The boy paused a moment, and gazed earnestly at Marco, while the horse continued drinking.

"How came you on that island?" said the boy, calling out again in a loud voice.

"I got adrift on some logs," said Marco, "and floated down the river.

Can't you get a boat, and come and take me off?"

"I have not got any boat," said the boy. "There an't any boats about here."

"I wish you would go and get one," said Marco. "I'll pay you well for it."

The boy did not answer. He seemed to be hesitating. In the mean time, the horse, having nearly finished his drinking, lifted up his head and looked at Marco.

"There is not any boat within a mile," said the boy. "But I should think you might wade ash.o.r.e. The water is not deep between here and the island."

"Then wade out here with your horse," said Marco, "and take me on behind you."

The boy hesitated a moment, but he finally decided to comply with Marco's proposal, and accordingly began to advance his horse into the water. Marco watched his progress with intense interest. As the water grew deeper, he began to fear that the boy would get discouraged, and turn back. But the boy kept on. He turned his steps somewhat below the island, where there was an extensive shoal; the water grew shallower and shallower, until at last the horse emerged entirely, and stood upon a little dry sand bank at the lower side of the island.

"I'm very much obliged to you, indeed," said Marco, "for coming for me--besides the pay. I will pay you for it as soon as we get on sh.o.r.e."

"Oh, no," said the boy, "I don't need any pay just for wading my horse out here. I wade him out here very often, when I come down to water; that is, in the summer, when the water is low."

Marco mounted behind the boy, and the boy turned his horse's head towards the sh.o.r.e.

"How far is it back to the mill?" asked Marco.

"To the steam mill?--four miles," answered the boy.

"Four miles!" exclaimed Marco; "is it possible that I have floated down four miles? How shall I ever get back again?"

"How did you happen to get adrift?" asked the boy.

Marco proceeded to give the boy an account of his getting adrift, but in a short time the water began to grow so deep that he was afraid. The boy, however, told him that there was no danger. The bottom of the river, at this place, was a great bed of pebble stones, and the current ran very swiftly over them, and curled in sharp ripples about the horse's legs. Presently, however, the water became more shallow, and they soon safely reached the sh.o.r.e.

"Now," said Marco, "I want to get back to the mill just as quick as I can--before the steamboat goes."

"The steamboat?" said the boy, "she has gone long ago. She went by early this morning."

"Yes," said Marco, "she went by here, but she got stopped."

So Marco told the boy the story of their having got aground, and of his going ash.o.r.e; and of all his adventures, in fact, down to the time of his being cast upon the desert island. The boy told him that he had better make haste; "for," said he, "the tide has risen a great deal already. When the tide is at the lowest, we can go out to that island almost on bare ground."

"But I can't walk back four miles," said Marco. "Could you not carry me in a wagon?" he continued.

"We have got a wagon," said the boy, "if my father will let me go."

"Let us go right up and ask him," said Marco

They accordingly began to advance up the road, the boy putting his horse to a rapid trot. Marco, who was not accustomed to riding in this style--behind another boy, and without a saddle--was much jolted, and, in fact, he found it very difficult to keep his seat. He began to feel so much anxiety, however, about getting back again, that he did not complain. In a short time, the boy reached the house. It was a small, plain farm-house. There was a shed at one side of it, with a wagon standing in the shed--the shafts resting upon a wood-pile.

"My father is not at home, now," said the boy, "but he will be at home very soon."

"Oh, don't let us wait for him," rejoined Marco. "He'll be willing to have you go, I know."

"No," said the boy, "I should not dare to go without his leave."

"Let us harness the horse into the wagon, then, at any rate," said Marco, "and then we shall be all ready."

"We can do that," said the boy.

So they harnessed the horse into the wagon, and the boy led the horse around to the door. Marco, who was quite impatient to go, got into the wagon, and sat waiting. The man came in about twenty minutes, and when he heard a statement of the case, he said that his boy might go and take Marco back to the mill.

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 hoa.r.s.e 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 ma.s.ses 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.