CHAPTER XXVII

MOLLIE IN COMMAND

"And the waters covered their enemies; there was not one of them left."--Ps. cvi, 11

As the second man sprang overboard from the launch on which the children had taken refuge Mollie came from her hiding place. She was back again, at last, in her proper sphere in life. The faint recollections of her early childhood when she had made a "play-house" in her father's discarded boat came suddenly before her with startling vividness. The intervening years seemed more like a bad dream--a night-mare.

She did not realize that she had grown considerably in the interval, that the little, fragile creature of the long ago was now almost a young woman, that she had missed much of her childhood by having responsibilities heaped upon her and by the farm work she had done. She only knew that she was free at last to play again, to have a good time, to laugh and make the children laugh and to actually sail in a boat instead of make believe.

She called the children to come out from where they had been concealed and rushed, herself, to grasp that crazily acting wheel. She had watched the man just long enough to have an idea it was an easy task and one which she would much enjoy performing. But it was not so easy as it looked. My, but she had to hold on, with all her might. Well, her arms were strong. She was equal to the tugging. But which way ought it to go?

She gave it a whirl to the left. The boat veered so suddenly that the assembled children, watching her movements with curious, excited eyes, went tumbling like nine-pins to the deck. They scrambled up laughing. Mollie whirled the big wheel to the right. Again the children went down. This time two of them received bumps.

"Cain't yo' make hit stand still?" asked one of the older boys. "Lemme help."

Mollie declined assistance.

"Hit's all right," she assured them. "Thet's th' way boats act up. You-uns set down in a row an' watch me. We'll git some place ef thet boat'll only git outten th' way. Whut's thet man holler'n 'bout, Willie?"

"He's flingin' sumpin' over ter them fellers whut jumped off'n this boat. An' now--look but, Mollie! He's shootin' at 'em."

As he spoke, two shots rang out in rapid succession. The black mustached man who was swimming toward shore was seen to throw up his firms and go down under water. The other man was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly he came up some distance ahead, looked about wildly, flung his arms above his head and shrieked for aid. Then he, too, disappeared.

"I reckon he hed a cramp," said Willie.

But the man with the revolver who stood in the front of the other boat was now leveling it at Mollie. He shouted to her to stop the boat.

Mollie's cheeks were crimson from her exertions. Her eyes were dancing with their old-time roguishness. Her voice sounded across the water as clear and resonant as a bell when she called her reply:

"I cain't stop hit. I dunno whut ter do with hit. This dum wheel keeps right on a-goin'."

"How'd you get on that boat? Who is with you?" the man called, as his own boat was being maneuvered to get along side of Mollie's erratic craft.

"Hide, chil'un, hide," whispered Mollie, now suddenly fearful that this troublesome person might turn her and the children back to the ogre from whom they had just escaped. There was a patter of little bare-feet, a momentary flurry, then all was deserted. That little bevy of sea-going sparrows was experienced in darting to cover.

When the captain of the police boat and his assistants managed to get aboard Mollie's careening vessel she confronted them bravely.

"Nobody brung me hyar," she told them. "I brung m'self. I wanted ter ride in a boat. I war on hit when them two men come a-runnin' in an' set hit a-goin'. No sir. I dunno who they war. I never seed 'em afore. Leastways I doan think I did, but I mought ha' seed thet thar feller with the mustache--"

Mollie paused abruptly, with her mouth open. Enlightenment came suddenly upon her. "Shore, I hev," she exclaimed, her eyes dilated with excitement and her slight frame almost trembling at the recollection. "Hit war thet man th' lady give me to when my Daddy tol' me ter go with her. But she didn't let me stay with her. She tol' me to go with him. An' he giv' me ter Pete."

The river police captain and his companions looked at Mollie and then at each other. They were completely mystified.

"Crazy in the head, ain't she?" said one.

Mollie flared up. This was an insult. "I hain't no crazier then what yo' be," she retorted. "Ef yo' doan know whut I'm a-talkin' erbout yo'-all kin jist go ast Splutters. He's up yan, some'ers I reckon, with thet man what fotched away one o' Pete's hawgs."

This time there was a flicker of intelligence in the river captain's eyes. "D'y suppose she means that fellow Pete Grimes?" he said. "That's the one the Chief's got his eye on in connection with the Wayne kidnapping."

Mollie caught the words. It was out, now. In her excitement she had been foolish enough to mention Grimes. They would know, now, that she had run away and would, without doubt, send her and the children back again. But that must never be. She would tell them about Pete and how he treated the children. They looked like kind men. They'd certainly believe her.

"Shore, hit's Pete Grimes," she explained.

The police sought to question her further but the sudden recollection that she did not know who these men were nor whether they were friends of Pete's or not, caused her to shut her lips tight together and refuse to say another word.

"Well, I reckon we'd best get her down to the Chief as soon as possible," said the captain. He was staring directly at the swaying curtains under a berth. Surely that was a child's hand that he saw, palm downward on the floor. "What's that?" he exclaimed, turning to the man beside him. He, too, looked.

Then, without another word, he strode over and pulled the curtain aside. Jimmie was flat on his stomach, small hands extended, palm downward, while he elevated his head sufficiently to peer through the curtains at the men who were talking with Mollie. And Jimmie there was instantly dragged forth from a variety of hiding places Leathy and Leon, Johnnie, Willie and all the rest of the "sparrows."

But the child upon whom all eyes were focused and which sent the captain into a great state of excitement was the beautiful, well-dressed, curly-haired, laughing baby which Mollie now grasped and held tightly in her arms.

"Whose is that?" they asked her.

"Mine," she declared with such vehemence that they all laughed.

"And whose are all these?" the captain asked, indicating the ragged group assembled for police inspection.

"Mine," snapped Mollie, again. No tigress fighting for her young could have exceeded Mollie's fervor, though she might have manifested it in a less gentle manner.

Again the policemen laughed.

"Now listen, little girl," said the captain, addressing Mollie in a tone that compelled her undivided attention. "There's something not right about all this and it has got to be straightened out. You needn't talk to me if you don't want to, but I'm going to tow this boat, with you and all these children, right down to town. Then we'll go up to see the Chief and you can talk to him."

And even then poor Mollie had no idea who he was nor who a chief was. She had never seen nor heard of a policeman before she was brought to the Grimes farm and certainly she had never seen nor heard of one since. To her and to all the half-starved little ones with her, they were merely men with shiny buttons on their coats. But somehow, Mollie liked them, despite their big voices and stern eyes. They were so good to the children. And during the cruise down the river to the town they allowed the children to look over the rail at everything along the bank. But not once did one of the children speak. Mollie had signalled them to be silent.

That the hot, sultry day developed suddenly into a one of storm, that lightning flashed and thunder roared seemed only to increase the pleasurable excitement of the young mariners. They were accustomed to rain. They had worked many a day in the rain. They were not afraid of thunder and lightning when they were outside the barn loft. Only once did there seem to be anything unusual about this storm which crashed over their heads on that memorable day. That was when one excessively vivid flash of lightning swept across the sky and seemed to dart downward back toward the point at which they had entered the boat. With it came a thunder clap more violent, more furious than anything they had ever heard.

"Golly!" exclaimed Johnnie, "Thet war a whopper. I reckon ef thet hit somebody, he war a gonner."

"He shore war," echoed Willie.

A great wave of pity suddenly swept over Mollie. She shivered as if cold. "I feel es ef sumpin' had happened," she said to herself. "Thet seemed 'most es ef God hed spoke. I reckon Pete's dead."