Piloting on the Mississippi was tricky enough, with the shifting bars and the deadly, submerged logs, stumps, and trees; but the Missouri was in a class by itself; indeed, at various stages of high water it seemed hardly to know its own channels or, in some places, even its own bed. It threw up an island today to remove it next week or ten years later, and cut a new channel to close up an old one whenever the mood suited. Gnawing off soft clay promontories or cutting in behind them was a favorite pastime; and the sand and clay of its banks and the vast expanses of its bottoms coaxed it into capricious excursions afield. More than one innocent and unsuspecting settler, locating what he considered to be a reasonable distance from its shores on some rich bottom, found his particular portion of the earth's surface under the river or on its further bank when he returned from a precipitate and entirely willing flight.
There were two tricks used on the river to get out of sandbar difficulties that deserve mention. During certain stages of the river it for some reason would cross over from one side of its bed to the other, and between the old and the new deep channels would be a space of considerable distance crossed by the water where there was no channel, but only a number of shallow washes, none of which perhaps would be deep enough to let a steamboat through. The deepest would be selected, and if only two or three more inches of water were needed, the boat would be run up as far as it could go, the crew would fix the two great spars with their shoes against the bottom, slanting downstream, set the steam capstans drawing on their ropes, and then reverse the paddle wheel. The turning of the great wheel would force water under the hull while the spars pushed backward and, raising a platform of water around her and taking it with her, she would slide over the shallow place and go on about her business.
In case of a bar where there were no submerged banks to hold a platform of water, and only a few more inches needed, the spars would be used as before, but the paddle wheel would remain idle. The backward thrust of the spars would force the boat ahead, while their lifting motion would raise it a little. This being repeated again and again would eventually "walk" the boat across and into deeper water on the other side. It was a slow and laborious operation and sometimes took a day or two, but it was preferable to lying tied to the bank and waiting for a rise, often a matter of a week or more.
All this was an old story to Tom, who now was on his fifth trip up the river, for he was an observant young man and one who easily became acquainted with persons he wished to know. These included the officers and pilots, who took to the upstanding young plainsman at first sight and gave painstaking answers to his many but sensible questions. In consequence his knowledge of the river was wide and deep, although not founded on practical experience.
Long before the packet turned into the Missouri he had his affairs attended to and was leaning against the rail enjoying the shifting panorama. But the scenery did not take all of his attention, for he was keeping a watch for a certain Mexican trader and for the young lady of the glove; and after the boat had rounded into the Big Muddy, he caught sight of the more interesting of the two as she walked forward on the port side in the company of her escort. Waiting a few moments to see if they would discover him, he soon gave it up and went in search of the purser, who seemed to know about everyone of note in St. Louis.
"Hello, Tom," called that officer, having recovered his breath after the rush. "Yo're goin' back purty quick, ain't you?"
"Reckon not. One night an' one day in th' city was enough. But this cussed packet is near as lonesome. I don't know a passenger on board."
"I can fix that," laughed the purser. "I know about three-quarters of 'em, an' can guess at th' rest. I counted seven professional gamblers comin' up th' plank. They'll be in each other's way. You feelin' like some excitement?"
"Not with any of them," answered Tom, grinning. "I can count seven times seven of them fellers in Independence; an' I hear some of 'em are plannin' to join up with th' next outgoing train."