Jess of the Rebel Trail | Page 7

as any sensible man would do."
"I hope you do not compare me to a bear," and the girl smiled.
"No, I wouldn't like to do that, Miss. But ye must have had some mighty good reason fer comin' down them steps the way ye did. It's a wonder to me yer neck wasn't broken."
"I have a good reason," was the emphatic reply. "I am running away."
"Runnin' away!" Samuel's eyes opened wide in amazement, and he stared hard at the girl. He would have been less than human if his pulse had not quickened, and his heart beat faster, for she was truly possessed of more than ordinary beauty and grace of figure. Her large dark expressive eyes betrayed anxiety, and her cheeks were flushed. Once she gave a slight start and glanced nervously up the steps as if expecting to see someone following her.
"Yes, I am running away," she repeated, "and I want you to hide me on this boat."
"Runnin' away, an' want me to hide ye!" Samuel ran his fingers through his hair, a sure sign of his perplexity. "Ye ain't been stealin' or murderin' anybody, have ye?"
"No, no; it's not so bad as that. But it might be suicide, though, if you don't help me. And you will, won't you?" she pleaded, turning her eyes full upon the captain's face.
The latter made no immediate reply. He picked up his pail and set it carefully aside. He then unrolled the turned-up sleeves of his coarse shirt, and deliberately buttoned them about his thick hairy wrists,
"Set down, Miss," he at length ordered, motioning to the only chair the cabin contained. "Thar, that's better," he said as the girl immediately obeyed. "Sorry me accommodations are so poor, but then this ain't no ocean liner. She's nuthin' but an old woodboat, an' not much of a place fer receivin' the likes of you."
"But I think it's fine," the girl replied, "and I know you will let me stay here for a while. You need a woman to look after this cabin, and I will wash and cook for you."
"Ye will!"
"Certainly. If you will only let me stay, I think you will find me quite useful."
"H'm, queer work you'd do in them dandy togs. An' besides, this craft can't afford to keep up much style. I s'pose ye'd want clean linen on the table every day, to say nuthin' of napkins, an' sich gear. No, I'm afraid ye'd prove too expensive fer the 'Eb an' Flo.' I've been cook here fer so long that I wouldn't know what to do with a woman around. Martha tried it once, but a week was enough fer her, so she got out. Said she couldn't stand me housekeepin' methods."
"Who is Martha?" the girl asked.
"Oh, she's me wife, an' runs things ashore. Her an' Flo do all right thar, but me an' Eb feel more at home on the water, with no women buttin' in."
"Is Flo your daughter?"
"Sure. An' Eb's me son. Jist the two, so I named this craft after 'em, ye see, Eb an' Flo sounds about right to my way of thinkin'. When yer boatin' on this river ye have to be allus considerin' the ebb an' flow of the tide, so the name is quite handy."
"It certainly is," and the girl smiled. "I am sure I shall like it. Where is your son now?"
"Oh, he's ashore gittin' some molasses an' other stuff from the store. He should be back soon, Miss, so I think ye'd better leave before he comes. Thar might be trouble. He's dead set aginst strange women, Eben is."
"Will you start as soon as your son returns?" the girl asked, unheeding the captain's warning.
"Start! Start where?"
"Sailing, of course."
"Not until the wind springs up. Thar's a dead calm now, an' the tide's aginst us."
"Oh, I wish it would blow a gale," and the girl looked anxiously around. "I want to get away from this place as soon as possible."
"Well, I think the best thing then fer you to do is to go ashore an' light out. Ye kin do it quicker thar than here."
"But I can't get ashore, Captain."
"Ye can't! An' why not, I'd like to know?"
"Because my boat has gone adrift. I let it go on purpose."
"Good Lord!" Samuel sat down upon a biscuit box and eyed his visitor curiously. "Say, are you crazy, or a fool, or what are ye, anyway?" he asked.
"I'm just a poor unfortunate girl, that's who I am," was the decided reply.
"An' ye ain't done nuthin' bad; nuthin' that yer ashamed of, Miss?"
"No, no," and the girl's face crimsoned. "I'm proud of what I have done," and she lifted her head haughtily, while her eyes flashed. "Any girl with the least self-respect would do the same, so there."
"That's all right, Miss, that's all right," Samuel hurriedly