Little sleep came to the captain that night, and the hours wore slowly away.  He had insisted that his wife and daughter should go to bed.  Their presence annoyed him.  He wanted to be alone that he might think, for he was more worried about the “Eb and Flo” than he would openly acknowledge.  He was getting along in years, and boating was the only thing he could do to make enough to provide for his family.  He could not afford to buy or build another craft for the season’s work, not even a scow, so if the “Eb and Flo” could not be saved, he did not know what to do.  His only hope lay in a heavy rain which would cause the river to rise enough to float the boat.  That, however, was not a very bright outlook, for such a boon could hardly be expected during the summer.  It was only in the fall when the heavy rains set in, and then it would be too late for much work.  And besides, he would lose the carrying of the stones from the quarry.  There was not much cordwood to be taken to the city, and most of the lumber from the mills was now being freighted in scows.

And thus he watched and waited, his anxious thoughts, and the pain in his foot driving all sleep from his eyes.  Eagerly he listened to the clock as it ticked on the shelf across the room, and struck out the heavy-footed hours.  Never did any night seem so long.  Often he had sailed on the river from sunset to sunrise, and thought nothing of it.  He had something to occupy his attention then.  But now he had nothing to do but lie there and wait.

When at last the first faint signs of dawn began to steal into the room, the captain lifted himself to a sitting position and looked out of the window.  But nothing could he see, for the river still lay enwrapped in the shadows of the hills beyond.  Impatiently he waited, and at length he was enabled to view quite clearly the water as it stretched out before him.  Eagerly his eyes searched for the “Eb and Flo,” but not a sign of her could he behold.  Nothing but the flats on the other side of the river met his view.  What did it all mean? he asked himself.  Where was the boat?  A mingled feeling of curiosity, hope and anxiety possessed him, and only with the greatest difficulty could he restrain his impatience until his wife came downstairs.

“She’s gone, Martha!” he shouted, as soon as his wife entered the room.  “She’s nowhere in sight.”

“What!  The boat?” Mrs. Tobin replied, as she hurried to the window and peered out.  She stood for a few seconds, looking up and down the river.  Then she turned to her husband with an anxious expression upon her face.

“Do you suppose she’s sunk, Sam’l?”

“Sunk; no.  If she’d gone down, Eben would have come ashore in the tender.  Mebbe he’s managed to git her under way, an’ taken her down river.  Ye kin never tell what that boy might do.  Jist scoot over an’ ask John to go to the store an’ phone to the city.  Tell him to call up Jimmy Gault at Injuntown.  He’s a good friend of mine, an’ he’ll know if the ‘Eb an’ Flo’s’ down.”