CHAPTER IX

PURSUIT

The shanty-boat, the sagging wharf, and the waving men grew small in the distance. The forest closed in once more. At last the clearing passed from sight as the launch, chugging determinedly, rounded a shadowed bend in the river. Pud and Tim sighed with relief. Harmon, as solemn as an owl, perched on the stern and stared curiously at Gladys Ermintrude. The girl, preparatory to her flight, had somehow struggled into a very tight sweater of a deep orange shade which, beyond the shadow of a doubt, harmonized sadly with her tanned face and copper-hued hair. She had brought with her an ancient satchel encompassed, at one end, by a rusty-black strap and at the other a piece of clothes-line. It was the satchel that again aroused Pud’s sleeping suspicions.

‘Say, if you were kidnaped,’ he asked, ‘how’d you happen to bring all your clothes along with you?’

‘Sakes alive!’ exclaimed Gladys Ermintrude. ‘Why, those aren’t _all_ my clothes! Why, I’ve just got a few simple things in the bag, hardly a change of attire.’

‘Just the same,’ persisted Pud, ‘if you were kidnaped――’

‘Gosh,’ expostulated Tim, who, being somewhat susceptible to feminine charm, chivalrously disapproved of Pud’s incredulous attitude, ‘why wouldn’t she take some duds with her?’

‘Well, because as a usual thing kidnaped folks don’t have time to pack bags. When you kidnap a person, you just grab him quick and throw him into a――an automobile and beat it!’

‘You don’t understand,’ said Gladys Ermintrude in a somewhat superior manner that increased Pud’s growing dislike. ‘You see, they came for me when I was all alone in the house, and after they had bound me up and thrown me helpless on――on the floor――’

‘Gosh!’ muttered Tim.

Harmon chortled, whether from horror or delight it would have been difficult to say.

‘They got the bag and made me tell them what to put in it,’ continued Gladys Ermintrude. ‘But, sakes alive, I simply couldn’t think of half the things I really needed, and I came away without my negligee and――oh, several other things. I really don’t see how I managed to get along as well as I did!’

‘Well, then,’ said Pud, ‘what did they do it for?’

The girl’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why, for the reward, of course!’

‘Sure,’ assented Tim. ‘Folks always offer rewards, Pud.’

Pud looked unconvinced. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he said, eyeing Gladys Ermintrude with no enthusiasm. Then: ‘Who were those men?’ he asked.

‘They were’――the girl’s gaze wavered momentarily――‘they were a Mr. Liscomb and――’

‘But that’s your name!’ exclaimed Tim.

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He’s my uncle. The tallest one, I mean.’

‘Oh, shucks!’ said Pud. ‘You can’t be kidnaped by your own uncle! Gee, I knew there was something queer about it!’

‘You can, too,’ responded the girl indignantly. ‘I guess an uncle can be just as――just as villainous as any one. You don’t know my uncle Asa!’

‘Who’s the other one?’ asked Pud.

‘Uncle Asa’s brother. His name’s William.’

‘Well, he’s your uncle, too, isn’t he?’ demanded Pud impatiently.

‘No, he’s not.’

‘Well, but, gee, he’s got to be! If he’s your uncle’s brother, he’s your uncle, too. Isn’t he, Tim?’

‘Well,’ began Tim hesitantly. But at that moment Harmon broke in with the warning announcement that there was a boat coming down the river, and the matter of relationship was dropped. Pud viewed the still distant craft and decided on discretion.

‘They might see you and tell your _uncles_,’ he said to the girl, emphasizing the last word triumphantly. ‘You sit down here and I’ll throw the end of the tent over you till they get by.’

‘It isn’t “they,” it’s “him,”’ answered Gladys Ermintrude. ‘It’s Pete Minger, and he’s going after them.’

‘After those――after your uncles?’

She nodded cheerfully. ‘They’re going farther down the river. Pete’s going to tow them. He’s sort of late and――’

‘He’s coming like the dickens,’ exclaimed Tim admiringly. ‘Gosh, that boat goes, don’t it?’

Pud hastily pushed the seemingly unwilling girl to a position beside the tent and drew a corner of a flap over her. ‘You keep still,’ he warned her. There was a smothered response that sounded rebellious. ‘You scrooch down, too, Harmon. We don’t want any trouble, I guess. You sort of turn your back, Tim.’

The oncoming launch bore down fast. In the stern lolled a disreputable-looking individual in a torn khaki shirt, hatless, smoking a pipe. He waved carelessly as he passed, but Pud saw that he was plainly interested in the _Vengance_. Even after he had passed, he kept his gaze upstream for several minutes.

‘All right,’ said Pud finally, throwing off the tent flap. ‘You can get up now.’

Gladys Ermintrude arose with a very red countenance and sneezed several times. ‘I don’t see,’ she announced vindictively, ‘what you had to do that for. I guess my――those awful men saw the name on this boat, and I guess Pete Minger saw it, too. So what sense was there in putting me under that horrid, smelly old tent, I just wish you’d please tell me?’

‘Gosh, that’s so,’ agreed Tim. Pud, feeling rather foolish, merely looked haughty and made no answer. Tim went on, a tone of uneasiness in his voice, ‘Look here, Pud, suppose those men――those uncles, you know――I mean those one uncle and――’

‘Oh, get on with it,’ interrupted Pud.

‘Well, suppose they get this fellow, Pete Something, to take them in his launch and come after us?’

‘Suppose they do?’

‘Well, my goodness, it’s a heap faster than this boat! They’d catch us in no time! And, gosh, Pud, if they did catch us, I guess they’d be pretty mad and I don’t know what would happen!’

