Chapter XXII: The Discovery

"Oh, joy! she moves!"

It was late in the afternoon when Nick gave utterance to this shout. For the twentieth time the test had been made, and they could see the leaf traveling away from the side of the _Tramp_.

Evidently there was a gentle but decided movement to the water, and this could not be caused by the breeze, because that had long since died away.

So, with hope once more stirred into life, they started to follow the drifting messenger. Its speed gradually increased. In half an hour there did not seem to any longer be the slightest doubt but that it was in a genuine current.

When the night began to settle in they were so eager that Jack lighted one of his acetylene lamps, and kept the now quickly moving leaf under observation.

"Listen!" exclaimed George, suddenly.

"It's the music of the river, that's what!" cried Nick.

And that turned out to be the truth. None of them had ever believed they would welcome the sight of that vast billowy flood with one-half the joy that possessed them as they broke through the overhanging branches and saw the moonlight falling on the mighty Mississippi.

So they pulled back a bit, and made themselves just as comfortable as the conditions allowed. There was now no longer any fear of a great famine in the land. In their pockets they had money; and somewhere not a great distance below they would strike Greenville, where, doubtless, supplies could be purchased in any quantity.

So the little Juwel gas stove, and the battery of lamps on board the _Wireless_ were put to splendid service in getting up a supper to celebrate this rediscovery of the Mississippi.

"I don't believe De Soto ever felt one-half the happiness that we experience," Jack remarked, as they sat in their respective boats, fastened side by side, and discussed the meal.

"That's right," declared Nick, between mouthfuls. "Because, you know, he wasn't used to much, and in no danger of having his supplies cut off. It comes harder on a fellow of today to starve than it used to. That is, it seems so to me."

Nobody objected to his way of putting it; for truth to tell every one of the quartette felt delighted with the final outcome of their adventure.

They made an early start, for after all there was hardly enough food left to provide for a scanty breakfast--at least Nick called it that, though the others felt that they had had quite enough.

Arriving at Greenville, a committee was appointed, consisting of Jack and Nick, to go ashore and lay in some fresh supplies as well as have gasolene ordered brought down to the boats. Jack also made inquiries, and learned that a boat answering to the description of the _Comfort_ had been noticed passing down in the middle of the river several days back.

"The tortoise has gotten ahead, fellows," he reported, when he once more joined his chums, laden down with supplies, as was also the willing Buster.

Nobody cared much now. Somehow the fever of the race had departed from George's veins. He even declared that from now on he meant to stick with Jack and enjoy the pleasure of some company besides that of a fellow whose one thought was cramming.

"But you see that I'm not infallible as a guide," laughed Jack. "Don't I strike the wrong channel as well as you?"

"That's so," returned George; and then he added gallantly: "But you got us all out of the blessed hole neatly, Jack. Goodness knows what would have become of Buster and me if we hadn't struck you."

"Now, I know what you're thinking about when you look sideways at me," declared Nick, pretending to show alarm. "And after this I ain't never going to allow myself to get alone with George Rollins. I tell you, fellows, he's got cannibal blood in his veins. He scares me, the way he acts."

It was not a great ways after noon when they saw a red flag waving at a point ashore. Then came a blast from the fog horn owned by Josh. He and Herb played it for all they were worth, because this was the very first chance they had had on the entire trip to welcome their comrades to a camping site.

Great was the joshing that followed the landing of the two missing boats. And the skipper of the staunch _Comfort_, as well as the crew thereof, laughed as though they would take a fit when they heard what a mess of it the others had made in trying the cut-off so warmly recommended by the planter, Mr. Tweed, who meant well, of course, but came near wrecking the whole expedition.

Their next stop would be in Vicksburg; and when the start was made in the morning George never got out of hailing distance of the _Tramp_. Sometimes he would be ahead; but if so, he would slow down and allow the other to overtake him.

Another strange thing occurred on this day's run. At no time was the big _Comfort_ hull down in the distance. It seemed that, by taking advantage of the swift water away out there in the middle of the river, Herb's craft could overcome the difference in speed between the _Tramp_ and herself.

