The night was warm; my wet underclothing not uncomfortable. Curled in an easy posture on the folded sacks I fell asleep, undisturbed by the monotonous beat of the _Moon’s_ mechanical heart. The blast of her whistle, long-drawn, a demoniac, ear-splitting cross between a scream and a bellow, wakened me; and while I sat up, rubbing my sleepy eyes and wondering how long I’d slept, the boorish mate yelled from a gangway. “Here you. Come along—an’ be quick about it.” When I sensed the fact that he was directing his remarks at me, my first impulse was to lay hold of something and heave it at his bewhiskered face. But upon second thought I refrained, and ascended resentfully to the upper deck, grinding my teeth at the broad back of him as I went. A half dozen other men, roustabouts I judged from their general unkemptness, were gathered amidships by the rail. Off in the east day was just breaking; from which I gathered that I had slept seven hours or more. The speed of the _Moon_ slackened perceptibly. Out of the grayness ahead a slip loomed ghostly in the dawn, tier on tier of cordwood stacked on the rude wharf; upreared on rows of piling, it seems to my juvenile fancy like a monster centipede creeping out to us over the smooth water. Somewhere in the depths of the _Moon_ a bell tinkled. Immediately the great paddle reversed, churning the river surface into dirty foam, and we began to sidle against the pier-end. Fore and aft, lines were run out and made fast by a dim figure that flitted from behind the woodricks. The mate growled an order, and a gangplank joined the _Moon’s_ deck to the wharf. Down this we filed, his Sorrel Whiskers glanced over one shoulder at me. At once my grimy companions, Bilk among the number, fell upon the pile of wood. For a moment I stood undecided—then made to walk boldly past the mate. Back of the wharf I saw the land, a sloping rise dotted with farmhouses, take form in the growing light; and I was for St. Louis whether or no. But Tupper forestalled me. I did not get past him. He seemed to be paying little attention, yet when I came abreast of him, heart somewhat a-flutter he lurched and struck out—with marvellous quickness for a stodgy-built man. There was no escaping the swing of his fist. I was knocked down before I knew it, for the second time in twelve hours. Satisfaction gleamed in his small, blue eyes. He stepped back, and when I got to my feet, something dazed and almost desperate, he was facing me with a goodly billet in one hand. “Dig in there, blast yuh!” he roared. “Grab a stick an’ down below with it, or I’ll fix yuh good an’ plenty, yuh——”