‘No more do I,’ said Pud gloomily. ‘But it was your idea, this rescue business. _I_ didn’t want to do it. _I_ didn’t――’

‘I do believe that’s just what they’ll do,’ broke in the girl excitedly. ‘Isn’t it just thrilling? That launch of Pete Minger’s is the fastest thing on the river, I guess!’

‘You seem mighty pleased about it,’ said Pud bitterly. ‘I dare say you don’t care a bean if we get plugged full of bullets!’

‘I do, too, but they haven’t got any bullets. It’s just bird-shot. Anyway, they probably won’t catch us.’

‘Why won’t they?’ demanded Tim eagerly.

‘Because it’s getting pretty dark, and if we go up Fish-Hawk Creek and hide under the bushes, I guess they won’t find us.’

‘Fish-Hawk Creek?’ inquired Pud. ‘Where’s that?’

‘Just a short distance. It’s the first creek you find. I think I can tell when we get to it. I’ve been there lots of times with my――with friends.’

‘Kidnaped, I suppose,’ said Pud sarcastically.

‘Aw, Pud!’ begged Tim.

Just then came a pathetic voice from the shadowy figure of Harmon in the stern. ‘Ain’ we goin’ have no supper?’ he asked.

It came to Pud and Tim instantly that they were very, very hungry, but Pud shook his head. ‘Got to wait till we land,’ he declared. Tim sighed deeply and Harmon relapsed into a melancholy silence. Pud yielded the wheel to Tim and tried to add to the boat’s speed, but no amount of oiling or coaxing made any difference. The _Vengance_ plodded doggedly along at some four miles through the growing darkness while Pud, gazing back down the dim stream, watched for pursuers. Presently he broke into a conversation between Tim and Gladys Ermintrude with: ‘How much farther’s this creek?’

The girl, recalled to her responsibilities, looked about her a moment. Then, ‘Sakes alive,’ she exclaimed in surprise, ‘I do believe we’ve gone by it! Didn’t you see a little opening on that side a few minutes ago?’

‘No, I didn’t!’ answered Pud shortly. ‘Are you sure we’ve passed it?’

‘We-ell, I’m not absolutely――Yes, I am, too! There’s Peacher’s Bend right up there where the two tall pines stick up, and Fish-Hawk Creek’s a quarter of a mile below that. My, weren’t we stupid to go by it?’

‘Weren’t _we_ stupid!’ echoed Pud disgustedly. ‘I thought you were going to tell us when we got to it! Gee, I never saw a girl yet who was any good in a pinch! What’ll we do now? Is there another creek anywhere near?’

‘No, there isn’t. Not for more than two miles, I guess. And I don’t think you’re very polite to your guests to talk like that! I’m sure if I was running this boat――’

‘Well, you aren’t,’ snapped Pud crossly. ‘And I’m going to turn back,’ he added defiantly.

‘We-ell,’ muttered Tim, ‘if you think we’d ought to――’

‘Well, gee, if we don’t those fellows will catch us easy, won’t they? _Some one’s_ got to decide _something_, I should think! We can’t _all_ spend our time just _talking_! You take the engine and I’ll see if we can turn around without hitting the bank.’

They could and did and then Pud ran the launch as close as he dared to the left-hand bank and went slowly back downstream in search of the mouth of Fish-Hawk Creek. It was too dark now to see anything distinctly save the steely ribbon of river where the last of the daylight reached it through the walls of forest. Pud’s spirits were getting very low. They usually did get low if he went much beyond his accustomed time for food. He was taking some slight pleasure in a mental picture of Gladys Ermintrude walking the plank when something leaped into his vision far down the stream. More than once already he had imagined just such an object, but this time it wasn’t imagination. Harmon saw it, too, and remarked the fact with melancholy alacrity. And then they all saw it and for a moment nothing was said aboard the launch. Then it was the girl who broke the eloquent silence.

‘Sakes alive!’ she giggled. ‘Isn’t this just too dramatic?’

‘If you weren’t a girl,’ began Pud between his teeth.

‘Gosh,’ murmured Tim, ‘I guess we’re in for it!’

‘Can’ do nothin’ to me,’ announced Harmon defiantly. ‘I ain’ kidnup nobody!’

‘If we could only find that creek!’ muttered Pud.

The other boat was coming fast, fairly eating up the space between, and now they could hear very plainly the steady _plup-plup_ of her exhaust. Pud desperately wondered if, should they stop and huddle close to the bank in the shadows, they could escape being seen. Then a wiser plan came to him and his spirits rose buoyantly.

‘I’m going right on past ’em,’ he announced. ‘They won’t be looking for us to come this way, and they won’t suspect, I guess, when they see the name on the bow isn’t the same! You get down and cover yourself up, Gladys Evinrude. You see that she don’t show, Tim. Harmon, you scrooch down on the bottom and stay there. You sit up here with me, Tim. Make-believe you’re asleep. Put your arms on the――That’s it! Here they come! Every one keep still and, no matter what happens, don’t say a word or make a sound!’

The two launches drew nearer and nearer, Minger’s boat in mid-stream, the _Jolly Rodger_ close to the bank. Pud leaned carelessly against the gunwale, trying to express drowsiness by his attitude. Now he could see that the approaching boat held three forms, one seated and one erect at the bow, another standing near the middle. Then a strong flash-light swept across the few yards of intervening water and a hoarse voice hailed.

‘_Hi, there! Slow down!_’ it commanded.