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things from the list and say we wouldn't borrow them anymore -- then he reckoned

it wouldn't be no harm to borrow the others. So we talked it over all one night,

drifting along down the river, trying to make up our minds whether to drop the

watermelons, or the cantelopes, or the mushmelons, or what. But towards day-

light we got it all settled satisfactory, and concluded to drop crabapples and

p'simmons. We warn't feeling just right, before that, but it was all comfortable

now. I was glad the way it come out, too, because crabapples ain't ever good,

and the p'simmons wouldn't be ripe for two or three months yet.

We shot a water-fowl, now and then, that got up too early in the morning or

didn't go to bed early enough in the evening. Take it all around, we lived pretty

high.

The fifth night below St. Louis we had a big storm after midnight, with a

power of thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in a solid sheet. We

stayed in the wigwam and let the raft take care of itself. When the lightning

glared out we could see a big straight river ahead, and high rocky bluffs on both

sides. By-and-by says I, "Hel-lo, Jim, looky yonder!" It was a steamboat that

had killed herself on a rock. We was drifting straight down for her. The lightning

showed her very distinct. She was leaning over, with part of her upper deck

above water, and you could see every little chimbly-guy clean and clear, and a

chair by the big bell, with an old slouch hat hanging on the back of it when the

flashes come. ssssssssss

Well, it being away in the night, and stormy, and all so mysterious-like, I

felt just the way any other boy would a felt when I see that wreck laying

there so mournful and lonesome in the middle of the river. I wanted to

get aboard of her and slink around a little, and see what there was there. So

I says:

"Le's land on her, Jim."

But Jim was dead against it, at first. He says:

"I doan' want to go fool'n 'long er no wrack. We's doin' blame' well, en we

better let blame' well alone, as de good book says. Like as not dey's a watchman

on dat wrack.' ssssssssss

"Watchman your grandmother," I says; "there ain't nothing to watch but

the texas and the pilot-house; and do you reckon anybody's going to resk his

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