Jim would have given the world could he have learned what it was; but neither he nor Sam was allowed to catch a single expression.

The next morning the Simoon left the wharf and started up the Hudson.  Mr. Hornblower had decided to effect a “change of venue.”

Chapter XVI.

But for the dark fear which impended over him, James Travers would have looked upon his sail up the Hudson on that spring morning as one of the most delightful experiences of his life.

The sky was clear as Italy’s; the air was balmy, and the steamers and shipping on the broad stream, as well as the roar of the train thundering along shore, formed an element in the romantic scenery which has well given the name of the Rhine of America to that noble river.

But the boy had little heart for all these.  He was speculating upon the probabilities of the near future.

It was during the afternoon, while gliding up the river, that they passed so close to a downward-bound steamer that the features of the passengers on deck were plainly seen.

Jim was leaning idly on the gunwale, looking at them, when he observed a lady, with a child seated beside her, the mother pointing out to the child the varied beauties of the scene as they moved swiftly by.  He straightened up on the instant, as if he had received an electric shock; for the conviction came like a flash that he had seen the face of that child before.

But where?  He might as well have asked himself what there was in such a sweet, angelic countenance to affect him so strangely.

Ah! he had it.  That was the girl that Tom had rescued from the icy water the winter before.

Going in opposite directions, and with such speed, the steamer and schooner were soon far apart, and the straining gaze of the lad was unable to tell where the mother and child were seated.

The two had not even looked at him, and he could only sigh that the glimpse was such a passing one.

“I wonder whether Tom has ever seen them since.  He would be a great deal more delighted than I.”

The Simoon sailed steadily upward till the day wore by, by which time she was a good many miles above the metropolis.

It was no more than fairly dark when Sam managed to whisper in the ear of the boy,—­

“You mus’ leab de boat to-night!”

These were alarming words, though the lad could not understand how harm to him was to benefit any one, unless it was that Hornblower and his confederates were afraid of the consequences of discovery, and prefered to act on the principle that dead boys can tell no tales.

The night was pleasant, with a faint moon, and the Simoon dropped anchor within a few hundred yards of shore.

The distance was one that Jim could swim with ease.  All he asked was the opportunity.

The two sailors seemed to suspect some scheme of escape was in the boy’s head, or else they must have noticed the chance was a very tempting one.