Part 65 (1/2)

It was in very tightly, though, for the point being wedge-shaped the swaying about and jerking to and fro of the boat had driven it further and further in, so that it was not until he had been ready over and over again to give up in despair that the boy got the iron free.

Then panting with dread and excitement he found the rest easy; the chain was pa.s.sed through a ring-bolt in one of the posts at the head of the boat-house, and through this he drew it back slowly and cautiously on account of the rattling it made.

It seemed of interminable length as he drew and drew, piling up the chain in the bows of the boat till he thought he must have obtained all, when there was a sudden check, and it would come no further.

Simple enough in broad daylight, and to a person in the boat, but Dexter was standing waist deep in the water, and once more he felt that the case was hopeless.

Another call from Bob roused him, and he followed the chain with his hand till he had waded to the post, and found that the hook had merely caught in the ring, and only needed lifting out, and the boat was at liberty.

But just at this moment there was a furious barking, and a dog seemed to be tearing down the garden toward the boat-house.

In an agony of horror Dexter climbed into the boat, and feeling the side of the long shed he thrust and thrust with so much effect that he sent the light gig well out into the stream and half-across the river. Then seizing an oar, as the dog was now down on the bank, snapping and barking more furiously than ever, he got it over into the water, and after a great deal of paddling, and confused counter-action of his efforts, forced the boat onward and along, till it touched the sh.o.r.e where Bob was waiting with the box.

”No, no, don't come out,” he whispered. ”Here, help me get these in.”

Dexter crept to the stern of the boat, and in his effort to embark the box nearly fell overboard, but the treasure was safe. Then Bob handed in a basket, and a bundle of sticks, evidently his rod, and leaping in directly after, gave the boat sufficient impetus to send it well out into the stream, down which it began to glide.

”Ah, bark away, old un,” said Bob contemptuously, as the sound of the dog's alarm notes grew more distant, and then more distant still, for they were going round a curve, and the garden side of the river was thick with trees.

”Is that Danby's dog!” whispered Bob.

”I don't know,” said Dexter, with his teeth chattering from cold and excitement.

”Why! you're a-cold,” said Bob coolly. ”Here, I'll send her along. You look sharp and dress. I say, where's your bundle of things?”

”Do you mean my clothes?”

”No! Your bundle.”

”I didn't bring anything,” said Dexter, hurriedly slipping on his s.h.i.+rt.

”Well, you are a chap!” said Bob sourly, but Dexter hardly heard him, for he was trying to get his wet body covered from the chill night air; and he could think of nothing but the fact that he had taken a very desperate step, and the boat was bearing them rapidly away from what seemed now to have been a very happy home--further out, further away from the doctor and from Helen, downward toward the sea, and over that there was a great black cloud, beyond which, according to Bob Dimsted, there were bright and glorious lands.

At that moment, chill with the cold and damp, Dexter would have given anything to have been back in his old room, but it was too late, the boat was gliding on, and Bob had now got out the sculls. The town lights were receding, and they were going onward toward that dark cloud which Dexter seemed to see more dimly now, for there was a dumb depressing sensation of despair upon him, and he turned his eyes toward the river-bank, asking himself if he could leap ash.o.r.e.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

TIMES OF DELIGHT!

”Here we are!” said Bob Dimsted, as he sat handling the sculls very fairly, and, as the stream was with them, sending the boat easily along.

”I think we managed that first-rate.”

Dexter made no reply, for he had his teeth fast set, and his lips pressed together to keep the former from chattering, but he thought a great deal, and found himself wondering what Bob had done toward getting the boat.

With the covering up of his goose-skinned body, and the return of some of his surface heat, the terrible fit of despondency began to pa.s.s away, and Dexter felt less ready to sit down in helpless misery at the bottom of the boat.

”Getting nice and warm, ain'tcher?”

”Not very, yet.”