chanced to see a scow up the river.  It looked exactly like ours, and in it were two men, evidently drunk, from the way they carried on.  A glance showed me that our scow was not at its moorings.  How were we to reach the camp?  One of the men had evidently seen us and was pointing us out to his companion.  We rushed down the Jacob’s Ladder, but by the time we reached the river bank they were in midstream and heading rapidly northward.  Our shouts merely brought forth derisive laughter.  We were certainly in a predicament.  First we ran back up the cliff, and tried from there to gain the attention of the rest of the fellows.  They evidently saw us but couldn’t make out what we wanted.  Then we ran down to a point opposite the island and called to them.  But the wind was against us and we couldn’t make them hear, so we had to plunge in and wade across.

A Council of War.

Immediately we summoned a war council.  Dutchy and Jack were chosen by lot to guard the camp, while the rest of us started in pursuit in canoes.  By the time we got under way the sun had dropped back of the Pennsylvania hills and the shadows were climbing slowly up the Jacob’s Ladder.  Swiftly we paddled up-stream, keeping close to the western shore, where the water was very quiet.  We didn’t expect to go far, because there were rapids less than three miles up, and we were sure that no tramps would ever be ambitious enough to row a heavy scow against the swift current at that point.  As we rounded a sharp bend in the river, we noticed a camp fire a few hundred feet further up, around which five or six men were lounging, and there, just below them, was our scow.  What were four boys to do against six grown men?  We were each armed with a club, and could have made a pretty good fight if necessary, but after a whispered consultation we decided it would be best to wait until dark, when we could creep up quietly and steal away unnoticed with our boat.

Vengeance.

It seemed as if darkness never would come.  It was scarcely dusk when our patience gave out and we paddled up stealthily, hugging the shore.  Bill gained the scow unnoticed, but just as he was about to push off he discerned the body of a man within.  It was one of the tramps lying there in a drunken stupor.  What was to be done?  Every moment was precious.  A yell from the fireside decided him.  With a mighty push he launched the boat out into the current, while we threw him a line and towed the boat out to midstream.  With a volley of curses the men sprang up and pelted us with stones.  But they were poor shots, and we escaped without serious injury.  Our prisoner, in the meantime, was snoring heavily in the scow undisturbed.  We took him down-stream and then unceremoniously picked him up and dumped him overboard within a few feet of the shore.  It was a rude awakening, and nearly frightened the wits out of the man.  But it brought him to his senses, and in a moment we were dodging more stones, sent with such good aim that we had to lie flat in the bottoms of the boats until the current carried us out of reach.