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A hunt had followed in first one direction and then another. As the storm came up Dave's horse was unfortunate enough to run into a mud reach close to the river, and it proved no light task to save the steed from being drowned. With the coming of night, Barringford had proposed that they go into camp, but Dave was too worried to do this, and urged that the search be continued.
Some of Dave's boat crew, who had been making a lark of their nearly becalmed condition now began to demur over the prospect of getting back late for supper. "The steam-launch fleet might show up and give us a tow," grumbled Farley. Dave smiled and said nothing.
"Not much shooting," thought Dick as he mentally planned getting back to the boat, and hurrying across to Dave's hut to replace the piece and suffer a good scolding. "Never mind; I'll give him a pound of powder. What's that?" Splashing the rustling of reeds voices. There was no concealment here, and besides the sounds came in a contrary direction to that taken by the fleeing man.
Let the jug alone," and now Dave got it in his possession and put it on a high shelf, out of the Frenchman's reach. With a frightful imprecation in his native tongue Jacques Valette staggered to his feet. He made a clutch for Dave's right ear, but the youth eluded him. Then, in turning, he went sprawling over the puncheon bench, and his head struck the floor, while his feet stuck up in the air.
The grounds committee of another country club offered two hundred and fifty for that same canoe a month later. "Now, fellows," Dick went on, "suppose we leave here and decide how we're to lay out this money for our summer camp?" The vote was carried instantly. With a whoop of glee the chums started for Dave's house. "Now, get to work!" shouted Dick Prescott. "Destruction to all shirkers!"
The sheriff of the county was approached and inflamed by some of these politicians, with the result that the sheriff hastened to the field camp, where he publicly dismissed Dave Fulsbee from his force of deputies. The sheriff solemnly closed his fiery speech by demanding Dave's official badge. "That's funny, but don't mind, Dave," laughed Tom, as he witnessed the handing over of the badge.
"I don't think it would do me any good, sir," replied Dave, laughing. "Which side do you belong on?" demanded the officer, rather impatiently. "I belong on Dave's side, sir." "Which is Dave's side?" "The side of freedom," replied the steward, with some embarrassment.
It was lunch time and Dave lost no time in going to Mr. Wadsworth, who had just come in from his jewelry works. Both of them, accompanied by Dave's father, went into the library to talk the matter over, so that Jessie and her mother might not be disturbed. "I'll see the police about this," said Mr. Wadsworth, when he had heard about Merwell.
Listen! The Indians wish to kill you. I wish to save you. If I do that, will you you " "What?" "Will you promise to go to your father and tell him I have saved you?" "Why do you want that?" "We are now enemies. I wish to be friends. He will be a friend to one who saves his son's life." "Perhaps, Bevoir." Dave's head was in a whirl. "But this, of you! I can scarcely believe it!
The old man and Loretta, young Dave's sister, laughed, and quiet smiles passed between the others. "Well, you'd better be keerful 'bout gittin' even as far as you did git wharever that was from now on." "I ain't afeered," the boy said sullenly, and he turned into the kitchen. Still sullen, he ate his supper in silence and his mother asked him no questions.
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