With his eyes out ahead down the chute they were entering—"If any one," he drawled, "wants to see a scandalous fine moonlight picture of this river, one they'll never forget, the best place from whence to behold it is the texas roof, down here, out for'ard o' the chimneys."
"If Captain Hugh would go with us," pensively said Mrs. Gilmore, "we'd all go." And soon the pilots were alone.
"Now," growled the younger, with his gaze down there on Ramsey, "don't that beat you? Her making California stay so's Cap'n Hugh can't pair off with her!"
"Be easy," said Watson; "that's according to Hoyle. Don't shoot till they settle.... There. Now I'll go down and take care of California. By cracky! run smooth or run rough, I believe it's going to go this time."
LX
ONCE MORE HUGH SINGS
Between that great eastward bend nearly opposite the mouth of the Arkansas, which in later years was cut off and is now, or was yesterday, Beulah Lake—between it and Ozark Island below—a white-jacket came up from the passenger deck far enough to show his head to the watchman above and warily asked a question.
"Six," was the reply. "Including me—seven."
The inquirer ran wildly down again, but the Enchantress sped on through the glorious moonlight as though he scarcely mattered. On the texas roof Mrs. Gilmore sat with "California," her husband with Watson, Hugh with Ramsey. But only the last two were out on its forward verge. Mrs. Gilmore had found it cool there and with the others had drawn back a few steps, into the pleasant warmth of the chimneys. For average passengers the evening was far gone, but not for players, pilots, Californians, or lovers—of the river.