"We shorely did," replied Sol, "an', Paul, she's a shore enough gall-yun,
one o' the kind you told us them Spaniards had, 'cause she's full o' good
things. Jest come on board an' look."
The three were quickly on the boat and they followed Sol with surprise and
delight, as he showed them their new treasures one by one.
"You've named her right, Sol," said Paul. "She is a galleon to us, sure
enough, and that's what we'll call her, 'The Galleon.' When we have time,
Sol, you and I will cut that name on her with our knives."
They tied their boat to a sapling and kept the oars and themselves aboard.
Tom Ross volunteered to keep the watch for the few hours that were left of
the night. The others disposed themselves comfortably in the boat, wrapped
their bodies in the beautiful new Spanish blankets, and were soon sound
asleep.
Tom sat in the prow of the boat, his rifle across his knees, and his keen
hunting knife by his side. At the first sign of danger from shore he could
cut the rope with a single slash of his knife and push the boat far out
into the current.
But there was no indication of danger nor did the indefinable sixth sense,
that came of long habit and training, warn him of any. Instead, it
remained a peaceful night, though dark, and Tom looked contemplatively at
his comrades.
Pages:
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94