ELLE.

The LUCY BELLE was the main excuse for calling the river navigable. She
made trips as often as she could between Redding and Monrovia. In luck,
she could cover the forty miles in a day. It was no unusual thing,
however, for the LUCY BELLE to hang up indefinitely on some one of
the numerous shifting sand bars. For that reason she carried more
imperishable freight than passengers. In appearance she was
two-storied, with twin smokestacks, an iron Indian on her top, and a
"splutter-behind" paddle-wheel.

"There comes his help," said Orde. "Old Simpson would stop to pick up a
bogus three-cent piece."

Sure enough, on hail from one of the rowboats, the LUCY BELLE slowed
down and stopped. After a short conference, she steamed clumsily over to
get hold of one end of the booms. The tug took the other. In time, and
by dint of much splashing, some collisions, and several attempts, the
ends of the booms were united.

By this time, however, nearly all the logs had escaped. The tug, towing
a string of rowboats, set out in pursuit.

The SPRITE continued on her way until beyond sight. Then she slowed down
again. The LUCY BELLE churned around the bend, and turned in toward the
tug.

"She's going to speak us," marvelled Orde. "I wonder what the dickens
she wants."

"Tug ahoy!" bellowed a red-faced individual from the upper deck. He was
dressed in blue and brass buttons, carried a telescope in one hand, and
was liberally festooned with gold braid and embroidered anchors.

"Answer him," Orde commanded Marsh.

"Hullo there, commodore! what is it?" replied the tug captain.

The red-faced figure glared down for a moment.

"They want a tug up there at Heinzman's. Can you go?"

"Sure!" cried Marsh, choking.

The LUCY BELLE sheered off magnificently.

"What do you think of that?" Marsh asked Orde.

"The commodore always acts as if that old raft was a sixty-gun frigate,"
was Orde's non-committal answer. "Head up stream again."

Heinzman saw the SPRITE coming, and rowed out frantically, splashing at
every stroke and yelling with every breath.

"Don't you go through there! Vait a minute! Stop, I tell you!"

"Hold up!" said Orde to Marsh.

Heinzman rowed alongside, dropped his oars and mopped his brow.

"Vat you do?" he demanded heatedly.

"I forgot the money to buy my stamp with," said Orde sweetly. "I'm going
back to get it."

"Not through my pooms!" cried Heinzman.

"Mr. Heinzman," said Orde severely, "you are