“Keep close there, fellows,” he whispered, addressing himself to his companions on the bank. “We’re just in time. They’re coming as sure as the world. And like a steamboat, too,” he added, mentally. “I hope they will strike the tree and smash their old pirogue into kindling-wood.”
Perk being afraid to return to the bank lest he should be discovered by the men in the pirogue, stretched himself out at full length on the log and kept his eyes fastened on the approaching vessel. In a few seconds she began to loom up more distinctly through the darkness, and Perk was astonished at the amount of canvas she carried and the manner in which she was handled. Her huge sail extended up into the air until it seemed to reach above the tops of the trees, and, although Pierre and Coulte had seated themselves as far back in the stern-sheets as they could get, her bow, instead of riding gracefully over the waves, was forced down into them by every gust of wind that filled the canvas. It was plain that Coulte and his son were in a great hurry, and that they thought more of speed than they did of their own comfort or the safety of the vessel.
“They’ve more faith in that old tub than I would have if I was in her,” soliloquized Perk. “If she labors so badly here in the bayou, where the water is comparatively smooth, and the wind hasn’t half a chance at her, what would she do if she was out in the Gulf? But she’ll never get out there. She’s going to smash herself into a million pieces.”
The boys on the bank, who had by this time discovered the pirogue, thought so, too. She continued to approach the log at almost railroad speed, and Perk held his breath in suspense, and even clasped his arms around the tree as if he feared that the concussion might knock him off into the water; but Pierre, who handled the helm, was on the watch, and when the pirogue had arrived within ten feet of the obstruction, he discovered the danger and with one sweep of his arm escaped it.
“Whew!” whistled Coulte, clenching his teeth tightly on the stem of his never-failing pipe, and holding fast to the stern-sheets with both hands; “somedings wrong again!”
“Yes, of course there is,” replied Pierre. “Haven’t things been going wrong with us ever since we began to meddle with this business? Here’s a log extending clear across the bayou, and I came within an inch of running into it. We’ll have to go ashore and pull the boat around it.”