“Only about ten cords, Sir,” was the reply of the youthful salesman.
The Captain here told Thompson to take six cords, which would last till daylight, and again turned his attention to the game.
The pilots here changed places. When did they sleep? Wood taken in, the ‘Caravan’ again took her place in the middle of the stream, paddling on as usual. Day at length dawned, the brag-party broke up, and settlements were being made, during which operation the Captain’s bragging propensities were exercised in cracking up the speed of his boat, which, by his reckoning, must have made at least sixty miles, and would have made many more if he could have procured good wood. It appears the two passengers, in their first lesson, had incidentally lost one hundred and twenty dollars. The Captain, as he rose to see about taking in some good wood, which he felt sure of obtaining, now he had got above the level country, winked at his opponent, the pilot, with whom he had been on very bad terms during the progress of the game, and said, in an under tone:
“Forty a-piece for you, and I, and James (the other pilot) is not bad for one night.”
I had risen, and went out with the Captain, to enjoy a view of the bluffs. There was just fog enough to prevent the vision taking in more than sixty yards, so I was disappointed in my expectation. We were nearing the shore for the purpose of looking for wood, the banks being invisible from the middle of the river.
“There it is!” exclaimed the Captain; “stop her!”
Ding, ding, ding! went the big bell, and the Captain hailed:
“Hollo! the wood-yard!”
“Hollo, yourself!” answered a squeaking female voice, which came from a woman with a petticoat over her shoulders in place of a shawl.
“What’s the price of wood?”