So then we decided that as long as the tide was going down, we'd float her down with it to the Bridgeboro River and then wait for the up tide to float her upstream to Bridgeboro.
We decided that we'd rather fix her up in Bridgeboro.

So you see that this chapter is about the tide, too.

Mr.Ellsworth and Mr.Donnelle both told me that I must have plenty of movement in my story, so I guess the tide's a good character for a story, because it's always moving.
Well, you ought to have seen those fellows when I sailed in shouting that I was Weetonka, the famous Indian chief.

Doc Carson dropped his paint brush on Connie Bennett and he was splashed all over with copper paint--good night! "Where did you get that thing," Pee-wee shouted, "it looks like a horse's trough." "You have to part your hair in the middle to ride in it, I can tell you that," I told him.
"Where were you all the time ?" he said.
"I was captured by a band of Apaches," I said.
"What kind of a band ?" Pee-wee yelled.
"A brass band," I told him; "a brass band of Apaches." "You make me sick!" he said, kind of disgusted.
"They took me to their village and were going to burn me at the stake, only the butcher didn't bring it, then they decided they'd chop me to pieces only the butcher didn't bring the chops--" Oh, boy! you should have seen that kid.

He fired a wet bailing sponge at me and I dodged it and it hit one of his own patrol--kerflop! I guess you'll think all us fellows are crazy, especially me.