``Don't give up, pard; we'll ketch 'em afore they git much further.''
Though Hildey's right arm was useless, he plied the paddle with his left, and the men continued to gain. As the boys passed through under the bridge, Leander's boat was abreast of Sandy, who whispered:
``I'll take the swash on the right that goes through the big marsh and comes out at the Devil's Elbow. You hug the channel bank, an' mebbe we'll fool 'em.''
Sandy knew that, after the river left the bridge, it went almost southerly for half a mile, then made an abrupt turn at right angles, pursued its way westward for another quarter of a mile, and then met the swash channel, which cut diagonally through the big marsh. At this junction of the two streams a whirlpool called the Devil's Elbow had been formed, a treacherous spot for small craft, and requiring rare skill to pass in safety.
When Sandy told Leander to take the main channel, it was with a desperate hope that Foley and Hildey would be in doubt, for the moment, which skiff to follow as they came out under the bridge.
Within himself, he reasoned that this hesitation, on their part, would consume sufficient time to permit the boys to gain a lead and reach in safety the landing, two miles below.
``The chances are jest even-Stephen,'' he said to Gilbert, ``though it separates us from Leander, till we reach the Devil's Elbow.''
But alas! Sandy's reasoning failed him for once this time.
As Foley and Hildey came through under the bridge, the former cried:
``Steer to the right channel an' foller that boat; that's the one the kid's in.''
``They're after us, darn 'em,'' said Sandy, ``but we're gittin' ahead bully.
Keep it up, Gil, an' we'll come out all right, see if we don't.''
Dripping with perspiration, and with hands burned and blistered, Sandy and Gilbert were forging ahead and gaining on their pursuers, straining every nerve to increase their lead. As they rounded a bend in the channel, Hildey shouted:
``There's yer chance to plug 'em, pard. Shoot!''
Foley obeyed, and the boys' skiff, which was a metallic one, was bored through by the pistol ball. The water poured through the hole, and Sandy shouted to Gilbert:
``Drop yer paddle; take yer hat an' put it over the leak, tight as yer kin; bale with the other hand, or we'll sink in a minit. Lily, sit up, so yer won't get wet; but don't show yer head,'' and with a courage born of despair, Sandy renewed his efforts.
Foley was gaining rapidly, and it seemed that only a miracle could prevent the boy's capture before they reached the Devil's Elbow.
Three minutes passed with only the sound of the lightning-like dip of the paddles. Another short bend in the channel, and a hundred yards ahead was the confluence of the two currents, which were ever at war.
``Keep on bailing, Gil,'' cried Sandy, ``an' when we git past the Elbow, if they're too close to us, I'm goin' to use my pistol on 'em, but I don't want ter shoot till I can make the shot tell fer all it's worth. Steady, Lily; hold tight, Gil; don't move, I'll git yer through without swampin', 'cause I knows every current in the Elbow.''
Through the mad swirl of waters the boy held his boat, and steered her into the quiet tide beyond.
Leander and Dink were just turning the bend of the main channel an eighth of a mile away, and the skiff containing Foley and Hildey had reached the outer current of the eddy.
``Now you've got 'em,'' yelled Hildey, as Sandy's skiff veered to the left, not twenty yards from the other.
``Not if I knows it,'' cried Sandy as he shot square at Foley, the ball going through the sleeve of his coat, but leaving him unharmed.
``Curse yer fer a fool!'' came from Foley, dropping his paddle and standing up in the skiff, which now had nothing to guide it but Hildey's exhausted arm.
The skiff was rocking violently. Foley attempted to balance himself as he raised his pistol to shoot. In a flash the frail craft was caught in the conflicting currents, it careened and capsized, and the two men were battling for life in the whirlpool.
Sandy was so intent on escape that he had gone some distance down stream before realizing he was no longer pursued. Suddenly an agonizing cry was borne on the midnight air:
``Help! Help! I'm drownin'!''
The boy rested on his paddle, and scanned the river in the direction of the voice.
``Don't let's let 'em drown like rats in a hole,'' said Sandy, and he started his boat back toward the bend.
``Gil, gimme yer pistol. They may be tryin' to play some trick on us, an' if they are, we'll be ready for 'em.''
The precaution was unnecessary, for when they came near, they saw the upturned skiff circling around in the eddy, its paddles bobbing with the waves, and the hats of Foley and Hildey slowly drifting toward the bank.
Leander and Dink, meanwhile, had come up, and with the other two boys remained for fully half an hour waiting for some sign of the two robbers, but in vain; for far beneath the surface of the water in the maddening current, the ill-spent lives of Foley and Hildey were ended. They were dead in the cruel embrace of the Devil's Elbow.
