"I specs so, honey, I specs so, an' of co'se hit's all right ef yo'
Unc' Billy say so. Him a mighty knowin' young gen'l'man, dat ar Unc'
Billy am, fo' shuah."
As the day advanced, there were occasional rifts in the fog, and in one
of these Mr. Gilder, as we will still call him, caught a momentary
glimpse of the raft. It was drifting at some distance to the right of
them, and in a few moments would be again out of sight. His first
impulse was to announce this discovery to his companions, and his
second was to remain silent. He acted upon the second, and was almost
doubtful if he had really seen the raft at all, so quickly did it again
disappear. Suddenly there came a sound of blows, as though some one
were chopping wood on board the raft.
There was an exulting shout from the pilot-house, the steering-wheel
was put hard over, and the boat began to swing slowly at right angles
to the current. She was headed in the direction of the raft, and Mr.
Gilder knew that, owing to those ill-timed blows, it had been
discovered. Yes. Now he could see it again. There it was, not a
hundred yards away, and the _Whatnot_ was headed so as to intercept it
as it came down. What should he do? It would be foolish to struggle
for possession of the wheel against the two desperate men in the
pilot-house.
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