Still we caused General Kelly trouble.  He had called in his horsemen, and substituted three police-boats that travelled in the van and allowed no boats to pass them.  The craft containing Company M crowded the police-boats hard.  We could have passed them easily, but it was against the rules.  So we kept a respectful distance astern and waited.  Ahead we knew was virgin farming country, unbegged and generous; but we waited.  White water was all we needed, and when we rounded a bend and a rapid showed up we knew what would happen.  Smash!  Police-boat number one goes on a boulder and hangs up.  Bang!  Police-boat number two follows suit.  Whop!  Police-boat number three encounters the common fate of all.  Of course our boat does the same things; but one, two, the men are out of the head-boat and into the tail-boat; one, two, they are out of the tail-boat and into the head-boat; and one, two, the men who belong in the tail-boat are back in it and we are dashing on.  “Stop! you blankety-blank-blanks!” shriek the police-boats.  “How can we?—­blank the blankety-blank river, anyway!” we wail plaintively as we surge past, caught in that remorseless current that sweeps us on out of sight and into the hospitable farmer-country that replenishes our private commissary with the cream of its contributions.  Again we drink pale Vienna and realize that the grub is to the man who gets there.

Poor General Kelly!  He devised another scheme.  The whole fleet started ahead of us.  Company M of the Second Division started in its proper place in the line, which was last.  And it took us only one day to put the “kibosh” on that particular scheme.  Twenty-five miles of bad water lay before us—­all rapids, shoals, bars, and boulders.  It was over that stretch of water that the oldest inhabitants of Des Moines had shaken their heads.  Nearly two hundred boats entered the bad water ahead of us, and they piled up in the most astounding manner.  We went through that stranded fleet like hemlock through the fire.  There was no avoiding the boulders, bars, and snags except by getting out on the bank.  We didn’t avoid them.  We went right over them, one, two, one, two, head-boat, tail-boat, head-boat, tail-boat, all hands back and forth and back again.  We camped that night alone, and loafed in camp all of next day while the Army patched and repaired its wrecked boats and straggled up to us.

There was no stopping our cussedness.  We rigged up a mast, piled on the canvas (blankets), and travelled short hours while the Army worked over-time to keep us in sight.  Then General Kelly had recourse to diplomacy.  No boat could touch us in the straight-away.  Without discussion, we were the hottest bunch that ever came down the Des Moines.  The ban of the police-boats was lifted.  Colonel Speed was put aboard, and with this distinguished officer we had the honor of arriving first at Keokuk on the Mississippi.  And right here I want to say to General Kelly and Colonel Speed that here’s my hand.  You were heroes, both of you, and you were men.  And I’m sorry for at least ten per cent of the trouble that was given you by the head-boat of Company M.