Quicksilver Part 81

"I shan't," whimpered Bob; "it's of no use. I shan't row no more."

_Thud_!

Bob yelled out, more in fear than in pain, for the sound was caused by Dexter swinging the boat-hook round and striking his companion a sharp rap on the side of the head.

"Go on rowing," cried Dexter, "and keep in the middle."

Bob howled softly; but, like a horse that has just received an admonition from the whip, he bent to his task, and rowed with all his might, blubbering the while.

"That's right," cried Dexter, who felt astonished at his hardihood. "We can't be far now. Pull--pull hard. There, I can see the river.

Hurray, Bob, we're nearly there!"

Bob sobbed and snuffled, and bent down over his oars, rowing as if for life or death. The boat was speeding swiftly through the muddy water, the opening with its deep fringe of reeds was there, and Dexter was making up his mind to try and direct Bob to pull right or left so as to get to the thinnest place that the boat might glide right out, when he saw something.

"No, Bob, only a little way," he had said. "Pull with all your might."

Then he stopped short and stared aghast.

Fortunately Bob was bending down, sobbing, and straining every nerve, as if he expected another blow, otherwise he would have been chilled by Dexter's look of dread, for there, just as if he had dropped from the bank and begun wading, was their enemy, who, as the boat neared, took up his position right in the middle of the creek, where the water was nearly to his chest, and, with the reeds at his back, waited to seize the boat.

Dexter stood holding the boat-hook, half-paralysed for a few moments, and then, moved by despair, he stepped over the thwart toward Bob.

"No, no," cried the latter, ducking down his head. "I will pull--I will pull."

He did pull too, with all his might, and the boat was going swiftly through the water as Dexter stepped right over the left-hand scull, nearly toppled over, but recovered himself, and stood in the bows of the boat, as they were now within twenty yards of the man, who, wet and muddy, stood up out of the creek like some water monster about to seize the occupants of the boat for a meal.

"Pull, Bob, hard!" whispered Dexter, in a low, excited voice; and Bob pulled.

The boat sped on, and the man uttered a savage yell, when, with a cry of horror, Bob ceased rowing.

But the boat had plenty of impetus, and it shot forward so swiftly that, to avoid its impact, the man drew a little on one side as he caught at the gunwale.

_Whop_!

Dexter struck at him with the light ash pole he held in his hand--struck at their enemy with all his might, and then turned and sat down in the boat, overcome with horror at what he had done, for he saw the man fall backward, and the water close over his head.

Then there was a loud hissing, rustling sound as the boat glided through the reeds, which bent to right and left, and rose again as they pa.s.sed, hiding everything which followed.

The next moment the force given to the boat was expended, and it stopped outside the reeds, but only to commence another movement, for the tide bore the bows round, and the light gig began to glide softly along.

"I've killed him," thought Dexter; and he turned cold with horror, wondering the while at his temerity and what would follow.

"Was that his head?" said Bob, in rather a piteous voice, as he sat there resting upon his oars.

"Yes," said Dexter, in a horror-stricken whisper. "I hit him right on the head."

"You've been and gone and done it now, then," whimpered Bob. "You've killed him. That's what you've done. Never did see such a chap as you!"

"I couldn't help it," said Dexter huskily.

"Yes, that's what you always says," cried Bob, in an ill-used tone. "I wish I hadn't come with yer, that I do. I say, ought we to go and pick him up? It don't matter, do it?"

"Yes, Bob; we must go back and pull him out," said Dexter, with a shudder. "Row back through the reeds. Quick, or he may be drowned!"

"He won't want any drowning after that whack you give him on the head.

I don't think I shall go back. Look! look!"

Dexter was already looking at the frantic muddy figure upon the bank, up which it had climbed after emerging from the reeds. The man was half-mad with rage and disappointment, and he ran along shaking his fists, dancing about in his fury, and shouting to the boys what he would do.

His appearance worked a miraculous effect upon the two boys. Dexter felt quite light-hearted in his relief, and Bob forgot all his sufferings and dread now that he was safely beyond their enemy's reach.

Laying the blades of the sculls flat, as the boat drifted swiftly on with the tide, he kept on splas.h.i.+ng the water, and shouting derisively--

"Yah! yah! Who cares for you? Yah! Go home and hang yourself up to dry! Yah! Who stole the boat!"

Bob's derision seemed to be like oil poured upon a fire. The man grew half-wild with rage. He yelled, spat at them, shook his fists, and danced about in his impotent fury; and the more he raged, the more delighted Bob seemed to be.

"Yah! Who stole the boat!" he kept on crying; and then added mocking taunts. "Here! hi!" he shouted, his voice travelling easily over the water, so that the man heard each word. "Here! hi! Have her now?

Fifteen s.h.i.+llings. Come on. Yah!"

"Quick, Bob, row!" cried Dexter, after several vain efforts to stop his companion's derisive cries.

"Eh?" said Bob, suddenly stopping short.

"Row, I tell you! Don't you see what he's going to do!"

The man had suddenly turned and disappeared.

"No," said Bob. "I've scared him away."

"You haven't," said Dexter, with his feeling of dread coming back.

"He's running across to the other creek to get the boat."

Bob bent to his oars directly, and sent the gig rapidly along, and more and more into the swift current. He rowed so as to incline toward the further sh.o.r.e, and soon after they pa.s.sed the mouth of the other creek.

"Get out with yer," said Bob. "He ain't coming. And just you look here, young un; you hit me offull on the head with that there boat-hook, and as soon as ever I gits you ash.o.r.e I'll make you go down on your knees and cry _chi_--_ike_; you see if I don't, and--"

"There he is, Bob," said Dexter excitedly; and looking toward the other creek, there, sure enough, was the man in his wretched little tub of a boat, which he was forcing rapidly through the water, and looking over his shoulder from time to time at the objects of his pursuit.

Bob pulled with all his might, growing pallid and muddy of complexion as the gig glided on. Matters had been bad enough before. Now the map would be ten times worse, while, to make things as bad as they could be, it soon became evident that the tide was on the turn, and that, unless they could stem it in the unequal battle of strength, they would be either swept back into their enemy's arms or else right up the river in a different direction to that which they intended to go, and, with the task before them, should they escape, of pa.s.sing their enemy's lair once again.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

THE CROWNING POINT OF THE TRIP.

"Come and lay hold o' one scull," said Bob, whose eyes seemed to be fixed as he stared at the back of their enemy. "Oh, do be quick!"

Dexter slipped into his place, took the scull, and began to row.