hich in later years was cut off and is now, or was yesterday,
Beulah Lake--between it and Ozark Island below--a white-jacket came up
from the passenger deck far enough to show his head to the watchman
above and warily asked a question.

"Six," was the reply. "Including me--seven."

The inquirer ran wildly down again, but the _Enchantress_ sped on
through the glorious moonlight as though he scarcely mattered. On the
texas roof Mrs. Gilmore sat with "California," her husband with Watson,
Hugh with Ramsey. But only the last two were out on its forward verge.
Mrs. Gilmore had found it cool there and with the others had drawn back
a few steps, into the pleasant warmth of the chimneys. For average
passengers the evening was far gone, but not for players, pilots,
Californians, or lovers--of the river.

A mile or so farther on, the white-jacket reappeared and, gliding by all
others to reach his captain, said, with mincing feet and a semicircular
bow, while presenting a tray of six, not seven, sherry cobblers:

"Sev'l gen'lemen's comp'ments, an' ax, will Mis' Gil'----"

"What gentlemen? Who?"

"Sev'l gen'lemen, yassuh. Dey tell me dess say, sev'l gen'lemen. Sev'l
gen'lemen ax will Mis' Gilmo' have de kin'ness fo' to sing some o' dem
same songs she sing night afo' las' in de ladies' cabin an' las' night
up hyuh.... Yass'm, whiles dey listens f'om de b'ileh deck."

"Has my father gone to bed?" asked Ramsey.

"No'm, he up yit. He done met up wid dese sev'l gen'lemen an' find dey
old frien's--callin' deyse'v's in joke Gideon' Ban'--an' he talkin'
steamboats wid 'em----"

The speaker tittered as Ramsey inquiringly extended her arms out forward
and crossed her wrists. "Yass'm," he said, "hin' feet on de front rail,
yass'm."

It seemed but fair that Mrs. Gilmore, to meet the compliment generously,
should sing at the very front of the hurricane roof, just over the
forward guards of the boiler deck. But Ramsey and Hugh kept their place.
Ramsey wanted to be near the sky, she explained, when songs were sung on
the water by moonlight, and eagerly spoke for two or three which her
friend had sung of old on the _Votaress_ to spiritualize the
"acrobatics" of the Brothers Ambrosia.

The singer's voice was rich, trained, and mature, and her repertory a
survival of young days--nights--before curtains and between acts: Burns,
Moore, Byron, and Mrs. Norton, alternating with "The Lavender Girl,"
"Rose of Lucerne," "Dandy Jim o' Caroline,