The lantern,
lighted and run to the top of the flag-staff, sends forth a clear beam
of warning to all steamboats. In the "shanty," which looks very bright
and cosey in comparison with the outside darkness, Binney Gibbs is
lying comfortably in one of the bunks, Solon is making himself
acquainted with the arrangements of his new galley, and the other two
are changing their wet clothing, while carrying on an animated
conversation regarding the stirring events just recorded.
"How jolly this would all be if it wasn't for poor Billy's melancholy
over the loss of his dog," remarked Glen Elting, as he turned the
steaming garments hanging in front of the galley stove. "It was a
splendid start, wasn't it, Grip?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Binney, a little doubtfully; "though I
don't believe it would seem quite so fine to you if you ached all over
as I do."
"Perhaps not, old man. But you'll be all right again to-morrow, after
a good night in 'dream-bags;' and anyway, you must admit that this
beats steamboating all to nothing. Just think, if we hadn't been lucky
enough to fall in with this blessed raft, and Billy and Winn, and all
the rest, we should at this very moment be just ordinary
ten-o'clock-at-night passengers, shivering on the Cairo wharf-boat, and
waiting for the New Orleans packet to come along.
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