"Never on your life—she's going to run like a wolf—but maybe you are right about giving her a good trial—suppose we bring her around into the river?—that ought to be trial enough," he concluded, coming close and displaying a wonderfully well developed torso that with age would be as broad as his father's, which I had been admiring but a short time before. For a moment I speculated on how he would feel if he knew that his father was in New Orleans at that moment and that I had been talking with him.
"Wake up, Ben; you seem to be dreaming. Did you hear what I said?" he insisted, making me dodge to escape a whack on the back.
"I believe you said it was over two hundred miles through Ponchertrain around into the river?"
"Yes, over two hundred miles by water, but by land, right through the city, only about a mile. But we've got to get into the river."
"Yes, if she will go two hundred miles she will go any distance."
"All right; I'm going to pack up to-night and move aboard to stay until Becker and his crew are all in limbo headed for the penitentiary—do you hear me, Ben?"
I heard what he said, but was lost in considering plans which at that moment required radical change, and must be done with tact and judgment.
Hiram became thoughtful and remained so throughout dinner, and as soon as we returned he began, without further comment, to get his belongings together and ready for transfer to the Fearsome, fully convinced that his abode there would last for a long time.
I remained in the attitude of the "immortal," who waited for something to turn up, and I did not have long to wait.