“Come, papa! Come, mamma! My boys is come!” This was the “little detail” that Mr. Kennedy had waited to arrange. He had induced his sister and her husband to bring the children to New Orleans, to await the flood’s subsidence; and he had waited for their arrival before inviting the boys to dinner, in order that their welcome might be eager, and their enjoyment of his hospitality free from embarrassment. In company with their flatboat guests, the lads felt completely at home, and perhaps their shrewdly kind host aided toward this result by having the dinner served in the most homelike and informal way that he could manage. As the steamboat on which they were to “work their way” up the river was to sail the next afternoon, this evening at Mr. Kennedy’s was their last in New Orleans. “And what a delightful finish it has been to all our experiences!” said Irv, when they all got back to their hotel. CHAPTER XXXVIII “IT” There is not much more of this story for me to tell. The voyage up the river involved very little of work, and nothing at all of adventure. The steamboat was a slow one. She plodded along, day and night, never landing except when it was necessary to take on fifty cords or so of wood, with which to make steam. Phil and his comrades took pride in keeping the decks in most scrupulously clean condition, and doing with earnest care the other tasks--mostly very small ones--which fell to their lot. It took about nine days for the pottering old freight steamer to make the journey to Louisville; for although the great flood had considerably subsided, the Ohio was still sufficiently full for the boat to pass over the falls and land her cargo at the city, instead of discharging it at Portland, four miles below. Bidding farewell to their captain, the crew of _The Last of the Flatboats_ donned their new clothes, and took passage for Vevay on the mail boat. They landed at their home town late in the afternoon, hired a drayman to haul their small baggage to their several homes, and proudly marched up Ferry Street like the returning adventurers that they were, while all the small boys in town trudged along with them precisely as they would have followed a circus parade. After briefly visiting their homes and having reunion suppers there with their families, the boys reassembled in their old meeting-place, Will Moreraud’s room over a store. There they made out all their accounts, trying hard to make them look like those prepared by Mr. Kennedy’s bookkeepers in New Orleans. They were then ready to settle, on the next day, with all the owners of the cargo they had carried. When all was arranged, Phil figured a while, and then said:-- “Fellows, we’ve netted a profit of exactly four hundred and fifty dollars clear, by our trip. That’s ninety dollars apiece to add to our college fund. The money’s in bank to my credit. I’ll draw a check for each fellow’s share.”