n the Jordan!"

They all knew the old religious song which fitted so nicely into the
conditions on the Mississippi. Somebody called to someone else, and the
musicians in the congregation slipped away to return with their
violins, banjos, accordions, guitars, and other familiar instruments.
Before the preacher knew it, he had more music in the church than he had
ever heard in a church before--and they knew what to play and what to
sing.

The sermon became a jubilee, and he would talk along awhile till
something he said struck a tuneful suggestion, and the singing would
begin again; and when at last he brought the service to an end, he was
astonished to find that he had preached and they had sung for more than
two hours.

Then there was scurrying about, and from all sides the calm airs of the
sunny Sabbath were permeated with the odours of roasts and fried things,
coffee and sauces. A score wanted Rasba to dine out, but Mrs. Caope
claimed first and personal acquaintance, and her claim was acknowledged.
The people from far boats and tents returned to their own homes. Two or
three boats of the fleet, in a hurry to make some place down stream,
dropped out in mid-afternoon, and the little shanty-boat town was
already breaking up, having lasted but a day, but one which would long
be remembered and talked about. It was more interesting than murder, for
murders were common, and the circumstances and place were so remarkable
that even a burning steamboat would have had less attention and
discussion.

The following morning Mrs. Caope offered Rasba $55 for his old poplar
boat, and he accepted it gladly. She said she had a speculation in mind,
and before nightfall she had sold it for $75 to two men who were going
pearling up the St. Francis, and who thought that a boat a parson had
tripped down in would bring them good luck.

The dancers of Saturday night, the congregation of Sunday, on Monday
afternoon were scattered. Mrs. Caope's and another boat dropped off the
river to visit friends, and mid-afternoon found Parson Rasba and Prebol
alone again, drawing down toward Mendova.

Prebol knew that town, and he told Rasba about it. He promised that they
would see something of it, but they could not make it that evening, so
they landed in Sandbar Reach for the night. Just after dawn, while the
rising sun was flashing through the tree tops from east to west, a
motorboat driving up stream hailed as it passed.

"Ai-i-i, Prebol! Palu