Cuffy conducted the wanderers nearly to the Harrison road, and then took a path towards the river, arriving in a few minutes at the head of the descent to the flat below. "Not too far, Cuffy; fall back a little, where the men cannot see you," said Deck in a low tone. "But I's gwine to shoot 'em if dey touch my boat," said the owner, his determination indicated in his tones. "Don't do it, and don't let them see you," added Deck in a low tone, but with energy enough to impress the negro. "Dey gwine to steal my boat!" groaned Cuffy; and his agony seemed to be intense. "Den whar I git any money for de missions?" "Never mind your boat, man. I saw it down below; it is not worth much, and I wouldn't give two dollars for it," said Deck somewhat impatiently. "I takes folks ober de riber in it, and some days I makes twenty cents wid it. Can't affode to lose it, Mars'r," protested Cuffy. "If you lose it, I will give you another." "Dat so? Whar's yo' boat?" "It is down below there, and you will not have to wait a single hour for it." "Whar you git dat boat, Mars'r?" "No matter about that now; I will tell you when we have more time," replied Deck, as he rode his horse to a tree, followed by both of his companions, and secured him to the sapling, as did the others. Returning to the bank, they lay down upon the ground, where they could see the four troopers without being seen. They had found the negro's flatboat, and carried it to the stream. This was done, perhaps, half a mile above where the wanderers had landed, and the current was not so violent as it was where the water concentrated all its force against the lofty bluff. The Southrons put the boat into the water after they had tipped it over, and emptied out the leakage or the rain which it contained. Then they seated themselves equidistant fore and aft in the rickety craft, and pushed off. "I knowed dey was gwine to steal my boat," groaned Cuffy again, as the skiff receded from the shore. "Don't say that again!" said Deck, disgusted with the ferryman. "If you do, I won't give you any boat for the one you lose!" "I lub dat boat, Mars'r. Berry ole friend ob mine," pleaded Cuffy. "Say no more about it; perhaps you will get it again, for those men only wish to get across the river," added Deck in a milder tone. "You would not take them over, and they intend to ferry themselves across." "I can't ferry dem ober in de night, when de riber is ragin' like a roarin' lion seekin' wem he mout devour. No, sar; ef Mars'r looks long enough, he's see dem men all devoured like as ef de ragin' lion had 'em in his gills," said Cuffy very impressively, as though he was within hail of a funeral. "Don't b'lebe dey done been converted."