“That’ll be about it,” quietly replied Adam, hoping from the bottom of his heart that nothing worse than this had happened. About four o’clock, as they rounded a bend in the river, Phil, who was standing by the mast, gave a shout. “A sail ahead!” he cried. And, sure enough, about a mile ahead a boat was plainly to be seen. “That’s her!” cried Adam. “Now, boys, load up that gun with buckshot, six in each barrel, and we’ll keep after her as long as she’s above water.” “The Rolling Stone is a great deal faster than this old thing,” said Phœnix, “and I’m afraid we’ll never catch up with her.” “We’ve gained on her now,” said Adam, “for she must have been a good deal ahead of us when we started. There isn’t much wind up here, with these high trees on each side, and that boat needs a good breeze to make her do her best. If the wind goes down altogether toward sunset, and we have to pole, I’d rather have this boat than that.” Adam now gave his utmost attention to making the best of the breeze, and as he was a better sailor than the men in The Rolling Stone, and as the Maggie could make a fair headway with less wind than the larger boat, she gradually gained upon the latter. “Look here,” said Phil, who, while Phœnix was still bailing away, had been gazing earnestly ahead, “there are only two men on board that boat, and I’m certain that neither of them is Chap.” Phœnix started as he heard these words, and involuntarily looked up at Adam. The sailor said not a word, but his face seemed to have grown hard and dark, and his hand fastened itself upon the tiller with a nervous grip, as if he wished to animate the vessel with his own fierce anxiety to hasten on. The young men in the other boat evidently knew that they were pursued, and were doing all that they could to get away. If there had been a fair wind, The Rolling Stone would have left the other boat far behind; but it soon happened that the Maggie had greatly the advantage. A portion of the river was now reached where, although the stream was very wide, the water was not over five feet deep, and the bottom, which seemed to be made up entirely of oyster-beds, could plainly be seen. One of the men on The Rolling Stone was already using a pole to assist the progress of the boat; but when Adam called Phil to the tiller and seized the pole which lay on the deck of the Maggie, it soon became evident that a small boat was much better than a larger one, when each was pushed through the water by means of a pole. Adam was a strong man and accustomed to hard work, and his vigorous efforts made the Maggie glide so fast through the water that she rapidly gained upon the foremost boat. As the two were about a dozen yards apart Adam told Phœnix to stand ready to lay hold of the other boat when they should touch. Phil held the gun, but Adam cautioned him not to be too quick in using it.