And when at about half-past three the leaders found a place to draw in for the night, reliable old _Comfort_ came booming along not fifteen minutes later.

Apparently, then, there was now no reason for their separating. This idea pleased them all, for they liked the social life of the camp, where they could exchange yarns, compare notes, josh each other as the whim seized them, and lay plans for future cruises of the motor boat club.

Vicksburg was reached without mishap on the next leg of the journey, although on account of staying in camp over Sunday, it was Monday afternoon when they looked upon the city made famous during the Civil War by Grant's persistence and strategy.

At the mouth of the big Yazoo George came near having a serious time of it; for his cranky little speed boat was caught in a swirl of mingling waters, and came within an ace of swamping. Only for the action of the frightened Nick in throwing his great bulk the other way, just by instinct, the _Wireless_ would have gone completely over.

And Nick was always proud of what he was pleased to term his quick wit in an emergency. It took the place of those wonderful "wings" in his conversation; and often George had to threaten dire things unless he called a halt in his boasting.

On Tuesday they put out together, and that night lay over about half way down to what had been marked as Station Number Eight. Here a storm kept them shut up a full day, so that it was Thursday again before they proceeded.

On Saturday afternoon Jack announced the glad tidings that he believed they had crossed the border of Louisiana. The others celebrated that night with an extra grand feed, since Nick had managed to purchase a couple of chickens from a man he met when George was tinkering with his engine, and the crew had gone ashore to stretch his dumpy legs.

Now that George did not try to push his speed boat to its limit he seemed to be having an easy time with the engine. Either that, or else the machinist up at Memphis had done a "corking good job," as the master often declared. And on the whole George was coming to realize that there could be much more pleasure and satisfaction in taking things moderately, than in being in a constant rush and nervous turmoil.

Nick was in an especially fine humor that evening. Jack had been in the water with him after they arrived at the camping place, and, to the great delight of the fat boy, he had discovered that he could actually swim about as he pleased, and without wearing that cork contraption at that. He was fairly hilarious with joy.

George had been noticing him, with something like a smile on his face. Whatever was on his mind, he did not say anything until supper had been dispatched, and they were grouped around the fire, chatting as usual.

Then George gave Jack a nudge on the sly.

"Watch me," he whispered.

A minute later he called out to Nick, who had just climbed to his feet to go after his blanket, as he said the ground seemed cold.

"Wait a minute, Buster," he said; "if you're going aboard, just get that book of funny jokes for me, will you? I think it's in the cubbyhole where we keep our oilskins, you know. And if you don't feel it at first, hunt around, even if you have to pull everything there is in there out."

Just three minutes afterward there was a whoop, and an excited fat boy came skipping off the deck of the speed boat, waving something wildly above his head.

"I've found 'em! Just to think of me putting the blessed wings so carefully away in that same cubbyhole, and then forgetting all about it? But you knew they were there all the time, I'm dead sure you did, George! And how cruel of you to let me waste away to skin and bone, mourning for them!"

"Well, you never asked me if I knew where you stuck 'em," retorted the skipper, with a big grin. "And, after all, I rather liked to hear you grunt about losing 'em."

"Yes, a whole lot you did, when you threatened to eat me, or throw me to the alligators if I kept it up. But I guess you were only bluffing, George. I don't think you could be quite that barbarous," said Nick, reproachfully.

"Well, what are you going to do with them now?" demanded the other. "You know how to swim the best ever; and sure you wouldn't be guilty of wearing those silly wings. And I refuse to carry the cargo any further. How about it, Buster?"

"Yes; we want to know," added Jack.

"They'll do for babies, but not fellows who have mastered the noble art of swimming, so make up your mind," said Josh, grandly.

Nick took one last look at the affairs he had once deemed so essential to his happiness. Then he calmly strode over, and amid the shouts of the rest, dropped the swimming wings upon the fire, where they were speedily reduced to ashes.

"You're right," he observed, moving his arms like a swimmer; "a fellow who has graduated has no need for artificial fins. I'm in your class now!"