Motor Boat Boys Mississippi Cruise; or, The Dash for DixieArundel, Louis
General
Motor Boat Boys Mississippi Cruise; or, The Dash for Dixie
Arundel, Louis
Mississippi River -- Juvenile fiction; Motorboats -- Juvenile fiction
Both the others added their rude but well meant thanks. The delight of
that coffee would doubtless remain a pleasant memory with them for a
long time to come.
"Now we must git along," remarked the sheriff, as he picked up his
rifle. "You see, we're after a passel o' convicts that broke loose
from a camp back country a bit, where they was farmed out to a planter.
We larnd they hit foh the river, like every rascal down hyah does as
soon as he runs; and we 'spect to cornah the same with these fine dawgs
this mawnin'. So long, boyees, and thank ye again foh the feed."
Jack waited to see if the discovery he feared would come. The two men
unfastened the tied dogs, and when the animals tried to pull toward the
oak they jerked the other way.
"Cum along thisaways, yuh fool dawgs!" one of them shouted angrily, as
he again jerked savagely at the leather thong. "Down the river's the
way we'uns mean tuh travel, d'ye heah? Nothin' doin' thatways; and the
scrub's too thick. Git a move on yuh, Kaiser. We 'spect tuh raise a
hot trail 'tween hyah an' Trotter's Point."
And so they moved off, the sheriff turning ere they vanished from view
down the bank of the river, to wave his hand in farewell; to which the
boys of course made a similar reply.
Then, when the posse had faded from view, the four turned and looked at
each other.
"That's the time we were in the swim, Buster," said George, nodding, as
if more than pleased. "You see it pays to stick close to these lucky
fellows. If we'd gone on ahead now we'd have missed all this circus.
"Ain't I just glad we didn't though," declared the fat boy. "Don't
care if they did clean up the last of my nice little ham; plenty more
where that came from, so long as we've got the spuds in our jeans
pockets. My! ain't I glad they don't happen to be chasing after me,
that's all. Did you see the teeth of those hounds, fellows? I bet you
they'd make short work of a poor escaping convict, unless he took to a
tree like a squirrel, and waited to be pulled in."
"That's the way we all feel, I think," remarked Jack, as they stood
there listening to the baying of the hounds, gradually becoming less
distinct as the posse pushed further along the bank of the river.
"They weren't just hunting for Erastus, it seems; but given half a
chance and they'd have pulled him in. On the whole I'm not sorry we
did what we did."
"I say the same," declared Nick, positively.
"Count me in, by the powers," remarked Jimmie. "Sure I know what it
manes till be hungry; and I can understand in me moind how it fales
till be hunted wid such savage beasts. Yis, I'm glad we gave the poor
divile a chanct."
"Oh! well, I guess I feel that way too," observed George. "Only, you
know, my dad happens to be a lawyer, and he's always taught me to be
mighty shy about assisting a fugitive from justice, or as he calls it,
compounding a felony. But in this case we believe Erastus to be
innocent. That's right, boys, ain't it?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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