he foresaw a good thing as long as high water should last. He had risen
nobly to the occasion; for he had even hoisted his bunting and brought
with him the local brass band. Orde, brusque in his desire to hurry
through an affair of minor importance, rubbed the man the wrong way.

"I reckon I've some rights on this river," Captain Simpson concluded the
argument, "and I ain't agoin' to be bulldozed out of them."

The excursionists, typical "trippers" from Redding, Holland, Monrovia
and Muskegon, cheered this sentiment and jeered at Orde.

Orde nodded briefly.

"Marsh," said he to his captain in a low voice, "get a crew and take
them in charge. Run 'em off."

As soon as the tug touched the piling, he was off and away, paying no
further attention to a matter already settled. Captain Marsh called a
dozen rivermen to him; laid the SPRITE alongside the LUCY BELLE, and in
spite of Simpson's scandalised protests and an incipient panic among
the passengers, thrust aside the regular crew of the steamship and
took charge. Quite calmly he surveyed the scene. From the height of the
steamer's bridge he could see abroad over the country. A warm June sun
flooded the landscape which was filled with the peace of early summer.
The river seemed to flow smoothly and quietly enough, in spite of the
swiftness of its current and the swollen volume of its waters. Only up
stream where the big jam shrugged and groaned did any element jar on
the peace of the scene; and even that, in contrast to the rest of the
landscape, afforded small hint to the inexperienced eye of the imminence
of a mighty destruction.

Captain Marsh paid little attention to all this. His eye swept rapidly
up and down where the banks used to be until he saw a cross current
deeper than the rest sweeping in athwart the inundated fields. He swung
over the wheel and rang to the engine-room for half speed ahead. Slowly
the LUCY BELLE answered. Quite calmly Captain Marsh rammed her through
the opening and out over the cornfields. The LUCY BELLE was a typical
river steamboat, built light in the draught in order to slide over the
numerous shifting bars to be encountered in her customary business. When
Captain Marsh saw that he had hit the opening, he rang for full speed,
and rammed the poor old LUCY BELLE hard aground in about a foot of water
through which a few mournful dried cornstalks were showing their heads.
Then, his hands in his pockets, he sauntered out of the pilot-house