Little By Little Part 3

"What will you do now?" asked Thomas, whose courage was sorely tried by the perilous situation of the boat.

"Get the water out, and we will see what can be done," answered Paul, who, though he had already decided this important question, would not permit his pa.s.senger to enter into his counsels, preferring to tantalize him by his mysterious manner.

"Let us get ash.o.r.e, Paul, as soon as possible."

"Going to back out?"

"No; what's the use of talking in that way, about backing out, when you can't carry sail?" replied Thomas, whose pride was still unconquered, though his courage was rapidly failing him.

"I shall rig a new sprit; there's the boat-hook, which will make a very good one; it is just the right length."

"I'll give up then, and back out," said Thomas, despairing of any relief from the misfortunes that had befallen the boat.

"Don't back out on my account; I will put you ash.o.r.e at the Point, if you say the word," replied Paul, satisfied now that he had kept his promise and given his friend enough of it.

"Run for the sh.o.r.e, Paul."

"Just as you say;" and the boatman, proud of the triumph he had won over his boastful companion, turned the boat's head towards the sh.o.r.e.

The corner of the sail hung down for the want of a sprit to support it, but as they had the wind free, there was canvas enough to drive her rapidly towards the sh.o.r.e. While they were still half a mile from the cove, Thomas called Paul's attention to a horse and chaise on the beach, from which a man was making violent gestures for them to come ash.o.r.e.

CHAPTER III.

PAUL HEARS BAD NEWS.

"Who is it, Tom?" asked Paul, very anxiously.

"I don't know; can't make him out."

"What can he want with us?"

"Perhaps your mother has sent him after her runaway boy; but whoever he is, I will tell him you are a fellow of the right s.p.u.n.k."

"Who can it be?"

"What matter who it is? Your mother won't whip you--will she?"

"No, of course not. My mother don't whip me."

"I thought she did, you seem so much afraid of her."

"I am not afraid of her."

"If you are, there is nothing else that can frighten you."

"I mind my mother because she is my mother; because I like to do so, and not because I am afraid of her. You had better not say much more about being afraid, Tom."

"Do you mean to say I was afraid?" said Thomas, smartly.

"If you wasn't afraid, you was confoundedly scared," replied Paul, whose paradox was fully appreciated by his companion.

"Look here, Paul; are you going to tell the fellows that I was scared?"

demanded Thomas, rather in a beseeching than an intimidating tone.

"That will depend on circ.u.mstances."

"What circ.u.mstances?"

"You may as well understand me first as last. You keep talking about my being afraid of my mother, and all that sort of stuff. I'm not afraid of her, and I don't like to be told that I am."

"I won't say it again, then."

"Fellows that live in gla.s.s houses mustn't throw stones."

"Do you really think I was frightened, Paul?"

"I really think you was. Didn't you back out?"

"Not till the sail broke down."

"I offered to fix that."

"It's no use to risk a fellow's life for nothing."

"That's the point exactly. Don't you say a word about my mother, and you may talk as big as you please about this sc.r.a.pe."

"I'm not going to talk big about it. I shall give you all the credit you deserve."

"Of course you will. The fellow that holds the bag can let the cat out when he chooses. I don't like to have my mother spoken of as you speak of your mother. She's my mother, and she has always been a good mother to me, and I would do anything in the world for her. There's only one thing about this sc.r.a.pe that I'm sorry for; and that is, that I didn't mind her. It makes me feel bad."

"She won't say much to you; she will be so glad to have you safely home, that she won't feel like jawing you," answered Thomas, in what he intended for words of consolation, but which were really heartless and offensive to the penitent.

"My mother don't jaw; it will make her feel bad that I didn't mind her; and that is ten times worse than a scolding or a whipping.--That man keeps shaking his hat to us. Who do you think it is?"

"It looks like Captain Littleton."

"What can he want of me?" said Paul, anxiously.

"If it is Captain Littleton, it is more like he wants me."

In a few moments more the boat darted into the cove, and the boys recognized Captain Littleton in the gentleman who had been beckoning to them.

"Come ash.o.r.e, Paul, as quick as you can!" shouted he, as he jumped into his chaise, and drove nearer to the point where the boat was to land.