But sho! What am I runnin' on this way fur?
That lunkhead, Ike, my nephew, ain't such a lunkhead as he looks.

Them that say nothin' ain't never got nothin' to take back, an' don't never make fools o' theirselves.
It's time we was back in our blankets sleepin' sound, 'cause we've got another long day o' hard rowin' before us." Ike had not awakened and Jarvis and Harry were soon asleep again.
But they were up at dawn, and, after a brief breakfast, resumed their journey on the river, going at a good pace toward the southeast.
They were hailed two or three times from the bank by armed men, whether of the North or South Harry could not tell, but when they revealed themselves as mere mountaineers on their way back, having sold a raft, they were permitted to continue.

After the last such stop Jarvis remarked rather grimly: "They don't know that there are three good rifles in this boat, backed by five or six pistols, an' that at least two of us, meanin' me and Ike, are 'bout the best shots that ever come out o' the mountains." But his good nature soon returned.

He was not a man who could retain anger long, and before night he was singing again.
"As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day To muse on the beauties of June, 'Neath a jessamine shade I espied a fair maid And she sadly complained to the moon." "But it's not June, Sam," said Harry, "and there is no moon." "No, but June's comin' next month, an' the moon's comin' tonight; that is, if them clouds straight ahead don't conclude to j'in an' make a fuss." The clouds did join, and they made quite a "fuss," pouring out a great quantity of rain, which a rising wind whipped about sharply.

But Jarvis first steered the boat under the edge of a high bank, where it was protected partly, and they stretched the strong canvas before the first drops of rain fell.