It seemed as if darkness never would come. It was scarcely dusk when our patience gave out and we paddled up stealthily, hugging the shore. Bill gained the scow unnoticed, but just as he was about to push off he discerned the body of a man within. It was one of the tramps lying there in a drunken stupor. What was to be done? Every moment was precious. A yell from the fireside decided him. With a mighty push he launched the boat out into the current, while we threw him a line and towed the boat out to midstream. With a volley of curses the men sprang up and pelted us with stones. But they were poor shots, and we escaped without serious injury. Our prisoner, in the meantime, was snoring heavily in the scow undisturbed. We took him down-stream and then unceremoniously picked him up and dumped him overboard within a few feet of the shore. It was a rude awakening, and nearly frightened the wits out of the man. But it brought him to his senses, and in a moment we were dodging more stones, sent with such good aim that we had to lie flat in the bottoms of the boats until the current carried us out of reach.