Part 81 (1/2)

”I shan't,” whimpered Bob; ”it's of no use. I shan't row no more.”

_Thud_!

Bob yelled out, more in fear than in pain, for the sound was caused by Dexter swinging the boat-hook round and striking his companion a sharp rap on the side of the head.

”Go on rowing,” cried Dexter, ”and keep in the middle.”

Bob howled softly; but, like a horse that has just received an admonition from the whip, he bent to his task, and rowed with all his might, blubbering the while.

”That's right,” cried Dexter, who felt astonished at his hardihood. ”We can't be far now. Pull--pull hard. There, I can see the river.

Hurray, Bob, we're nearly there!”

Bob sobbed and snuffled, and bent down over his oars, rowing as if for life or death. The boat was speeding swiftly through the muddy water, the opening with its deep fringe of reeds was there, and Dexter was making up his mind to try and direct Bob to pull right or left so as to get to the thinnest place that the boat might glide right out, when he saw something.

”No, Bob, only a little way,” he had said. ”Pull with all your might.”

Then he stopped short and stared aghast.

Fortunately Bob was bending down, sobbing, and straining every nerve, as if he expected another blow, otherwise he would have been chilled by Dexter's look of dread, for there, just as if he had dropped from the bank and begun wading, was their enemy, who, as the boat neared, took up his position right in the middle of the creek, where the water was nearly to his chest, and, with the reeds at his back, waited to seize the boat.

Dexter stood holding the boat-hook, half-paralysed for a few moments, and then, moved by despair, he stepped over the thwart toward Bob.

”No, no,” cried the latter, ducking down his head. ”I will pull--I will pull.”

He did pull too, with all his might, and the boat was going swiftly through the water as Dexter stepped right over the left-hand scull, nearly toppled over, but recovered himself, and stood in the bows of the boat, as they were now within twenty yards of the man, who, wet and muddy, stood up out of the creek like some water monster about to seize the occupants of the boat for a meal.

”Pull, Bob, hard!” whispered Dexter, in a low, excited voice; and Bob pulled.

The boat sped on, and the man uttered a savage yell, when, with a cry of horror, Bob ceased rowing.

But the boat had plenty of impetus, and it shot forward so swiftly that, to avoid its impact, the man drew a little on one side as he caught at the gunwale.

_Whop_!

Dexter struck at him with the light ash pole he held in his hand--struck at their enemy with all his might, and then turned and sat down in the boat, overcome with horror at what he had done, for he saw the man fall backward, and the water close over his head.

Then there was a loud hissing, rustling sound as the boat glided through the reeds, which bent to right and left, and rose again as they pa.s.sed, hiding everything which followed.

The next moment the force given to the boat was expended, and it stopped outside the reeds, but only to commence another movement, for the tide bore the bows round, and the light gig began to glide softly along.

”I've killed him,” thought Dexter; and he turned cold with horror, wondering the while at his temerity and what would follow.

”Was that his head?” said Bob, in rather a piteous voice, as he sat there resting upon his oars.

”Yes,” said Dexter, in a horror-stricken whisper. ”I hit him right on the head.”

”You've been and gone and done it now, then,” whimpered Bob. ”You've killed him. That's what you've done. Never did see such a chap as you!”

”I couldn't help it,” said Dexter huskily.

”Yes, that's what you always says,” cried Bob, in an ill-used tone. ”I wish I hadn't come with yer, that I do. I say, ought we to go and pick him up? It don't matter, do it?”