"Dat ar might come handy," said Gravity, picking up the loaded musket which the panic-stricken Tory had left behind him and handing it to Aunt Peggy, who asked, with a shudder:
"Do you s'pose I would touch it?"
"Let me have it," said Maggie; "I consider it fortunate that we have two guns with us."
It was a good thing, indeed, for Maggie Brainerd, like many of the brave maidens of a hundred years ago, was an expert in handling the awkward weapons of our Revolutionary sires. With this at her command, the chances were she would be heard from before the rising of the morrow's sun.
But, if Jake Golcher was a mild enemy before, it was certain he was now an unrelenting one. He would neglect no effort to avenge himself upon all for the indignity he had received.
The African understood this, and he lost no time in getting away from the spot with the utmost speed.
It was now about five o'clock in the afternoon, but it was the eve of the Fourth of July, and the days were among the longest in the year. It would not be dark for three hours, and who could tell what might take place in that brief period?
Extremely good fortune had attended our friends thus far, but it was not reasonable to expect it to continue without break.
The Tory was scarcely out of sight when Gravity started on a trot down the bank, with the others close behind him.
"Bus'ness hab got to be pushed on de jump," he said, by way of explanation; "we ain't done wid dat chap yet."
It was scarcely a minute later when he uttered an exclamation of thankfulness, and those directly behind saw him stoop down and, grasping the prow of a small flat-boat or scow, draw it from beneath the undergrowth and push it into the water.
Such craft are not managed by oars, and Gimp handed a long pole to Maggie, saying:
"Use dat de best ye kin, and don't lose no time gittin' to de oder shore."
"But what are you going to do, Gravity?"
"I'se gwine wid you, but I'm afeard de boat won't hold us all, and I'll hab to ride on de outside."
The Susquehanna is generally quite shallow along shore, and it was necessary to push the scow several yards before the water was found deep enough to float it with its load.
Gravity laid the two guns within the boat, and then, picking up the petite Maggie, hastily carried her the short distance and placed her dry-shod within, where she immediately assumed control by means of the pole, which was a dozen feet in length.
Aunt Peggy and Eva were deposited beside her, by which time the scow was sunk within a few inches of the gunwales: had the African followed them, it would have been swamped.
As it was, the faithful negro was assuming great risk, for, as have stated, he could not swim a stroke; but the circumstances compelled such a course, and he did not hesitate.
"You see, folks," said he, as he began shoving the craft out into the river; "dat dis wessel won't carry any more passengers."
Just then he stepped into a hole, which threw him forward on his face with a loud splash, his head going under and nearly strangling him. He was thoughtful enough to let go the boat, and recovered himself with considerable effort, after causing a slight scream from Eva, who was afraid he was going to drown.
The freedom from immediate danger ended when the fugitives put out from the shore.
The suddenness of the defeat, pursuit, and massacre at Wyoming prevented anything like the use of boats by the fleeing patriots, who were beset by a merciless foe.
Had the scow been near where the main stream of fugitives were rushing into the river and striving to reach the opposite bank, the boat would not have kept afloat for a minute. It not only would have been grasped by a score of the fugitives, but it would have become the target for a number of rifles, which could hardly have failed to kill all the occupants.
The stream rapidly deepened, and by and by Gimp was up to his neck and moving rather gingerly, with his two broad hands resting on the stern of the boat.
Maggie Brainerd stood erect in the craft, pole in hand, and, bending slightly as she pressed the support against the river bottom, held on until it was almost beyond her reach, when she withdrew it, and, reaching forward, placed the lower end against the bottom again, shoving the awkward vessel with as much skill as the negro himself could have shown.
Aunt Peggy, as trim and erect as ever, was seated near the prow, while Eva nestled at her feet with her head in her lap. When they observed how deep the scow sank in the water, naturally enough their fears were withdrawn from the great calamity, and centered upon the one of drowning.
The ancient lady glanced askance at the turbid current, while Eva turned pale and shivered more than once, as she looked affrightedly at the hungry river that seemed to be climbing slowly up the frail partition which kept it away from the fugitives.
Suddenly the feet of Gravity failed to reach bottom, and, sinking down until his ears and mouth were scarcely above the surface, he bore slightly upon the support and began threshing the water with his feet, so that at a distance the scow looked as if it had a steam screw at the stern driving it forward.
This rather cumbersome means of propulsion really accomplished more than would be supposed. Despite the fact that the African could not float himself, he managed his pedal extremities with skill, and the boat was quick to respond.
CHAPTER VII
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Fred Godfrey found himself mixed up in some events of a stirring character.
It will be recalled that while hunting for his friends he was told that they had taken to a flat-boat, or scow, and were probably across the Susquehanna.
If such were the fact, the true course for Fred was to follow them without a second's delay.
His informant no doubt meant to tell the truth, but he had given a wrong impression.
It was true, as has been shown, that the female members of the Brainerd family had started across the river under charge of the herculean Gravity Gimp, but Mr. Brainerd himself was still on the side where the battle took place, though his son believed he was with the others that had taken to the boat.
Fred was making his way as best he could to the river side, when he became aware that he had attracted the notice of several Indians, who made for him. In the general flurry he did not notice the alarming fact till the party was almost upon him. Then he turned and fired among them, threw away his gun, and made for the river at the top of his speed.
He was remarkably fleet of foot, and in a fair race would have held his own with any Iroquois in Wyoming Valley; but there was no telling when or where some more of the dusky foes would leap up and join in the pursuit.
It was fortunate, perhaps, that the Susquehanna was so near, for the pursuit was no more than fairly begun when it was reached. Knowing he would be compelled to swim for life, he ran as far out in the water as he could, and then took what may be called a tremendous "header," throwing himself horizontally through the air, but with his head a little lower than the rest of the body, and with his arms extended and hands pressed palm to palm in front.
He struck the water at a point beyond his depth, and drawing in one deep inspiration as he went beneath, he swam with might and main until he could hold his breath no longer.
When he rose to the surface it was a long way beyond where he went under, and much farther than where the Indians were looking for him to reappear.
But they were ready with cocked guns, and the moment the head came to view they opened fire; but Fred expected that, and waiting only long enough to catch a mouthful of air, he went under and sped along like a loon beneath the surface.
Every rod thus gained increased his chances, but it did not by any means remove the danger, for it takes no very skillful marksman to pick off a man across the Susquehanna, and many a fugitive on that fateful day fell after reaching