Part 13 (1/2)

In a couple of hours the Isabel reached the narrow outlet of the lake.

Thus far, the south-westerly wind had enabled her to run with a free sheet; but at this point the course changed, and Dan found that he should be compelled to beat dead to windward in order to reach his destination. Then he wished he had not started; but up the creek he had been unable to determine from what direction the light breeze came, and had decided the question to the best of his ability.

Though he had no reason to reproach himself for his want of care, the situation was none the less difficult or trying on that account. But there was one compensating advantage: as he pa.s.sed through the narrow outlet of the lake, the broad surface of the Chetemache was before him.

It was forty miles long by ten miles wide, and afforded him abundant s.p.a.ce in which to work the boat. And in this open sea the wind came un.o.bstructed to his sails.

The course of the Isabel, on her first tack, lay close to the eastern sh.o.r.e of the lake. The boat moved very slowly through the water, and Lily and Cyd sat by the side of the skipper, talking in low tones of the future, with its hopes and its trials, its joys and its dangers.

Suddenly they heard a crackling sound in the cane-brake near them; then came from a greater distance the bay of bloodhounds. There was no mistaking these sounds; and for an hour they listened in almost breathless anxiety to these appalling indications of a slave-hunt.

The yelp of the dogs came nearer and nearer; but they had lost the sounds which indicated the presence of the hunted fugitive.

”Gossifus!” whispered Cyd, for he had been forbidden to speak a loud word. ”Where you 'pose de n.i.g.g.e.r dem dogs is chasin' is?”

”I don't know. I pray that he may escape,” replied Dan.

”Can't you help him?” asked Lily, whose frame shook with terror, as her fancy pictured the terrible scene which she had so often heard described.

A splash in the water a hundred yards astern of the Isabel now attracted the attention of the party.

”Can't you help him?” repeated Lily, in trembling tones.

”It will not be safe for us to show ourselves, for the human bloodhounds are not far off.”

”Do help him if you can. Save him from those terrible dogs!” pleaded Lily.

”He will swim to that island,” said Dan. ”Perhaps the dogs will not catch him.”

”Yes, they will.”

”Yes, dey will. Dey done leap in de water. Dar dey go!” added Cyd, as they listened to the splashes as the brutes sprang into the lake.

”Save him! Save him, Dan!” cried Lily.

”It may cost us our lives and our liberty,” replied Dan.

”No matter. Let us die if we can save the poor man from the fangs of the bloodhounds.”

”I will, Lily,” replied Dan, as he put the Isabel about, and headed towards the small island, about half a mile from the sh.o.r.e. ”Take the helm, Cyd,” continued he, as he left his post at the tiller, and rushed into the cabin.

He returned in a moment with two fowling-pieces in his hands, and proceeded to load them. By this time the panting fugitive was distinctly seen, closely pursued by the dogs.

CHAPTER XII.

QUIN, THE RUNAWAY.

Dan had loaded the fowling-pieces with buckshot. Though not a good marksman, he had some experience in the use of arms, and felt fully competent to cut off the bloodhounds before they could pounce upon their human prey. Leaving Cyd at the helm, he went forward and stationed himself at the heel of the bowsprit.

The dogs were better swimmers than the fugitive, and were rapidly gaining upon him, for the poor creature's limbs seemed to be partially paralyzed by the appalling danger that menaced him. The Isabel was approaching the scene of this exciting race with a rapidity which promised soon to terminate the affair.