, driving rush. The night had now settled down thick and dark,
and, as the banks on either side of the river were very high, Harry felt
as if they were in a black canyon. He could see but dimly the surface
of the river. All else was lost in the heavy gloom. But the boat had
been built so well and the canvas cover was so taut and tight that not
a drop entered. His sense of comfort increased, and the regular, even,
musical thresh of the rain promoted sleep.

"We won't be waked up tonight by people crossin' the river, that's
shore," said Jarvis, "'cause thar ain't no crossin' fur miles, an' if
there was a crossin' people wouldn't use that crossin' nohow on a night
like this. So, boys, jest wrap your blankets about yourselves an' go
to sleep, an' if you don't hurry I'll beat you to that happy land."

The three were off to the realms of slumber within ten minutes, running
a race about equal. The rain poured all through the night, but they
did not awake until the young sun sent the first beams of day into the
gorge. Then Jarvis sat up. He had the faculty of awakening all at once,
and he began to furl the canvas awning that had served them so well.
The noise awoke the boys who also sat up.

"Get to work, you sleepy heads!" called Jarvis cheerfully. "Look what a
fine world it is! Here's the river all washed clean, an' the land all
washed clean, too! Stir yourselves, we're goin' to have hot food an'
coffee here on the boat.

"I'm dreaming now of Hallie, sweet Hallie,
For the thought of her is one that never dies.
She's sleeping in the valley
And the mocking bird is singing where she lies.
Listen to the mocking bird, singing o'er her grave.
Listen to the mocking bird, singing where the weeping willows wave."

"You sing melancholy songs for one who is as cheerful as you are, Sam,"
said Harry.

"That's so. I like the weepy ones best. But they don't really make me
feel sad, Harry. They jest fill me with a kind o' longin' to reach out
an' grab somethin' that always floats jest before my hands. A sort o'
pleasant sadness I'd call it.

"Ah, well I yet remember
When we gathered in the cotton side by side;
'Twas in the mild September
And the mocking bird was singing far and wide.
Oh, listen to the mocking bird
Still singing o'er her grave.
Oh, listen to the mocking bird
Still singing where the weeping willows wave."

"Now that ain't what you'