!" 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.

At Keokuk the whole fleet was lashed together in a huge raft, and,
after being wind-bound a day, a steamboat took us in tow down the
Mississippi to Quincy, Illinois, where we camped across the river on
Goose Island. Here the raft idea was abandoned, the boats being joined
together in groups of four and decked over. Somebody told me that
Quincy was the richest town of its size in the United States. When I