boy's something to learn, an' he'd better learn quick!"
With the wind roaring through the trees overhead, and rolling up the waves on the river so that it was not possible for a boat without power to float out even as far as the current, Murdong was indeed trapped in a lonesome bend.
Gost was in a hurry, but he knew better than to make haste. He must make sure that he was safe—that he could make his own getaway undiscovered and without danger of being captured. No matter how lonesome a bend may seem, one must take a look at it first.
Also, the cabin-boat was moored on the up-stream side of the bayou, which was fifty or sixty yards wide, and probably it was a mile or two around the end of it if not more.
"I'll run my little boat up above," Gost grinned. "Then I'll make an evening call."
Lurking in the switch cane, he soon saw Murdong step out on the deck, rifle in hand. That perturbed him till he saw that the cabin-boater was about to fire a few practice shots. The marksman slipped five shells into the magazine—Gost counted them—and then fired four times up the bayou away from the river. The bullets slapped into a log end one hundred yards distant.
