Harry knew from its sudden violence that the rain would soon pass,
and if the waves abated a little he would certainly take his boat into
the river and try his fortunes again. Yet a precious hour was lost,
and nothing could replace it. The thunder ceased by and by and there was
only dim lightning on the far horizon. The waves began to abate, and,
taking off his blankets, he pushed his boat once more into the stream.
It rocked prodigiously and shipped water, but by strenuous effort he kept
it afloat, and as the wind sank still further he decided that he would
seek the northern shore and disembark as soon as possible. It would be
easier to steal through the thickets than to navigate what amounted to
a wild sea. But the banks were yet too high and steep for a landing,
and he continued to row, keeping now near the middle of the stream.
Wind and rain were dying fast, and he heard a sound behind uncommonly
like the distant swish of oars. It sent an unpleasant thrill through him,
because he wished to be alone on the river at that particular time,
but his eyes, tracing a course through all the dusk and gloom, rested
upon another boat, about two hundred yards away, containing a single
occupant.
A farmer or a riverman, Harry thought, but to his great astonishment
the man suddenly raised himself up a little and shouted to him in a
tremendous voice to halt.
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