Notwithstanding the dulness of the sky and the occasional falling of raindrops, Joe enjoyed the ride very much. At Eddyville the first lock, a tide-lock, bars the way, and here the horses and mules are kept. “Do you see that stable over there?” said the captain to Joe. “My hosses is there. You go an’ git ’em. Ask for Cap’n Bill’s hosses.” Joe did as he was told. After some good-natured chaffing on the part of the stable-keeper, the raw-boned worn-out horses were turned over to him, and the boy appeared on the tow-path leading them. Joe was told that these animals were named Jack and Jill. Jack had fallen down the bank from the tow-path to the river one day, and Jill had come tumbling after. Whatever their names had been before, this incident had definitely renamed them. The horses were fastened to the tow-line, and the tow-line was attached to the timber-head of the boat. Joe was duly installed as driver. His duties were not at all light. He had to walk all the way, and to keep the horses going at a good pace, which in itself was no easy task. He must keep on the inside of the tow-path, so that his boat should pass over the tow-lines of the loaded boats they met, and must pull up sharply when a lock was reached. Sometimes, in the vicinity of locks, great confusion arose from the crowding of boats and the intertangling of tow-lines. Then Joe became practically helpless. But Captain Bill, after much pushing and angry shouting, always managed to straighten out matters and get the boat under way again. At Rosendale there was a long delay. Something had gone wrong with the gates at the lock. Joe was not sorry for this, for it was now late in the forenoon, and he was very tired from his long tramp. Captain Bill had gone off up the wharf to a canal store, Blixey was busy in the cabin, and the horses were drowsily munching oats from baskets tied under their noses. A drizzling rain was falling, and Joe took shelter under a shed a little back from the tow-path while he waited. He had not been long there when a big, uncouth-looking boy came shambling in and sat down on a box near by. “Hello!” said the boy. “Hello!” responded Joe. “Drivin’ for Bill Rosey?” “Yes.” “Better look out for ’im.” “Why?” “He’s _bad_.” “Is that so?” “Yes, an’ ugly.” “Is he?” “Yes, an’ works you to death. He’s used up three boys a’ready; one went home yisterday all stove to pieces. I wouldn’t work for ’im; I quit.” Joe was naturally very much startled, but he soon found breath to ask,-- “Did you work for him once?” “Did I? Well, I should say so.” “What did he do to you?” “Not much; licked me, an’ kicked me, an’ robbed me,--that’s all. Say, what’s he goin’ to pay you?” “Four dollars for the round trip.” “The thief!” “Why, isn’t that enough?” “Enough! W’y, five dollars was my wages for the roun’ trip, an’ another feller I knew was to have six; only we didn’t neither of us git no money. Oh, he’s a bad man, he is; you better look out fer ’im.”