The waters overflowed on the low, eastern shore, and it was so far across that they could not see the further bank in the shadowed evening.

The setting sun, nevertheless, lighted up the middle of the current with blood-red gleams, and the five gazed with a certain awe at the mighty stream, as it flowed ever onward.

It was the highly imaginative Paul who was impressed the most.
"We know where it goes to," he said, "but I wonder where it comes from." Henry waved his hand vaguely toward the North.
"Up there somewhere," he said, "a thousand miles from here, or maybe two thousand.

Nobody can tell." Paul did not say anything more, but continued to gaze at the vast, yellow current of the Mississippi, coming out of the unknown regions of the far north and flowing into lands of the far south, almost as mysterious and, vague, once belonging to France but now owning the lordship of Spain.

It was the homely language of Shif'less Sol that recalled him from his dreams.
"It's purty big out thar, an' looks ez if you couldn't tamper with it--this here river stands no foolin'-- but do you know, Paul, water's pow'ful friendly.