The boys kept up good speed until night and then tied up in a small cove on the lower side of an island, not far from the Mississippi side.
“We have been going pretty fast,” Clay observed, as the boat was worked in behind a point so as to be out of the wash of the steamers. “We haven’t a thing to do until we get back to Chicago, and we can take all the time we want getting back. How is that for a peaceful life, Mose?” he added, turning to the little negro boy.
Mose showed a mouthful of white teeth and a pair of chalk-white eyeballs.
“It takes a corkscrew to get conversation out of Mose!” Jule observed.
“I think I can make him talk,” laughed Alex. “Mose,” he went on, “I’ll give you a plate of honey for supper if you’ll tell me where Chet is and who threw the leather bag on deck last night?”
“Some one fro’ what?” asked the little fellow.
“Some one threw this on the boat in the night,” Alex. answered, handing the bag to the boy. “Did you hear any one around before you left?”
The negro boy rolled his eyes for a minute then took the bag and held it under the nose of Captain Joe, who sniffed at it for a second and then walked back to the place in the cabin where Chet had slept.
“De dawg sho’ know who fro’ dat bag!” he said, patting Captain Joe on the head.
“That shows why the dog didn’t make a row when the person who threw it got close enough to the boat to heave it on deck!” Jule laughed.