Well, looking at it wasn't a bad thing to do, because the river was away up, and when the Mississippi is up it is worth looking at. It looks twice as big and sort of rounded up in the middle, and all sorts of things floating down it—dead trees, and boxes, and logs, and dead pigs, and sometimes sheds and things. It generally gets up in June, and we always go down on Saturdays to see how she's getting along.
“She's higher than she ever was,” said Swatty.
“Well, I guess she'll be mighty high by Saturday,” said Bony.
“No, she won't,” said Swatty, “because she's going to begin falling to-day, the paper says. Why don't you come along down with me?”
“Yes, and get licked for staying out of school!” I said.
“All right for you fellows, then!” said Swatty. “I'll be mad at you for good. If you were going to get licked I'd just want to do something so I could get licked too. Don't I always stick by you fellows? And when I'm going to get licked you go back on me. You're 'fraid-cats.”
“Who's a 'fraid-cat?” I asked, for I don't let anybody call me that.
“You are!” said Swatty. “And so's Bony. You're afraid to stay out of school one afternoon. You're afraid to stay out the day the river hits high-water mark. You'll look nice, won't you, with just you and Bony and a lot of girls in school!”
“Who said we'd be the only kids there?” I asked.
“Who said it? Why, I said it. You don't think any kids will go to school this afternoon, do you? Everybody will be down at the levee—men and everybody. If the river don't drop this afternoon she'll go over the island levee. And you sit around in school like it was a common day! Why, it's like—like election, or Fourth of July, or something like that! It's worse than when the ice goes out.”