It was now so late that Marco began to be seriously afraid that the steamboat might have gone. He was very impatient to have the horse go as fast as possible; and he watched at every turn in the road which gave him a view of the river, hoping to get a glimpse at the boat. He wondered whether Forester was still at the tavern, or whether he had come out in pursuit of him. After wearying himself with conjectures, which were all in vain, he suddenly came to a view of the river opposite the mill. The steamboat, to his great joy, was in its place; but there was a black column of smoke issuing from the smoke-pipe.
"They are firing up," said Marco, "I verily believe."
"What do you mean by that?" said the boy.
"Why, building up the fires," said Marco, "to set the engine a-going. They call it firing up."
Just at this moment there broke forth a loud and hoarse hissing from the steam-pipe, and a dense column of white vapor began to ascend, which mingled its snowy volumes, in a beautiful manner, with the dark masses of the smoke.
"They are blowing off the steam," said Marco.
"What does that mean?" asked the boy.
"Why, that they have got the steam up, and are letting off a little of it, while they are waiting for something. Perhaps they are waiting for us. Drive on as fast as you can."
A moment after this, the sound of the steam suddenly ceased, and the great paddle wheels, on the sides of the boat, began slowly to revolve.
"They are trying to get her off," said Marco. "I do hope they can't start her. Drive on; drive on as fast as you can."
They were, at this time, upon the top of a hill which commanded a fine view of the river, and of the scenery upon its banks. The mill was before them, too, in full view. But Marco was too much engaged in watching the movements of the boat to regard the scenery. The boy drove rapidly down the hill. They reached the mill in a very few minutes, and drove down to the bank of the river, by a road which led to the water, a short distance above the mill. But, in the mean time, unfortunately for Marco, the steamboat had regained its liberty, and when Marco and the boy came in view of it again, as their horse stopped at the edge of the water, they saw, to Marco's dismay, that she was ploughing her way swiftly up the river, being just about to disappear behind a point of land which terminated the view of the water in that direction.
"They are gone," said Marco, in a tone of despair, "they are gone; and what shall I do?"
"Can't you go in the stage?" asked the boy, hoping thus to say a word of encouragement and consolation.
"No," said Marco, "I don't believe there is any stage from this old mill. Besides, I don't know where to go. I should not have thought that Forester would have gone off and left me."
"Was he on board the steamboat?" asked the boy.
"Yes," said Marco-"that is, he was to go on board-but I left him at the tavern."
"Perhaps he is there now," said the boy. "Let us go and see."
Marco approved of this plan, and they turned the wagon, and rode towards the tavern. As soon as the horse stopped in the yard, Marco leaped out of the wagon, and ran in. He found Forester reclining upon the sofa, where Marco had left him, asleep.
Marco advanced towards him, and took him by the shoulder, roughly, to wake him up, saying,
"Forester! cousin Forester! wake up! the boat has gone."
Forester opened his eyes-looked wildly at Marco, and then put his hands to his head, pressing his temples with the palms, but he did not speak.
"The boat has gone, cousin Forester," continued Marco.
"Then what good does it do to wake me up so roughly?" asked Forester.
"Why-I-thought you'd want to know it," said Marco; "but why did not you come down?"
"Because," said Forester, "you were to come and tell me, I thought, when they were ready to go."
Marco had no reply to make to this suggestion, and he was silent. He found, afterwards, on farther conversation with Forester, that he was quite unwell. His head ached, and his face was flushed, as if he was feverish. Marco related to Forester an account of his adventures on the raft of logs. Forester thought that he had had a very narrow escape.
Marco expected that Forester would have rebuked him very sharply for his fault in going upon the logs at all. But he did not. After Marco had got through with his account, Forester only said,
"Well, Marco, you evidently did wrong in getting upon the logs at all; but the evil consequences to you will be punishment enough, and, in fact, more than enough."
"Evil consequences?" said Marco-"no; there are no evil consequences, only that we have got left behind."
"I don't regard that," said Forester, "for I am too unwell to travel to-day; but then you have suffered considerable pain and anxiety already, and, besides, there will be some money to pay."
"What for?" said Marco.
"Why, you have got to pay the boy for bringing you home," replied Forester.
"Must I pay him," said Marco, "out of my own money?"
"Who do you think ought to pay him?" said Forester.
"Why, I ought to, I suppose," said Marco. "But it won't be much. I think a quarter of a dollar will be enough."
"Then, did not you say that you sent to the mill to have somebody go down after you in a boat?" asked Forester.
"Yes," said Marco, "but I don't think they went."
"You had better go to the mill and see," said Forester.
So Marco went out and paid the boy a quarter of a dollar, with which he seemed to be satisfied. Then he went to the mill, and he found two men just returning, in a boat, from a long pull down the river in pursuit of him. Marco paid them half a dollar. Thus his loss was three quarters of a dollar.
When he returned to the tavern, he found that Forester had taken some medicine, and had gone to bed. Forester told him that he must amuse himself the best way he could, and that, after the experience that he had had that day, he hoped he would be careful not to put himself any more into dangerous situations.
CHAPTER V. THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT.
Marco took dinner that day at the tavern alone, and, after dinner, he carried a cup of tea to Forester,-but Forester was asleep, and so he did not disturb him.
In the afternoon he went out to play. He amused himself, for half an hour, in rambling about the tavern yards and in the stables. There was a ferocious-looking bull in one of the yards, chained to a post, by means of a ring through his nose. Marco looked at the bull a few minutes with great interest, and then began to look about for a long stick, or a pole, to poke him a little, through the fence, to see if he could not make him roar, when, instead of a pole, his eye fell upon a boy, who was at work, digging in a corner of a field near, behind the barn.
The boy's name was Jeremiah. He was digging for worms for bait. He was going a fishing. Marco determined to go with him.
Jeremiah furnished Marco with a hook and a piece of sheet lead to make a sinker of, and Marco had some twine in his pocket already; so that he was soon fitted with a line. But he had no pole. Jeremiah said that he could cut one, on his way down to the river, as they would pass through a piece of woods which had plenty of tall and slender young trees in it.
He succeeded in getting a pole in this manner, which answered very well; and then he and Jeremiah went down to the river. They stood upon a log on the shore, and caught several small fishes, but they got none of much value, for nearly half an hour. At last, Jeremiah, who was standing at a little distance from Marco, suddenly exclaimed:
"Oh, here comes a monstrous great perch. He is coming directly towards my hook."
"Where? where?" exclaimed Marco. And Marco immediately drew out his hook from the place where he had been fishing, and walked along to the log on which Jeremiah was standing.
"Where is he?" said Marco, looking eagerly into the water.
"Hush!" said Jeremiah; "don't say a word. There he is, swimming along towards my hook."