of lickin's. I don't want to go back, never no more."
Clip still continued to be restless and uneasy. He knew he had no authority for taking a passenger on board, and feared that Bob would take away the five dollars if he learned that Clip had accepted so large a sum. To do Clip justice, he had no idea that the man whom he had hidden was an offender against the laws, and that the police were in search of him. Even if he had known this, however, it is not certain that Clip would have been prejudiced against the offender. In truth, his prejudices were against the agents of the law rather than against those who had offended.
Bob and Sam usually retired early; butto-night, to Clip's discontent, they remained up later than usual, talking about matters at home.
"Isn't you ever goin' to bed, Massa Bob?" asked Clip, at last.
"What is your hurry, Clip? Are you sleepy?"
"Awful sleepy, Massa Bob," answered Clip; "can't hardly keep my eyes open."
"Then you can go to bed any time. Sam and I will soon follow."
This was not altogether satisfactory, for Clip meant to get up as soon as Bob and Sam were asleep and visit his passenger, who had expressed a wish to have him do so. However, there was nothing to be said, and Clip withdrew to his bunk and lay down; but, as may readily be guessed, his mind was too active for sleep.
There was some one else who was anxious to have Bob and Sam retire. This was the hidden passenger, who found his quarters contracted and uncomfortable.
"What's the matter with those confounded boys?" he growled to himself. "They seemdetermined to sit up on purpose to vex me. When they are once asleep I can get up and stretch my limbs."
In about twenty minutes the boys, judging from their deep and regular breathing, had fallen asleep.
Clip, who had been waiting anxiously, raised himself on his elbow and eyed them closely.
Feeling that it was now safe for him to do so, he slipped out of bed cautiously and began to feel his way toward the hiding-place of his new acquaintance.
"They're asleep," he whispered. "Now, what you want, massa?"
"It's high time they were," growled the man. "I thought they were going to sit up all night."
"So did I," returned Clip.
"Are you sure there is no whisky on board?"
"No, massa."
"I suppose you could get some for me on shore. There's a saloon only three minutes' walk from this place."
Clip was reluctant to go on shore on such an errand; but finally the offer of fifty cents for himself induced him to do so. He took a tin cup which Bob had brought with him from home, and started on his errand.
At the saloon he was asked, "Do you want this for yourself? We don't sell to boys."
"No, massa; it's for a sick man."
"Where's the sick man?"
"On board a boat."
Upon this representation the whisky was obtained, and Clip started on his return. His curiosity led him to take a swallow of the whisky he was carrying, but it did not commend itself to Clip's palate.
"It's nasty stuff!" he said with a grimace; "I don't see what fo' people drink it."
He carried the drink safely to the passenger, who drank it and smacked his lips over it. "It goes to the right spot," he said.
"Do those boys sleep sound?" he asked.
"Yes, massa."
"Then I'll get out of this beastly hole and take a turn on deck."
"Be keerful, massa!" said Clip anxiously.
"Oh, yes; I won't make any noise."
Clip crept back to bed and succeeded in resuming his place without disturbing or arousing Bob or Sam.
Usually Bob Burton slept all night; but to-night, unfortunately for Clip, he awakened about two o'clock in the morning. By an equally perverse chance, just as he awoke, the concealed passenger, now enjoying the freedom of the deck, broke out into a stentorian sneeze. Bob heard it, and so did Clip, whose uneasiness made him sleep more lightly than usual, and both were startled.
"I hope Massa Bob won't hear dat," thought Clip.
But Bob did hear it.
"What's that?" he asked, half rising in bed.
"It's me!" answered Clip, preferring to admit the sneeze rather than have Bob suspect that there was any one else on the boat.
"Do you mean to say you sneezed, Clip?" asked Bob, in amazement.
"Yes, Massa Bob."
"You must be dreaming. The sneeze came from another part of the boat."
"Are you sure?" asked Clip.
"Yes. What made you tell me that it was you who sneezed?"
"I t'ought I did, Massa Bob."
"When did you wake up?"
"Just now."
"The sneeze must have waked you up."
"I dunno," answered Clip, dubiously.
"There must be some one on board, unless we both dreamed about the sneeze."
"Mebbe it's a cat!" remarked Clip, ingenuously.
Bob laughed. "It must be a very remarkable cat that would sneeze like that," he said.
"Jus' so, Massa Bob," assented Clip, meekly, hoping that Bob would drop the subject.
"I think, Clip, I shall get up and search for that cat."
"Don't you do it, Massa Bob. He—he might bite you."
"I hope I am not such a coward as to be afraid of a cat."
Bob rose and lighted a candle which he had with him. Then, followed by Clip, he advanced to the other end of the deck. But the passenger had warning, having heard the conversation which had taken place between Bob and Clip, and had hurriedly retreated to his former hiding-place. It did not occur to Bob to look there, and he returned from his fruitless search more mystified than ever.
