"I wonder if anybody ever had such luck as this," said Tom, as he turned his face slowly toward the levee. "I almost dread to think of it, for fear that there is worse luck in store for me."
He was alone now, at all events.
CHAPTER VI.
TOM ADMIRES THE COWBOYS.
Tom Mason slowly made his way back to Wolf River, the place where the Jennie June was discharging her cargo, locked his baggage in his state room, and seated himself on the guard to watch the deck-hands and think of Mr. Bolton, if that was his name. Several passengers got off at Memphis, and several more got on to take their places, but from the time the boat rounded to go up the Arkansas River there was no one who had anything to say to him, if we except the clerk and the barber.
Tom thought he had never seen so lonely and desolate a country as that through which the Arkansas flowed. Woods were to be seen in every direction, and here and there a small clearing with a negro or two scattered about to show that somebody lived there. The boat stopped a few times to let off a passenger where there was not the sign of a fence anywhere around, but she never got out a line for them. She awoke the echoes far and near with her hoarse whistle, shoved out a gang-plank, a couple of deck-hands ran ashore with the passenger's baggage, and then she went on her way up the river. The town of Little Rock was situated in the woods, and above that it was all wilderness until Fort Gibson was reached. The Jennie June did not tie up alongside the levee, but ran on till she came to a little boat with steam up, the only boat there was at the landing, and made fast alongside of her, keeping her wheels moving all the while, so as not to pull her away from her moorings.
"Have I got to change to that thing?" said Tom.
"Yes, sir," replied the clerk, who hurried past him with a book in his hands and a pencil behind his ear. "She's the only one who can go above here at all. Plenty of room on her. I'll be ready to go with you in ten minutes."
With his baggage between his feet Tom sat down to await the return of the clerk, and to make a mental estimate of the vessel that was to take him 150 miles further on his journey. He saw that she had no Texas on board of her, her pilot-house being seated on the roof of the cabin. Her engines were small, being no doubt reduced in weight to make her carrying capacity equal to passing over the shoal places she would find before her, her spars were ready for use, and she had no roof over her main-deck. She could get along very well in dry weather, but what would she do when a rain-storm came up? Tom noticed that a good portion of baggage was laid out on the boiler deck, and no doubt some of the passengers slept there; and consequently it would be a dangerous piece of business for any of the wakeful parties to attempt to promenade the main-deck with a cigar, as he had often seen done on the Jennie June.