Kim Stallings was glad to see George again, and when he heard what glorious luck had befallen him, there was genuine warmth in the handshake he thrust upon the weak man.

Of course, he was only too willing to act as custodian for the three hundred dollars, and gave George a receipt for the money.  When he had settled on the upland farm he meant to rent, he could easily get what the store-keeper was holding for him.

And now it was high time our boys once more started on their voyage.

Hundreds of miles still separated them from their destination, and no one could prophesy what difficulties must be faced and overcome before they eventually brought up in New Orleans.

It was just noon when they let go and pushed out upon the friendly bosom of the mighty Mississippi.

Kim and George gave them a parting salute, which the voyagers sent back with a good will.  Then shortly a bend cut them off from view, and the little episode was numbered with the past.

“Anyhow, it was a bully time we had there,” said Thad, as he started to knock some sort of lunch together, while his chum looked after piloting the boat.

“You bet it was, and neither of us will ever forget it.  When Bunny and Greorge saw that bunch of yellow boys, didn’t they stare though?  I came near blubbering myself, honest, Thad, I was that worked up,” confessed Maurice, frankly.

“Oh!  I slobbered right over, only you didn’t see me, because I got behind.  I’m right glad we did it; and wasn’t that a hunky-dory find, though?  Every time I set eyes on that hole I’ll just have to think of the great luck we had.”

The old life was taken up again.  Borne along on the rapid current of the powerful river, they made mile after mile as the day wore on.

Nothing of moment occurred to disturb the serenity of the scene, and as evening approached they hunted as usual for a good place where the shanty-boat could be tied up for the night.

Once they thought this had been found when what seemed to be the mouth of a stream was sighted ahead; but as they pushed in it was only to find that another floating family had pre-empted the place.

The boys might have even remained had they seemed to be anything like Bob Archiable, for instance, the clock mender of earlier days, but the looks of the three men they saw quite discouraged them.

“Out we go again,” muttered Maurice, as they cleared the mouth of the creek, followed by shouts from the owners of the other craft, who called to them to pull in and “have a good time.”

Our boys knew only too well what that implied, for liquor and cards must form the sum total of what these rough characters called a “good time,” and they wanted none of that.

So it was just about dark before they found a chance to tie up to a friendly tree that chanced to be close enough to the edge of the bank to take their short cable.