report that he had gone to New York and taken passage on a ship bound for Liverpool, but at present the ship is on the Atlantic, so the authorities can do nothing."
"I hope they catch him."
"We all hope that, Sam."
For a few days the three boys did nothing but take it easy. It was pleasant weather, and they roamed around the farm in company with their father and their uncle, or with Alexander Pop, the colored man of work. As my old readers know, Pop had been in former days a waiter at Putnam Hall, and Dick, Tom, and Sam had befriended him on more than one occasion, for which he was extremely grateful.
"Yo' boys is jes' naturally fust-class heroes," said Aleck one day. "Even if dem cannonballs had cum after yo', I don't t'ink da could have cotched yo', no, sirree!"
"It's a pity you weren't along, Aleck," answered Tom.
"I can't say as to dat, Master Tom. I got 'bout all de hair-raisin' times I wanted when we was in de jungles ob Africy. I'se only sorry ob one t'ing."
"And what is that?"
"Dat you didn't jes' go an' frow dat Dan Baxter overboard from dat ship de fust time yo' sot
