“Two things: return this boat to its owner–a man named Lilly who lives─”
“I know the boat,” the boy interrupted.
“The other is to be sure to go up to-day after those horses. They’re picketed out.”
“All right,” agreed the boy, whose enthusiasm kindled as his belief in the genuineness of the offer was assured.
I seized a rope, swung myself up to the flat fender, and thence to the deck.
“Come on!” I called to Yank and Johnny, who were hesitating. “It’ll cost more than those horses and blankets are worth to wait.”
Thereupon they followed me. The boy made fast our boat to his own. Five minutes later we were dropping down the river.
“This is what I call real luxury,” said Johnny, returning from an inspection of our craft. “There’s a barroom, and a gambling layout, and velvet carpets and chairs, mirrors, a minstrel show, and all the fixings. Now who’d expect to run against a layout like this on the river?”
“What I’d like to know is how they got her out here,” said I. “Look at her! She’s a river boat. A six-foot wave ought to swamp her!”
We thought of a half dozen solutions, and dismissed 388 them all. The discussion, however, served its purpose in inflaming our curiosity.