The speed boat shot off like a greyhound released from bonds, the _Comfort_ wheezed along amiably in the rear, and Jack's craft took up a midway course. Thus for two hours and more the crew of the _Tramp_ could watch both competing craft. Then the narrow beamed _Wireless_ seemed to melt out of sight in the dim distance, nor could Jimmie pick her up again, though several times he thought he glimpsed her. Half an hour later, and the other boat had also passed from their ken, swallowed up in the little wavelets that covered the surface of the rapidly growing river; for they were now approaching the spot where the mighty flood of the Missouri joined forces with the swollen current of the Mississippi, to boom along toward the sunny land of Dixie. Then they came to where the great city of St. Louis stood. It required considerable and careful maneuvering to pass safely among the various river craft they found moving about on the Mississippi at this important port; but Jack was a keen-eyed pilot, and knew just how to handle his boat, so that they managed to get by without any serious trouble, though whistled at by tugs and ferryboats as they bravely cut along. The running time was pretty well up when they saw the last of the metropolis of the Middle West. "One hour only, and then we must pull up, Jimmie," remarked the skipper. "'Tis mesilf that's glad to hear the same," replied the other, with a wry look on his freckled face, and one hand pressing against his stomach, as if to call attention to its flat condition; for they had only eaten sparingly at noon. "You might be keeping a lookout for a harbor," remarked Jack; but not with any great amount of animation. Truth to tell, he was wondering whether after all it paid to leave the river and hide up one of those gloomy looking creeks, where all sorts of dangers might be lying in wait. "I hope as how we don't have the same luck we had before," grumbled Jimmie, who apparently had not forgotten the experience either. After that he was constantly on the job of looking ahead for signs of a creek. "If we don't find the same, thin what?" he asked, when half an hour had passed without any favorable result from his critical survey of the nearby shore; creeks he could see in plenty; but none that seemed navigable for a boat drawing as much water as their craft; and Jack meant to take no chances of being held fast in the mud on a falling river. "Why, we'll just have to stick it out, and anchor. But there's a point below us that looks favorable, Jimmie, where the brush is heaped up on a sandbar. Unless I'm greatly mistaken the signs point to a fair-sized opening there." And just as Jack said it proved to be just what they were looking for.