Three days after they passed the Arkansas mouth, they sighted Vicksburg, a white town nestled in the crook of a bend, with water above the top of the landings and washing over the lowest street. Allen was ready for another adventure ashore, but Abe prevailed on him to wait. “Ye don’t figger the price o’ pork has gone up much since we left Memphis, do ye?” said the lanky bow-oarsman scornfully. “After the spectacle ye made o’ yerself up thar, I should think ye’d want to look the other way if a town so much as came in sight.” “That whisky must ha’ had pizen in it,” Allen muttered. But he had very little more to say until they had left the landing astern. “Oh, well,” he remarked at length, “we’ll be down to Natchez in another day or two, an’ I reckon we’ll need some more provisions by then. Natchez-under-the-Hill!” He pronounced the name of the town with a certain relish. “The toughest landin’ on the whole river. I sure aim to see the sights of that place.” “The toughest sight you’ll see,” said Abe firmly, “will be the flat o’ my hand, unless you behave yourself mighty well from here down.” The crest of the high water had passed, and the river was gradually receding as they drifted southward. Along the bluffs on the Mississippi side they watched a panorama of cotton plantations, half screened by glossy-leaved magnolias in the gardens of the big white houses. This was a rich country--a land of fabulous ease and prosperity, it seemed to the two Hoosiers. Even Tad, who had seen plenty of wealth in the Eastern cities, was amazed by the glimpses they got of the luxurious planters’ life. Once they passed a barge trimly painted in green and white, with cushions and trailing silks over the stern. It was rowed by four negroes, and its passengers were a lovely lady in a flowered bonnet, a big, jolly, fair-haired man, and a little girl with golden curls. The barge stopped at a private landing where a shining barouche with two high-headed bay horses was waiting. Other horses, saddled and held by negro grooms, stood near, and an elegantly dressed gentleman and lady strolled down to the landing to greet the visitors. The crew of the flatboat, drifting out of sight, caught a chime of fairy-like laughter that followed them around the bend. “Jiminy!” sighed Allen. “This is the section to live in, all right. Niggers to wait on ye, an’ fine hosses, an’ summer all the year ’round!” “I dunno,” said Abe, thoughtfully. “It’s grand fer the folks that owns the niggers, but how about these poor whites, along the bottoms an’ back in the brush? They ain’t as well off as you an’ your Paw, by a long shot. The South is fine, but it’s no country fer folks that ain’t born rich.” There were two more drowsy, uneventful days of drifting, and then at dusk they came in sight of Natchez. It was the beginning of an experience that Tad was never to forget as long as he lived.