quivered in the depths of the
stream. From the head of the bend came the long and deepened breathing
of a coal boat. A bell clangs in the engine-room, the great wheel stops
as welcoming rest, the bell clangs again and the boat swings on,
standing for the channel. Afar up the river, Shawn saw a lurid light
against the sky. The heightened colors came and went in flashes and
spurts. That light could not come from the headlight of a steamer. Shawn
went quietly to the door and called Burney. Burney came to the door of
the boat, rubbing his eyes. "Must be a house burning, from the looks of
it." They stood on the shanty-boat until the light began to diminish
and then went to bed. Burney was unable to sleep. Presently he got up
and turned up the wick of the lamp. Coaly went over and nestled by his
feet. Suddenly Burney heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Coaly
began to growl and moved nearer the door. Shawn was peering out of his
bunk. Burney opened the door as two men came up the gang-plank. They
were breathing hard and looked as though they had been running. One of
them was untying the chain of the john-boat, and said, "We want your
boat to get across the river; we're in a hurry."

"Let go of that chain," said Burney, as he raised a musket to his
shoulder. "You can't have that boat, and I want you to get off of this
boat at once."

The men drew back, they were desperate looking characters, but they
heard the determined tone of Burney's voice and they stepped ashore and
made off down the beach. Burney turned to Shawn and said, "Somethin' is
wrong; them fellers have done somethin'. What's that?" They could hear
the deep baying of a hound. "My God, they's bloodhounds!"

There is something strangely weird in the sound of a bloodhound's voice
coming across the night--something that seems to tell of death. The
trail was fresh and the dogs were coming under full yelp.

"Put on your shoes and come out front, Shawn," said Burney. Eight or ten
men came down through the willows, one man in front and holding the
hounds by a leash. Each man was armed with a shotgun. The dogs came to
the gang-plank, and stopped at the water, and lapped it with their long,
yellow tongues.

"Whose boat is this, and who's here?" asked one of the men. Old John
answered in a clear and unshaken voice, "I am John Burney, and this is
my boat." One of the men came forward and extending his hand, said, "I
know John Burney; there's nothing wrong with him,