“Just arrived this morning; trying to make up my mind whether I’ll go over on St. Francis, turkey-and deer-hunting, or get a boat and drop down the Mississippi. Been wondering about that.”
“Well, say, now—why can’t you drop down with me?”
“Oh, I’d be in the way––”
“Not a bit––”
“Costs a lot to run a motorboat, and I’d have to––”
“No, you wouldn’t! Not a cent! Your experience and my boat––”
“Well, of course, if you put it that way. If it’d be any accommodation to you to have an old river man—I mean I’ve always tripped the river, off and on, for sport.”
“It’d be an education for me, a great help!”
“Yes, I expect it would be an education, if you don’t know the river.” Doss smiled.
They walked over to the river bank. An arc light cast its rays upon the end of the street, down the sloping bank, and in a light circle upon the rocking, muddy waters where the fish dock and several shanty-boats rested against the bank.