"Now this is the way it looks to me," Bill Jepson said slowly, as if talking with himself, "though, of course, I ain't countin' on interferin' with you lads in any way: What I've got to tell the commodore is of more importance than the yarn Macomber can spin for the admiral, an' Darius Thorpe seemed to think I couldn't see the old man any too soon. Now if this 'ere sneak is goin' to wait where he is till the fleet comes, what's to prevent our keepin' on as we started, an' then comin' back to pull him in? This wind will set us up the river in great shape, an' within four an' twenty hours we should be at Nottingham, unless the town has been moved from where I saw it last." I understood at once that the sailor's advice was good, and should be followed, yet it went sadly against the grain to go away from that place leaving the cur free to do us harm if the opportunity presented itself. Jerry had much the same struggle in his mind as I, but, watching his face, I soon saw that he was ready to act upon Bill Jepson's suggestion, and without waiting for him to give his thoughts words, I said: "Very well, if we're to go up the river first, there is no time to be lost. We must paddle the canoe close inshore until we get around the point, so that we may not be seen from Jenkins' house, and then we'll push her for all she's worth." We no longer remembered that we were hungry; but jumped to the task as if every moment was precious, as indeed was the case if we would make Elias Macomber a prisoner for the second time. As I had said in regard to paddling around the point, so we did, but once the canoe was so far beyond that she could not be seen from the dwelling, we hoisted the sail, and I dare venture to say that Bill Jepson might have run her rail under without hearing any word of protest from Jerry or me, so eager were we to be on the return voyage. CHAPTER IX. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. It was as if the elements favored us in the race to Nottingham and indeed I counted it a race in which were pitted against us the British fleet and Elias Macomber. The wind held strong, the day was cloudless, and the canoe, clumsy craft as I had always looked upon her, sailed like a bird. Bill Jepson insisted on holding the steering paddle, and we were well content to have him at the helm, for he held her so nearly to the course that our wake stretched out behind us straight as an arrow. Under almost any other circumstances we would have made at least a short stop at Benedict; but now it was out of the question, and we sailed by at full speed, being hailed by several of our acquaintances who urged that we come to for a moment, but we resisted all such entreaties. I knew that my mother, on being told we had refused even to so much as have speech with our friends as we passed, would understand we were on urgent business, and have no thought that I had slighted her.