At this particular danger-spot just below the city, a number of cotton-bales, contributed by planters whose fortunes were at stake, were placed in line against a threatening break as primary support, staked securely down and chained together. Over these were cast everything available, to raise their height. It was said that even barrels of sugar and molasses were used, and shiploads of pig-iron, with sections of street railways ripped from their ties. Then barrels of boiling tar, tarpaulins, and more chains. And then-- And then there were prayers--and messages to the priests up at the old St. Louis Cathedral, where many of the wives were kneeling--and reckless gifts of money to the poor. A few of the men who had not entered church for years were seen to cross themselves covertly; and one, a convivial creole of a rather racy reputation, was even observed, through the sudden turn of a lantern one night, to take from his pocket a miniature statue of St. Joseph, and to hold it between his eyes and the sky while he, too, crossed himself. And the boon companion who smiled at the sight did himself make upon his own breast a tiny sign of the cross in the dark, even as he moved toward his friend to chaff him. And when, in turning, he dimly descried the outline of a distant spire surmounted by a cross against the stars, he did reverently lift his hat. "It can't do any harm, anyhow," he apologized to himself; but when he had reached his friend, he remarked dryly: "You don't mean to tell me, Felix, dat you pray to St. Joseph yet, you old sinner! Excuse me, but dose passing lantern, dey give you away." "Pray to St. Joseph? I would pray to de devil to-night, me, Adolphe, if I believed he would drive de river down." "Sh! Don't make comparison between St. Joseph an' de devil, Felix. Not to-night, anyhow." "I di'n' done dat, Adolphe. No! _Pas du tout_. Not at all. H'only, I say, me, I _would_ pray to de devil _if_ he could help us out." He laughed and shrugged his shoulders as he added recklessly: "Yas, I would be one mud-catfish caught on his forked tail--just for to-night--an' let him drag me behind him in de river, if--" "But you mus' ricollec', de devil he don't play wid water, Felix. Fire is his--fire an' brimstone--" "Ah-h-h! Bah, Adolphe! Who is trying to talk sense to-night? Dose row of warehouse yonder, dey are _all full_, an' on my one pair shoulder. _My_ li'l' crop is not'ing. I got in doze warehouse, waiting for a _sure_ rise in de market--all on my ob_stin_ate judgment--everyt'ing of _my brudder_, _my t'ree cousin_, _my wife_, _my mud'-in-law_,--just t'ink!--not to speak about t'irty-five or forty small consignment. Sure! I would pray to _anyt'ing_ to-night--to save dem. I would pray to one _crawfish_ not to work dis way. Dem crawfish hole is de devil. "But dat St. Joseph in my pocket! My mudder, I am sure she put it dere. She an' my sisters, dey will all kneel many hours at deir _prie-dieux_ to-night--po' t'ings!"