But as the boy rose from his place under the tarpaulin and looked astern, he wondered if perhaps his jest had been ill-timed. At the hitching-rail in front of the water-front saloon he could see three men mounting their horses. They turned, in a swirl of dust, as he watched, and spurred away up the town’s main street toward the bluff. And wherever they were going, they evidently meant business. CHAPTER XVI Tad kept his misgivings to himself as the flatboat voyaged southward. Both of his companions were so genuinely happy over his safe return that nothing else really seemed to matter. They fed him and pampered him, dried and mended his clothes, and treated him in general like a long-lost brother. Tad responded with a full heart. He ate the feast of corn-bread, bacon, and coffee that Allen prepared, and had no need to feign an appetite. And to the delighted ears of his companions he unfolded, bit by bit, as his strength returned, the tale of his capture and escape. When he described how he first happened to run afoul of the outlaws he saw Allen redden uneasily, and the baleful glance that Abe turned on the son of his employer told Tad how deeply the matter must have been discussed. He went on to tell of the ride, of the lonely house in the woods, and of the great black deaf-mute who was Murrell’s servant. “I’ve heard o’ him,” put in Allen, his eyes wide with excitement. “Some ark hand from up the Yazoo said he’d done caught a sight of him once. Most o’ the keel-boat men, though, say they’re sartin he ain’t no nigger at all, but some sort of a gorilla.” Tad did not laugh. The horror of those silent visits that Congo had paid him was still too fresh in his memory. “No,” he answered. “He’s a man, all right. But, gosh! I believe I’d _rather_ have a gorilla after me than that big black devil. Ugh!” And he shivered a little in spite of the noonday heat. He told them of the arrival of the strangers at the house, and how he had heard their talk of the doings in Natchez. “That’s what I was afeared of,” said Abe, with a nod. “Every move I made in the town, I had a feelin’ there were spies a-watchin’. I was sure that if we did git a posse together, they’d have wind of it long ’fore we got thar. An’ added to that, all the head folks in Natchez were either scairt o’ Murrell or else in cahoots with him. I didn’t rightly know whar to turn next.” The tall lad’s voice grew gruff, and he shook his head as he looked at Tad. “That shorely was a mean two days,” he said. “All over now, though,” replied the boy, with an understanding grin. And he went on with the recounting of his adventures.