tch and all that."

Mitch looked at me. We knew then it was all right. So I started in on
the money.

"Look here, Willie, this here conductor hit us for two dollars, a dollar
apiece for our fare to Havaner."

"No," says Willie.

"Honest, didn't he, Mitch?"

Mitch said, "Yep."

"Well, he must be foolin'," says Willie, "for the fare is only 60 cents
from Atterberry, and you'd go half fare at 30 cents."

Mitch says, "I've heard about conductors knockin' down, and this looks
like it to me. But what's two dollars? When we get to Havaner, Skeet's
pa will give him that twice over, if he wants it. So let it go, Skeet.
If a conductor wants to be mean enough to cheat a couple of boys, and
the railroad is mean enough to take the money, I say, let it go."

We hadn't gone more'n six miles anyway when the train stopped again.
Willie and the conductor went way up toward the engine, and we was
stalled here for most an hour. It was a hot box or somethin'. And we got
tired and we was as hungry as wolves, since we hadn't et anything since
morning.

Pretty soon Willie came in and says, "She's whistlin' for Havaner." We
curved around by a sand hill and drew up by the depot. The sun was just
above the tree tops. It had taken us hours and hours to come from
Atterberry, and Willie said it wasn't more'n forty miles. We hopped off
and started away.

"Here," said the conductor. "Here's the receipt for your fare." He
slipped the two dollars into my hand with a laugh, and we shook hands
with Willie Wallace and started up town.

CHAPTER XVIII

It seemed sad to part with Willie Wallace at the depot, but things was
changed. He wasn't rollickin' and free no more, but looked serious and
busy. Havaner was a big town, so there was a lot of switchin' to do, and
Willie just said, "Good luck, boys," and disappeared sommers between
cars. Then we started up the street, goin' to the steamboat landin'.

It must have been more'n a mile; and the sun was goin' down now and we
began to wonder about the night. By and by, after inquirin' several
times, we found the street that went to the landin' and hurried down.
Well, here was a river! How could the Mississippi be much bigger? It was
twict as big as the Sangamon, or bigger, and the big sycamore trees on
the other side looked a mile away. And here was a bridge way up in the
air crossin' the river for wagons and people, and furder down a railroad
bridge, and you could look up or down the river