"Oh, I see. You intend to commit suicide," said Creelman.
Not a muscle of the stranger's solemn countenance moved; but he rowed away suddenly and disappeared among the sand bars, followed by a peal of laughter.
Springfield was passed at noon and the citizens rushed to the bank at the first sound of the bugle.
From Springfield to Bonhomie, the river was smooth and straight. At the latter place it narrowed until the current ran at the rate of six miles an hour and the travelers were swept under the high cliffs on which the town stands in a roaring sea of whirlpools and riffles. Cheer after cheer was sent up by the people as they shot past; but the voyagers had no leisure to examine the banks, as they had all they could do to avoid the snags which stuck up everywhere and made navigation exceedingly difficult. Eight miles below, a landing was effected on a pile of driftwood; a fire built and supper cooked. It began to rain and they huddled over the fire to keep warm. At three o'clock the fire was out and a heavy fog hung on the Missouri. Paul thought it was better to keep up the temperature of the body by paddling than to sit in the mud shivering, so they resumed their voyage. The cold rain dashed into their faces in such torrents that it was more a matter of chance than skill that they progressed, as they could not see ten feet ahead. In the midst of the storm, they ran against a snag, but fortunately, no damage was done. At daybreak another halt was made and breakfast eaten. When the mists cleared, they found themselves within sight of Yankton, where they were received an hour later by the citizens.
Leaving Yankton, they arrived at Sioux City without incident and began to think they were once more within the limits of civilization. They were greeted by shouting multitudes that followed them to a hotel and would scarcely permit them to rest. Next morning the same enthusiasm was manifested when they departed. But there were yet two-hundred good miles of snaggy river to paddle before they could enjoy the luxury of a bed at every stage. Less than a dozen miles below Sioux City the weather grew threatening again and Boyton decided not to rest that night, but to push on steadily toward Omaha. During the afternoon the wind blew from every point of the compass. He hoped it would go down with the sun, but as night approached, the storm continued to develop. The increase in the speed of the current had the effect of cutting away high banks of timber and as they dashed along, they ran by immense trees sticking out of the water with the leaves yet upon their branches, showing that the channel was shifting. At midnight it began to rain and they tried to land, but failed to find a safe place as the banks on either side were undermined and caving constantly. An hour later they entered "Hell's Bend" and, the roaring of the water as it tore among the snags was almost deafening. The river was full of obstructions and suddenly Boyton and Creelman in his canvas canoe, were flung on a snag, the latter losing an oar. Regardless of his own danger, Paul struggled to release the canoe, when a large wave lifted them both clear. They were unable to continue their way in the darkness and managed to get ashore, where they built a fire and waited until daylight. The little village of Tieville was just below and when the villagers heard that Boyton was in the river, they flocked to the camp where the weary paddler lay stretched out in the mud asleep, looking more like an alligator than a man. Several experienced boatmen remarked that there were only two steamboats on the Missouri that could navigate the bend at the point where the voyagers had spent a portion of the night.
The journey was resumed at eight o'clock and not long afterward a new oar was procured for the canoe, at Decatur. A disheartening struggle against adverse wind followed until noon, when it abated. They passed the reservation of the Omaha and Winnebago Indians during the night. As the voyagers were watching for the lights of Blair early that night, a smoky smell directed their attention to a camp fire built at the water's edge. Two men were seen about it, one of whom was maudlin drunk and trying to sing. Boyton hailed them and was invited to land and get some roast goose. As the night was favorable for paddling, the invitation was declined, when the drunken one raising his gun, yelled: "You wont come in, wont you?" and fired, the shot striking the water within a few feet of Paul's head. He had a strong desire to return and punish the fellow, but concluded that to continue down the river was of more importance, besides, he could hear that the men were fighting between themselves and thought they would administer their own punishment.
At daybreak the travelers sighted Florence and discovered that they were only sixteen miles from Omaha and at the next bend they landed to cook breakfast and rest. One of the bores encountered all the way down after striking the towns, was the man who persisted in telling them all about the great flood of "last spring." He was found at every town and village and the voyagers were given all the various details of that flood until it became nauseating, so much so, that it made Boyton irritable whenever mentioned. As he lighted a cigar and stretched his limbs on the sand bar to enjoy a rest before proceeding to Omaha, he remarked to his companion that they would not be annoyed by flood fiends there; but his confidence was without foundation. In less than ten minutes after he made the remark, a man landed from a little skiff and seating himself on a log, while a gleam of satisfaction shot from his eyes, said: "Strangers, you couldn't a laid down on that bar so comfortable and easy last spring. The big flood—"
"Hop into that boat and get away from here," fairly yelled Paul, springing to his feet, "or I'll pitch you into the river, where you can tell your miserable flood stories to the fishes."
The man looked at the threatening navigator a moment, boarded his boat and with disappointment lining every feature, pulled a short distance away, then resting on his oars, triumphantly shouted: "It was high enough over thet ere bank." A club was flung at him as he drifted out of sight around the bar.
Resuming the voyage, Omaha came in sight as they rounded the next bend and beheld the Union Pacific bridge that spans the river.