“Frank, what was that you seemed to be staring at just when it got dusk?” Will asked. “I saw you looking, and then go to the end of the boat with your hand over your eyes to see better.” “Oh! that was a passing boat,” Bluff spoke up; “I noticed the light in the cabin myself, but was too busy to bother.” “I’ve more than half an idea we’ve seen that boat before,” remarked Frank, quietly. “You don’t say!” exclaimed Bluff. “Now, I reckon you mean our friend, Ossie Fredericks; don’t you, Frank?” “Just what I do,” returned the other. “Of course it was too gloomy for me to make sure, and the boat was some distance out; but I could partly see the shape of the cabin, and it seemed to correspond with that on the _Lounger_. Then it was running with power, for we all must have heard the sound of the engine exhaust.” “Looks like that crowd meant to take as long a voyage as we’ve got ahead of us; and we’re apt to run across ’em in New Orleans, when we get there,” Will remarked. “Well, we don’t own the river, and can’t tell ’em to go back home, because their company isn’t wanted,” said Jerry. “I hope we see nothing more of them, because Oswald is bound to get even with Frank for something or other,” was what Will observed; for he was by nature the most peaceable of all the Outdoor Chums, and disliked a row. “Yes, get even with him for saving his life,” grunted Bluff. “If ever you catch me taking chances with a howling mob of roustabouts, or any other thing, just to save a fellow like Ossie Fredericks the beating he ought to have, why you’ll know it—that’s what!” But Frank, although he made no remark, knew this was not so. He understood Bluff better than the other did himself. In fact, he often said that the bark of Bluff was worse than his bite; and he felt positive that if the occasion arose again, whereby his chum could save even Ossie Fredericks from being injured, Bluff would put himself out to do it. In the morning they saw that what had been said about the driftwood was certainly true; for out on the swelling river even uprooted trees were floating, having been undermined up one of the many tributaries of the Mississippi. “Look sharp, fellows,” said Bluff, “and if you see a lone chicken coop coming along, let me know. It’s me into the little dinghy then, and away to the rescue. I’d sure hate to see any fowls drown.” “And to save them from it, you’d cut their heads off; eh, Bluff?” laughed Frank, as he passed in to help Jerry with the breakfast. All through that day they kept passing trees that were afloat, and which, somehow, did not seem able to make as good progress on the current of the river as did the houseboat. Bluff was frequently using the field glasses to spy out that expected hencoop which he stoutly declared would be along shortly; but as they had corned-beef hash for supper that night, with some baking powder biscuits, which Jerry baked, it can be set down as positive that no fowls arrived by flood-express, or otherwise.