"Where did he land on the other side?" pursued the eager reporter.
"Down by them willer trees, 'bout half a mile down. There's the skift
tied to a saplin'. Cain't you see it?"
Sure enough, the stern of a small boat stuck out into the deep, broad
river, the bow being hidden by the bushes.
"Both of 'em hurried up the hill over yender, an' that's the last I seen
of 'em," concluded the lad.
Anderson Crow and his man-hunters stared helplessly at the broad, swift
river, and then looked at each other in despair. There was no boat in
sight except the murderer's, and there was no bridge within ten miles.
While they were growling a belated detachment of hunters came up to the
river bank greatly agitated.
"A telephone message has just come to town sayin' there would be a
thousand dollars reward," announced one of the late arrivals; and
instantly there was an imperative demand for boats.
"There's an old raft upstream a-ways," said the boy, "but I don't know
how many it will kerry. They use it to pole corn over from Mr.
Knoblock's farm to them big summer places in the hills up yender."
"Is it sound?" demanded Anderson Crow.
"Must be or they wouldn't use it," said Squires sarcastically. "Where is
it, kid?"
The boy led the way up the river bank, the whole company trailing
behind.
"Sh! Not too loud," cautioned Anderson Crow.
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