We left Captain La Barge in 1865 just as he had returned from Montana on his second journey by way of Great Salt Lake. His boat, the _Effie Deans_, had reached St. Louis some time before he did. The boat was still owned in partnership with John S. McCune and Eugene Jaccard. La Barge tried to get full possession of her, offering, however, either to buy or sell. Not being able to negotiate a purchase, he demanded a dissolution of the partnership, and bought the boat in. He then put six thousand dollars’ worth of repairs on her, and in the spring advertised for a trip to Benton. He secured a full cargo, and had every prospect of a profitable trip, when one of those sudden accidents overtook him which were so common in the hazardous business he was carrying on. He had hesitated a good deal about insuring the boat, and finally, upon McCune’s advice, concluded not to do so. He felt safe if he could get out of port, the greatest danger being from fire there. The insurance rates were so high that it was a great object to avoid them, if possible. It was on Friday that he had his talk with McCune and decided not to insure. He was to start next morning. He mentioned to his wife what he had done, and she, with a woman’s intuition, remonstrated strongly, saying she knew he would repent it. About one o’clock next morning the doorbell rang. La Barge raised the window and asked who it was. “Watchman of the _Effie Deans_,” was the reply. “What is the matter?” asked the Captain. “The _Effie Deans_ is burned up.” “The loss to me,” said Captain La Barge, “was difficult to reconcile, from the fact of my having rejected insurance the day before, as well as an offer of forty thousand dollars for the boat the same day. The fire had been communicated to the boat from one of the neighboring vessels, the _Nevada_, and was in no sense the fault of my crew. Next morning Robert Campbell came down to the levee and said he understood I had no insurance on the boat. I replied that such was the case. He said that he had always put me down as a prudent man, but that such a course showed great recklessness. I replied that I thought not; that the loss was the fault of my neighbors, and not my own. ‘Well, if that is any consolation, I have nothing more to say,’ he replied, and walked away. His apparent indifference surprised me. I had done business with him for many years, and had paid him as high as sixty thousand dollars commissions. Now, in my misfortune, he did not as much as offer the least assistance. [Sidenote: BUILDING OF THE “OCTAVIA.”]