“You see he isn’t ‘cocky’ about it at all,” said Will Moreraud; “it just means that in this game he’s ‘IT,’ and he’s going to give the word.” “It means a good deal more than that,” said shrewd Irv Strong, who had been born the son of an officer in a regular army post. “It means we’ve picked out the right fellow to be our ‘IT,’ and I, for one, stand ready to support him with my eyes shut, every time!” “So do I,” cried out all the lads in chorus. “Only you see,” said Constant, “we didn’t quite expect it from Phil. Well--maybe if we had, we’d have voted still louder for him for captain; that is, if we’ve got any real sense.” “It means,” said Ed, gravely, “that if we fail to get _The Last of the Flatboats_ safely to New Orleans, it will be our own fault, not his.” “That’s so,” said Irving Strong. “But who’d ever have expected that rattlepate to think out everything as he has done?” “And to be so desperately in earnest about it, too!” said another. “Well, I don’t know,” responded Irving. “You remember how he stuck to that cistern sum. It’s his way, only he’s never before had so serious a matter as this to deal with, and I imagine we have never quite known what stuff he’s made of.” “Anyhow,” said Will, “we’re ‘his to command,’ and we’ll see him through.” With a shout of applause for this sentiment the boys separated for sleep. CHAPTER V ON THE BANKS OF THE WONDERFUL RIVER It was a busy fortnight that followed. The boys visited every farmer within six miles of the landing to secure whatever freight he might be willing to furnish. They picked and barrelled all of Lampson’s apples, dug and bagged and barrelled all the potatoes in that neighborhood, and got together many small lots of onions, garlic, dried beans, and the like, including about ten barrels of eggs. These last they collected in baskets, a few dozen from each farm, and packed them at the landing. Of course every shipper’s freight had to be separately marked and receipted for, so that the proper returns might be made. During all this time the boys had lived in a camp of their own making at the landing, partly to guard the freight against thieves, partly to get used to cooking, etc., for themselves, partly to learn to “rough it,” generally, and more than all because, being healthy-minded boys, they liked camping for its own sake. Their little shelter was on the shore, just under the bank. They occupied it only during rains. At other times they lived night and day in the open air. They worked all day, of course, leaving one of their number on guard, but when night came, they had what Homer calls a “great bearded fire,” built against a fallen sycamore tree of gigantic size, and after supper they sat by it chatting till it was time to sleep.