on the heartlessness of
his friend, when the mud-clerk came back again, and began drawling his
words out as before, just as though each distinct word were of a
delightful flavor and he regretted that he must part with it.

"I've got you even with Parkins, old fellow. He'll be strung up on a
lamp-post at Paducah, I reckon. I saw a Paducah man aboard, and I put a
flea in his ear. We've got to lay there an hour or two to put off a
hundred barrels of molasses and two hundred sacks of coffee and two lots
of plunder. There'll be a hot time for Parkins. He let on to marry a
girl and fooled her. They'll teach him a lesson. You'll be off watch,
and we'll have some fun looking on." And the mud-clerk evidently thought
that it would be even funnier to see Parkins hanged than it had been to
see him fleece Norman. Gus the striker did not see how either scene
could be very entertaining. But he was sick at heart, and one could not
expect him to show much interest in manly sports.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WAKING UP AN UGLY CUSTOMER.

The steady beat of the wheels and the incessant clank of the engines
went on as usual. The boat was loaded almost to her guards, and did not
make much speed. The wheels kept their persistent beat upon the water,
and the engines kept their rhythmical clangor going, until August found
himself getting drowsy. Trouble, with forced inaction, nearly always has
a soporific tendency, and a continuous noise is favorable to sleep. Once
or twice August roused himself to a sense of his responsibility and
battled with his heaviness. It was nearing the end of his watch, for the
dog-watch of two hours set in at four o'clock. But it seemed to him that
four o'clock would never come.

An incident occurred just at this moment that helped him to keep his
eyes open. A man went aft through the engine-room with a red
handkerchief tied round his forehead. In spite of this partial disguise
August perceived that it was Parkins. He passed through to the place
where the steerage or deck passengers are, and then disappeared from
August's sight. He had meant to disembark at a wood-yard just below
Paducah, but for some reason the boat did not stop, and now, as August
guessed, he was hiding himself from Paducah eyes. He was not much too
soon, for the great bell on the hurricane-deck was already ringing for
Paducah, and the summer dawn was showing itself faintly through the
river fog.

The alarm-bell rang in the engine-room, and Wehle