In Texas with Davy Crockett
9781465667427
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
The towering stacks of the steamboat “Mediterranean” sent their clouds of smoke, black and wind rent, across the sky; her sharp bow cut the yellow waters of the Mississippi and dashed the spray as high as her rails. The cabins were thronged with passengers; the forward deck was tiered high with bales and barrels and boxes of merchandise. Two boys sat by the rail upon the upper deck; their faces were earnest and they talked in low tones. “Are you quite sure that Sam Davidge is on board, Walt?” asked one. “I’d know him among a whole city-full, let alone a cabin-full,” answered Walter Jordan. “And I’ve seen him three times to-day.” The other boy frowned and looked out over the wide river toward the Arkansas shore. “It’s queer,” said he. “It’s very queer that he should just happen to be going down the river at the same time we are.” Walter Jordan gave his friend a quick look. “Ned,” said he, “chance has nothing to do with it—as I think you know.” Ned Chandler nodded. “He’s on board because we are; he’s trying to find out where we are going.” The boy ran his fingers through his short light hair, and his blue eyes snapped. “I never did think much of Davidge; and I think less of him now than I did before.” Walter Jordan leaned back in his chair and clasped one knee with his hands. He was a tall, well-built young fellow of eighteen with a broad chest and shoulders, and a good-looking, resolute face. “When we boarded the ‘General Greene’ at Louisville,” said he, “I thought I saw Davidge in the crowd. But you know what a miserable, wet night it was and how the lamps on the pier flickered. So I couldn’t be sure.” “You never mentioned it to me,” said Ned, complainingly. “I didn’t want to until I was sure. I thought there was no use getting up an excitement about a thing that might turn out to have nothing behind it.” From somewhere around the high tiers of bales, a negro deck hand picked a tune out of a banjo; and the rhythmic shuffle and pit-pat-pit of feet told of another who danced to the music. “All the way down the Ohio on the ‘Greene’ I noticed you were very quiet and watchful,” spoke young Chandler. “But to me it only meant that you were careful. I never thought of anything else.” Walter Jordan looked at his friend, and there was a troubled look in his eyes. “And Sam Davidge isn’t all we have to worry us,” said he, in a lower tone. “When we reached the Mississippi, and changed to this boat, I noticed something else.” Ned caught the troubled look, and though he did not in the least suspect the cause of it, his own round face took on one just like it. “What was it?” he asked. “Have you seen a man on board whom they all call Colonel Huntley?” Ned’s eyes went to the cabin door where he had noticed two persons a few moments before; the two were still there and intently examining them. “Yes,” said Ned. “I know whom you mean.” “I didn’t understand it, and I don’t like it,” said Walter, the troubled look growing deeper, “but there is never a time I look toward him that I don’t find his eyes upon me.” “Humph!” said Ned. And then: “Well, Walt, he’s not changed his ways any. Don’t look around just yet, or he’ll see that we’ve been speaking of him. He’s over by the cabin door behind you, and he’s looking this way for all he’s worth.”
