“Hurrah! three cheers for the good old _Pot Luck!_” cried Jerry; and they were given with a will, much to the amusement of some ship carpenters repairing a tugboat near by. “If we had our flag hoisted now,” observed Bluff, “I’d dip the colors to the christening of the houseboat. As it is, we take off our hats to her.” “Long may she wave; or, rather, ride the waves!” commented Frank. “And safe may she carry the Outdoor Chums on their voyage to the Sunny South,” remarked Will. “May no tempest toss her about like a chip; and may she skip all the sand bars they say are always lying in wait to grip a floating boat.” The arrival of the wagon carrying their supplies put an end to further talk; and for some little time all of them were as busy as bees storing the things on board. “Never mind where they go now,” Frank had said, in the beginning. “After we get fairly afloat we can stow them in a better way. All we want now is to make sure they don’t get under our feet.” “Or else drop overboard,” added Jerry, who had made sure to hang a canvas-covered ham where it would be particularly safe; for fried ham was one of his favorite dishes; and Jerry had dozens of them in his list of prize feeds. Finally the empty wagon told that all had been taken aboard. Frank checked off the articles, and announced that nothing they had paid for was forgotten. “And now to see about getting pushed out in the current, where we’ve got to work our passage,” he observed; at which the others manifested their delight. Will, true to his passion, had seized upon his camera, and seemed ready to get some sort of snapshot of the “launching,” as he termed it. Whenever anything out of the usual was about to take place, Will could be depended on to show up, eager to transfer the scene to a plate or film, and so insure its being enjoyed for all time to come, affording much amusement and often laughter. Jerry was already going around the inside of the cabin, with a mysterious look on his face, sounding the wooden walls, and evidently trying to locate some place of concealment where a queer old fellow would be apt to hide a lot of valuables, and then forget all about them until stricken down by some accident in far-away New Orleans. Apparently the others would never hear the end of that idea until the cruise came to a termination, or the persistent Jerry unearthed a solution of the mystery. The boat builder had a way of warping the houseboat out of his enclosure, and setting it adrift on the bosom of the Mississippi. At this point the river looked to be quite a good-sized stream to the boys; but later on they would deem this next door to a creek, after they had navigated the lower reaches, where it is sometimes twenty miles across from bank to bank. The last word was said, and Mr. Whittaker waved his hand to the four young voyagers, wishing them the best of luck.