The last dangerous rapids of the river had been reached some days later. Frank and his friends had enjoyed the drift hugely, but they were not really sorry the strange voyage was almost at an end, for they were anxious to get back to the blue waters of Penobscot Bay and the White Wings.

The raft must be broken up to go through the rapids and over a fall. No man had ever “ridden timber” over the falls and come out to tell the tale. Several had been drowned there.

It was nightfall when the quickening water above the rapids was reached, and again the raft tied up. In the morning it was to be broken up and sent down.

Merriwell’s party, Forest, the cook and the cookee slept in the little brush huts on the raft.

On shore a brush camp was made, and the men made merry, for the end of the drive was near, and they were expecting to have “high old times” in Bangor after they were paid off.

Sullivan and Pombere had sulked all the way from Mattawamkeag, and they drew aside by themselves and took no part in the merry making this night.

Of course there was singing; of course the old fiddle was tuned up.

But Sullivan and Pombere talked in low tones, with their heads close together.

“Dat ees ze treek!” whispered the Canadian. “They nevare know eet till eet be too late to save themselves.”

“But what if some of ther men find ther ropes cut?” asked the foreman, doubtfully.

[221]

“Eef we go away zey nevare know we do eet.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Eet is ze last chance. You say dat Merriwell nevare live to get down de rivare. Prit’ soon eet be too late for you to keep dat word.”

“That’s so,” acknowledged Sullivan. “I’ll do it!”

Then they both got up, and Sullivan said:

“There’s a dance over to ther corners, Mr. Forest, an’ me an’ Levi’s goin’ over.”

“You hadn’t better go,” said Fred. “We get to work at daybreak, and you will not get any sleep. You’ll need rest.”

“Oh, we’re tough enough ter stan’ it, so we’ll go.”

“Well, you must be on hand and ready for work by three o’clock.”

“All right. We’ll be here.”

Then the two men started out, quickly disappearing in the shadows.

It was past midnight, and there was very little light, save when the moon peered duskily through a rift in the clouds, when two dark forms skulked back into the camp.

The men were sleeping in their blankets about the smoldering fire, but they were tired, and none of them awoke.

The two forms slipped down the bank and boarded the raft. They seemed to know just what to do, for they began working without a whisper passing between them.

The wangan boat had been partly drawn up on the rear end of the raft, where it lay with its stern in the water.

With keen knives the two men cut the ropes that held the raft to the shore. Then they pushed it off gently and worked it out into the current.

Not a sound came from the little huts. Evidently the sleepers were undisturbed. Now and then the moon would shoot a white bar of light down upon the surface[222] of the river, and that light was enough to show the current was running strongly.

But the two villains kept at work till the raft was moving swiftly, and they could hear the roar of the falls in the distance. They were endeavoring to make sure that not one on the raft should escape alive.

“This be far enough,” whispered Pombere, at last.

“A little farder,” came back the voice of Sullivan. “We can git off in the boat any time.”

So they made sure the raft was fast in the strong current so there was no possibility of the intended victims awakening and getting it back to the shore.

“There,” Sullivan finally whispered, in savage satisfaction, “now we’ll take ter ther boat.”

They turned to the boat, but it was gone!

Just then the moon broke through an opening in the clouds, and they saw the boat some distance a............