But for the dark fear which impended over him, James Travers would have looked upon his sail up the Hudson on that spring morning as one of the most delightful experiences of his life.

The sky was clear as Italy's; the air was balmy, and the steamers and shipping on the broad stream, as well as the roar of the train thundering along shore, formed an element in the romantic scenery which has well given the name of the Rhine of America to that noble river.

But the boy had little heart for all these. He was speculating upon the probabilities of the near future.

It was during the afternoon, while gliding up the river, that they passed so close to a downward-bound steamer that the features of the passengers on deck were plainly seen.

Jim was leaning idly on the gunwale, looking at them, when he observed a lady, with a child seated beside her, the mother pointing out to the child the varied beauties of the scene as they moved swiftly by. He straightened up on the instant, as if he had received an electric shock; for the conviction came like a flash that he had seen the face of that child before.

But where? He might as well have asked himself what there was in such a sweet, angelic countenance to affect him so strangely.

Ah! he had it. That was the girl that Tom had rescued from the icy water the winter before.

Going in opposite directions, and with such speed, the steamer and schooner were soon far apart, and the straining gaze of the lad was unable to tell where the mother and child were seated.

The two had not even looked at him, and he could only sigh that the glimpse was such a passing one.

"I wonder whether Tom has ever seen them since. He would be a great deal more delighted than I."

The Simoon sailed steadily upward till the day wore by, by which time she was a good many miles above the metropolis.

It was no more than fairly dark when Sam managed to whisper in the ear of the boy,--

"You mus' leab de boat to-night!"

These were alarming words, though the lad could not understand how harm to him was to benefit any one, unless it was that Hornblower and his confederates were afraid of the consequences of discovery, and prefered to act on the principle that dead boys can tell no tales.

The night was pleasant, with a faint moon, and the Simoon dropped anchor within a few hundred yards of shore.

The distance was one that Jim could swim with ease. All he asked was the opportunity.

The two sailors seemed to suspect some scheme of escape was in the boy's head, or else they must have noticed the chance was a very tempting one.

"Why should they think I want to run away," Jim asked himself, "when I've had a hundred chances before to-day?"

Why it was they were more than usually careful it was hard to understand; but that such was the fact could not be overlooked.

It might be they were watching for the arrival of some one else, or, knowing that something important was on hand for that night, they were on the alert.

Poor Sam was in a state of great agitation, and made an awkward attempt to assist his young friend.

He offered to act as watch through the night, but the offer was declined.

They intended to keep the decks themselves.

"Dar's mischief a-brewin'," he whispered, "and yous had better git out ob dis unarthly place jist as quick as de good Lord will let you."

Which was precisely what Jim meant to do, as soon as Providence would open the way.

As the only chance was by a bold stroke, and as there was no telling the precise moment when the danger would burst upon him, Jim Travers did not wait long.

Creeping softly up the short stairs, Jim raised his head barely enough to see where the crew were.

The two sailors were standing aft, talking together in low tones. Probably they were discussing at that very moment the best plan of disposing of the boy, who had become a dangerous encumbrance to them and their employer.

It was more than likely that Hornblower had failed in his attempt to secure a ransom for the child, who was not the one for whom the other parties were negotiating.

The age of the captive was such that his liberty would prove fatal to his abductors.

Sam, the burly negro, was leaning against the mainmast, probably torturing his thick skull as to the best means of helping his young friend, whom he loved so well.

Jim saw enough, and, creeping out of the cabin, he crawled down over the rudder, upon which he rested a few seconds, while he made ready for his venture. He could see the dark bank, and he wished that the moon would hide itself behind a thick cloud, the better to give him a chance. But the sky was clear, and it might be fatal to wait any longer.

With a muttered prayer to Heaven not to desert him in his peril, he let himself down in the river, and struck out for the shore. He proceeded with all the care and stillness of which he was capable; but he had taken no more than half a dozen strokes, when he was seen by both the sailors.

"Hello! what's that?" asked Bob, running to the stern of the vessel, and peering over in the gloom.

"I guess it am a whale," suggested Sam, anxious to befriend the lad.

"A whale!" repeated the man with an oath, "it's that kid. Hello, there! Stop, or I'll shoot you!"

And he pointed his revolver at the head of Jim, who, instead of heeding the command, sank be............