's housekeeping, scrubbed the boat
and washed all the bedding. Nelia brought down her automobile and the
two carried her own outfit on board. Then Nelia took the car back to the
garage, and said that she would call for it in the morning.

"All right, Mrs. Carline," the garage man replied, without suspicion.

Back at the landing, Nelia bade the river woman good-bye.

"I got to be going," she said, "likely there'll be a whole pack after me
directly----"

"Got a gun?" the woman asked.

"Two," Nelia smiled. "Bill gave me a goose rifle and Frank let me have
this--he said it's the Law down Old Mississip'!"

"The Law" was a 32-calibre automatic pistol in perfect condition.

"Them boys thought a heap of yo', gal!" The river woman shook her head.
"Frank'd sure made you a good man!"

"Oh, I know it," replied Nelia, "but I'm sick of men--I hate men! I'm
going to go droppin' along, same's the rest."

"Don't let go of that pistol. Theh's mean, bad men down thisaway,
Nelia!"

Nelia laughed, but harshly. "I don't give a damn for anything now; I
tell you that!"

"Don't forget it. Shoot any man that comes."

Nelia, who could row a skiff with any one, set her shanty-boat sweeps on
their pins, coiled up the two bow lines by which the boat was moored to
the bank, and which the river woman untied, then rowed out of the eddy
and into the main current.

"It's good floating right down," Mrs. Tons called after her, "till yo'
git to Grand Tower Rock--thirty mile!"

The river rapidly widened below Chester, and the little houseboat swung
out into mid-stream. Nelia knew the river a little from having been down
on a steamer, and the misery she left behind was in contrast to the
sense of freedom and independence which she now had.

Stillness, peace, the sense of vast motion in the river torrent
comforted her. The moment of embarking alone on the river had been full
of nervous tenseness and anxiety, but now those feelings were left
behind and she could breathe deeply and confront the future with a calm
spirit. The veil that the blue mist of distance left behind her was
penetrable by memory, but the future was hidden from her gaze, as it was
hidden from her imagination.

The determination to dwell in the immediate present caught up her soul
with its grim, cold bonds, and as the sun was setting against the sky
beyond the long, sky-line of limestone ledges, she entered the cabin,
and looked about her with a feeling of home such as she