But, Clip being close beside him, he caught the aroma of the single swallow of whisky which Clip had taken, and he immediately began to suspect poor Clip of having indulged in much deeper potations than he was guilty of.
"Clip," he said, suddenly, "I smell whisky."
"Does you, Massa Bob?" asked Clip, feeling that he was getting into a scrape.
"Yes, I do, Clip; and where do you think it comes from?"
"Don't know, Massa Bob; 'deed I don't."
"It comes from your mouth, Clip. You've been drinking!"
Drops of perspiration stood on Clip's forehead. He could not excuse himself, or explain matters, without betraying his secret. Not thinking of anything to say, he said nothing.
"Tell me the truth, Clip; have you been drinking?"
"I jes' took a little swaller."
"Where did you take it?"
"On sho'."
"What made you do such a thing? I didn't dream that you were getting intemperate, Clip."
"You see, Massa Bob, a gen'leman asked me to bring him a drink of whisky, and I t'ought I'd jest see how it tasted."
"Who asked you to bring him some whisky?" asked Bob, who believed this to be a pure fiction on the part of his young companion.
"A gen'leman."
"What gentleman?"
"He didn't tell me his name."
"I think you are telling me a lie, Clip."
"No I ain't, Massa Bob; it's as true as de Bible."
"I don't think you know much about the Bible, Clip."
"It's all true what I told you, Massa Bob. If I find de gen'leman, I'll bring him here to tell you."
The witness referred to smiled to himself grimly when he heard this statement.
"That little nigger's a brick!" he said to himself. "As to that other boy, I'd like to throw him overboard. He's too fond of meddling with other people's business."
It may occur to the reader that this was hardly a fair way of stating the case. As the boat belonged to Bob, and he was the commander, it might safely be assumed that he had a right to inquire into anything that excited his suspicion.
"Are you goin' back to bed, Massa Bob?" asked Clip, uneasily.
"Wait a minute, Clip; I want to get a drink of water."
Again poor Clip was in bad luck. The tin dipper had been used to procure the whisky, and of course it still smelled strongly of that liquor.
"Clip," said Bob, as soon as he had raised it to his lips, "you got some whisky in this cup."
"Ye'es," admitted Clip.
"And you drank it yourself instead of giving it to any gentleman."
"No, I didn't, Massa Bob," stoutly, and as we know truly, asserted Clip.
"I'm ashamed of you, Clip. If you are going to act in this way, I shall have to send you home. You have been acting very queerly this evening. Sam and I both noticed it, but I didn't think you had formed a taste for whisky."
"I don't love it, Massa Bob. I hate it. It's awful nasty stuff."
"And you didn't drink this dipper full, then?"
"No, I didn't."
"What did you do with it?"
"Throwed it away, Massa Bob. I only took one swaller. I couldn't drink it if you gave me half a dollar; 'deed I couldn't."
"I hope this is true, Clip. I shouldn't like to tell my mother that you had become intemperate."
"What's the matter?" was heard from Sam's bed at this juncture. "Where are you, Bob?"
"Here I am, Sam."
"What made you get up?"
"I thought I heard a noise on deck; so Clip and I got up."
"What was it like?"
"A sneeze. Clip thought it might be a cat."
Bob and Sam laughed at the ludicrous idea, and Clip joined in, glad that Bob's embarrassing cross-examination was over.
"You'd better come to bed, both of you. Very likely you dreamed it."
At that moment, and before Bob had put out the candle, there was a most unlooked-for corroboration of Clip's singular theory.
An immense tom-cat ran swiftly between Bob's legs, from some place of concealment. Both he and Clip saw it, and the latter was quick to take advantage of the opportune appearance of the animal.
"Dare's de cat, Massa Bob," he shouted, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you it was a cat?"
Bob was temporarily nonplussed. Clip seemed to have the best of the argument.
"All I can say is, it is a remarkable cat," he said. "I wish it would sneeze again."
The rest of the night passed without anything remarkable happening. All three boys slept soundly. Indeed, it was later than usual, probably on account of their sleep being interrupted during the night, that they awoke.
According to custom, the boys took turns in going out to breakfast.
"Clip, you and Sam can go out together," said Bob. "I will take my turn afterwards."
"I ain't in no hurry, Massa Bob," said Clip. "You an' Sam go first, and I'll go afterwards."
Bob thought this a little strange, but did not object.
When Clip was left alone he went at once to see his charge.
"Hope you pass de night good," said Clip, politely.
"I'm awfully cramped up," groaned the other. "But you're a trump, Clip. You stood by me like a Trojan."
"Thank you, massa. I'm afraid MassaBob'll find you out. How long you goin' to stay?"
"Till I get a few miles from this town. Then he may find me and welcome."
Clip felt that it would be a great relief to him when there was no further need of concealment.