Free Fool's Gold by Eric Walters

say.”
    Red shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, whatever, kid, as long as you get us the gold. But I want you to understand my rules.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pistol. “My rules are simple. You make a wrong move, either of you,” he said, looking at me, “and I put a bullet between your eyes. Kids or no kids, I won’t hesitate.”
    â€œYou don’t need to threaten them,” Moose said.
    â€œThey need to know where things stand,” Red said.
    â€œDon’t worry, we’ll get the gold,” Jack said. He sounded confident. He was a good actor. “The second thing is your guns. Are you both carrying a gat?”
    The two men smiled at each other. Moose patted his shirt to reveal a lump that could only be a gun.
    â€œNever go anywhere without one,” Moose said. “Feel like I was half naked if I didn’t have it with me.”
    â€œYou have to give me your word that you won’t use them,” Jack said, “that you won’t shoot any of the guards.”
    â€œLast thing in the world we want to do is shoot somebody, including one of you two,” Red said. “We’re thieves, not killers. We’re carrying pieces so we can defend ourselves if we need to, or take prisoners if we have to. We don’t want to hurt nobody.”
    â€œGood. Then let’s stop talking and get into the boat.”

CHAPTER NINE
    THE RAFT DRIFTED DOWN THE CREEK , lazily spinning and turning as it worked its way through the eddies of water. Jack and I were both paddling but we were making very slow progress.
    â€œWe’re stuck again,” Jack said as the raft pivoted on a low spot. The raft itself was big and it was carrying a pretty heavy load—four bodies … actually, more like six if you counted how big Moose was.
    Without saying a word Jack climbed over the edge of the raft and into the water. I did the same. With the load lightened, and us kicking and pushing, the raft started moving again. Moose reached down then and grabbed me by the arm, effortlessly pulling me up and out of the water and dropping me into the raft beside him. He smiled. I smiled back. It was amazing just how strong he was. He was strong like, like, I guess a moose would be. Jack climbed in over the other side by himself.
    â€œI thought you said this was a good way in to the camp,” Red said.
    â€œIt’s the best way. It’s just that the water level islower than it was the last time we did this, and we weren’t carrying this much weight.”
    â€œIf you want, I can get out and walk,” Red suggested. He seemed more than a little anxious.
    â€œNo, that wouldn’t work. Just sit back and relax,” Jack told him.
    â€œSit back I can do. Relax I can’t. I hate boats.”
    â€œThat’s’cause he can’t swim,” Moose said.
    â€œI can swim!” Red exclaimed. “Maybe not like some fish but I can do a little doggy-paddle if I need to. Besides, we’re in the raft, not in the water.”
    I looked over at Jack. We were both thinking the same thing—he was going to be in the water before this was over. I just hoped that the pool at the bottom of the waterfall would still be deep enough to catch us, but not deep enough to drown him.
    As we rounded another corner in the creek I caught sight of the railroad trestle. Just upstream from it was the large willow that had sheltered Jack and me before. It was right at the edge of the creek and its branches reached over and then down, extending right into the water. Without saying a word we both began paddling to position the raft to enter underneath the overhanging branches. Sluggishly the raft spun slightly around and then over to the right bank. The front end disappeared beneath the branches and we followed. Jack stood up slightly and grabbeda handful of the thin branches, using them as an anchor to stop us from drifting any farther.
    â€œWhy are we