Harvey, and Tom Edwards exchanged significant glances. It was only too clear what their host was driving at. But Harvey waited for some time before he yielded. It was half an hour later, when they had finished dinner and were sitting by the fire, that he met the sly demand.

"Look here," he said, suddenly, as though the thought had just struck him, "you're giving us the best you can, and we haven't paid you enough.

Here's another dollar. I'd give more than that, if we could afford it."

He held out the dollar. The man took it, eyed it avariciously and stuffed it into a pocket.

"I wouldn't take it if I wasn't as poor as poverty," he said.

Late that afternoon, he took down his hat and said he would go "up the road" again, and be back shortly. They watched him till he was out of sight. Then Tom Edwards turned to Harvey, his face clouded with anger.

"Jack," he said, "we've got to get out of here, and now's our chance. I wouldn't trust that old rascal another minute. He may be lying about the lock-up he spoke of-I don't believe there's one for miles around. But he'd sell us to the first captain that came along. What do you think?"

Jack Harvey nodded, wearily.

"You're right," he said. "It's a beastly shame, though. I want a night's sleep. But we can't get away from here any too soon, I'm thinking. Come on. Let's bolt."

They started off, running along the wheel track, and thence down the road they had come before. It was already growing dark, and their hearts sank, as they hurried on, wondering anxiously where they should spend the night.

They followed the road down to the landing, because they knew not where else to go. They came finally to the wharf, with its warehouse at the farther end. This was shut fast, and no sign of life about it. They sat down for a moment, to rest.

"Well?" queried Harvey, "what do you think?"

"Try another farmhouse?" suggested Tom Edwards.

"I'm scared to do it," replied Harvey. "There's an old barn, or factory of some sort over yonder, however, that looks deserted. Anything will do for a night. Let's go and see."

They made their way over to the eastward of the wharf, for a distance of several rods, and came up to an old canning factory, which had been some time out of use and was closed. They forced the shutter of a window and entered, finding themselves almost in darkness.

What sort of a place they were in, what it consisted of, and whatever accommodations it might afford them for a night's lodging, they had no means of finding out. They had only a few matches, and these would serve them but little. They feared to wander about, lest some rotten timbers should let them through to the cellar, or whatever might be beneath. The single match they lighted sufficed to show them all they needed.

The little patch of light fell upon a litter of old straw, as though from packing boxes of some sort. Tired and sleepy, they crept into this, devoured the remaining biscuits they had in their pockets from the Brandt's cabin, and fell sound asleep.

Both awoke shivering, the following morning, for there had been scant covering to their bed, and the building was cold. They hastened out into the sunshine, going around to the southern exposure of the cannery, where the warmth was greatest. Again, Harvey took the precaution of dividing the money in his small and very private bank, drawing on the account pinned to his undershirt, for three dollars, leaving fourteen thus secured.

He had hardly accomplished this transfer when they heard voices, and three men came past the corner of the old cannery, going off to the right in the direction of a great creek. Harvey halted them, with a call, and they turned in surprise. They were negroes, and evidently oystermen of some sort.

"h.e.l.lo, what be you two doing here?" inquired one of them, who seemed by his manner to be the leader of the three.

"We want to get to Baltimore," replied Harvey.

The man shook his head.

"Boat don't go to-day," he said.

"We want something to eat," said Tom Edwards. "You fellows got anything to sell?"

"Mebbe a little bread, and sure enough some oysters," answered the man.

"They's down 'board the boat, though. You'll have to come and get 'em."

The three negroes started on again, Tom Edwards and Harvey following. The three apparently paid no more attention to Harvey and his companion-at least, they did not arouse the suspicion of the two. Nevertheless, one by one, as they walked along, the three turned and looked the strangers over. Then they conversed together, softly, but with more than ordinary interest.

Arrived at the creek, there appeared a great canoe drawn up to sh.o.r.e, with perhaps a bushel of oysters lying in a heap in the bottom. It was a canoe of unusual size, at least twenty-four feet long, and broad of beam.

The man who had spoken handed over to Tom Edwards half a loaf of bread, while another of the men began shucking some of the oysters. He pa.s.sed these to them, and they devoured them hungrily.

"You want to go to Baltimore right away?" asked the negro, suddenly, turning to Tom Edwards.

"Quick as we can get there."

"Jim," said the man, addressing one of his companions, "what time this afternoon does that Potomac river steamer get 'round to Otter Point?"

"About five o'clock," answered the man promptly.

"You know Otter Point?" asked the first man, of Tom Edwards.

The latter shook his head.

"I know," said Harvey. "It's a long way down."

"'Bout eighteen miles," said the negro. "Good offsh.o.r.e wind this fo'noon; take you down in 'bout three hours, you catch the afternoon steamer, get you into Baltimore to-morrow mo'ning."

"How much will you charge?"

"Guess it's worth 'bout a dollar."

"What do you say, Tom?" asked Harvey.

"I say, let's go," answered Tom Edwards.

"All right," said Harvey. "When will you start?"

"Jes' as soon as you get aboard," replied the negro.

Harvey handed a dollar to the man, and they stepped into the canoe. The men shoved off, the sails were set and the canoe glided out of the creek, through a narrow opening, into the bay. There was a smart breeze coming up, off the land; and the canoe, with the wind about abeam, headed down along sh.o.r.e. It was fast, and they made good time. Some three hours later, at about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, they ran between two points of land, into a creek that spread out broadly for over a mile in width, and extended northward for some three miles.

They ran for something like a mile northwesterly, and turned into one of the numberless coves, to where a small cabin stood, a little way back from sh.o.r.e. The country round about was desolate. There was not another sign of habitation in sight.

They went up to the cabin, with the three negroes, and entered. It was a mere fisherman's shack, with some bunks on two sides, filled with hay for bedding. A cook stove warmed it. There was a table in the middle of the floor, with some empty boxes to serve as seats.

Despite the barrenness of it, however, Harvey and Tom Edwards made a good dinner, about two hours later, of fried fish and bread and hot coffee.

They were in good spirits, when they stood, at a quarter to five that afternoon, at Otter Point, awaiting the steamer.

But there was no wharf there-nothing but a rude framework of poles, at which a small boat might moor.

Harvey turned to their one companion, in surprise.

"A steamer can't land here," he exclaimed.

The leader of the three negroes, who had accompanied them from the cabin, answered, with a.s.surance.