Airship Andy Or The Luck of a Brave Boy Part 4

Andy reached and pa.s.sed the bridge about a mile below Princeville. There was no other bridge for ten miles, and if he had to foot it on his journey to the city, he would be out of the way of traversed roads. He walked on for about half a mile and was selecting a sheltered spot to rest in, directly on the stream, when, a few yards distant, he noticed a light scow near sh.o.r.e.

Andy proceeded towards this. It resembled many craft of its cla.s.s used by farmers to carry grain and livestock to market. Andy noticed that it was unloaded and poles stowed amids.h.i.+ps. He stepped aboard. No one was in charge of it.

"I might find some of the abandoned old skiffs or rafts the boys play with, if I search pretty hard," soliloquized Andy, stepping ash.o.r.e again.

"Hey!"

Andy was startled. Tracing the source of the short, quick hail, he discovered a man seated on a boulder near a big hazel bush. Andy was startled a little, and slowly approached his challenger.

The man who had spoken to him sat like a statue. He was a pale-faced individual, with very large bright eyes, and his face was covered with a heavy black beard. A cape that almost covered him hung from his shoulders, completely hiding his hands. He looked Andy over keenly.

"Did you call me, mister?" inquired Andy.

"Yes, I did," responded the man. "I was wondering what you were doing, lurking around here at this unearthly hour of the night."

Andy mentally decided that it was quite as much a puzzle to him what the stranger was doing, sitting m.u.f.fled up at two o'clock in the morning in this lonely place.

"I was looking for a boat to take me down stream," explained Andy.

"Are you willing to work for a lift?" inquired the man.

"I should say so," replied Andy emphatically.

"Do you know how to manage a craft like this one here?"

"Oh, that's no trick at all," said Andy. "The river is clear, and there's nothing to run into, and all you have to do is to pole along in midstream."

"Where do you want to get to?"

"The city."

"I'm not going that far. I'll tell you what I'll do, though," said the stranger-"you pole me down to Swan Cove--"

"That's about fifteen miles."

"Yes. You take me that far, and I'll make it worth your while."

"It's a bargain, and I'm delighted!" exclaimed Andy with spirit.

"All right," said the man; "get to work."

He never got up from his seat while Andy cast free the sh.o.r.e hawser.

When everything was ready he stepped aboard rather clumsily. Andy thought it very strange that the man never offered to help him the least bit. His pa.s.senger seated himself in the stern of the barge, the cloak still closely enveloping his form, his hands never coming into sight.

It was welcome work for Andy, propelling the boat. It took his mind off his troubles, and every push of the pole and the current took him away from the people who had injured his good reputation and were bent on robbing him of his liberty.

The grim, silent man at the stern of the craft was a puzzle to Andy. He never spoke nor stirred. Our hero wondered why he kept so closely covered up and in what line of transportation he used the barge.

They had proceeded about two miles with smooth sailing when there was a sudden b.u.mp. The boat had struck a snag.

"Gracious!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Andy, sent sprawling flat on the deck.

The contact had lifted the stranger from his seat. He was knocked to one side. Andy, scrambling to his feet, was tremendously startled as his glance swept his pa.s.senger.

The man struggled to his feet with clumsiness. He was hasty, almost suspicious in his movements. The cloak had flown wide open, and now he was swaying his arms around in a strange way, trying to cover them up.

"Why!" said the youth to himself, with a sharp gasp, "the man is handcuffed!"

CHAPTER V-TRAMPING IT

"Gracious!" said Andy, and made a jump clear into the water.

The pole had swung out of his hands when the barge struck the snag. He got wet through recovering it, but that did not matter much, for he had little clothing on.

By the time he had got back on deck his mysterious pa.s.senger had resumed his old position. The cloak again completely enveloped the upper portion of his body and his hands were out of sight. Andy acted as though his momentary glance had not taken in the sight of the handcuffs.

"Sorry, mister, we struck that snag, but the moon's going down and a fog coming up, and I couldn't help it."

"Don't mind that," was all that the man at the stern vouchsafed in reply.

The moon had gone down as Andy had said, but enough of its radiance had fallen on the squirming figure of the stranger a few minutes previous to show the cold, bright glint of the pair of manacles. Andy was sure that the man's wrists were tightly handcuffed. A sort of a chill shudder ran over him as he thought of it.

"An escaped convict?" Andy asked himself. "Maybe. That's bad. I don't want to be caught in such company, the fix I'm in."

The thought made the pa.s.senger suddenly repellant to Andy. He had an idea of running close to the sh.o.r.e and making off.

"No, I won't do it," he decided, after a moment's reflection, "I'm only guessing about all this. He's not got a bad face. It's rather a wild and worried one. I'm a runaway myself, and I've got a good reason for being so. Maybe this man has, too."

Andy applied himself to his work with renewed vigor. It must have been about five o'clock in the morning when the stranger directed him to navigate up a feeder to the stream, which, a few rods beyond, ran into a swamp pond, which Andy knew to be Swan Cove.

A few pushes of the pole drove the craft up on a muddy slant. It was getting light in the east now. Andy came up to the man with the question:

"Is this where you land, mister?"

"Yes," nodded his pa.s.senger. "Come here."

Andy drew closer to the speaker.

"I told you I'd make it worth your while to pole me down the river," he said.

"Oh, that's all right."

"I haven't got any money, but I want to pay you as I promised you. Take that."

"What, mister?" and then Andy learned what the man meant. The latter hunched one shoulder towards the timber on which he sat, and there lay a small open-faced silver watch.