ams had said, he had a
perfect right to travel on the Mississippi River. Everybody used the
river, because there were no railroads here. However, it was queer, his
choosing this boat.

Charley and his father set their state-room in order, by arranging their
clothes and sleeping things.

"You can go out, if you want to, Charley," spoke his father. "I've got a
little more to do, yet. Then I'll come, too."

"All right," and away clumped Charley, in his heavy boots. This time he
was determined to look in earnest for the long-nosed man. He hoped that
he would not find him, but he feared, just the same.

He did not have far to look. The long-nosed man was standing leaning
against one side of the doorway of the salon. Yes, it was he, sure
enough! He acted as if he was waiting, for when he saw Charley
approaching, to pass, he smiled, and waved genially.

"Well," he greeted, halting Charley. "So proud of your new clothes that
you don't recognize old friends, eh? Come here."

Charley boldly walked straight to him. The man's tone made him mad.

"How are you?" answered Charley. "Taking a trip?"

Mr. Jacobs squinted his eyes and wrinkled his long nose cunningly.

"Y--yes," he drawled. "Taking a little trip." His breath smelled of
liquor. "Suppose you're going to Californy, to look for that gold mine.
Thought you'd give me the slip, did you?"

"No," said Charley. "We didn't think anything about you, especial."

"Oh, you didn't!" And the long-nosed man spat tobacco juice on the clean
deck. "You reckoned on giving me the slip, though. But I've been
watching you. Didn't I tell you I was half wild hoss and half alligator?
What's to hinder me from going out to Californy, too?"

"Nothing, I expect," replied Charley, his heart sinking. "Why? Are you?"

The long-nosed man leered.

"Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not. You go your trail and I'll go mine, but
if they cross, look out. Half of that property belongs to me,
remember--and half of that money you're using, too."

"It doesn't, either," snapped Charley, angry, his spunk up. "And we
aren't afraid of you; not a bit. Go on out to California, if you want
to, but don't you bother us. And don't you bother my mother, or you'll
get in trouble."

He heard a familiar step, and the voice of his father.

"Hello! This is the man, is it, after all?"

"Hello, yourself," retorted Mr. Jacobs, glaring at him. "Maybe you think
you own this boat."

"Not a bit