"Down to New Orleans?"
"Not yet, if you will behave like a man. Have a little pluck, Sim."
"I dassent!" replied he, with a shake of his frame.
"Now hold on tight! I'm going to try to get ashore," I called to him, as I saw that the current would carry us under the overhanging branch of a tree, which I could reach by making a strong effort.
"Don't leave me, Buck!" pleaded he, in his terror.
"I won't leave you. Cling to the log," I replied, as I jumped up, and succeeded in grasping the branch of the tree.
I pulled it down till I got hold of a part strong enough to check the progress of the log; but the current was so swift that I was nearly dragged from it. By twining my legs around the log, I held on till its momentum was overcome; and then I had no difficulty in drawing it in till the end touched the shore. After much persuasion I induced Sim to work himself along the stick till he reached the dry land; for we had passed beyond the greatest depression in the swamp, where the stream did not cover the banks.
Eagerly he passed from the log to the bank, and actually danced with joy when he found himself once more on the solid earth.
"Hookie! Hookie!" shouted he, opening his mouth from ear to ear, while his fat face lighted up with an expression of delight, like a baby with a new rattle.
"Are you going to let me go down stream, Sim?" I called to him, reproachfully, for he seemed to have more regard for his own safety than for mine.