, stood up out of the creek like some water monster about to seize
the occupants of the boat for a meal.

"Pull, Bob, hard!" whispered Dexter, in a low, excited voice; and Bob
pulled.

The boat sped on, and the man uttered a savage yell, when, with a cry of
horror, Bob ceased rowing.

But the boat had plenty of impetus, and it shot forward so swiftly that,
to avoid its impact, the man drew a little on one side as he caught at
the gunwale.

_Whop_!

Dexter struck at him with the light ash pole he held in his hand--struck
at their enemy with all his might, and then turned and sat down in the
boat, overcome with horror at what he had done, for he saw the man fall
backward, and the water close over his head.

Then there was a loud hissing, rustling sound as the boat glided through
the reeds, which bent to right and left, and rose again as they passed,
hiding everything which followed.

The next moment the force given to the boat was expended, and it stopped
outside the reeds, but only to commence another movement, for the tide
bore the bows round, and the light gig began to glide softly along.

"I've killed him," thought Dexter; and he turned cold with horror,
wondering the while at his temerity and what would follow.

"Was that his head?" said Bob, in rather a piteous voice, as he sat
there resting upon his oars.

"Yes," said Dexter, in a horror-stricken whisper. "I hit him right on
the head."

"You've been and gone and done it now, then," whimpered Bob. "You've
killed him. That's what you've done. Never did see such a chap as
you!"

"I couldn't help it," said Dexter huskily.

"Yes, that's what you always says," cried Bob, in an ill-used tone. "I
wish I hadn't come with yer, that I do. I say, ought we to go and pick
him up? It don't matter, do it?"

"Yes, Bob; we must go back and pull him out," said Dexter, with a
shudder. "Row back through the reeds. Quick, or he may be drowned!"

"He won't want any drowning after that whack you give him on the head.
I don't think I shall go back. Look! look!"

Dexter was already looking at the frantic muddy figure upon the bank, up
which it had climbed after emerging from the reeds. The man was
half-mad with rage and disappointment, and he ran along shaking his
fists, dancing about in his fury, and shouting to the boys what he would
do.

His appearance worked a miraculous effect upon the two boys. Dexter
felt quite light-hearted in his relief, and Bob f