"Yes. In course thar are water thieves still, chaps who steal things from the boats if thar is no one with 'em, or if you are all asleep below; but thar haven't been no real pirates for years now--leastways not above New Orleans. Down in the great swamps, by the mouth of the river, thar's always gangs of runaway slaves, and desperate characters of all sorts, who have got to live somehow. Thar are still boats sometimes missing up the river, which may have been snagged and gone down with all hands, and which may be have comed to thar end some other way. Anyhow, no one thinks much about pirates now, and the river's quite as safe as the streets of New Orleans. That mayn't be saying much, perhaps, but it's good enough. Of course a party might any day take to the swamps and stop up-passing boats, just as they might take to the roads and stop waggons going west; but one doesn't trouble about things onless they get so as to be what you might call a general danger. "You can't go into a bar-room without a risk of getting into a fight with a drunken rowdy; you can't stop at one of these landing-places but what thar's a chance of getting into a mess with fellows who come in from the backs for a spree, and one doesn't look to have these rivers which, one and the other, are tens of thousands of miles long, just kept as free from hard characters as a street in Boston. It's as good as we can look for at present. Settlement is going on wonderful fast, and, like enough, in another forty years there won't be any more pirates on the great rivers here than thar are on the seas. Steam and settlements is bound to wipe 'em out at last." During the last two or three hundred miles of the journey up the Missouri a few settlements only were passed, little villages nestling closely together on the edge of the river, surrounded often by a stockade; for although the Indians were gradually falling back before the advance of the whites, Indian wars were of frequent occurrence, and then the bands of wild horsemen swept down to the Missouri, carrying fire and destruction in their course. In front of every settlement lay a scow or two, used partly for the transportation of the crops, but valuable also as an ark of refuge in case of attack. The shores were low, and shallows and banks abounded in the stream, and sometimes the tug ran aground four or five times in the course of the day. In spite of his practice with his firearms, and Hiram's talk and stories, Frank began to find the days pass very slowly, and was not a little glad when Hiram pointed out a cluster of huts on the left bank, and said, "There is Omaha." Half an hour later the tug was alongside, and Mr. Willcox was on board.