Four boys at the oars and one to steer made a fair crew for so small a boat. She was swift, too, and so was the tide that swept her onward, but her pursuers knew, now, that she was gone and steam was already up on the tug. Only a minute or so more was wasted by them in waiting for the engineer, and another minute in casting loose, but every second of those minutes was made the most of by the runaways. “There goes her whistle!” exclaimed one of the rowers. “She’s after us----” “She can go faster than we can.” “We’ve a good start.” “No talking, boys,” said Jim. “Our chance is good, yet,--Hullo!” Not far ahead of him, as he sat in the stern of the boat, he could see the lights on a great Sound steamer, as she came puffing along against the tide, but it struck him that she had made her appearance, suddenly, as if she had been hidden. “Hurrah!” he shouted. “That saves us!” “What is it, Jim?” “Anything happened to the tug?” “What’s coming?” “Coming?” said Jim. “Why, we are pulling right into the thickest fog you ever saw. It’ll cover us up so they can’t follow us. It isn’t the tug I’m afraid of, now.” “What then, Jim?” “It’s the telegraph!” said Jim. “Our getting out’ll be known at every police station in the city, inside of five minutes. We must get ashore as quick as we can.” “It’s an awful swift tide,” said Joe. “Why don’t you run right ashore?” “You can’t tell where you’re going, in this fog,” said Jim, anxiously, for it seemed to him that they had gone more than far enough to have crossed the East River at that narrow place, even in a slanting direction. So they had, and all the while they had heard the steam whistles of all sorts of steamers answering each other through the fog. On, on, they went, the four rowers pulling desperately, until Jim asked, hoarsely, as he looked at something just beyond them: “Boys!--What’s this?--I don’t know much about New York----” He was from the country, but three of them were city boys and it was one of these who now responded: “Hush, Jim! If you haven’t steered right into the Harlem River! That’s the Third Avenue swing-bridge. Go right under it. ’Twasn’t far to come, either.” Right over their heads, now, for a moment, was the vast shadow of the bridge, and then, as they shot swiftly out beyond it, Joe whispered: “North shore, Jim. We can get right in among the lumber yards. Best kind of hiding place.--We’re safe!” It was but a minute, after that, before all five of them were standing on a wharf, looking back at the lifeboat, as she disappeared in the fog, for Jim had shoved her off and the tide had caught her. “I don’t care where it carries her,” he said. “When they find her, she can’t tell them where she left us.” X A NEW HOUSE OF REFUGE