The half dozen men who lingered at the base of Crow's Cliff had shouted the alarm to their friends on the other side, and the fugitives were sighted once more.

But it was too late.

The boat was well out of gunshot range and making rapid progress downstream in the shelter of the high bluffs below Crow's Cliff.

Jack Barnes was dripping with perspiration, but his stroke was none the feebler.
"They see us!" she cried.
"Don't wriggle so, Marjory--trim boat!" he panted.

"They can't hit us, and we can go two miles to their one." "And we can get to Bracken's!" she cried triumphantly.