The Lady and the Pirate

"Do you know anything about this old channel, Peterson?" I inquired.

"Nothing at all except from hearsay and what you see here," he

replied. "I don't know whether or not it has a bar at either end, but

likely enough it has at both, though we might crowd through."

"And how about the gasoline supply?"

"Enough to get us in, at least. And, I say, here's a sort of

plantation post-office marked. There's just a bare chance we could get

a drum or so in there. I don't think we can, though."

"What's she drawing now as she runs, Peterson?"

"Four feet two inches. She's a shade low by the stern. We've quite a

lot of supplies aboard, this early in the cruise. But I don't suppose

we've got enough."

"Well, Peterson," said I, "water leaves no trail. If there's no one

watching when we open up this next bend, run for the bayou, and we'll

see if we can get under cover. Of course, it's all a mistake about Mr.

Davidson's wiring on to have us stopped--though we can't blame him,

since he hasn't any idea who it is that has run away with the boat.

But now, it suits me better to double in here, and let the chase try

to find us on the main river; if there is any chase. You see, I don't

want to disturb the ladies unduly, and they might not understand it

all if we were overhauled and asked to explain our change in the

ownership."

"Quite right, sir, and very good. I catch the idea. But, sir----"

He hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Well, sir, if I might be so bold, what are your plans about the two

ladies?"

"I have none which will effect your navigation of the boat, Peterson."

The old man flushed a shade. "Excuse me, Mr. Harry. I know you'll do

nothing out of the way. But the old hen--I beg pardon----"

"You mean the revered aunt, Peterson."

"Yes, sir, the revered aunt. Well, sir, the revered aunt, dash

her!----"

"Yes, dash her starry toplights, Peterson; and even if need be, shiver

her timbers! Go on----"

"Why, she's been tryin' to pull off a weddin' on this boat ever since

we left Mackinaw."

"Why not? You mean that Mr. Davidson and the revered aunt were getting

on well?"

"Oh, no, bless your heart, no! It was the young lady, Miss Emory. And

she----"

I raised my hand. "Never mind, Peterson. We can't discuss that at all.

But now, I'm minded to give my friend Mr. Davidson a little game of

follow-my-leader. And just to show how we'll do that, we'll begin with

a preliminary go at hide-and-seek. Take the chance, Peterson, and run

into the bayou. I'll put off the small boat for soundings. If we can

get gas, and can get in, and can get out unnoticed, maybe we can run

by New Orleans in the night, and none the wiser."