How often had he and his cousin, who now, alas! was on the other side, listened to the stories of those mighty days as they were handed from father to son! Those lads had floated in little boats and he was on a steamer, but it seemed to him that the river with its mighty depths took no account of either, steamer or canoe being all the same to its vast volume of water.
He was standing by the rail looking over, when happening to glance back he saw by the ship's lantern what he thought was a familiar face.

A second glance and he was sure.

He remembered that fair-haired Ohio lad, and, smiling, he said: "You're one of those Ohio boys who, marching southward from its mouth in the Ohio, drank the tributary river dry clear to its source, the mightiest achievement in quenching thirst the world has ever known.
You're the boy, too, who told about it." The youth moved forward, gazed at him and said: "Now I remember you, too.

You're Dick Mason of the Winchester regiment.
I heard the Winchesters were on board, but I haven't had time to look around.

It was hot when we drank up the river, but it was hotter that afternoon at Perryville.