strike out directly for the opposite shore and creep along in its shadows past the sleeping town at the Landing until we attained the deserted waters above.  By then we should practically be beyond immediate pursuit.  Even if Carver or the sheriff discovered Kirby, any immediate chase by river would be impossible.  Nothing was available for their use except a few rowboats at the Landing; they would know nothing as to whether we had gone up or down stream, while the coming of the early daylight would surely permit us to discover some place of concealment along the desolate Illinois shore.  Desperate as the attempt undoubtedly was, the situation, as I considered it in all its details, brought me faith in our success and fresh encouragement to make the effort.

The distance was covered far more quickly than I had anticipated.  The road we followed was by now fairly visible beneath the faint star-gleam, and once we were below the bluff the broad expanse of river appeared at our left, a dim, flowing mystery, the opposite shore invisible.  To our strained eyes it seemed an endless flood of surging water.  Immediately about us, all remained dark and silent, the few trees lining the summit of the overhanging bluff assuming grotesque shapes, and occasionally startling us by their strange resemblance to human beings.  Not even the moaning of wind through the branches broke the intense midnight stillness.  I could feel her hand, grasping my sleeve, tremble from nervous tension.

“Saunder’s Creek is just beyond that ridge—­see,” she whispered, causing me to pause.  “I mean the darker line in front.  This road we are on goes straight ahead, but we must turn off here in order to reach the mouth where the boat lies.”

I stooped low, close to the earth, so as to better perceive any outline against the sky, and, with one hand shadowing my eyes, stared earnestly in the direction indicated.

“It will be over there, then.  Kneel down here beside me a moment.  There is a whisp of smoke yonder, curling up over the bank.  I suppose it will be safe enough for us to venture that far?”

“Yes, unless the engineer has come ashore.”

“Is there any path?”

“Not that I remember, but there are plenty of dead rushes along the side of the bank.  It will be safe enough to go where we can look over.”

We moved forward slowly, but this time I took the lead myself, bending low, and feeling carefully for footing in the wiry grass.  The bank was not high, and once safely at its edge, we could peer out through the thick growth of rushes with little fear of being observed from below.  The darkness, however, so shrouded everything, blending objects into shapeless shadows, that it required several moments before I could clearly determine the exact details.  The mouth of the creek, a good-sized stream, was only a few yards away, and the boat, rather a larger craft than I had anticipated seeing, lay just off shore,