As he pulled swiftly across the river, so as to be
lost to view from the island as quickly as possible, he expressed his
feelings aloud to Bim:
"What new scrape can that young rascal have got into now--eh, old dog?
It was bad enough to start down the river alone on a big raft without
even bidding his folks good-bye; but now he seems to have lost the raft
somewhere, to have landed on that island, to have been arrested for
something, to have escaped, and to have run off with the Sheriff's
boat. It looks as though he had the same happy faculty for getting
into scrapes that distinguished my young friend Glen Eddy. Somehow I
have a fellow-feeling for such boys. It is strange, too, for I can't
remember ever getting into any scrapes myself. We must put a stop to
it, though, in Winn's case. It will never do for him to be cavorting
about in this scandalous manner, so long as we are responsible for his
decent behavior and safe return. We shall surely find him, and
probably the raft also, at Dubuque. Then we will take our nephew in
hand, and by simple force of example instruct him in that dignity of
deportment that steers clear of scrapes. Eh, Bimsey?"
At this Bim sprang from his seat, and made such a violent effort to
lick his master's face that the latter was very nearly tumbled over
backward.
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