The second day after leaving the mouth of the Illinois River they passed under the great Eads Bridge and anchored a little below St. Louis.
“Who’s going ashore?” Clyde looked around from one to the other of his companions. “I think it is our turn. The starboard watch ought to have a loaf once in a while, you know.”
“Not by a jugful! Hasn’t the port watch been at the helm all day?” Arthur was more vehement than it was necessary he should be.
“Well, we did all the dirty work; cooked the meals and washed the dishes.” Frank was getting interested.
“Here, here, let’s quit this squabbling. We all have worked hard, and we all want to go ashore, and each has an equal right, but some of us must stay.” Ransom realized that quarrelling would spoil the trip quicker than anything else.
The three stood in an attitude that said as plainly as words: “What are you going to do about it?”
“Leave it to these.” Kenneth showed four ends of rope yarn sticking out of his closed hand. “These yarns are of different lengths. The two that get the shortest will have to stay aboard—the lucky two who pull the longest can go ashore. See?”
“It goes,” the three answered.
The upshot of it was that Clyde and Frank went ashore, and the other two remained to keep ship and do chores.
It was late when “the liberty party” returned with pockets bulging with letters and papers, with heads full of the things they had seen, and tongues aching to tell of them; and last, but not least, with able-bodied appetites and stomachs ready for the meal which the “left-behinders” had prepared.