or from town, pedlers, parties going to the stopping-places of the passenger boats, people loading and unloading freight, drovers with live stock for the market, and all sorts of queer characters and odd fish who haunted the canal as waterside characters infest the water-front of ports.  If I could live that strange life over again I might learn more about it; but I saw very little meaning in it then.  That is always the way, I guess.  We must get away from a type of life or we can’t see it plainly.  That has been the way as to our old prairie life in Iowa.  It is only within the past few years that I have begun to see a little more of what it meant.  It was not long though until even I began to feel the West calling to me with a thousand voices which echoed back and forth along the Erie Canal, and swelled to a chorus at the western gateway, Buffalo.

2

Captain Sproule had carried me aft from the drivers’ cabin to his own while I was in a half-unconscious condition, and out of pure pity, I suppose; but that was the last soft treatment I ever got from him.  He came into the cabin just as I was thinking of getting up, and sternly ordered me forward to my own cabin.  I had nothing to carry, and it was very little trouble to move.  We were moored to the bank just then taking on or discharging freight, and Ace was in the cabin to receive me.

“That upper bunk’s your’n,” he said.  “No greenhorn gits my bunk away from me!”

I stood mute.  Ace glared at me defiantly.

“Can you fight?” he asked.

“I do’ know,” I was obliged to answer.

“Then you can’t,” said Ace, with bitter contempt.  “I can lick you with one hand tied behind me!”

He drew back his fist as if to strike me, and I wonder that I did not run from the cabin and jump ashore, but I stood my ground, more from stupor and what we Dutch call dumbness than anything else.  Ace let his fist fall and looked me over with more respect.  He was a slender boy, hard as a whip-lash, wiry and dark.  He was no taller than I, and not so heavy; but he had come to have brass and confidence from the life he lived.  As a matter of fact, he was not so old as I, but had grown faster; and was nothing like as strong after I had got my muscles hardened, as was proved many a time.

“You’ll make a great out of it on the canal,” he said.

“What?” said I.

“A boy that can’t fight,” said he, “don’t last long drivin’.  I’ve had sixteen fights this month!”

A bell sounded on deck, and we heard the voice of Bill calling us to breakfast.  Ace yelled to me to come on, and all hands including the captain gathered on deck forward, where we had coffee, good home-made bread bought from a farmer’s wife, fried cakes, boiled potatoes, and plenty of salt pork, finishing with pie.  All the cook had to do was to boil potatoes, cook eggs when we had them and make coffee; for the most of our victuals we bought as we passed