As those words were spoken, another yell, louder, shriller, and nearer than before, burst upon their ears.  It seemed to be close astern.  The beat of the paddles was also near them.

“Pooty close!” said the captain.

“Isn’t there some danger that we’ll be run down?”

To this question, thus anxiously repeated, the captain answered slowly,—­

“Wal, thar may be, an then again thar mayn’t.  Ef a man tries to dodge every possible danger in life, he’ll have a precious hard time of it.  Why, men air killed in walkin the streets, or knocked over by sun-strokes, as well as run down at sea.  So what air we to do?  Do?  Why, I jest do what I’ve allus ben a doin; I jest keep right straight on my own course, and mind my own biz.  Ten chances to one they’ll never come nigh us.  I’ve heard steamers howlin round me like all possessed, but I’ve never ben run down yet, an I ain’t goin to be at my time o’ life.  I don’t blieve you’ll see a sign o’ that thar steamer.  You’ll only hear her yellin—­that’s all.”

As he spoke another yell sounded.

“She’s a passin us, over thar,” said the captain, waving his hand over the side.  “Her whistle’ll contenoo fainter till it stops.  So you better go below and take your sleep out.”

The boys waited a little longer, and hearing the next whistle sounding fainter, as Captain Corbet said, they followed his advice, and were soon asleep, as before.

This time there was no further interruption, and they did not wake till about eight in the morning, when they were summoned to breakfast by Solomon.

On reaching the deck and looking around, a cry of joy went forth from all.  The fog was no longer to be seen, no longer did there extend around them the wall of gloomy gray, shutting out all things with its misty folds.  No longer was the broad bay visible.  They found themselves now in a wide river, whose muddy waters bore them slowly along.  On one side was a shore, close by them, well wooded in some places, and in others well cultivated, while on the other side was another shore, equally fertile, extending far along.

“Here we air,” cried Captain Corbet.  “That wind served us well.  We’ve had a fust-rate run.  I calc’lated we’d be three or four days, but instead of that we’ve walked over in twenty-four hours.  Good agin!”

“Will we be able to land at Moncton soon?”

“Wal, no; not till the next tide.”

“Why not?”

“Wal, this tide won’t last long enough to carry us up thar, an so we’ll have to wait here.  This is the best place thar is.”

“What place is this?”

“Hillsborough.”

“Hillsborough?”

“Yes.  Do you see that thar pint?” and Captain Corbet waved his arm towards a high, well-wooded promontory that jutted out into the river.

“Yes.”

“Wal, I’m goin in behind that, and I’ll wait thar till the tide turns.  We’ll get up to Moncton some time before evenin.”