Chapter 55. The Rescue of Bill
Bales were ready and the canoe newly gummed three days after
their arrival, but still no sign of Bill. A messengers sent to
the brother-in-law's home reported that he had not been seen for
two days. In spite of the fact that Albany numbered nearly "six
thousand living human souls," a brief search by the docksharps
soon revealed the sinner's retreat. His worst enemy would have
pitied him; a red-eyed wreck; a starved, sick and trembling
weakling; conscience-stricken, for the letter intrusted to him
was lost; the cargo stolen -- so his comforters had said -- and
the raw country lad murdered and thrown out into the river. What
wonder that he should shun the light of day! And when big Peter
with Rolf in the living flesh, instead of the sheriff, stood
before him and told him to come out of that and get into the
canoe, he wept bitter tears of repentance and vowed that never,
never, never, as long as he lived would he ever again let liquor
touch his lips. A frame of mind which lasted in strength for
nearly one day and a half, and did not entirely varnish for three.
They passed Troy without desiring to stop, and began their fight
with the river.
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